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Let The Light |7|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Seven: Tis' The Damn Season

Summary: After that eventful night at Tara's apartment, you find yourself pondering on a few things, but your banter with Tara never ceases. There is enough on your plate as it is, so when you bump into a familiar face it catches you completely off guard

Warning(s): Swearing, making out, mentions of drinking & intoxication, r has a case of bad communication, chemistry (like the actual subject 😣), compulsions, & implied anxiety

Notes: I took over a year off to cut you readers some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend - she's baackkk! 🤭 Ik you missed these stubborn little jerks, so did I. Also not this chapter being at like 10k+ words. Even then, there was a bunch more I wanted to add but I figured I'd save it for the next chapter (already plotting) I didn't wanna keep you waiting any longer than I already have

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The box of pizza and plate of wings sat completely abandoned, forgotten, on Charlotte’s coffee table as her hands traveled to your neck. You let your own hands drop to her hips, pulling her in. Her lips felt soft, yet foreign. You ignored that thought and continued to kiss her, slipping in your tongue while she maneuvered her way onto your lap.

Everything felt hot, you could feel your face heat up as she ever so slightly played with the hem of your shirt. When you gave her the silent signal, she slipped a hand under your shirt—not too high of course, but enough to feel your hips. You felt goosebumps at her touch, suddenly feeling nervous. You once again pushed any negative thoughts to the back of your mind, continuing to kiss her.

That’s when it clicked. Why you got so nervous all of a sudden, your mind was trying to tell you something, warn you.

You separated from her lips. She looked at you, a confused expression on her face. You weren’t meeting her eye line, feeling rather timid at the moment. “Are you okay?” She asked you. You barely heard her with your heartbeat drumming so loudly in your ears.

“Um…” You cleared your throat, still not meeting her gaze. “Yeah… I just—sorry.” Charlotte’s expression stayed put as you managed to remove yourself from the couch.

“Did I do something?” She asked, moving to also stand up. She looked at you with what you could only describe as confusion and concern. You couldn’t blame her one bit—one second you’re all over each other, the next you’re pulling back like she stung you.

“No—no, no, no,” you shook your head while gesturing with your right hand. “You did nothing wrong. I um,” you finally looked to meet her gaze, “it’s just been awhile, I guess.” You could only hope she didn’t see through your lame excuse, it wasn’t completely untrue.

“Oh,” Charlotte said. “…Oh,” she then repeated when she realized what you meant. “Shit, I didn’t push you did I?”

“I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been in a weird place …for a while,” you shrugged, not expecting to add that last part, your tone getting lower as you spoke those words.

“I get it,” she mustered an understanding tone.

A suffocating silence enveloped the room for a few seconds, causing you to look out the nearby window to be met with pitch darkness.

“It’s actually getting pretty late anyways and I’ve got an early shift in the morning…” You said while slowly getting your jacked that hung from the couch.

“Of course. Call me?”

“Yeah,” you briefly smiled at her while adjusting the collar of your jacket. “Sorry, again, for making things awkward,” you apologized while grabbing the last of your things.

“No, don’t worry about it. Stuff happens,” she waved you off while managing a reassuring tone.

You nodded at her before muttering, “thanks,” and finally leaving the apartment. As soon as you walked out into the crisp night air, you exhaled your own pocket of air you didn’t even realize you were holding in.

That’s when it all came crashing down; the awkwardness, stupidness, and cringyness that came from the situation all because you were scared to let your situationship see your scars.

Nice going.

You repeated words like moron, idiot, and dumbass while you walked to your car—the train of thought never breaking as you drove to your apartment. Manhattan’s late-night traffic didn’t exactly ease your frustration. You were in the middle of cursing out the car in front of you when your phone started to ring.

Still feeling ridiculously stupid, you were going to let it just ring out, but that was before you saw the contact name.

You answered the phone. “Tara?” You immediately asked with furrowed eyebrows. Why on earth is she calling you so late?

“Y/NN,” you heard her slur over the phone. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, immediately realizing what you were about to be in for. Before you could get another word out, she interrupted you. “Have I ever told you you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts?”

Your eyes widened as heat rushed to your face, your hands nearly slipping off the wheel. The tips of your ears suddenly began to feel very warm while your mouth opened and closed a few times before you could get sound to come out.

“I—uh,” you cleared your throat before continuing. “Where are you right now?”

“Hommee. Where else?” Her answer was followed by hiccups.

“I’m coming over,” you said firmly before hanging up. Being distracted any further by her voice was the last thing you needed right now. You silently hoped nothing drastic was waiting for you at her apartment as you changed your route.

When were you going to stop jinxing things?

—

It had now been a few weeks since the night at Tara’s apartment took place. Not long after you put her to bed, you gave yourself some time to reflect on her words. And ever since that night, you have been repeating them in your head whenever you were with the Carpenter. It seems as though she was able to move on easily, at least, her silence on the topic made it appear that way. On the outside, you gave the impression that you too had moved on from that night, that it had not affected you whatsoever. But on the inside, you were in emotional turmoil. With replaying your memories, that same tightening feeling in your chest that you felt that night reappeared.

There were so many key points of that night to completely crumble over; for starters, the incident with Charlotte. You are beyond embarrassed thanks to your repulsion for emotional intimacy. You knew if she saw your scars questions would ensue, thus putting you in an uncomfortable position to spill your guts out. The last thing you needed was for that to happen, but that alone had you thinking.

You’ve been on over four dates with Charlotte now and you have no idea where you stand with her. She’s just a situation-ship as of right now, and for all you know she could be seeing this as more. But the thought of asking her where you stand with her makes you emotionally grimace and cause your stomach to churn.

If you can’t even talk to her about your relationship status, should you even continue seeing her? This question had you thinking even further. Maybe you rushed into this relationship, maybe it was far too soon. Was nearly a year too soon?

That was the last time you were in a relationship, the last time you allowed yourself any form of emotional intimacy with a partner. But that was the result of three years, three years of building trust and connection. It was going to take a lot more than just a few dates with someone you don’t truly know to recreate that. It was going to take effort.

As for the Tara part of that night, you didn’t even know where to begin. Where could you? From her compliments to her insults, the night was certainly an eventful one. And just to think, you had seen her just hours before and there hadn’t seemed to be any issues.

The coming semester is certainly going to be an interesting one.

—

You and Tara were in your apartment, huffing and groaning could be heard throughout your room. She sat cross legged at the edge of your bed while you were leaned up against the headboard. Papers sprawled all over the bed, pens and pencils scattered—almost imitating what the inside of your mind currently looked like.

“Was the first sheet you gave me—was it nine or seven?!”

You let out a huff, mixed with a long sigh, at Tara’s repeated question. After running a hand down your face, you slid closer beside her to get a better look at her paper. “This is table nine right here,” you emphasized by rapidly tapping your pencil on the spot of the paper you wanted her to focus on.

She rolled her eyes as she mumbled, “Oh my god—” She turned her head to looked at you as she huffed, “Answer my fucking question with a yes or a no; was it a yes—was it a nine or a seven?”

You muttered a few curses under your breath—curses you knew she heard because of your close proximity—before taking your pencil to her paper once again. “Alright, okay so I’m gonna circle this—”

“What the fuck—?!”

“This is—this is nine,” you glanced at her for a moment to make sure she was paying attention. All you were met with was a dumbfounded look.

“But what’s the top??”

“That’s table seven.”

There were a few seconds of her just staring at the paper and you looking between her and the paper until she said something.

“What?” Her voice indifferent.

“So I’m assuming you don’t get it…”

She turned her gaze from her paper to you, hitting you with a hard glare. “No, asshole. I don’t get it.” She then threw her pencil to the side and got up from the bed. Her arm brushes against yours as she does so but you choose not to pay any mind.

“I’m so tired of chemistry,” she all but whined before dramatically plopping back down on your bed face first.

“You’re the one that said you needed help,” you pointed out while curiously flipping through her notebook. “I remember wanting to stick with routine and work on our history project.” Her doodles are cute.

“So helpful,” she sarcastically remarked, muffled; she was still face planted on your mattress, right beside you.

“I try,” you reply in a monotone voice; you were still flipping through her notes as you talked.

Tara rolled over on her back, pushing loose strands of her raven hair away from her face. She exhaled before clearing her throat—which didn’t get your attention, so she tried again …and again, after the third time she just settled for throwing a nearby pillow at your head.

You finally turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows and a hand to the back of your head. “Um, can I help you?”

“Can we just start on the math now?”

“You couldn’t have asked that without the pillow to my head?” You asked incredulously.

“Do you have this, like, mental illness that prevents you from properly answering ‘yes or no’ questions—”

“Get your other notes out before I change my mind.”

Tara scrambled over to the side of the bed, reaching over to grab her bag that sat beside your bed. She quickly wiped off a giddy smile as she took out her needed papers. You were neatly setting her previous papers to the side as she did so.

“Alright, what do you got for me, Carpenter?” You inquired while she scooted back next to you; you’re both sitting side by side, leaning against your bed’s headboard as you looked at the page of notes she was showing you.

“This is basically everything that's going to be on my exam next week,” her stress regarding her exams was evident from her tone. “Some topics I’m good with, other’s I’m okay with, and a few I’m struggling with.” She turned to look at you, eyes practically burning holes in the side of your head with a pleading look. Pleading for you to help her.

After a moment of silence—of you intently staring at the paper—you hummed to yourself, nodding, as you finally returned Tara’s gaze before speaking. “I have highlighters; I want you to circle the ones you’re okay with in orange, and the one’s you’re struggling with in red,” you told her while reaching into the drawer of your nightstand for the highlighters.

All you got was a brief, “Mhm,” while you blindly thrashed your hand around for the highlighters. When you finally got the right colors, you handed them to her before getting up from your bed which earned you a confused look from the other girl.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Don’t miss me too much,” you couldn't help but smirk at the girl, leaving before she had the chance to counteract. You weren’t sure if you were smirking because of your own remark, or if it was thought Tara was missing you. It definitely left a warm feeling inside of you.

She doesn’t miss you. She wants less of you, remember? Your head reminded you, causing that familiar feeling of your chest tightening. Your breathing was still a bit hollow from the feeling as you finished up in the bathroom and walked back to your bedroom.

“You finished?” You asked Tara while returning to your previous seat beside her.

“Yes but I have a proposition for you,” Tara responded almost immediately. You stopped your movements, eyeing her with a suspicious look.

“Lay it on me,” you said.

“We can continue doing all this,” she gestured to her notes, “—but instead we can do it in a place with food.”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate, please.”

“I want to go to the diner nearby, and finish studying there. I’m tired and starving—and you haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks so I already know there’s not much to find in your fridge.”

“Wait, how do you know the last time I went shopping?”

Tara ignored your question, instead continuing to look at you with those doe eyes of hers as she continued to plead. “Pleeeaaase, Y/N?”

You looked at her, feigning a reluctant look before letting out a sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank goodness. My stomach was starting to make noises I’ve never heard before,” she said as she was gathering her papers.

—

“Done!” Tara announced in a cheery tone. You looked up from your book as she slid over the sheet of loose leaf she was just working on. “I put a star next to number three; I was having trouble with that one the most,” she told you before sipping her half drunken milkshake.

You nodded her way as your eyes skimmed her paper. “All these are correct—including number three. Was there a specific reason you didn’t fully understand it?”

“Mainly the order of the steps,” she answered.

“I see. Well you were correct. But if you continue to have trouble with the memorization stuff, flashcards are great memorization tools. Especially colored ones. I can lend you some of you want,” you offered her while giving her back the piece of paper.

“Oh—yeah. Totally,” she chuckled before loudly clearing her throat and practically shoving the straw in her milkshake into her mouth. There was something that washed over her—possibly embarrassment? You couldn’t be too sure. But why would she be embarrassed? Sometimes you wish you could hear her thoughts, just so you could get some insight on what was going through her head during certain moments.

Tara stared down at her straw, subconsciously refusing to pick up her head until she felt less flushed. That was so embarrassing, she kept thinking to herself. ToTalLy! Goodness, Tara, she just offered you some flash cards—not her hand in marriage. Her cheeks got even warmer at the idea.

“You good, Tar?” You just had to ask with that painfully soft voice you get when you’re concerned. Oh, and why did you have to call her Tar? She still remembers when you called her Tar for the first time—you and her were in her bedroom after the incident at the halloween party. She felt her knees physically grow weak as heat rushed to her ears, and now she’s found herself in that same predicament due to you opening your stupid, occasionally sweet, mouth.

“Hm? Great!”

“Um,” you let out a short, awkward, and airy laugh. “Okay, good, yeah.” Your eyes subconsciously took a quick scan around the diner due to Tara’s sudden volume change. “So anyways, from the looks of those problems, you’re gonna nail your exam. Just try not to overthink your answers too much.”

Tara hummed before returning to her milkshake just to realize she was all out. Guess she’s going to have to find another thing to distract her eyes from you.

You, on the other hand, were still confused. Did you say something? Why did she seem so timid all of a sudden? Did the flashcards somehow cross a line? If so, in what way did it? Tara was being a little too silent for your liking, which is really saying something considering how much you value your quiet time.

You were about to do one of the hardest things you have ever done. Attempt small talk.

You cleared your throat, “So. How’s—how are you and uh Chad?” This finally got Tara to look up. She eyed you with a confused expression. “Like, dating and stuff,” you awkwardly added. Your palms were already growing sweaty as your leg began to bounce.

“Me and Chad? Dating?” That’s when she bursted out laughing, handing over her mouth and everything. You suddenly felt like a total dumbass but you weren’t sure as to why. Were they no longer dating? Well obviously, if you had to take anything from her reaction. But you weren’t doing a lot of laughing when you and your ex-girlfriend broke up.

“Oh—I’m sorry, let me catch my breath for a second.” She literally wiped away a tear from how hard she was laughing before speaking up again. “Y/N, Me and Chad are not together.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. And we never will be, never ever ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.”

You couldn’t help the sudden wave of relief that washed over you, but you weren’t sure where it came from.

“But I saw you two kissing at a party,” you told her.

“Right …that. Yeah, I try not to think about that night if I’m being honest. It was honestly super embarrassing; I was completely drunk, so drunk to the point where I thought he was… someone else,” her voice grew a little quieter towards the end as she sank a little in her booth.

“Oh.” Was all you said. You didn’t know what else to say. What could you? That night was a misunderstanding, and judging by Tara’s words and reaction to the accusation of her and Chad dating—that relationship is long from happening. Yet another feeling of relief washed over you as you had that thought.

“Yeah,” Tara shrugged. That’s when something clicked in her head …she could use this awkward discussion to her advantage. “Since we’re on the topic of dating, how are you and Charlotte? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.” And good riddance for that, she silently thought to herself.

“I kinda ended that,” you nonchalantly answered before shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Oh that sucks,” she feigned a sympathetic tone. “It seemed like you two were really hitting it off.”

“I guess.”

Tara wanted to leave it that, really she did, but she just couldn’t help but pry. “Something happened?” She asked you.

“Nope. Just fizzled, I guess. situation-ships do that sometimes, not surprising.”

“Wait, ‘situation-ship’? What do you mean by that?” Her question and her tone of interest had you looking at her with raised eyebrows, utterly confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“Like, it wasn’t serious. I wouldn't call her my girlfriend, doubt she’d call me hers. Nothing more than a casual relationship,” you responded, for some reason you felt the need to tread lightly.

“Didn’t you go on like five dates? If you go on multiple dates, that means you’re dating. Thus the word dating being an extension to date,” she sternly replied.

“Alright, I understand the responsibility of a verb—why are you getting upset over this?”

“I’m not upset.” The pout she wore as she defensively crossed her arms with slumped shoulders told you otherwise. “I just—I don’t know. I want pie.”

“Okay. I’ll get you pie, but could we please switch to a different subject?”

“Fine,” she mumbled; her gaze may have been directed toward her napkin, but it threatened to meet you every second.

—

“I can’t believe you finally watched it!” You exclaimed to Tara. The both of you were headed back to your apartment; it was dark out as it lightly snowed. You were holding the bag of leftovers, walking on the street-side of the sidewalk as Tara kept her hands firmly placed in her jacket pockets, protecting them from what felt like sub-zero temperature.

“I only avoided it for so long because of you!” She laughed.

“Wow, so you’ve been missing out on one of the greatest shows of all time due to pettiness?”

“Okay, okay—I said it was good, not great.”

“Ah, but you wanna say great. It’s that darn pettiness holding you back, once again,” you said as your smile never broke.

“Did you just say ‘darn’?”

“Yeah, what?”

Tara only laughed as she shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Oh! You should watch the extended cut—if you thought it was funny before, you're gonna love the superfan episodes.”

“I’ll give them a shot,” she truthfully responded. She would say anything to keep you talking like this. One of the things she loved listening to was you geeking out over something you were passionate about. Maybe it was the sound of your voice, maybe it was how you lit up, maybe it was how animated you were while talking.

“Definitely do—” You were cut off by a body colliding into you, causing you to drop the bag of leftovers you were carrying. You muttered a “sorry” before crouching down to pick it up. Tara was about to help until your eyes met with the other person’s.

“Y/N?” The stranger asked.

“Olivia?” You mirrored a confused look.

What was your highschool sweetheart from Woodsborro doing in the middle of Manhattan?

“Oh my gosh—it really is you.” Olivia laughed a bit as the realization set in. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“Yeah—yeah, and it’s you.” You responded before she came in for a hug. Your movement stuttered for a second before welcoming her hug. She was still as warm as the day you met, her dark hair still holding its shine it did since the last time you saw her.

The hug was understandably awkward, but for once you didn’t mind awkward. “What are you doin’ in New York?” You finally asked her.

“I’m here for this documentary thing I’m working on,” she said.

“That’s right—your documentaries. I’m glad you’re still doing those,” you told her with a genuine tone.

She grew a smile at the words you spoke. “Thanks… that means a lot.”

“Oh—uh, you remember Tara, right?” You turned and briefly pointed at the Carpenter who slightly waved.

“Yeah, I do. Hey,” Olivia said with no bitterness. She took a few steps and held out her hand to Tara, which the other girl took.

“Hey,” Tara nodded with a tight lipped smile.

“I’m surprised you two are out in public together,” Olivia joked. You and Tara both laughed awkwardly at your dynamic being brought up.

“Me too,” you joked back. “So uh—you staying long?” You asked, purposely deflecting to a different topic.

“It’s currently indefinite, I’m crashing at a friend’s place right now.” There was a glint in your eye that Olivia picked up. “Would you like to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to catch up.”

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” you replied; you were trying your best to hide your eagerness.

“Awesome,” she grinned at you. “So, see you around?”

“See you around,” you said. You instantly began to cringe at yourself as she started walking away, but she didn’t leave without giving you one last look. As soon as she left ear shot, you let out a long awaited sigh.

“Geez.” The sound of Tara’s voice caused you to flinch, you completely forgot she was standing right there. “That was hard to watch,” she remarked.

“No one asked,” you said with an eye roll as the two of you began to walk again.

“Someone’s bitter,” she replied. “Hey—” She put the back of her hand on your chest to stop you from walking as she turned to look at you, “Let’s go to my place instead.”

“Why?”

“I wanna finish these leftovers on the roof,” she answered.

“My apartment has a roof,” you told her.

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“It's just not. Now come on before our food gets even colder and more destroyed.”

“I guess I’m following you,” you mumbled while trailing behind Tara.

—

You and Tara were sitting on white patio chairs; the same ones you recall from the last few times you’ve been up on the roof. The wind had calmed down since your walkover, snow still lightly falling from the sky. You were eating your fries as Tara was eating what was left of her pie.

“I’m just saying, I could totally take down a bear.”

“Not in a million years, Tara. You, a 5 foot gremlin, versus a big furry thing with claws that could rip you to shreds? Be serious,” you deadpanned.

“First of all, I’m 5 foot 1, second of all, you’re really underestimating me here. If I can take down a sociopath while crippled—”

Tara didn’t talk about Woodsboro a whole lot, really the only time she’s talked about it—with you at least—was the night it happened, the party at Henry’s house, and just now if that even counted. She never seemed to name-drop anyone connected to that night. But you understood. You don’t remember the last time you said Dewey’s name out loud.

“A sociopath? Yes. But last I checked, the said sociopath didn’t have the same physical traits as a bear—therefore, your argument holds no power.” You shoved a few fries in your mouth before silently offering her some, in which she accepted.

You glanced over at her to see her expression—she looked kind of disappointed. You sighed, thinking for a moment, before speaking again. “Okay, I’m not saying you have no chance. You’d still do some damage—and I guess it’s not impossible to beat a bear.” You hated the instant flip in your stomach from seeing the way she lit up, it was subtle but you’re grateful you noticed.

She smiled, almost grinning but she resisted. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jump on its back, put it in a headlock,” you added with your own little smile.

“Exactly. You get me,” she absentmindedly said right before taking another bite of her pie.

“What a mad world we live in,” you joked while reaching beside your chair for your milkshake. Tara wasn’t sure what you meant by that, but she just decided to ignore it rather than dwell on it—at least for the moment. She looked over to see you sipping your milkshake and a sly smile appeared on her face as she began to lean closer to you, her elbows resting on her chair’s armrest and expression never faltering.

“You want something, Tar?”

“That’s an awfully tasty looking milkshake you have there,” she commented; she feigned an innocent tone.

You glanced at her from your peripheral vision—she was on your left side—as you played with the straw in your milkshake. “Tara…” You all but sang. She hummed in response, her position still the same. “Would you like my milkshake?” You asked, but your tone hinted that you already knew what her answer was going to be.

“Well, I guess since you’re offering. Who would I be to pass up a perfectly good milkshake?”

“You’re a piece of work,” you remarked with a broad smile that Tara could describe as gleaming.

“You’re the sucker who gave me her milkshake,” she sneered before taking a sip from said milkshake.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, ‘cause this sucker could easily take it back,” you threatened, lightly laughing along with the other girl.

She scoffed and waved her free hand, “Yeah right. I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, yeah?” You get up from your chair, eyes never leaving Tara. “I bet I could take it back from you, no sweat.”

A smirk grew on Tara’s face as she also got up from her chair. “Okay, okay, you’re on then. Winner takes all—all being the milkshake.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

“Okay then let’s do this, come on bring it,” Tara’s grin was just too strong to fight off as she lifted up her elbows; one, to use as a shield for her milkshake, and two, to use as her weapon.

You let out a laugh when you saw a defense mechanism. “That’s pathetic,” you quipped.

“Oh, really?” She said with raised eyebrows. She then shoved her elbows towards you, both of you laughing during all this.

“Oh!” You took that as a chance to grab her from behind and wrap your arms around her waist, holding her in place as she attempted to break loose; in her defense, it wasn’t as easy to do so while she was flushed against you, her face heating up from both the action and her ceaseless laughter.

The milkshake dropped to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. You lifted her up a bit as you spoke, “Not much of a fighter now, huh?” You quipped in a smug tone.

“You are so playing dirty right now!” She said; her shirt rose a little bit and her hands were loosely holding onto your forearms.

“I don’t remember seeing a rule book. Just surrender and I’ll put you down,” you told her as if it was the simplest thing ever; for anyone else, it would have been.

“No way!” At her response you lifted her higher at which she started rapidly patting arm.

“You finally surrender?”

“Never in a bazillion years!” Just as Tara said that, she felt a drop of water on her forehead. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at the night sky. “Shit—I think it’s raining.”

“Yeah right, you just don’t wanna be the one to surrender,” you accused while adjusting your hold on Tara.

“I actually felt—” Before Tara could finish her sentence, a loud grumble could be heard as it started to abruptly pour. “I told you!”

“Shit,” you cursed as you put Tara down.

“We need to get inside.”

“Incredible observation. Thought of being a detective?” You quipped.

“Shut up. It’s freezing, let’s just get inside.” Tara was visibly shivering, wrapping her arms around each other while hugging them close to her torso.

“Okay, come on.”

Tara barely let you finish speaking as she started rushing towards the door. “Wait—! Tara, don't run! You could slip!” You tried to match her speed without breaking your neck in the process. You nearly sighed in relief when she slowed down.

She looked at you with an inpatient look as she waited for you to catch up. You were in the process of taking off your jacket as you caught up to her. “If you’re going to slow me down, at least walk a little faster. I’m getting drenched, and this outfit isn’t exactly water resistant—I’m not water resistant!”

“Geez, alright. Quit complaining.” You caught up to her, trailing behind her as you wrapped your jacket around her. “Stop looking at me funny, just open the door,” you said in response to the lost expression she gave you.

She mumbled something incoherent while reaching for the door’s handle and turning.

As soon as you stepped inside, you let out a long exhale while rubbing your hands together. You looked beside you to see Tara attempting to shake off the water she was drenched in; of course, as a result, she ended up spraying you in the process. “Do you have to do that near me?”

“Where else am I doing it?” She tightened your jacket around her, holding it impossibly close to keep herself warm.

“Whatever, I gotta get home anyway. Picked up a few extra shifts,” you said while double checking your phone’s dryness.

“I thought the cafe gave you off on Saturdays.”

“Uh, yeah. I do. I’m—covering for a coworker, I owe them so,” you trailed off with a shrug; you batted your eyes away from Tara, suddenly finding your drenched jeans very interesting. “Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Tara responded; you made your way down the stairs but not before sparing a small smile.

—

It was the next day, 8:52 am on a Saturday. You had woken up around 4:00 since you had to get in around 7:00 to help set up and open at 8:00. Exhaustion was hitting you back and forth, the only thing that was keeping you awake, barely, was your few hours old coffee you had brought from home. Staying out late with Tara was really biting you in the ass, but you were usually tired these days so it wasn’t much of a difference.

Although it was slow since the day had just begun for many, you still found yourself dealing with incompetence so early in the morning. Truly, it was too early for this. If one more person asked about Halloween stuff, Thanksgiving stuff—any other thing they should’ve gotten months prior, you are going to bash your head into a wall.

Why are people asking their barista about stupid out of season decorations? It’s simple, the cafe wasn’t paying you enough; attending college and living off campus wasn’t getting any cheaper and you needed a reliable job. So when you saw that Target was hiring, you applied. That’s how you came to balance two jobs and some of the most insufferable customers you have ever had the displeasure of conversing with.

“I’m sorry miss, but we stopped selling that after October. But if you’d like, I can show you to the candy aisle—”

“No, listen to me, these are what I want,” she snarled while shoving her phone in your face; her phone showed a picture of the Halloween candy she wanted. “I don’t want regular sour patch, I don't want regular m&m’s, I don’t want regular reese’s pieces—I want Hal-lo-ween candy.”

“I know that, but miss—”

“Can you just go check in the back? Please? My son has been driving me insane and I need to at least do this one thing right,” she begged.

You let out a silent sigh, “Of course. I’ll go check in the back to see if we have anything left.”

“See, now that wasn’t so hard,” she said as you made your way to the storage room. You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore her statement. It really was too early for this.

You went into the storage and sat down on a nearby box; you just stared at the ceiling, zoning out for about a minute before heading back.

“I apologize, we don’t have what you're looking for. Is there anything else I can help with?”

She scoffed at you, clutching her purse as she did so. “No, I do not need your help because clearly it is no use. Your manager will be hearing from me,” she angrily said before strutting away.

“I’m sure he’ll love that,” you remark out loud to yourself. Once she’s out of your eye line, you let out an aggravated sigh. Working in retail is not for the weak.

You walked back to the end of the aisle and began to restock the shelves again, the thing you were previously doing before being interrupted. You picked up one of the boxes of cereal when your hand accidentally knocked something out of your pocket. It fell by your feet, you glanced at it for a moment before looking back at the shelf—but that’s when it registered what it was. You immediately placed down the box then kneeled down to pick up what you dropped.

It was a folded piece of paper. You slightly furrowed your eyebrows as you unfolded it before you traded your confusion for a smile. You looked at the doodles that covered the paper, the doodles drawn by Tara. Her name was even signed at the corner; sometimes she draws her name in different fonts to pass the time. Over the years, you noticed her favorite font to draw is graffiti lettering. You were now standing up, still smiling down at the piece of paper. You always admired the way she wrote—

—Suddenly somebody clears their throat. You jumped, blinking rapidly while attempting to shove the paper back into your pocket. You turn your head around to see your co-worker, Avery, crossing her arms while giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. “Secret admirer?” She remarked with a smirk.

“No, it’s just—it’s nothing. Scraps, really if you could even call it that,” you stammered while trying to nonchalantly lean against the shelves. It wasn’t a total failure, you guess.

“...Right,” she narrowed her eyes at her, clearly not believing your crappy save, but dropped it nevertheless. “Anyways, me, Vicky and a few of the others are gonna go out for a drink tonight; can I count you in?”

You stopped leaning on the shelves as you thought for a moment. You usually weren’t one for going out, but it’s been a long few months. With that thought, everything that’s happened in the past year flashes through your mind. It’s been nothing but motion sickness, and maybe you could go for a drink or two.

“You know what—yeah, I’m in,” you nodded at her before returning to the boxes of cereals that sat in the cart beside you.

“Wait, really? You never wanna come to these things …damn it, I owe Vicky like 20 bucks,” Avery silently moped as she walked away. You laughed a bit at her comment as you continued stocking the shelves.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

—

When you got home that day, you made sure to take a nap before it was time to leave for the bar. When you got there, you stood at the doorway for a few seconds, honestly not sure what your next move was but luckily you caught Avery’s eye and she waved you over. You walked over to where she and the others sat at—the bar—you sat down on the stool beside Avery who was sat next to Vicky. You were surprised they weren’t sitting on the same stool with how tangled with each other they were.

“You made it!!” Avery shouted in a cheery voice that made you wince as she pumped her fists in the air. “Look, Vicky! Y/N’s here!” Vicky nodded at the girl while trying to subtly ground her by rubbing her lower back.

She looked over at you with an apologetic look. “Sorry, she gets kinda loud and hyper when she’s drunk.”

You chuckled a little, giving her a reassuring shake with your head. “Don’t worry about it, I’m a pretty embarrassing drunk anyways so I couldn’t talk. Probably why I don’t do it much,” you told her while your arms rested on the table.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to see you drunk,” she said while adjusting her arm as Avery was now resting her head on Vicky’s shoulder.

“That’s never gonna happen—just a club soda for me. At most I’ll do some watered down beer, but that’s really it,” you said.

“Wow.”

“I know, I’m a party animal,” you quipped with sarcasm laced in your voice.

“Total rebel,” she added as you both laughed. “So, other than the fact that you’re a total bad boy—how are you liking New York?” She asked with Avery still wrapped around her who had snuggled up closer to her.

“It’s fine. Hasn’t changed much since the last time I lived here.”

“Yeah? Did you live in Manhattan before or someplace else?”

“Brooklyn. I was born there, and lived there until …I didn’t,” you answered with your train of thought trailing off with your answer. So much has changed since you moved. What if you didn’t move? What if you never moved back? What if you lived in Woodsboro first? What if—

“—Did your family move around a lot?” She asked another question out of pure curiosity.

“Uh…” You picked at the wood surface in front of you, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted. “ No. Just one time.”

“Cool, my family moved around a few times. It’s a pretty hard thing to go through, even if it’s just once,” she said in an understanding tone. She looked back to Avery, smiling to herself as she stared admirably at the half-a-sleep girl nuzzled up against her.

You glanced over at the adorable site before asking, “How long have you two been dating?”

“A couple months, but we’ve known each other for ten years,” she responded while pushing back loose strands of hair that covered Avery’s eyes.

“That’s a long time,” was all you could think to say.

“Yeah, she’s literally my other half. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” After letting herself stare at Avery for another moment, Vicky turned her gaze back to you. “How about you—you seeing anyone?”

“Eh.”

“Eh?”

“I was uh, sort of seeing someone? But broke that off recently. Too close for comfort,” you elaborated for her while silently deciding if you should drink tonight.

“Your casual relationship get too intimate?” She raised an eyebrow before you responded with a tiny nod, she probably would have missed it if she blinked in the same moment. “Yeah, I used to be like that before Avery.”

“Guess I just gotta wait for my Avery,” you half-joked, earning a laugh from Vicky.

“I hope you do, she’s definitely a keeper,” she said fondly. She looked at you—your head now resting on your folded arms—and saw the distraught expression you wore, it looked as if you were silently having a debate with yourself.

“Something up?”

You did a double-take at her, lifting up your head before sparing her a meek smile. “Just thinking, you know?”

Vicky nodded before adding on. “You need advice? I’ve always been told I give great advice.” Her voice was kind and held nothing but honesty.

“Sure…” You were hesitant to accept but you were also on the verge of digging yourself into a hole just to avoid decision making. To be fair, you often think about barricading yourself to avoid dealing with your problems—and oftentimes, you have actually done it. “So last night I bumped into my ex,” you reluctantly began, “and we briefly talked, and she mentioned meeting up sometime to catch up.”

“I’m assuming you’re nervous about the catching up part?”

You confirmed with a hum.

“Are you nervous about being the first to reach out, the catching up part overall, or both?”

“Yes.”

She let out a tiny laugh, not unkindly, before telling you that advice she told you about not long ago. “This was all last night, right? I say, wait a couple more days, then reach out if you’re up to it, and then once you get that part out of the way the rest will build itself.”

“You really think so?”

“Promise, I really don’t think you should stress too much on this. And listen, if you’re really not ready to meet up with her yet, I think she’d understand. Either way, it’s your choice,” she told you before sipping her drink.

“That’s… really good advice. Thank you,” you complimented.

“You’re welcome, anytime. I did mention that I give great advice.”

“I said good, not great,” you said in a tone that hinted you were just teasing.

“Yeah, okay whatever.” Vicky playfully rolled her eyes as you smiled at your own taunting.

Maybe this was not as bad as you were making it out to be, maybe everything would be okay. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up.

—

Things were awful. You could never have been so wrong in your life. It was one thing after another. First with the text; you had to just hope Olivia didn’t change her number as you looked for her contact—which you had to look for by number since your removed her name and photo right after your breakup out of pure pettiness—and it took you about half an hour to think of the right words to send, and as soon as you sent them you immediately regretted it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Next was when she actually responded.

Y/N (4:42 pm) Hey, it’s Y/N. Catching up sounds cool, so if the offer still stands I’d love to take you up on it

(XXX) XXX-XXXX (4:56 pm) Hi, yeah offer still stands. I’m actually free tonight if that works? I know that’s short notice so I completely understand if you’re unable to

You were in the middle of revising your notes at the kitchen counter when you heard the ding from the couch. Your head immediately shot up, and as soon as it processed what that ding was—you ran to it, hopping over the back of the couch and grabbing your phone.

You read the message over to yourself exactly seven times before impulsively reacting to her message with a thumbs up. After your response, you got another text from Olivia and the two of you made a decision of when and where to meet.

Oh, how deeply you regretted your impulsiveness as you stared at the same outfit over and over again. That’s what came right after the communication part; what exactly you were going to wear. You felt ridiculous, you’re usually not like this—but that happens to be a reminder of all the different things Olivia brings out in you. Good and bad. It was like you were 17 again.

Eventually you decided on something comfortable, casual, it’s not like you were going someplace fancy. The air in your apartment suddenly grew to be suffocating the closer it got to the time you had to leave. You gathered your belongings; you gathered your wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and lighter, shoving a few of them into your pockets. Just before leaving you stood still for a second.

What could I be missing? There has to be something. There has to be something. Damn it, there has to be something!

Your eyes wandered around your apartment for a good minute before you called it in. You patted yourself down while muttering the names of the items you felt in your pockets before finally leaving. You locked up behind you and let out a long sigh as you ran your hand down your face.

When you got to the bakery, your heart was beating in your ears and you felt your ears warm up when you made eye contact with Olivia from just a few tables away. She waved at you and you waved back as you subtly gulped. On the way towards the table, you silently hoped she didn’t pick up on the urge you had to perish right then and there.

“Hey,” you said. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug her or shake her hand, something, so you just stuck with sending a small but simple smile her way.

“Hi,” she responded. She returned your smile as she looked you up and down. “You look good—I mean, you look yeah,” she awkwardly laughed, flustered from her stammering.

You returned a short laugh, feeling a tiny bit of the tension beginning to ease but not entirely, “You look good too,” your smile grew softer as you spoke. You noticed her eyes still wandering. “Didn’t get a good look last time?” You quipped in a teasing tone.

She shook her head as she tried to fight off the bright smile that painted her face. “I see you haven’t changed much,” she said.

“Well, me and change have never mixed well.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” she made her tone less monotone to ease the weight of her words. But that didn’t make you oblivious to their meaning.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your posture while you folded your hands and dropped them to your lap. “So, how’s the documentary going?”

“Just fine,” she said positively. “Still in the early stages, and you know how that can be.” You nodded along to her words. It suddenly became awkwardly quiet.

You picked at your cuticles, pressing harder and harder for that sweet sensation you craved, your gaze everywhere but at Olivia. That tension you felt before started to settle in your chest again, and you didn’t know how to cope. You just wanted out. You regretted agreeing to this. You wish you never bumped into her. You wish you never agreed to dinner with Tara because then this wouldn't be happening.

Of course it goes back to Tara. It always seems to.

“You still do that thing with your fingers?” She asked out of the blue.

“Huh?” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your lap to where your hands rested.

“I don’t have to look to know. We dated for three years, Y/N,” she said.

“Oh.”

“And I can hear you picking at them from under the table.”

You suddenly felt small, slumping in your chair, and continuing to avoid eye contact with the woman who sat across from you. However, Olivia did not return this treatment. She sat up in her chair, placing her own hands on the table before turning them over to expose her palms. “Let me see your hands.”

“What?”

“Show. Me. Your. Hands.”

It didn’t seem like she was asking. There was definitely not a question mark in there. You rolled your eyes, letting out a small sigh that held aggravation. Reluctantly, you complied with her commands. She took your hands in hers and began to examine them, her fingers tracing down and softly rubbing against yours—you forgot how soft her hands were. As soon as her hands made contact with yours, you felt your joints grow weak and your cheeks felt too warm. You don’t remember the last time you held hands with her but it was certainly having an affect on you.

“Have you been using these as a chew toy?” She rhetorically asked, referring to your fingers whilst still examining them.

“Okay, they’re not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes they are,” she said with no hesitation.

She finally stopped looking at your fingers and instead at you. When you saw the worried expression that painted her face, you knew a line of questioning was approaching. “Are you okay?” She inquired in an unbearably gentle voice.

“I’m fine.”

“Which means you’re not fine.”

“Putting words into my mouth, as always,” you said in a low tone as you pulled your hands away from her.

“You really want to go there?” She let out a short exasperated laugh with her question, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.

“When I say I’m fine—I’m fine,” you said while leaning in and emphasizing your words by pressing on the table with your index finger; you leaned back against your chair when you finished speaking.

“Oh my God. You are literally so unbelievable—do you even hear yourself?” She looked at you with pure disbelief which only confused you further.

“What are you even talking about? All I said is that when I say I’m fine, I mean those words. How am I wrong here? I genuinely don’t understand,” you expressed in both frustration and genuine confusion.

“And what I am trying to say is you’re still the exact same person I was arguing with right before we broke up.”

“What?”

“You never want to talk! Listen, baby, I get you’re grieving—but you can’t just shut me out like this. It’s apparent that you need help! You don’t have to rush into it, but eventually—”

“Whether I talk or not is my choice! And I’m not seeing some stupid grief counselor, okay? Just because I don’t wanna talk to you about certain things, doesn’t mean I’m shutting you out—and I don’t need help! I’m fine. I’m just—damn it, I’m just processing. Can’t you let me do that at least?”

“You have been ‘processing’ for months! It’s time to—”

“Time to what? Move one?”

“That’s not what I was going to say!”

“But you’re thinking it. You’re thinking it just like everyone else is; my mom, my brothers, everyone at school—just leave me alone, all right!”

“Y/N, nobody is—”

“No! Everyone is thinking! Just stop, okay! I don’t need your bullshit sweet nothings, I don’t need some therapist, I don't need to talk about it—I’m fine!”

You and her could not even go five minutes without your conversation, or lack of, forming into an argument. And it was your fault. You were the problem. You couldn’t answer a simple question. Maybe you were hiding behind the fact that you didn’t know how to answer that question, or that you're trying to hide the answer from others. Either way, you always find yourself forming emotional barricades around you, no one in and no one out.

“Hey, come back,” Olivia’s voice rang. You were pulled from your thoughts, blinking rapidly as if it would wipe away the memories you tried so hard to erase. She leaned in, her irritated expression replaced with a comforting one. “I know how mean that voice in your head can be, I know what it does to you—but I just want you to be okay.”

You met her gaze, your expression equivalent to the look of a lost puppy. “Thank you, Olivia,” you simply said. It was not much, but it still weighed in emotion.

The rest of the night was less intense. She asked about Blackmore and how it’s going, which inevitably opened the door to her questioning you about seeing you with Tara the other night, and you found out more about her documentary. The night was long and tiring, but as much as you hate to admit it, you’re glad you agreed to catch up with Olivia. And you would be a bold faced liar if you said you didn’t miss her. The wound is still arguably fresh, but it’s beginning to heal.

You walked into the apartment, looking forward to changing into a pair of pajamas and binge watching some TV on the couch until you passed out. You have been studying non-stop for exams for the past four weeks, so why not give yourself a treat? Plus, this upcoming school week, you will officially be exactly one week from exams so you will be locked in. What does that mean? You do what you usually do but multiply that by a million, anyone who has known you long enough knows they’re going to hear less and less from you the closer you get to exams. It’s as if you completely shut down from the outside—actually, that’s exactly what happens.

As you walked inside, you yawned and rubbed your tired eyes. But as they begin to focus again, you notice a few blobs sitting in your living room. When your eyes are fully focused, that’s when you see them.

“Are you shitting me,” you expressed in a monotone voice while turning the locks on the door before throwing your keys to the side.

“No—no whining!” Anika immediately said. “You knew they were coming over.”

“I thought you canceled,” you said.

“Uncanceled.”

“What a miracle,” you remarked as you took off your jacket.

“How come whenever I have people over you have a problem with it as if this isn't a shared apartment?”

“Y/N being an inconsiderate jackass? What a revolation,” Tara pitched in with a smirk. You looked over to deadpan at her and she was already staring back at you.

“Says the woman who still owes me a milkshake,” you wiggled a finger at her. You both smiled at each other before you turned back around to kick off your shoes. “You know what, Nik, it’s fine. I’m just kind of grumpy right now.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for not giving you an update,” she said, matching your own apoplectic tone. “You wanna join us? We were gonna play some Uno then watch a movie.”

“Uh, I don’t know—”

“Yeah, probably 'cause you’re gonna get all embarrassed when I wipe the floor with your ass in Uno,” the younger Carpenter knowingly instigated.

“Oh, excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m the reigning champ in my family—don’t start something you can’t finish, princess,” you instigated back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Alright,” your gaze stayed on Tara for a moment before switching back to Anika, “I’ll join you.”

—

“Tara is totally looking at my cards!” Chad shouted while shoving his cards to his chest like an elderly woman clutching her pearls.

“I am not! You’re the one who keeps leaning on my side!” Tara whined back with just as much passion, if not more.

“Okay—no one looks at anyone's cards!” Anika cut in. “Alright, babe, it’s your turn.”

Mindy wore a devious smirk, slowly picking a card from her deck for dramatic effect.

“Boom, suck on that!” Everyone leaned in to look at the plus four Mindy slammed down on the pile of cards. Chad instantly groaned, immediately feeling a sense of regret for wasting his last plus four. He sulked while taking four more cards.

Now it was your turn. Tara was right after you, you had the chance to make her life a living hell. All you had to do was place the three plus four from your deck and you would double Tara’s deck in size and be one more card away from Uno.

You made a decision.

“Plus four,” you gloated regarding the single plus four you placed down.

“Damn it!” Tara made sure to glare at you while she picked up her four cards. “Just wait, you’ll see. I’m going to make my comeback.”

“Whatever you say,” you said in a doubtful tone. As Tara silently cursed to herself while flipping through her deck in frustration, you couldn’t help but stare fondly at the girl. She always had a competitiveness to her that you couldn’t help but respect. It was kind of cute.

After another seven minutes, it came down to just two people; you and Tara. You sat from across each other, debating your next play while one taunted the other.

“You know you’re going down, right?”

Tara laughed at your words. “You have at least ten cards, I just have two more turns and I’ll be following through with wiping the floor with your ass.”

“Oh, yeah?” You said, unintentionally with a come hither voice. You leaned in, your voice lowering but the tone still the same as you spoke to her. “You keep that energy, Carpenter.”

Tara's face suddenly grew warm, her stomach enveloping with butterflies as your voice crashed against her ears. You leaned back against the couch, looking at your own cards as it was Tara’s turn now.

Shit, you were in her head now. You totally did that on purpose, you had to. And what a dick you were for that, you knew what you were doing—again, you had to be aware of your actions. You must know the stupid feeling you give her, the way her stomach flips, how her legs turn to jello when you call for her. No. Focus. Come on, Tara. Lock in. Wipe the floor.

She cleared her throat, blinking down at her cards while processing them. It took a moment for it to click before she tapped back into her competitiveness and slammed down a card. “Uno! Plus four—suck on that!” Now she had just one card remaining in her hand, just one more turn and she would be victorious.

You smiled at her, your head tilted a bit as your eyes lit at the sign of her celebrating. She calmed herself down, feigning a calm demeanor. “Alright, it's your turn.”

You sighed. Well it was fun while it lasted, you enjoyed playing with Tara. It was entertaining. It’s nice playing with someone who can handle your competitiveness. “Uno, uno out,” you said while putting down your entire deck. You sat in your spot, looking at Tara with a shit-eating smirk with your hands folded together as Tara sat there dumbfounded.

“That’s—what, no, wait,” she furrowed her eyebrows as she rummaged through the cards you just placed. They were all green sevens. All of them. “How’d you—”

“Chin up, honey,” you teased, winking at her

“Oh you’re a real piece of work.” She shot up from her seat as she rushed over to a nearby closet. Your eyes followed her movements as you raised your eyebrows at her sudden actions.

“You two finally finished?” Mindy asked but was ignored by the other girl. “What are you doing with that—can you like stop ignoring me?” Tara returned with a box of Jenga in her hand and the others trailing behind her.

“I’m too tired to play Jenga,” Chad said.

“Good thing you’re not.” She now looked to address you, “You, me, Jenga—now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all you said as she immediately began setting everything up.

“What’s this about?” Anika asked you.

“Oh, I beat her ass in Uno—graciously so—and she’s being petty about it,” you shrugged.

“I am not being petty, I am unsatisfied. Seriously—how do you win with all green sevens?! Ugh, never mind that. We’re playing this and I’m going to hold out on my promise.”

“Of wiping the floor with my ass?”

“Exactly.”

“Woman of her word,” you say while getting comfortable in your spot.

Mindy, Anika, and Chad watched from the sidelines as you and Tara went at it in Jenga. There were many, many close calls, and few times where the other nearly flipped a table. You both tried to get into the other’s head while the other was sliding out their pieces, but so far no mistakes. But the tower was growing wobbly, it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before that tower fell over. Now, it was simply a matter of who would make it come to that.

It was Tara’s turn, and there were not many places left for her to take from so she was forced to resort to an incredibly risky spot. You took this as another opportunity to mess with her. “Hey, Tar?”

“Kind of busy here,” she said—the block just halfway out.

“Will you marry me?” You casually inquired.

Tara’s eyes widened and her eyebrows jumped in surprise. Her hand immediately faltered, dropping her piece as the tower came crashing down. Her mouth opened and closed, her stare averting back and forth from you and the fallen tower; she didn't even know where to begin.

The others just remained on the sidelines, completely entertained by what was unfolding in front of them.

“Is that… a no?” Your eyes were almost pleading as you continued to taunt the girl, your millionth smirk that night threatened to show itself.

“I’m going to kill you,” Tara responded as she squeezed her eyes shut, still processing what just happened.

“Not before the honeymoon,” you quipped. Chad, Mindy, and Anika could now be heard laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

“You can’t just—” She shut her mouth out of frustration, settling for narrowing her eyes at you.

“I can’t just what, sweetie? Come on, use your words.” Oh, this was fun.

Suddenly you got a pillow to the face which only made it funnier, to you at least. “You owe me a rematch, cheater!”

“Excuse me, I didn’t cheat. You messed up on your own devices,” you said while patting down the pillow and putting it to the side.

“You know what you did,” she said with bitterness laced in her voice.

“I don’t, so how about you tell me? Tell me how exactly my words affected you; you know, so I can prevent myself from accidentally cheating next time.” You never broke eye contact with Tara; you enjoyed how much she was squirming thanks to you, maybe you enjoyed it a little too much.

“Next time?”

“You wanna rematch, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” This whole interaction had Tara blushing; she needed to leave, like right now. “How about I get back to you in 5-7 business days? Sounds good? Cool. Well, it’s late and Chad’s my ride so we should probably head home, right Chad?” Her words were rushed which made you raise an eyebrow at the sudden change.

“Hm? Oh sure, I’ll just get my keys and stuff and we can go,” Chad said before going to get his belongings.

“So, I’ll see you around—buddy,” she awkwardly punched your arm in a playful manner.

“Um, yeah, buddy. See you around,” you chuckled at her awkwardness.

“I’m still expecting an answer though!” You called out as she made her way to the front door.

“5-7 business days!” She repeated back to you.

“I’m holding you to that!”

-----------

A/N: well that escalated, gosh, keep it in your pants R! 😦

Taglist: @t-wylia @lesbianpepsi @jennasfav @alyciaddict @justafoolinlove @steffido1993 @niqmandu @severelyuniquereview @darklron @ravenousinferno @smut-religiously777 @beautifulmongerbanditsalad @vanatalye @alexkolax@andsoigotabutterfly @ajortga

#tara carpenter x reader

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ᴛᴡɪꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴇʟᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ

Wednesday Addams x magic!reader

Words : 6.2k+

Summary : Wednesday navigates through her not-feelings, you murdered, she swooned, this does not sound like a summary.

Warning(s) : Blood, mentions of torture, death, bad writing..

A/N : inspired by faouzia's fur elise. Listen!

×•×•×•×

Your feet hurt. It was what kept you grounded – reveling in the pain that shoots up to the base of your spine, the callouses that were starting to build up on your toes, the rush of blood flowing through your vessels and preventing the muscles from dying out of exhaustion.

Scrapes the floor was making against the soles of your feet were one of the things reminding you of the present, what was real, and what was mere false souls clawing away at your sanity. It was the melodies, played with such divine precision that fell and rose with each stroke from the cello, and oddly enough; the pair of eyes scrutinizing your moves, every twists and jumps you made.

You would only stop when she did – if she ever did.

Beads of sweat collected beneath your hairline, leaving strands of fallen hair sticking to your cheeks. The rush of air as you spun was not enough to dry them, only increasing the counts of breaths you were taking in one short verse. It was refreshing in a way basking under the sun would do – here, now, it was the subtle smile pulling on her lips that carved away your focus.

You had no special talent; to unruly eyes, all you do was dance and blabber obnoxiously in her ears any chance you get, Wednesday had started developing a newfound fondness deafness when the first wave of sound you’d made entered her eardrums. She had thought it a privilege to be the only person allowed to hear your voice, though she was starting to regret it now.

Whilst your toes were close to falling off – the statement was not exaggerated, as Wednesday knew the acts of dancing herself even if not with such elegance and poise – she could feel the skin on the tips of her fingers peeling off, rubbed raw by the constant pressure on the strings for a long period of time. It had only been.. what – three, four short hours? It felt like she was only getting started, and you did, too.

It might had only been for the arts itself performed by the subject of interest, in this case; you. Perhaps she should’ve invited you to the dance, and she would’ve, had Tyler not been her first priority at the moment.

There was something in you that she had to beware of, an unknown comfort that sent her mind swimming, her lungs failing to bring oxygen to her heart. The seer felt anything but comfortable with the feelings she was apparently experiencing, according to her roommate. Hard feelings, maybe. Affection, she would rather eat her dead tarantula than admit she held any rooms in her undead heart for you – the fact that she’d broken a werewolf's nose for snickering at you proved nothing.

Wednesday had lost herself – usually, it wouldn’t stop her muscle memory from taking over, yet the silence enveloping the room was daunting, the musical hum of the cello replaced by the beating of her heart and the puffs of breaths as you settled your eyes at her flawless form behind the giant instrument.

“Alright?” Breathless, you made only the effort to sit on the floor, limbs moving heavily as Wednesday made herself busy. Doing what, one might wonder – you showed no signs of confusion nor care of what she was up to, however, as the cold floor became a comforting companion. After a short minute, the ravenette appeared before you, making herself at home by your side and taking out some supplies from her kit – none other, the Wednesday Addams was taking care of you; rubbing ointments on your feet, applying wrappings as a professional would do – you’d expected nothing less from the Addams.

Her lips pursed in concentration as your breath hitched, shivers crawling along your skin from her feather-light touch, hoping Wednesday had no problem ridding the blood coating her dorm floors.

You leaned on your elbows, hands signing messily, “Eugene is checking out the cave. You’re leaving him, then?” She paused, putting away her kits before taking her time to lay beside you on the floor, palms resting on her stomach. Time seemed to slow after these sessions, exhaustion creeping up your bodies – it had never bothered you, to fall asleep on her floor, freezing and in pain yet succumbing to slumber without a care, knowing not one soul would cross within 10 feet from where you were.

The girl seemed to be arranging her thoughts, something unusual given her quick wits when it came to her goals. Had she come to care for the boy? Even that was too much of a suggestion.

Poking her with a finger, only then did she turn her head towards you, dark eyes gleaming and still, a worry line visible on her eyebrows. “I’ll accompany him. You can attend the dance without problem.” Wednesday hesitated for a moment, the only second she’d allow herself before opting for her investigation over you.

“You should keep Tyler in check while you’re at it.” You sighed when she rolled her eyes, annoyance radiating off of her in waves and you quirked an eyebrow – watching her sulk, head turned away. Wednesday Addams was pouting, arms crossed and huffing in distaste, a contrary to her usual deadly threats whenever faced with a disagreement.

“I’m not his keeper.” A chuckle rumbled from your chest, finding the predicament quite amusing while the Addams felt the opposite. You poked at her shoulder – again, Wednesday classified it as your favourite way of getting her attention – turning to lie on your side and recoiled only when she shot you a glare.

“Just keep an eye on him, will you?”

When no refusal was uttered, you took it as a win. You’d shown disproval on the guy ever since Wednesday ran into him months ago, the way he always looked like a kicked puppy rubbed on your instincts in all the wrong places.

“I don’t want to collect Eugene's dead pieces.”

From the side, her eyes seemed to be glazed over, a sign she hadn’t blinked in a long time – usually, she was either focused, angry or determined to prove a point, though not this time. Not that you were aware.

“You wouldn’t let it go that far,” Wednesday gritted her teeth, answering your endless inquiries for the first time that night. “Otherwise, it’ll be on you.”

“Not if you lose sight of him.” Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you were left hanging when Wednesday showed no signs of moving, though you could see her jaw locking – the telltale of her irritation. For a dark and mysterious outcast, she was sure easy to read for you. The Addams had no inkling as to why you were so suspicious, or why and how she’d decided to indulge your skepticism.

She huffed. You hummed with a satisfied grin stretching across your lips.

×•×•×

“Have you ever seen someone jump that high?” You questioned Wednesday, pointing at the high branches of the tree you were sitting under, causing Wednesday to halt her reading, eyes landing on your gestures. Unlike some, the distraction didn't bring any sorts of irritation in her bones, the question itself, however, lacked certain intelligence.

Of course, Wednesday had climbed higher than this dwarf tree you were referring to, but you shook your head before she could utter a word, as if you’d read her mind somehow and couldn’t wait to rebut whatever thoughts she had. “Not climb. Jump.” Wednesday narrowed her eyes as your eyebrows shot up in excitement, ecstatic at the notion of jumping for fun, or in Enid's words, shit and giggles. Wednesday failed to understand the relevance of her slangs.

The ravenette also found herself wondering just how she’d became so acquainted with a person this simple-minded, even more so than Enid Sinclair who, in her definition, was the sheer representation of a puppy. You used to be quiet, anxious to even meet anyone’s eyes before you bumped into Wednesday, seemingly the only sane – or insane – student who understood sign language; which, in your mind, meant she was immediately your choice of friend.

She must admit, your company was easier to tolerate than most, and each interaction left Wednesday’s soul tingling, like the feeling after sitting in the electric chair for too long. Perhaps it was your hidden powers tinkering with her brain, playing her as if she was yours to command – though many would disagree on that, since it always was the other way around; you bidding her wishes, you sticking to her side on dangerous scouts, you jumping as high as the tree near the lake because Wednesday just had that idea of entertainment.

If it was anybody’s guess, you were forced to put up with her horrendous personality to keep your head attached to your body, but if those anybody were making use of their vision, they would soon realize that you were more amused by this play than Wednesday herself.

A crowd had started to gather, some of them taking a step back at the glare Wednesday was sporting, some too curious to care for their lives. “Hey, dumbass! Did you lose your brain somewhere?”

It seemed the shout managed to pull on your nerves; leaving you on a standstill, your body frozen with your arm stretched upwards and rage almost engulfing you for the ridiculing stares, face turning a dark shade of red some might mistake for embarrassment. Perhaps doing this in an open place might’ve been the wrong call, though it was up to their interpretation and your way of showing them just how much you’d been holding back.

One thing they never knew; your temper was just as bad as the ideas popping in your head every several hours. Wednesday clicked her tongue, stomping her foot towards you and snatching your wrist, bringing it to her mouth and biting into the skin. Great minds really do think alike, then.

You hissed, heart beating against your ribs at the rush of endorphins from the sight, something in your chest set alight as the last thread of patience snapped. Several gasps could be heard from the collecting audience as blood trickled out from the wound – it was no ordinary one. Your fingers bunched up into a fist, struggling against Wednesday’s hold but she held steady, “Jump.” It was only loud enough for you to hear, your lungs constricting with the pressure it was taking you to not leapt away.

The crimson thickened, liquid solidified into a thin cord – you glanced upwards, mentally counting the heights for the length of wire you’d need. Your mouth opened to form the syllables, afraid no more to use them despite the crowd.

“How high?”

×•×

Nevermore learned of a new outcast then; they called you a blood bender, though you refused to regard yourself as such – for it was only your own blood you could control. Plus, you’d stressed multiple times to the principal and classmates, “What am I, an avatar?” in which most of them never caught the barest glimpse of, if not for Wednesday translating them with a deadpanned face.

“It is a matter of choice,” Wednesday begged to differ, as if ashamed by your unwillingness toward torture by blood drainage. You nodded along still, despite your hands signing hastily with feign offense, “That’s barbaric, Wednesday.”

She remained unbothered, talking back about how you were too soft whilst striding away to her dorms, leaving you scurrying after her brisk pace.

×•×•×•×

Wednesday stomped her foot to the dance floor, inevitably sending glares to each corner of the ballroom no one dared to turn her way. Well, one except her date – what an abominable notion that made bile rose from her stomach – she had to swallow down the urge to throw up the chocolate cupcake you’d shoved her way before leaving for the forest. It wouldn’t be an awful sight to see his white suit tainted, though she must admit it’d look better splattered with blood rather than vomit.

She had began to lose her temper, regret coating her soul for even considering this stupid dance. Why was she stuck with a love-struck puppy whilst you get to venture out into the wilderness, death looming over your shoulder? So, when chaos unfolded right before her eyes just as she set her plans to lit the place on fire, one couldn’t blame the skip in her heart; though she was positively blaming you for the vision flashing behind her eyelids after colliding with someone and dammit – she’d lost sight of the boy. (If Wednesday could cheer, she’d be raising her hands in the air for losing a human-sized hindrance.)

A low hum reverberating across the forest sent her skidding to a stop, the ground shaking slightly with the tension such sound carried. The cave was already set on fire when Wednesday caught sight of it, rising more questions than ceasing the uneasiness building in her chest. The hum turned into a ring, a kind that made her eyes roll to the back of her head and drained her insides of blood. Thank the devils – the sound wasn’t made for her ears.

Snapping out of her reverie, Wednesday ran like her life was depended on it – in this case, it probably was – though she pondered whether this scenario would make legendary enough for her death. She followed the trail of footprints on damp soil, seeped red and reeked of blood that had the Addams double-take by inhaling the stench to confirm it was indeed iron.

You must be quite pre-occupied to have left a trace behind, Wednesday suspected in her mind, observing each and every curve of the ground and silently berating your carelessness. If it wasn’t Wednesday going after you, suspicions would surely rise when investigations were held and the bloody prints fit to your shoe size exactly.

“Sing, Wednesday.” The goosebumps that greeted her was none other caused by your voice in her head, a tingle that would perplex most people, but not Wednesday Addams – no, thrill and adrenaline had consumed her by this point, her smile widening at the signal followed the high ring resonating throughout the gloomy forest.

The seer quickly averted her attention and hummed to herself quietly, tugging at her hairdo to pull out a pair of earbuds – “You’ll need them. I wouldn’t want you losing your brilliant mind just yet.” – eyes scanning over the darkness for any hints now that her ears were rendered useless. They light up at the first sight of strings flinging across the air, the thinnest line of red that could slash the thickest of trees surrounding her.

Knowing your ruthlessness, the Hyde wouldn’t survive the night – it wouldn’t even see the next hour, given the bright clashing against darkness, only the moon illuminating such a beautiful performance. The night was eerie at best, and Wednesday secretly fantasized the sounds that’d fill her ears as you deemed mercy too kind for your enemies. What was happening to her?

Your skin buzzed, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you stared down the wide-eyed monster – hideous, you were sure Wednesday would agree. No wonder it was called the Hyde.

Turning to the sound of wet footsteps, you made out the twin braids before her face, pausing your movements after wrapping your weapon – a thin red ribbon made out of your blood, the wound still tickling your wrist – around the Hyde and forcing it still, though it didn’t stop it from breaking into hysterics, monstrous roars only a far echo in Wednesday’s eardrums. “Took you long enough,” You took a step back, as if presenting a gift, showing off the results of your hunts like a proud predator.

The Addams didn’t make any response, still humming under her breath as her dark orbs raked over the animal, growling and snapping at the sight of new flesh. At this time, Wednesday guessed it had approximately 20 hours before huffing its last breath, a generous amount of time to suffer the injuries you’d so happily bequeathed it.

You never liked prolonged cries from your victims, though, despite your love and tendency for torture – not one soul in Nevermore would believe her when she claimed you as heartless, she’d tried. Wednesday could imagine your mouth forming an “o” as a whistle followed, fastening the ties and watching it gleam ever so luminously, Wednesday’s favourite shade of red flashing as it cut through flesh and bones. The screams that resonated in the air was music to her ears, twisted, perhaps, as it only irritated yours whereas it delighted her.

Stopping your maneuver, you decided giving her 30 seconds of inhumane wails were a favor in itself, her earbuds hanging on her shoulders and eyelids closed, as if reveling in the pain of others; she was, not that she was ever sorry for it – It ended too soon, however, though she could still sniff out the smell of burning flesh paired with blood that had became a signature scent whenever you blessed them with death.

The monster seemed to retreat to the form of a boy, through pieces of limbs you could make out the face you’d grown to despise – a sense of satisfaction swelled in your chest, and well, the height your ego was jumping at was dangerous, given such circumstances where you managed to prove Wednesday wrong weren’t many.

‘I never disagreed,’ You could already hear her denial, yet you wouldn’t put it past yourself to not flaunt it to her face for at least the two upcoming weeks.

“You lost sight of him, after all.” Wednesday grunted in displeasure, seeing her investigation had come to an end sooner than expected – the prophecy aside – added with the fact that she wasn’t the one to discover the truth, and not being the one to kill him. It was a two-person job, she knew, Eugene had lured him there along with you, so that added onto it and made it three, though it was strange that Wednesday hadn’t seen another body around, dead or alive – “Where’s Eugene?”

You snorted, not at all surprised it took her this long to find her bee-loving friend missing. He could’ve bled out before she realized, if something did happen to him, though Wednesday was right. You wouldn’t let it.

Staring at the pieces of body on the ground, it hadn’t registered yet just how far your actions had been, wondering if you’d receive a suspension after being found killing the deadly monster because – only a monster could murder a monster.

A roar broke them out of their trance, eyes snapping forward and away from the corpse of a very human boy laying in the dirt.

“Help!!” Eugene, chased by the Hyde they supposedly just killed.

×•×•×

“Why sacrifice my life, when I could present you theirs?”

In the middle of class, you’d decided it was the best time to comment on the little notes she’d written for her novel – and attached to it, a number of scribbles (paragraphs) of what could be assumed as poems. For you.

If it was directed to anyone else, horror wouldn’t even begin to explain one’s feelings upon reading her letters; ‘No liquor could come equal to the taste of your blood’ would surely rise more fear than affection. While Ms. Thornhill was off blabbering about a venomous plant, you were doodling on Wednesday’s paper and scribbling little useless comments on her sentences, some to make her character more lively – a suggestion of which she’d always refused. She needed them deadly, not the opposite.

Her novel was only half written, the characters well introduced and a smidge of conflict told, but you’d have to be imagining things as this one other presence made an appearance. You would say it undoubtedly resembled yourself, though pointing it out would only cause the author to retreat her initial intention of adding said figure in her story. Although her poems were far from ordinary, you couldn’t help the fascinating lure of her narrative; her gruesome yet colorful choice of words had always pulled on your strings, if just a little.

“Perhaps you could mention Goody? She does not seem to be helping much, if at all. Being a character would be more useful, don’t you think?” You were always talkative after classes – unlike everyone else, your chats were quiet, save for the Addam’s occasional curt responses – most probably why it was one of your traits Wednesday could tolerate with little trouble. She’d managed to broaden her knowledge on sign language, given the amount of rambling you tended to do on a daily basis – unbeknownst to her, she’d also formed a mental list of involuntary sounds you make and what each of them meant.

Still, she was none the wiser.

After finding out there were not one, but two monsters running rampant in the woods, Nevermore had gone into another lockdown yet again, this time forbidding all of its inhabitants from leaving school grounds further than two blocks away. Tyler's body had been recovered by his father, the latter holding more than a grudge over Wednesday after interrogating two of the witnesses of his son's murder; a psycho girl and one with speech impediment. Wednesday was past telling him anything about watching the life drain from the pathetic boy's eyes. He was soon discharged from duty for lashing out at a teenager.

The next suspect was Tyler’s mother who’d been missing for over a decade, even presumed dead by the officers. You held no interest in pursuing yet another Hyde, for it was, in your own words, ‘repetitive and boring', as Wednesday clicked her tongue in frustration at how little of help you were being. The grip on her pencil tightened, her nails turning white and the piece of wood might snap into two had she not focused on the light taps of your fingers on the glass window.

Since when had she needed anyone’s help? And since when had the sounds you make became her source of serenity?

“The sky is decorated to the brim tonight. Let’s sneak out.” There, just the brightest idea plucked right from your head, your feet already scraping against the floor in your haste to search for her jacket, shrugging it on with a nonchalance only possessed by an ignorant soul.

It could've been one of those scouts to pursue her investigation further, except everyone had already known of the monstrous creature roaming the grounds, and Wednesday wasn’t in any way prepared to catch the second Hyde so soon after the first – considering how it gained the two students a three-week trial at the local station merely for being on the crime scene. And to make it clear, Wednesday was always ready for violence; it was just her proclaimed partner wasn’t. No one would've believed it if someone spread the tale of how high school students killed a presumably innocent boy – well, anyone but Nevermore itself.

Evidently, sneaking out whilst being put under house-arrest (school?) would not turn out advantageous for anyone. So who was Wednesday to refuse such an atrocious idea?

The sky was, indeed, decorated with stars and void of any gloomy clouds that resulted with a scowl adorning Wednesday's lips – such a lovely view illuminated by only the moonlight, the shine of it accentuating her sharp cheekbones, shimmering against her pale skin that even the owls take flight upon spotting her to avoid getting caught up in her webs of misery. It was where you and those creatures differ; as they scramble away saving themselves, you would present yourself to her if given the chance – she had always been interested on how your blood worked, on whether you had the same voice cord as any ordinary humans, on whether your eyes held poison for it to make her heart jump and struggle against her ribcage.

More often than not, Wednesday had imagined herself operating on each part of your anatomy to analyze which ones had bewitched her so – with her undisclosed fascination, she had expressed it any chances she'd gotten - too often - by threatening to cut open your chest, first and foremost.

She dared not wonder why each thought that consisted of the gleam in your eyes sent shivers running down her spine. Though what she did wonder, was why she was sat here, on the highest tree branch you had reached once, tense shoulder touching yours and meeting the moon directly at eye-level.

Wednesday’s idea of sneaking out definitely did not involve stargazing, her time wasted with watching and naming constellations at 2 am on a school night when she could be having adventurous encounters with deadly creatures in these forbidden woods. She should’ve known better when you mentioned the stars, one of the many things that held some kind of credibility in piquing your interest – one other thing being Wednesday herself, but it wasn’t like you were daft enough to bless her with that knowledge.

Her ears twitched, the barest of sounds reaching it being registered in her brain – you were humming, the edge of your lips turned slightly upwards as the stars twinkled under your gaze, as if their sparkles had bent to your will.

Dangerous games you were playing, hypnotizing Wednesday into doing something as abhorrent as naming this moment precious. It took Wednesday exactly three minutes before building up enough willpower to turn her head away from the sight, and ten seconds before her eyes found your silhouette again. Even less time was taken until she was giving the trunk a death grip, jaw locked tight as she mulled in her head just how obnoxiously appealing your lips looked, how soft and cold it would feel under her touch. Wednesday had never held a similar sentiment over any living beings before, the desire to devour what was in front of her engulfing her whole, clouding her mind and restricting her lungs.

“How long would it take them to find us, give or take?” Wednesday snapped out of her trace, obsidian orbs trailing after your movements and away from your luscious lips – curiosity, it was, a moment's mistake, nothing more. She failed to give the obvious answer to your query; you could see the highest tower of Nevermore from your spot, and the highlights from the moon gave a clear view to Weems’s window.

“You're lost in your head.” Your voice was scratchy from disuse, yet it was Wednesday who swallowed visibly. The default glower in her eyes softened, drowned in the cold breeze of the night, her pale skin contrasting against the darkness – if she looked down, she feared losing her balance and falling to her untimely death wasn't a far off possibility.

“They'd never find out if you keep your foolish mouth shut.” Grumbling under her breath, the ravenette cursed herself for not bringing anything she could distract herself with in this height; she was left with only her mind and your revolting charms. “Well,” Still, you opened your mouth just to irk her further, she was certain. “My arm has been rendered useless, you see..” Your gaze left hers – much to her disappointment, and her vision swam from the overwhelming urge to throw up her dinner – to find her own fingers wrapped around your wrist, hindering you even the prospect of using them.

You were overpowering her mind, that must be the case – her father had trained her to withstand any kinds of mind control, but none had ever warned her for the anomaly that was your voice; melodic, bewitching – so much so that one would die just for another taste of it.

Soon as she detached her grip, you reached out instead, pulling her onto you and it was so close, too close that Wednesday could smell the remnants of iron from the blood you'd used to get up here. You hummed at her glare, leaning in closer so the tip of your nose could brush hers. Of course, now would be the time to relay the information that was of importance.

“Hyde's master is someone from Nevermore.” Your lips touched, flames erupting from the contact and distinguishing the cold that had coated her skin from the short time spent out in the forest – Wednesday felt warm all over, as if she'd been set on fire and the only way out was death, for being forced to endure life without your presence tormenting her suddenly did not sound as pleasant.

“I thought there was a familiar smell,” Struggling for breath, your attempt to pull away was futile – Wednesday chased after the contact relentlessly, uncaring that she was moving closer to the edge. “I sniffed out the same scent in Herbology.”

“Oh, shut up.” Wednesday disliked hearing you blabber about nonsense when you could’ve been engrossed in this as much as she was, when you could be touching her skin, gripping her hair, whispering her name – after getting a tiny fragment of your poison, she was now craving for more, so much more that it would kill her. Just what had you done to her?

The rush of blood in her brain made her lightheaded, her mind not thinking straight – if she ever was whilst being in your proximity. The accident that followed this fact was not on her, though, as it got her into a position most indecent to wandering eyes. Wednesday attempted to fling a leg over yours and as anticipated by any sane watcher (a displeased squirrel), both of you toppled down ungracefully, hitting several branches on the way before making it to the ground, your face buried in her neck as she groaned in pain.

A minute went by and Wednesday still couldn't seem to get ahold of her bearings, her eyes unfocused and lips tingling - she must look utterly ridiculous, caught up in the webs of your deception - or whatever it was you used to lock away her sanity. Her vision cleared very slowly, stars glittering the sky coming into view and only then did she register the heaviness leaning on her chest and something wet coating her shoulder; too dense to be water and too light to be her own blood – there was no pain stabbing her muscles. A growl reverberated against her skin, and you lifted yourself up to reveal your face; blood smeared from your lips and dripping down to your chin. If you had noticed her pupils dilating, you didn't comment on it – instead, you let out a breath, and Wednesday finally felt her back hit solid ground.

You’d lost your mind and apparently, so had Wednesday; because the net made of blood softening her fall had just dissipated and you'd gotten blood all over her shirt – it should make her livid, yet the only thing she was forced to tackle was the harsh beating of her supposedly dead heart, and how she was expected to survive this ordeal with her wit intact.

“You ruined my clothes.” You've ruined me. The statement sounded unlike her; Wednesday cared not for her fashion in this time – it would be a hassle to get the same texture of the fabric again, but she had plenty of the same clothes lying around, so it mattered little. You grinned hazily, blinking away the dizziness starting to pull you under. You needed a transfusion; the next usual option was to find a vampire and ask (kindly) if they would lend you a bag, though luckily, Wednesday always had one of those stashed under her bed. You’d never asked.

The problem now, was to get back inside unnoticed.

You didn't seem fazed, however, as you smeared more blood upon her skin before intertwining your fingers with hers, the gesture so absurd that Wednesday found herself frozen, questioning her life choices and just why this gesture had fed an itch to leap back onto the tree – it electrocuted her, the damp and warm skin against hers, all the way to the veins in her heart. It resembled an electric chair; she found herself sitting still, wishing the session would never end.

With a low hum that Wednesday guessed could vibrate to the core of the earth, the Addams could no longer see her arm, or any parts of her limbs; she’d went invisible, most probably by the blood covering most of her skin, explaining the heat blanketing it that sent chills down her back at the same time.

“You could rattle the stars.” It came out of nowhere, even Wednesday herself was stunned by her words. “You could do anything, if only you dared to.” It was burning now, the crimson on her skin, Wednesday assumed people could see through her disguise now, given the bright red radiating from her body. The hold on her hand tightened, “Keep quiet.” Your voice carried a weight that pressed against her skull, but Wednesday was as stubborn as you were fierce – she tugged you into a stop and proceed to open her mouth to retaliate, but a scream cut her off before she could protest any further. Her eyes light up at the first sign of trouble, fingers already attempting to break free from your hold as your shoulders sagged in exhaustion.

Wednesday took a step away and the next thing she knew, her foot was lacking strength, and her eyes could see naught but darkness.

×•×•×•×

“I do not fear, Wednesday.” She shot you a glare, an act that hadn’t affected you any more than the first time receiving it. “I know myself, and I know people would fear me.” You were no longer using signs to communicate, nor were you using the voice drenched with malice that had forced her to sleep last night – Wednesday despised it; the doubt and regret in your features, more so than the fact that you'd taken her free-will and prevented her from chasing after a possible lead.

“You do fear, then. Of their judgements.” Even now, Wednesday's gaze were hooded with judgement, though it didn't stop you from facing her head-on, meeting her eyes like it was the most loving gaze you'd ever received. She was too blind to your concern, too bitter to hear you out, failed to see why, just why had you been so scared? Why had you been scared, when Wednesday would entrust her life to you? Why had you hesitated, when she knew there was nothing to fear with you around?

“I am a hunted soul,” You paused, doubting your next words and the gravity it carried, “Even the unliving were not forgiving for the power I bear. You should know death would not be as sweet an escape as you always imagine.” You were ghostly pale then, as if you’d seen the devil himself right in front of your eyes.

She didn't know what came over her. One moment, she was sitting on her bed, watching you explain the cause of your doubts with a pathetic grimace, and the next, she was reaching her hand out to brush away any stray tears adorning your cheeks, her touch ever so delicate, as if one small pressure could break you into pieces. ‘You fear the wrong things’, she wished to say, yet her mouth and brain did not cooperate – how could they, when your scent invaded her senses so painfully she was having trouble sorting her own thoughts?

“I like to think I chase away the dead.” Stay near me, She thought, her lips pressed into a thin line once the words leave her mouth, the crease between her eyebrows deepening as you fought a smile from taking over your features. You averted your eyes to your hands laying on your thighs, picking on the nails as Wednesday held back a scoff whilst also fighting the urge to taste your lips again.

Perhaps she was mad; seeing her ancestor in her dreams, started caring for her roommate, and she couldn't bear resist your oh, so despicable charms that seemed to hypnotize her into ditching her common sense. Wednesday half-considered telling her mother, but decided it would be too much a strain on her sanity. She could already imagine the joy in her mother's face upon hearing her confession, “Wednesday, finding love?! Oh, how wonderful!” Goosebumps ran across her body and she shivered, allowing the tug on her arm to pull her back to reality. You tilted your head, a puppy-like confusion visible in your eyes and Wednesday once again was overcome with a longing that stole her ability to breathe properly.

“No one dares to challenge me, you should well remember.” As long as I'm around, I will keep you safe. You choked out a wet laugh, letting your finger hover over a scar above her eyebrow before falling to the side of her bruised lip, “You're cold,” She murmured, her eyes falling close much to her dismay – or not. I favored the cold. Wednesday felt you before hearing the sharp intake of breath, devouring your cold lips until they were warmer than the morning sun. Her hand gripped your shirt, pulling you closer until there was no room left for movements, craving for contact when it usually brings discomfort. She would slaughter anything that posed a threat to you; it wasn’t a threat but an oath.

“Show them their fear.” And fear us, they will.

#wednesday addams x reader

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Baby, I'm Yours - Wanda Maximoff Oneshosts

Summary: The Avengers gain a new member, and Wanda Maximoff mistakenly assumes she has gained a rival instead of a friend. Or the one where Wanda has a crush that she doesn't know how to deal with. [Requested]

Warnings: really fluff, enemies to lovers, some kissing and a lot of teasing, avengers being a family, emo!Wanda and her first gay crush. | Words: 4.564k

A/N-> This was requested a while ago and I used it as practice for a winter soldier!reader idea that I had. Idk if I would ever make a series out of this idea, but it was fun to write this reader.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Seven months after she joined the Avengers, someone else did too.

Unlike her, Sam was extremely excited by the news, he woke up early and somehow managed to convince Vision to join him in the welcome.

Wanda would have skipped the interaction - She only went to get breakfast and intended to spend the rest of the training-free day filled with interactions between the team, hiding in her room and watching old TV shows. But as soon as she noticed the little witch sneaking around the kitchen trying to go unnoticed by Sam's excited theories about who the new avenger would be, Natasha whistled and called out to her.

"Good morning, Maximoff. Do you intend to welcome our new colleague in pajamas?" The widow asked, hiding a teasing smile behind a cup of coffee.

The question already implied what Wanda had feared, and made her sigh. "I didn't know I was expected to take part in the welcome."

Nat grimaced softly - she seemed to be finding the whole thing very amusing.

"What an idea, Maximoff, of course you are! We were all there waiting for you when it was your turn."

She forced a smile, resisting the urge to snap back something bratty like "Thor wasn't". Deciding she had no reason to argue with Natasha, she busied herself with preparing some toast and pouring herself some tea.

When Sam suddenly tapped on the counter, everyone looked at him.

"I got it!" he declared excitedly. "I bet the new guy is Spider-kid!"

Nat frowned. "Who?" and then chuckled to the Falcon's obvious disappointment.

"Come on, the colorful vigilante who keeps throwing webs around? How come you've never heard of him?"

Assuming a thoughtful expression for a moment, Nat flipped through the newspapers on the counter before clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

"Ah, I think Tony's got his eye on that one." She says. "But, no, Wilson. The new recruit isn't the spider. And there's no point in giving me that look, as I won't spoil the surprise."

It looked like the subject was ending - at least that Sam was going to give up. It wasn't long before the rest of the team showed up for coffee, and Wanda mumbled a few good mornings back quickly before making her way to her own room, to change into something more presentable than fluffy pajamas.

But on the way to the bedroom, from one of the glass entrance doors, Steve Rogers appeared and he was accompanied.

"[...] Come on, we're early, they must still be having breakfast." Commented the older Avenger, busy taking off his coat, it took him a moment to notice that Wanda was in the hallway. She was staring, probably. "Oh, good morning, Wanda. I want you to meet someone."

But Wanda already knew you, straight from the television. And from the Shield's files of potential Avenger-level threats.

So maybe that's why when Steve said your name, patted you on the shoulder and you held out your hand for Wanda to shake, she just stared.

"Okay, not a handshaker." You mumbled awkwardly, lowering your arm. "You're Wanda Maximoff, mind reader and former enemy, right? I didn't expect the shock, given the circumstances."

"Hey, easy." Steve grumbled at your aggressiveness, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Wanda narrowed her eyes at you, but you didn't look too intimidated, your posture relaxed and your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket. "That's in the past. We're all friends now. Aren't we, Wanda?"

With some resistance, she eventually forced a smile and tried to relax her posture. She sighed and nodded. "Of course, Steve. It's nice to meet you apart from the news, Miss Barnes. Should we wait for your brother to join us or does he still have Interpol on his back?"

You chuckle dryly. "Listen here, you-"

"Okay, enough." Steve interrupts, pulling you by the shoulders and giving Wanda a disapproving look. He also whispers that he'll have a talk with her later, but the witch turns away, dragging her feet back into the bedroom while you and Rogers head in the opposite direction.

On the way to the kitchen, you mutter: "And here I thought superheroes were polite."

The soldier chuckles briefly. "You tried to blow up the White House, you can understand the hesitation. Now come on, we've got the rest of the team to shock."

It had taken her hours to see you again, not that anyone had asked her opinion, but Steve had put you in the room next to hers on the justification that it would be good for the two of you to have someone close in age to pass the time.

Wanda grimaced and reminded him that you were about 150 years old. Steve chuckled.

"Technically, yes. But she spent almost all that time on ice, so she was only really around for less than 20 years. Can you please try to be friendly? You have more in common than you might think."

Wanda begrudgingly agreed to be the one to give you a tour of the tower. And so she could also discover that she was apparently the only Avenger who was hesitant about your presence on the team.

She knew your list of skills off the top of her head, but still wondered if you could read what she was thinking when you added; "Your hesitation is totally fine, Maximoff. It must be hard to share the podium as the team's coolest person, but you get used to it."

She chuckled awkwardly at the compliment mixed with teasing at the end of the tour. You offered her a farewell wink, thanking her for the favor before muttering that you needed a shower after several hours of driving. You disappeared to your own room before Wanda could come to a coherent conclusion as to why her heart was racing inside her chest.

Perhaps she was having a panic attack?

Wanda turned on her heels and made her way to Bruce's lab. A quick check-up would clarify things.

While assuring her that she didn't have a chronic arrhythmia, Bruce also - under the influence of Natasha and Tony - diagnosed her with something very common to teenage patients: a crush.

"Did you consider Miss Maximoff, that perhaps, you may have just liked her?"

She did not take this very well.

"What? That's ridiculous! I'm not even gay!" Bruce looked up from the normal results of the cardiology test she had demanded and offered her a small smile.

"All right, Miss Maximoff, maybe I made a mistake. You're probably just anxious about your return to action next week." The doctor suggested and Wanda stood up from the lab chair with an impatient huff.

"That's definitely it." She assured him, not wasting any more time on Bruce and his absurd theories after thanking him for the tests.

After such an unfortunate situation, Wanda began to avoid you. It was the most viable solution when someone caused her to have irregular heartbeats, sweat or tremors. Perhaps she was allergic to you.

Obviously, she should keep her distance.

But it seems that the team had other ideas.

"Barnes and Maximoff, you're together. No gloves, come on." Natasha arrived at the gym announcing, an iPad with the training schedule in hand. Wanda, who had spent a good few weeks with the successful plan of interactions limited to greetings, nearly had a stroke. At least her partner, Sam, was keen enough to hold off his punch before it got to her. Wanda hadn't even heard his comment about her getting distracted in a fight and her feet were moving towards the mat, her eyes quick to notice your breathless figure removing the fighting gloves you had been using on a practice dummy for the last few minutes.

"Let's see if training with Wilson has taught you anything, Maximoff." You commented with a smile that made her stomach jump. Something about your sweaty, panting appearance was making her dizzy.

The rest of the team spread out on the edges of the mat, interested to see the exercise, and it was only Natasha who came up to you to lead the whole thing.

"Start with the basics, I want to see Wanda's reaction time." The widow explained, squeezing the two of you on the shoulder. Before turning away completely, she raised a finger in warning to the younger brunette. "And no magic tricks, Maximoff. Even if you're losing."

Wanda smiled, rolling her eyes. Only once had she done that to Natasha and it seemed the widow would never let that story die.

Before the whistle blew, you looked her in the eye. "I'll take it easy on you, little witch." You whispered teasingly, and Wanda felt something burn in her lower belly. She also decided that she had to win because she had to get that smirk off her face.

It was an easier task than it looked - and it was all down to the fact that if there was one thing Hydra had taught her well, it was to exploit weaknesses.

And yours was to care about her. Every hesitation in your movements, your awareness of the super-soldier strength that could hurt her, made it very easy for Wanda to exploit it, slip away, and dodge all your blows. And there was something else too; a soft choke in your breathing every time she got too close, tangled up between one move and the next. The way your ears turned three shades redder when she managed to knock you over and landed on your chest.

"Wow, Maximoff really is kicking your ass." taunted Sam from the corner of the room, grinning at Barton and Nat.

You didn't seem to mind, licking your lips as you took a second look at the position Wanda now found herself in; sitting on your hips.

She did, however, give you an annoyed look. "Don't hold back, I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, little witch." You retorted ironically, leaning yourself fully back onto the mat.

Wanda grunted angrily, then grabbed the collar of your blouse. "Fight for real! I don't need you to take it easy, I can handle it."

The disarming was so quick that she barely had time to blink - one second she was on your hips, the next her back was pressed to the mat with her hands pinned to the side of her head.

Your body on top of hers, pressing her to the floor, made her choke.

For a moment, as your dilated eyes descend to her mouth, you also seem to forget what you were doing, and the audience around you.

But suddenly, you let go; a dry, humorless laugh escaping you as you stand up. And you turn to Nat as if you hadn't just dropped Wanda on the mat.

After ignoring you for weeks, she thinks she deserves it.

"Her fight is decent, so I think we had enough."

Nat raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. "Oh, are you the one deciding on the training now, Barnes?"

You smile briefly before retorting; "Come on, everyone knows she's not punching her way out of fights when she can use the energy tricks. It's a waste of time making the girl train like a soldier."

Natasha doesn't seem to agree. She follows you towards the locker room, arguing how important it is to eliminate the team's vulnerabilities, while the rest scatter around the gym, some giving up practicing to get something to eat and others going back to wrestling.

Wanda regrets sitting on the mat because in that position she can watch you at the locker room door, tugging at your training shirt, exposing a strong muscular back and a lot of skin because of the sports top that doesn't do much good to hide it.

Natasha continues to talk to you without taking any notice of the gesture, so Wanda is sure she's the problem. Her stupid brain and heart are clearly forgetting that she can't handle a crush right now.

She doesn't even have Pietro anymore, who, as soon as he'd finished tormenting her about it, would give her advice. Because he's always had a natural talent for this kind of thing, while the last time Wanda tried to flirt with a boy, it sounded like a threat.

She can't do this on her own. And with that conclusion, she tries to get over it. Maybe Google has some tips, or maybe, the walking computer that hangs around the tower can help.

"Vis?"

The synthesized man took his eyes off the book in his lap when Wanda called out to him, a few days after the training session where, since being pressed into a mat by you, Wanda found herself unable to think of anything else.

"Hello, Wanda." He greeted her gently, closing the pages and waiting for her to approach.

"I need your help with something."

"Oh, what would that be?"

Wanda pressed her lips together, her hands restless in front of her body. "Would you be able to tell me the most efficient way to... get over someone?" Vision frowned in surprise, and Wanda sighed. "Someone we shouldn't like. Definitely inappropriate."

Vis opens her mouth, still in shock at the whole thing, but it's someone else who speaks;

"What's definitely inappropriate?" Tony asks, and Wanda thanks the gods he didn't hear the first part.

"N-nothing!" Rebuts the witch quickly, the color of her cheeks probably giving her away. Stark looks at her suspiciously, then at Vis.

"Okay, what are you two love birds talking about?" The Vision would have blushed if he could. He gets visibly embarrassed, smiling shyly.

That's great as if Wanda needed one more extra thing to stress her out.

She can barely contain her grimace at the nickname, but Tony doesn't bother; Vision is at least quick to change the subject, and surprises Wanda with his ability to lie very well.

"We were just commenting on how inappropriate General Ross's accusations were at the last meeting." And that's enough to distract Stark.

Wanda practically flees the scene after that. For a long moment, she had even forgotten about the tension that had been swirling around the Avengers over the last few days, precisely because your absence from the compound made her - not that she would admit it - miss you terribly. And all she could think about was inevitably you, busy on missions with Steve in search of your brother James.

With your presence increasingly rare in the Compound, Wanda hoped that the crush would go away, but every time she happened to bump into you between missions, the feelings came back with an overwhelming force, like two lovers the war kept apart. It was frustrating, to say the least. Especially since Wanda was nothing more than a teammate. Hardly a friend.

When Lagos happened, and it was the worst thing that could possibly occur, at least Wanda had something else to think about. And this time, Ross's visit to the Compound was more than inappropriate - it was final.

Accords and fights between the team led to an unbearable situation. With half of her colleagues out for meetings with the United Nations, Wanda was still grounded at the Compound, waiting for news.

She didn't expect you to be sneaking around.

"You shouldn’t be here." That's the first thing she says as she fully opens the bedroom door you left ajar. Wanda could lie about being your fault that she found you, when in fact she had become an expert at sensing your aura over the last few weeks, the ability to just know when you were around, perfecting itself every time you two met.

You chuckle, without diverting your attention from the task of filling your backpack with as many things as you can squeeze inside. Wanda had the impression that many of the items you came to collect in your room were old presents; everything the others had gotten you over the last few holidays. Things that were precious.

"I'm aware. I won't be long." You retort, folding some socks together to put them away in the closet.

Wanda should call Vis - he's working as a sort of watchman for the tower or something. And he was supposed to notify Tony of your presence. But instead, she closes the door.

Twisting her fingers in anxiety, she asks:

"Where are you going to run off to?"

Offering her a quick glance as you returned to your suitcase to put away some underwear that made Wanda look away, you replied; "I can't tell you that, little witch."

Wanda almost smiled at the nickname. Instead, she took a desperate step forward.

"Would you take me with you?"

Standing back, you chuckle. "Funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You leave the St. Petersburg snow globe you got as a present from Natasha on the dresser and turn with a frown to the witch behind you. "Maximoff, come on-"

"I'm serious." She insists. "Stark grounded me. Like a fucking child. “ She then chuckles sadly. “Or worse, a problem he didn't want to deal with. And I know I fucked up in Lagos-"

"Don't say that, Lagos wasn't your fault." You interrupt her with a certain determination. "You need to remember that, alright?"

Wanda smiles softly at your reassurance, looking away because her face is suddenly very warm. You sigh then grab just one more change of clothes before zipping up your suitcase.

"It's not because of the company, Wanda." You mutter suddenly, with the backpack on your shoulders. She looks at you with confusion, but you don't meet her gaze. "I just don't think it's right, everything that's happening. And I don't think we should all be fighting with each other. But that's what's going to happen from now on. If you come with me, Steve probably expects you to be choosing sides. And I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

Her heart skips a beat, but Wanda takes a chance;

"Anyone... or me?"

You're taken aback, but you don't lose your poise. You sighed deeply before approaching her without haste, without any hint of what you were going to do either. Wanda opens her mouth again, to apologize for being so difficult, but you muffle the statement with a kiss.

It's the first time she's kissed another girl if that isn't obvious. She melts, panting and so very shy; it's a good thing that you hold her waist, while your other hand keeps your face close by grabbing her chin gently. Wanda's lungs scream for air after a moment, but she refuses to pull away from a sensation as good as kissing you.

Something like a whimper of need escapes her when you break the act, or maybe it's the way you give her lower lip a gentle tug with your teeth that leaves her trembling, ready to beg for more.

"Sorry if that was sudden." It's the first thing you say, your voice is hoarse, and as affected as your breathing. You smile, your thumb wiping away some of the mess left by Wanda's gloss. "But I think it took us long enough."

She babbles like a fish, unable to form a coherent thought for a whole moment. You wait patiently, your hands touching her shoulders, sliding down her arms as a way of calming her. Wanda has dreamed so much of feeling you that the touch meant to ease her nerves has quite the opposite effect; every inch of skin you touch tingles.

"H-how... did you know?" she asks, and you give a short laugh.

"I didn't." You retort gently. "Not for sure, at least. Not until two seconds ago when you asked to come with me. I had this... feeling. And this tension. Every time we walked into the same room, every time we were alone. I just felt…” You can put it into words exactly, so you just take a deep breath and smile at her. “I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, that the way I felt was making me imagine things but then you came in here. Sneak out into my room and ask if you could leave this fancy tower to run away with me to fight. I just had to be sure."

Wanda bites back a shy smile, feeling the heat spreading from her chest to her face and eras, and knowing for a fact that it's only going to get worse because of the way you're looking at her.

She tries to get some ground again.

"And are you..." A sigh, as one of your hands settles on her waist. "Sure?"

You hum thoughtfully before breaking the distance, kissing her in a different way than before. It's more intense and hungrier. Your tongue invades her mouth, exploring everywhere and your hands prevent her from pulling away when the oxygen is off. Every needy sound that escapes her is muffled against into lips.

Wanda tentatively follows the rhythm, one of her hands wrapping in your hair. Your backpack falls to the ground and you hold her tighter now, pulling her into you. It's a significant difference between a super-soldier's body and her own, and just the quick memory of you pressing her against the mat makes her moan into your tongue.

The sound makes you lose your mind - Your hands become more determined, the kiss desperate. Wanda struggles for air, exposing the collarbone that keeps you busy as she tries to catch her breath. You bite down on her skin and she arches against you, her hands becoming bold enough to scratch your back and pull up your blouse.

But you break into a husky chuckle, slowing the kiss and pulling away to remind her; "We have to go." Between one touch and the next, "We don't have time."

She needs a whole moment to force her brain to work, and even after you're no longer touching her, and she's sneaking off to her own room to prepare a suitcase, she's still shaking.

When you meet again, running hand in hand with suitcases back to the garage, Wanda is surprised to realize that she was foolish to be afraid of something as good as this.

That is, of course, until reality hits again.

Wanda has never seen you in action as a Winter Soldier before. She saw it through television, Shield files, and testimonies about deserters captured by the Avengers.

But she was never there.

The Avengers split up and fought each other, and your brother fled with Steve Rogers. She thought you were safe on the plane with them, she made sure you got on - but she didn't see you climb off.

Wanda accepted being captured, she accepted being drugged as a security measure. And throughout the confusion that was the transportation of the Avengers in custody to the Raft, she thought she was hallucinating the whole way there. The masked figure attacking the soldiers and opening the cells was a projection of the sedative in her mind.

She only knew what had really happened, had been able to remember, when you both were already in another country as fugitives from the United Nations.

You were by her side the whole time. You held her on your lap after getting rid of the straitjacket that had trapped her and lay down next to her when there was finally a secure roof over your heads.

Wanda was exhausted. She had lost the only thing she had left; her freedom. There was no longer a home, a team, a brother. She was drugged and trapped like an animal by people she considered family.

She started crying, and you woke up. You didn't say a word or ask her to stop. You just held her and let her sob into your chest until she fell asleep again, this time from exhaustion rather than through the influence of chemicals.

When what was left of the team moved on the following day, to another location to avoid suspicion as Natasha clarify it, Wanda got the impression that maybe it was you who needed her to hold you until you went to sleep now.

Bucky didn't come back, and neither of you knew what had happened to him or Steve.

Wanda let you cry all you wanted.

But then finally, everyone who had fought for Steve was back together. Even Clint and Scott, who would probably make deals for their families, to try to be with them, and would have to leave soon. For a moment, everyone was there and you found out that your brother was going to stay in Wakanda to be free again.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a good moment. Steve got food for everyone, you had something that resembled a Christmas, or at least an end-of-year celebration.

We're alive and safe. We're together. Steve was a man of words.

Even if they were sharing a safe house that was too small for such a group. Even if half the world was after them.

The team fell asleep between sleeping bags and sofas, and you left the trailer to get some air. Wanda went after you without thinking much about it.

"It's cold, witchy." You commented as soon as she was close enough, even though you opened your arms for her to wrap hers around you.

Your back was against Nat's truck, and Wanda pressed a little closer to hide her face in your collarbone.

"Where are you going to run off to?" She questions into your skin.

You sigh, one hand caressing her back. "I don't know." You confess quietly. "I wouldn't get to Wakanda with this, but I wasn't feeling very well in there. Having a Christmas meal without him."

Wanda adjusts her face to look at you. "Bucky needs to heal first."

You nod, giving her a sad smile. "I know, but Steve told me they put him back on ice. Until they found out what they were going to do with him. Just the fact that he's there, freezing again... " You look away, sniffling softly. "It reminds me of the past, our time as Winter Soldiers. And It makes me very sad.” You explain softly before sighing. “I know there's nothing we can do to help him now, but it's all so frustrating. I just needed to get out of there for a moment."

Wanda absorbs your words for a moment until she returns to her previous position and smiles as she feels you relax and put your arms around her.

She murmurs; "It's a shame we can't go out there. Natasha said this place has beautiful spots to visit."

You snort slightly. "Actually, we could drive somewhere further away. Far from the city." You comment. "We can watch the Aurora Borealis."

Wanda bites her lip for a moment, considering your invitation, until she adds; "Just the two of us?"

You chuckle. "Unless you want to wake up the team..."

"No, I wasn't complaining!" She clarifies quickly, and you start laughing again.

She taps you gently on the shoulder to make you stop. "Idiot."

"Your idiot." You hit back with a smirk, and Wanda's heart stops beating for a moment. There's a pause, between exchanging intense glances as you bring your hands to her face, adjusting her hair out of the way. "Don't forget, witchy."

She swallows dryly, her voice hoarse when she speaks: "I won't." She whispers back and you smile before pressing your lips into hers.

#wanda maximoff x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 1 month

Text

somethin' stupid [ii]

"and though it's just a line to you, for me it's true and never felt so right before"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: it's all her fault, and wednesday can't help but feel it in her bones.

warnings: mentions of blood, the police (gross), hospitalisation, crying

word count: 4.8k

A/N: thank you all for the love and support you have given to this silly little story of mine. it is absolutely insane. red font denotes the thoughts of those around you. kind of worried i may have rushed the ending, but i hope you like it anyhow. right, anyways...

===+++===

It took an additional thirty four minutes and twenty eight seconds after the beast sunk its claws into your chest, for Wednesday to come wandering out of the line of trees stretching to the cloudy sky and onto the nearby mountain street, still wearing your bright yellow raincoat bunched around her wrists.

Finding the cave had not turned out to be entirely as difficult as she had expected, and she managed to find its charred remains just as Eugene had said. There was no evidence to gather, really, and there never had been to begin with.

In the far away distance, only lightly covered by the rain, it sounded as if a flock of birds were screaming at each other and fighting, and the noise rang throughout the forest before settling in Wednesday’s ears. She had already been annoyed and frustrated enough tonight. The extra noise just set her even more on edge than before.

It took another sixteen seconds and a few steps closer then, for Wednesday to realise the noise bleeding from around the bend in the road wasn’t in fact, a group of birds. Instead, it was the worst sound Wednesday could ever want to hear.

Within an instant, Wednesday took off running, every sickening realisation clicking at once. The vision that had been plaguing her nightmares and every interaction with you came back in full force. Her stomach began to churn as she went, heart burning and ears ringing. She knew.

When Wednesday rounded the curve, she saw the cars and their sirens.

The red and blue lights bounced off of the dirt and pavement even from far away, reflecting in the rain water as it pummelled to the ground. Five police cruisers sat strewn every which way along the shoulder of the road, headlights on and pointed into the underbrush. Officers wandered the clearing, pointing their flashlights into the dark and yelling loudly to each other in an attempt to overcome the rain.

As Wednesday rushed towards the vehicles, a man stepped out of the closest car to her, wearing a plastic blue poncho that did mostly nothing to stop the merciless pounding of the furious rain. He spoke into a little radio on his shoulder, staring out into woods at his men while they searched.

Wednesday’s loud steps from her thick shoes warned him of her nearing, and the man turned, hand dropping from his radio. She was immediately displeased, greatly so; the man was Sheriff Galpin. He looked just as unhappy to see her, frown drooping into a wry glower.

“Addams what are you doing out here??!” He shouted at her over the storm, hands placing themselves on his hips. “It’s sure as hell past your curfew, now go back to Nevermore, dammit!“

Wednesday walked right up to him then, tugging him roughly by the poncho and his collar, which she balled up dangerously in her fist. It was a warning, and she meant it. Potentially, she meant it more than any threat she had previously given. “Who did you find.”

Sheriff Galpin’s eyebrows lowered, a line appearing in his forehead as he stared her down. “That’s official Jericho Police Department business, missy. You need to-“

Her grip on his clothing tightened. “Now.” Her voice shook a little. “Who did you find.”

He looked at her for a moment in the flickering blue and red of the dark, examining the look on her face. Her eyes were shining, though she would never admit to it. The old sheriff sighed. “Some kid from Nevermore was attacked. You might have known ‘em. Name was like, (Y/n) or something.”

Wednesday’s hand went slack, dropping back down to her side. “Were…,” she swallowed, attempting to cool the heat rushing to her face. It felt as if the Earth had just broken away from its orbit, to float off directionless into space. “Were they killed?”

For the first time, Sheriff Galpin seemed almost soft. He bent down to her a bit, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly as if to say ‘there, there.’ He had never liked the Addams girl much, though that seemed highly irrelevant in the moment.

“Uh, luckily no, though the camper who found them said they were awful close. The EMTs got here just in time. They’re headed to the hospital.”

Wednesday pulled back, tensing at his hand. “Give me a ride to the hospital,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. The sheriff shook his head.

“Nuh uh, no way. You’re going back to school, kid. It’s too late for you to be out here anyways, and I’m sure Weems would like to know why the hell you were out past curfew in the first place.”

She glared. “I need to be at that hospital.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes at her, any moment of softness gone upon remembering why he disliked her and her family so much. “Like hell I’m going to take you there.”

Wednesday blinked at him.

===+++===

The night was still dark but no longer raining, when Sheriff Galpin speedily dropped Wednesday off with her bloody fist at the front step of the hospital.

Punching the tree again and again had hurt, the sharp bark slicing through the skin of her knuckles, but it also meant she needed a nurse and potentially stitches, and there was only one place capable of offering such services. Suffice to say, the sheriff wouldn’t become her fan any time soon.

The clock had slowly crawled to four in the morning, and though Wednesday was exhausted, and Enid and Thing were potentially freaking out back at the school as to where the hell either of you were, Wednesday was a bit more concerned with figuring out where in the hospital your room was. Oh, and maybe aiding her fist, which was now dripping blood onto the patterned green carpeting as she went.

Upon entering and striding right up to the front counter, Wednesday had gotten straight to business. She held up her bloody fist, placing it with a 'thud' on top of an infographic that sat on the reception desk. The previously sleepy-looking teenage receptionist stared at Wednesday with a look of wide awake, abject horror. “Tell me where the ER is,” she said.

"Uh...over there?” said the girl, raising a weak finger towards the doors in the far left and unable to pry her eyes away from Wednesday’s hand.

Wednesday nodded a single time before walking off, leaving the receptionist to lean over the counter and watch her go. The sign over the door was marked 'ER,' and Wednesday followed down the brightly lit hall until she arrived at a new waiting area. The people in there looked much worse for wear than the empty entrance at the front.

Nervous parents sat cradling their obviously sick children, a construction worker was repeatedly coughing in the corner with his head propped up, trying to stay awake, and a woman in a pantsuit was cradling her foot in a cast and wincing. If this was an omen to who was in your company, it was certainly a bad one.

Wednesday did just as she had before, walking right up to the desk with her hand and showing it to the nurse at the front. Only this time, the woman gave her a worried look, picking up the black phone to her right immediately and dialling a few numbers into the keypad.

“Uh, stay right there, ma’am,” the woman said. Wednesday nodded. She didn’t intend to go anywhere anyways.

The nurse who had come to find her was an older woman, with smile lines crinkling around her mouth and winging off the corners of her eyes. She looked almost like a grandmother, except the electric pink afro she had curled off of her head in coils that spoke of youth and vitality and fun. Enid would have liked her, and Wednesday knew you would have too, but she hated the colour pink just as she (mostly) disliked fun people.

The woman had gotten straight down to business, pulling Wednesday into a room with a metal tray of supplies already picked out and holding up her hand.

Even being someone who enjoyed pain as she did, the antiseptic stung when it was placed over the scratches on her fingers. She hissed a bit, and the nurse glanced up at her with pitying eyes, grabbing the supplies for her stitches off of a metal tray.

"You said you punched a tree?"

Wednesday was suspicious of the woman's sudden interest, but nodded. The nurse could probably tell her where you were anyhow. She didn't like making friends, but she could at least make allies. She had called you one of her allies when you had asked. Remembering that hurt now.

"Yes,” she replied, a bit annoyed with the question.

"Why'd you do that, then?"

"I needed to come here. It's important." The nurse began to stitch her up, and Wednesday flinched at the sudden contact.

"What’s important about here?"

Wednesday glanced down at her soaked, dirty shoes. "There's someone staying here I need to see." The nurse looked up at her then, studying her carefully.

"You're here for that kid that came in after being attacked." Wednesday swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. The nurse sighed, wrinkles filling her forehead as she finished up Wednesday's middle finger and moving to her ring finger, holding up the pad to the light. "They were rushed into emergency surgery about twenty minutes ago. You'll have to wait here a while, and just to warn you: it isn’t pretty." Wednesday sent a small glance to her, one that spoke of a timidness the situation had drawn out of her that wasn't previously there.

“Why don't you go home for the night? Get yourself cleaned off and dry."

She shook her head at the woman, frown deep and telling. "I need to be here when they wake up. They don't have anyone else. Both of their parents are deceased, and I need to be there for them."

"I'm sure they would appreciate you coming this far, honey. They're very lucky to have someone who cares for them as much as you do. I've been a nurse for a loooong time, and trust me when I say you've done plenty."

She certainly had not. Wednesday was not immune to the morbid irony of the situation at hand. In reality, she had cared all too much, pretended that she cared not at all, and tricked you for the longest time into thinking she cared too little. Caring had gotten her nowhere- worse, it had gotten you into an ambulance.

"I'm...worried," she struggled to spit the word out at the nurse, who looked at her with soft eyes of encouragement. "I've said some things, that I don’t think I’ll be able to apologise for."

"Shhh," the nurse hummed, finishing Wednesday's final knuckle and taking out some bandages to wrap around the raw skin. "You'll get the chance."

“I’m not sure I will,” Wednesday's frowned deepened. Her lip threatened to quiver a bit, but it was true. She had been so foolish to bring you along- so selfish to allow you to push the bounds of your own safety. It sat lodged in her stomach like a tumour, growing and growing.

If this is what it meant to love you, Wednesday wasn't sure she was ready.

The older woman gave her a sad smile. "Look, there's no shame in making mistakes. The shame is in being too proud to ask for forgiveness for them," she said, standing up from her chair. "They'll be in room 304, I think. Should be out of surgery in a couple hours, in case you want to…”

“I’m not leaving,” Wednesday insisted. And she didn’t, for a while.

Very little could spook an Addams, especially one such as Wednesday, but she had decided it was all too much, seeing you after surgery. It was an utterly horrific sight. Had it been anyone else, Wednesday would be staring at the intricacies of the scars waiting patiently to form, marvelling at the magic of twisted skin and scabs. But no, it was you in that bed, wheeled right in, and she felt the rare urge to vomit.

You were hooked up to so many machines. Buzzing, whirring, and beeping were the only things keeping you alive, and it served as a painful reminder for everything that could have been lost.

A ventilator sat over your mouth, covering your soft lips and strapped to your jaw. Live, it said, as did the several needles and monitors that were hooked into the skin of your hands and arms. There was too much surface area covered. Wednesday, even if she had wanted to, couldn't have held your hand.

Blood was still very much crusted to the planes of your skin in parts, or at least what was visible of it behind your bandages. The white cotton sat in squares and rectangles, taped to your chest and along the stretch of your cheeks and face. You would never be the same, and Wednesday knew it then.

Always, you would bear the evidence of the attack when someone saw you for the first time and winced a bit, and Wednesday held herself as partially responsible. Her love was too thick to sit in. Wednesday Addams swallowed the tears she would deny crying.

She sat with you an hour, then she walked down to the payphone on the corner and called Enid as the sun finally settled for the morning sky.

===+++===

In the three weeks since your attack, you had yet to wake up. The doctors said it was a coma, and that they had no idea when you would wake, if at all, and that only made Wednesday feel worse. She had gone to visit you before, after, and sometimes even during class. Her own hand had healed nicely, though there would be a permanent scar over the knuckle of her index finger from a particularly nasty cut,

On one visit, Enid had said it was as if you "were sleeping," but Wednesday couldn't disagree more. When you slept, it was on your side with your mouth, open, snoring softly. No, instead, you looked like a dead body. Even after acquainted with the room, Wednesday still felt a great pain in her chest upon seeing you every day like that.

Principal Weems had been more than angry, discovering another student had been hospitalised as a result of Wednesday's actions. She was also worried, and annoyingly tried to sign Wednesday up for more sessions with Kinbott.

That wasn't what Wednesday needed, and she shrugged it off as such, every time Kinbott tried to bring up what happened to you, like she was waiting for her to burst into tears. An Addams didn’t cry. Instead Wednesday let the guilt eat her alive.

She also hungered for vengeance. Strewn across her floor was a giant mental map of everything involved in the case, from photos of the bodies (Enid had fainted twice) to crime scenes, and even potential suspects, all laid out accordingly.

As soon as visiting hours were over, she bid you adieu and threw on your yellow raincoat that still smelled like you, before heading out into the dark to solve the mystery. Maybe it was a way to say she was sorry, maybe it was a manifestation of you potentially never waking up- Wednesday didn't know.

What was even more frustrating was how she knew you held the final puzzle piece. She wasn't a fool- your ability to see into the thoughts of those around you was probably what had caused the attempt on your life in the first place. You had intentionally placed yourself in harms way, then, turning off your abilities for her.

You were incredibly powerful for one so laissez-faire about life- a fact that only offended Wednesday more, as you had been the target and not her, or someone else. You, who had just worn your heart on your sleeve to her, listened to her throw it away, and then immediately gotten attacked. You didn't deserve that, just as much as Wednesday didn't deserve you.

Then came the question of what you did deserve to hear when you awoke. If she was such an excellent writer, why couldn't she think of what to say to you if that ever happened? It still didn't feel good enough, no matter how many times she rewrote the letters or changed the order of the sentences. Nothing seemed to feel good enough.

===+++===

Around the fourth week, Wednesday began to leave you long thoughts, like diary entries. She didn't even know if you could hear her, from in there. You had been taken off a ventilator and it looked as if you were finally starting to level out a bit. Wednesday didn't know why, but she suspected you could hear her thoughts.

So she started thinking to you.

It had started small, at first. 'Today is the twenty-sixth day of you being asleep, you know. If you don't wake up, I swear I'll kill you.' She didn't even know if you could actually hear her, or if you'd want to, considering your last interaction. Wednesday itched to talk to you again, and her recounts grew longer and longer.

'Today is the twenty-eighth day of you still not waking up. Mayor Walker passed, yesterday. I have my suspicions of Xavier. He seems to meet with Dr. Kinbott frequently, and it's possible she's Laurel Gates. I'm not sure if I told you about this yesterday, but I summoned my ancestor a few days ago, Goody Addams, and she warned me of the Gates Mansion.'

'Today marks an official month, 31 days, of you not being awake yet. My Uncle Fester is in town. He sends his regards, by the way. He's the bald one I spoke of before, and he was eager to meet you... Enid and I visited the Gates' Mansion with Tyler. We were attacked and Tyler was injured. I know that may alarm you, but I assure you, I'm fine... If you don't wake up... I'll curse you forever.'

She didn't mean it.

‘Today is day thirty six and you’re still not awake. Enid will be waiting with you while I go confront Xavier and have him arrested. You must forget this when you wake, but I miss you… I’m not proud of it but I do. I said I wouldn’t care for you this way but look at me now. You didn’t spoil anything, (Y/n). If you said you loved me now, I would say it back. Give me the chance to say it then, or else.’

Wednesday waited patiently for another minute, hoping even a little bit that her mind would spark you to life. When nothing happened she sighed just as she had every previous day. Enid gave her a sad smile.

“Go get him, Wends. We’ll both be here when you get back,” she said. Wednesday glared at the use of the nickname, but grabbed your yellow raincoat off the back of her chair, shrugging the oversized jacket on and heading out the door. If there was one thing she thought would make amends, it would be catching your attacker and achieving revenge all on her own.

Of course, thirty seconds later, when Wednesday was long gone, you shot up right like a rocket, and Enid let out a scream.

===+++===

You were climbing, it felt like. You weren’t sure what, but you were pulling yourself up and out of something, pads of your fingers gripping the surface and lifting. It was one clutch after the other, and you had no idea how long or where you could possibly be climbing to.

Were you dead? That was entirely possible. You had blacked out with Tyler’s claws ripping and tearing at your chest and come-to in the back of the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital. A nervous-looking paramedic stood over you, casting a shadow over your eyes, and from there you had passed out again. Maybe you had died then.

Of course, it was a possibility. Not a welcome one, but it was still a possibility. Either way, you had to figure out a way to warn Wednesday about Tyler. Maybe if you just kept climbing. Time seemed to slow down, and it was one hand after another.

There was definitely sound coming from the outside world, and it wrapped around your head in mumbly nonsensical jargon. You recognised the voice, that was definitely Wednesday, and she was definitely close. Every now and again small words like 'Xavier,' or 'Kinbott,' would peek through the mist and you were left to wonder as to why they were relevant.

You climbed a bit harder. The voice would come in and then out again, and you were left wondering if days were passing or maybe it had just been an hour. All you knew was to keep climbing. Your fingers felt raw, your arms ached to stop, but you kept going to keep Wednesday safe, wether she wanted you to or not.

Before you knew it, a hand came forward for the last time, and it was like a button had been pressed. Suddenly, you weren't in any void, or any back of an ambulance, you were in a bland hospital room, sitting straight up and looking right at a mortified Enid.

"Oh my god!" She yelled out, pointing at you in surprise. "OH MY GOD!!!" 'WHAT THE FUCK!!!!'

"TYLER!" You yelled back.

"WHAT?!" Enid yelled.

"IT'S TYLER! And hi!"

Enid fainted again, just in time for a nurse to rush in upon noticing you were awake.

===+++===

One thing you had missed dearly whilst in a coma were fruit cups. You sat rather contentedly, eating a mango fruit cup in your soft hospital bedsheets and leaning back against a checkered pillow. From around you in the hospital, noise buzzed in your mind. It felt good to have your blinders off for once, even if it meant you had to focus in on Enid and the noise directly in the room with you.

"Thirty six days???" you asked. Enid nodded.

"Wednesday- I mean all of us 'But mostly Wednesday', were worried sick that you wouldn't wake up. Are you okay? What was it like in there?" 'How the hell are you still alive???'

You shrugged. "Not really sure. I just remember my arms hurt and I was in this void-thing, trying to pull myself out..." You grew serious. "I need to speak to Wednesday."

Enid leaned forward. "And you're sure it was Tyler? He doesn't seem like he could hurt a fly."

"I saw him, Enid. He was covered in blood and he was in his own head thinking about the attack and how pleased Laurel would be for him to succeed. It's him."

"Wednesday thinks it's Xavier," she said. You shook your head.

"She's wrong. I know she's sweet on Tyler, but-"

"-She's not sweet on Tyler, (Y/n). 'You CANNOT still believe that after all of this...though I guess you were comatose' I've said this since the beginning of the year, you bozo. She's sweet on you, and you two are such idiots running around and pretending like you don't know."

The painful memory of your final interaction before the attack came back in waves, pulling you under and tugging you into the deep. You cleared your scratchy throat, still sore from its lack of use. "Enid, Wednesday made it perfectly clear how she felt about me."

Enid rolled her eyes. "You two, I swear you're going give me grey hair. Oh! Speaking of appearances," she sat up. "You haven't seen how you look yet!"

You frowned, not entirely sure you wanted to. You knew you had facial scars- the sharp slashes to your nose and cheeks were enough to know that now, but you weren't sure how much you wanted to see them. Enid pulled out her phone camera, flipping it around to selfie mode.

It wasn't as bad as you thought- a giant twist of a scar curved around the apple of your cheek before reaching up through the lateral third of your eyebrow and stopping shortly after. Another crisscrossed over the bridge of your nose. Still bad, though. They were noticeable, and those were only the ones on your face. You frowned, and Enid seemed to regret asking to show you them. 'I just messed up, didn't I.'

'Oh my, cara mia' said someone's noise in the doorway. You looked up, hearing her arrive, and there she was. Wednesday stood looking almost nervous, hands crossed over her chest awkwardly, like she was uncertain if she was welcome. You tensed. "You're awake," she said.

You nodded. Then you did Wednesday a favour and turned your own noise off to give her the privacy she coveted. Wednesday sent a look over at Enid who just stared. When the werewolf didn't take the hint, Wednesday cleared her throat.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry," said Enid, standing sheepishly. "I guess I'll just go get some food from the cantina...even though I already ate and want to see how this happens," she muttered. Wednesday sent her a much sharper glare, and Enid scurried out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Wednesday spun to you. "If you died, I would have killed you."

"I know," you nodded. "Enid told me you were here all the time." She frowned.

"Never speak of that again," Wednesday said, seeming almost embarrassed. "Enid wasn't supposed to tell you that."

"She's not really good at keeping secrets. You probably shouldn't have told her anything if-"

"-Did you hear them, when you were in there?" She asked, cutting you off mid-sentence with what she had really been wondering the entire time, but too nervous to ask. You blinked.

"Hear what?" If she had been saying important things to you whilst you were under, you didn't know what she was referring to. The look on Wednesday's face was unintelligible.

"I said some important things, (Y/n)," she said, fidgeting with her fingers. "I sent them through my thoughts."

"You also said some important things before I was attacked, Wednesday. You called me a lost puppy."

"I know," she replied. "I was worried this very thing would happen if I didn't."

You snorted cynically. "Looks like it happened when you did, actually." She looked wounded by that, and now you felt bad. "I didn't mean it that way, Wends, I'm just trying to warn you-"

"I love you too," she said.

Any thoughts or words you potentially could have come back with were lost, slipping through your fingers and tumbling to the floor. Wednesday took a step closer, placing her hand on the bed next to you, flipping it over to show you her knuckles. A few small pink scars littered the skin there. You picked it up in your own, brushing over them with your thumb.

"I meant it. I love you too. Even with your scars- which are magnificent." Wednesday thought for a moment, then looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you with a love that is more than love."

"That's Edgar Allan Poe," you whispered. She nodded, then she swallowed, forcing the words out.

"I see now, that I was...wrong. I have been deceitful, and I have been unkind. I pushed you away when you deserve much more than that- likely much more than me. I cannot express how earnest my regret is, and just how much I want your forgiveness-"

"Yeah yeah, stop talking like an old English guy," you said with a laugh, pulling her scarred hand to your lips. You sat up a little bit more, and though it hurt, you pressed your lips to her palm. When you pulled away a moment later, she kissed you full-force. Her hand moved to your neck, playing with the hair there and delivering the perfect amount of gentle longing that made you fall back against the pillow.

She pulled away all too soon again, but the small smile that teased the corner of her mouth spoke of future ones to come. "You said you were going to warn me of something?" She said in between attempts to catch your breath. You raised your eyebrows, remembering the dire information at hand.

"Oh, yeah, Tyler attacked me," you said, leaning your neck back against the pillow.

"What?!" Wednesday said, pulling away with her eyes as angry as ever. "Why didn't you lead with that??" She didn't want to believe it, but she knew you wouldn't lie.

"I got there eventually, and you needed to apologise!"

Wednesday sighed, shaking her head. Though she would never admit it, she did truly miss your ridiculousness. "Anything else?"

"The master of the creature-"

"-It's called a Hyde," Wednesday corrected you.

"Yeah, that. The master of the creature wears red boots. I saw it in Tyler's vision."

The girl in black stood up, heading for the door. "Thank you, cara mia. I'll be back when this is over."

"Go get 'em tiger." She turned to you, unimpressed.

"Shut up."

"Yeah yeah, love you."

After a moment she sighed. "I love you too."

thank you all so much for your support on this story! i absolutely will be writing again, and am here to stay. i cannot thank you all enough, and as always, PLEASE tell me or message me about any typos as i will fix them ASAP. i'll definitely come back and change this later if i feel like it. i tried not to rush the ending but was also majorly conflicted as to where i should leave it off. so if it bugs me later down the line, i'll change it.

#wednesday addams x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 1 month

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍

masterlist / wattpad

summary: you think you're doing a good job at hiding your nightmares from your girlfriend, until one starts to feel awfully realistic.

warning/s: mentions of death, PTSD, murder, bombs and everything else that comes with writing a hunger games one-shot.

author's note: someone requested a comfort fic where reader experiences nightmares, so after a while, this was born! it’s only a short one but who doesn’t love some katniss 🥺

It was still difficult to adjust to my new life in District 13. I suppose I should've been grateful I had it – I was, but a massive part of me would always miss my true home in District 13.

Things weren't the same anymore, and though I was lucky to count myself as one of the minority who escaped the bombings, thanks to Gale and some miners who rescued all they could and led us to the forest, I still missed what I had.

My family weren't so lucky and the survivor's guilt was eating away at me. They were in town the day it happened, the day the bombs dropped from the sky in an instant, showering the whole district in a firework of horror. I didn't see them burn, but my brain still liked to conjure images of them all stuck in town, helpless, as they were engulfed in flames.

It was a lot, especially when it overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to push on. Though my family were gone, I still had Katniss and, in a way, she was my family too.

She hated District 13 as much as I did, but she made more of a point about it. After everything she endured in both Hunger Games, particularly the second one which was a whirlwind for her, she wasn't the same and I didn't expect her to be. But it meant I only worried for her more, no matter if it was something simple like her straying from the hyper-strict District 13 schedule we all received, or something heart wrenching like her suffering a panic attack, no doubt induced by her PTSD.

As the face of the rebellion, she had a lot on her plate and the last thing I wanted to worry her about were my own problems. Sometimes though, it got the better of me.

It was like any other nightmare I'd had about them, but this felt so much more real. I was stuck, as if my feet were cemented into the ground, and forced to watch the bombs rain down on District 12. My family were there – my parents and younger sister – but no matter how much I screamed at them to leave, they couldn't hear me. I wasn't sure whether my voice was stuck in my throat or being drowned out by the falling of bombs, but it was as if I were invisible to them.

The smoke was thick, swallowing up my screams and leaving my eyes watery. I couldn't see them, but I knew. They'd been stolen from me and the pain in my heart was immeasurable. Just like all my other nightmares of them, I couldn't save them here either.

I was usually quite good at hiding my sleepless nights, but this one felt so horribly realistic that it had me waking up with a start. My heart was racing so fast I thought it would jump from my chest, and as I blinked away the tears in my eyes, I realised it was only a dream.

"Y/N."

Katniss was hovering above me, her blue-grey eyes bright in the dimly lit room we shared, and it helped settle me slightly, the familiarity of her presence. She pulled me up gently before engulfing me in a hug, and I realised it was because I was trembling so much my bones were hurting, the aftermath of how tense I'd been. Even as she held me, it took me a moment to understand where I was, what my reality was.

We were in our shared room in the bowels of District 13's underground maze. It must've been the middle of the night or something, the two of us in bed.

"It was just a dream," she murmured into my neck as her hand stroked my hair. "You're here. It's not real."

I swallowed thickly, fresh tears welling in my eyes as scenes of fire and death filled my mind once more. "It is. It happened. They're– they're gone."

She didn't know what I meant, not at first, but I saw it all perfectly clear, and my heart was crumbling as I accepted, over and over, that my family were truly gone. I'd never see them again.

My eyes screwed shut as I tried to regulate my breathing, following the steady rhythm of Katniss' as she held me close. Her hand rubbed soothing circles on my back, grounding me, and I eventually got to a point where I was no longer in fight or flight mode.

"I'm sorry," I breathed out, too quietly to be heard. I pulled back slightly, trying again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Her hand cupped my cheek as she met my eyes. "Don't apologise."

All I could think was how exhausted she looked. Her own sleep wasn't great lately and events like this weren't helping with the million and one things she had to worry about. The guilt deepened as I looked away with uncertainty.

"Come here," she encouraged, lying back down and spreading out her arms.

I wasted no time in crawling back to my pillow, though this time straight into her arms. She held me close and I focused on the warmth she radiated, the steady beat of her heart, the feeling of her fingertips pressed to my back.

"Do you dream of them often?" she asked softly, lips brushing my hair.

I swallowed hard, hoping she'd let it go.

"Y/N...," she coaxed disapprovingly.

"It doesn't matter," I spoke, unwilling to escape the safe space between her neck and collarbone.

"It does," she insisted, sternly, before sighing when she realised how strong she was coming on. She fell quiet, and I hoped she would leave it be, but then she said, "I know what it's like. Seeing people you care about haunting you."

She'd lost so many – before the Games, during them and now. How she was still standing was beyond me.

"Sorry, I don't mean to bring up bad memories," I said with a frown, but she shook her head and pulled back slightly, facing me.

"Stop, don't say that," she said with glassy eyes. "Stop minimising your problems."

I gave her a knowing look, one that would usually work when I wasn't still shaken from a nightmare. "Katniss, I'll get over it."

She frowned. "You should've told me."

I scoffed quietly. "And then what? You can't do anything about it. It's just another thing to worry about and–"

"Shut up," she cut me off suddenly.

I sighed. "Katniss..."

"No," she said decisively. "What's the point in all of this? Any of it? If I can't be there for those I love?"

I didn't know what to say, but the way she was looking at me made my insides blossom with appreciation.

"It's all for you," she said with certainty, taking my hand and intertwining her fingers between us. "For my family. For everyone who's ever suffered at the Capitol's hand."

"I know," I said softly. "But–"

"But what?" she said, voice rising now, eyes darting between mine. When I didn't speak, she continued, "Fine, forget all that. But even if I wasn't the Mockingjay, even if this rebellion wasn't happening, Y/N, I'd want to be there for you as your girlfriend. I love you. I just want to help. So, you have to let me."

I hated that she was right. If the roles were reversed, I would have wanted the same. The way Katniss loved wasn't like anyone I'd ever met, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything else.

I nodded in response, unsure how to articulate what I was feeling as she watched me with adoration. She moved forward to hug me, so tightly that I should have complained, but I couldn't get enough.

We soon settled into one another, the covers pulled to our shoulders as I slotted myself back into the safe space in the crook of her neck. A quiet fell upon us, one I hated to break, but we were finally sharing and I was afraid that if I didn't say everything I felt, I'd go back to hiding it again.

"I can't lose you," I admitted.

"You won't."

I shook my head slightly. "You don't know that."

She knew I was right. With all the uncertainties of our predicament, and everything that came with being the face of the rebellion, it wasn't her choice. As capable as I knew she was, there was still the what ifs. Those were what haunted me.

"I sometimes dream about you," I whispered, too afraid to say it any louder because it felt so stupid to admit. "I dream you win. That this war against the Capitol is over. Snow is dead. They're not in control anymore. But you... you're not here. You're gone. You win, but the price is your life."

She didn't speak, patiently allowing me to finish, but her arms tightened around me comfortingly.

"It's selfish, I know," I admitted, hoping my tears weren't soaking her shirt, "but I'm not sure it would be worth it. Not if it meant losing you."

She didn't say anything at first, my words left lingering in the dark between us. But then: "I'm not planning on dying."

I closed my eyes, a helpless sigh escaping my lips. She wouldn't understand. I didn't expect her to.

"It would be worth it," she said considerately, fingers tangling in my hair. "It's hard to see that now, but it would be."

"I disagree," I said stubbornly.

"Well, you never agree with me anyway, do you?"

I sighed again, though a ghost of a smile was on my lips. She kissed the top of my head, her own smile present.

"It's my thing to work on, I know," I said after a pause.

"You're not alone," she reminded me.

"Neither are you," I retorted.

She exhaled gently. "I know."

We both fell quiet and I stayed in that position as she played with my hair, the silence stretching into a comfortable peace. It was easy to start drifting off once more, the sound of her heart acting as a lullaby.

"I love you," she whispered.

I mumbled it back, half asleep, and felt her lips press to my head again before she shuffled slightly to get more comfortable. My eyes were already closed, and I fell asleep soon enough, grateful for her presence.

#katniss everdeen x reader

118 notes · View notes

myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.��

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

#wednesday addams x reader

899 notes · View notes

myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

how would you spend your valentines?

Pairing: J.O Characters x Fem!Reader

Summary: in which jo characters spend valentines with you

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: just fluff honestly

a/n: holy shit febs ending and im only posting this now. mb yall!!

masterlist

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horrid day

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.0k

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"Thing."

A loud thud was made from across the appendages cabinet, accompanied by a more louder door-slam and the menacing steps of combat boots that's probably worn from someone who looks too big for them came after.

Light appeared from his sight and it'd be much better if he died suffocated inside this damn cabinet rather than being forced to look at something, someone rather, being the next satan in line.

Wednesday stared at the hand, her grip on the knob tight as she watched Thing lie flat on the wooden surface, looking like he just got stabbed with something invisible.

"Accompany me to this ludicrous trip I have no idea why I planned for myself." Her tone was calm but it seemed like she was about to subtract one of his digits if he didn't comply.

'Why should I--'

The phrase 'seeing life flash before my eyes' would be an understatement for Thing when he was met with possibly the sharpest blade on earth crossing one of his thumbs.

"Thing you will accompany me or I swear to deities, I will force you to crawl to the depths of hell and its rings back and forth until you've reach exhaustion and blisters on your skin."

Her voice cut through his confidence, her blade almost puncturing a hole.

So slowly, he nodded. If he even can. He just nodded with his palm up straight and his fingers curled.

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And that's how Wednesday ended up on the busiest day on the street of Jericho, a hand not attached to her arm but walking on the damn sidewalk with a damn leash and a damned thought in her head.

If only it didn't seem like it was the day of giving every flower and chocolate someone could ever possibly find in a 10-mile vicinity of this horrid town then give it to you as some gift or whatever you called it, maybe she wouldn't be roughhoused more times than she could count by too many people on too many stores.

Wednesday scowled at everyone, even more at the couples who strolled in hand in hand, her fingers firmly gripping the leash that was attached to Thing.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath, shooting an irritated glance at Thing, who looked like he was trampled and being trampled to death. "Why did I even decide to follow through with this."

'Because you saw y/n holding a bunch of bouquets and you wanted to out-do everyone who ever gave her a flower because of some reason you don't know but it gives you a weird tingling sensation in your head to the point you want to be ranked first on the lists of serial killers,' Thing signed.

Wednesday kept walking, tugging at the leash. "Nonsense." She whispered to herself. Her voice softened a little bit, more vulnerable even as she looked forward. It didn't matter, nor did she care whether you got flowers, even the most extravagant ones didn't bother her. It didn't. It definitely did not.

But why did she even go here if it didn't?

"I am not trying to out-do anyone. I simply… want to make a statement." She stopped, her steps coming to a close while Thing raised what passed for eyebrows in his form.

Every shop inventory was sold out, even the shops that sold the flowers at an extremely high rate it'd be better if you bought a house at that point and crowds seem to lessen by the time Wednesday reached the last flower shop.

She could get chocolates, but why give you more chances of dying of diabetes?

'Wednesday, you know what you have to do.'

"Thing, please, do not." The grip on the leash explicitly tightened, almost as if she was going to rip the entire thing apart. She was standing strong with her shoulders still, but her mind was only one sign away to break down.

'You have to crochet a bouquet for y/n.'

She bent down and grabbed Thing by his wrists, clutching his body like it was the last thing on earth that was going to make her problems of a slight romantic gesture go away, her perfectly manicured nails digging onto his skin.

"I will find the nearest laboratory and pray to God there's an abundance of Promethium to douse you into," Wednesday hissed between clenched teeth. The tips of her fingers turned white as she paced back and forth, keeping Thing within sight, his body slumping from the lack of oxygen.

Thing repeatedly tapped on her thumb, his own nails scratching Wednesday's skin as a plead for mercy, his complexion turning white under Wednesday's firm grip. 'I'll help you! I'll help you,' he tapped, desperately.

Thing bounced to the floor after a suffocating release, extending his fingers out, noticing the young Addams' nails leaving faint imprints on his skin, even little cuts starting to form around them.

"Fine. I'll..." she stammered, her words drawing out as if she was disgusted by the mere thought and weighed down by hesitation, "I'll crochet a bouquet for y/n."

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You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you opened your locker to see probably a hundred polaroids of you drop to the floor and a hand-written letter laying flat on the surface with dried flowers.

It was safe to conclude that you were either, a, being stalked or, b, someone was planning your death and this was just a cute little 'one day notice' from the murderer.

But you knew it was from Wednesday. No sane person that wasn't an Addams wont write their letters so terrifyingly romantic and then send it in blood with their favorite flower species being black dahlia and probably a hex written to curse all your past and future generations if you don't comply.

You can handle a fuck ton of flowers to save a closing flower shop and a shit ton of chocolates to outdo Willy Wonka's own chocolate factory, but you definitely can not handle a possible fight between Wednesday Addams.

And that's why you're here now, at Wednesday's doorstep, your hand trembling against the doorknob, and your feet ready to bolt out of Nevermore and probably book a flight to whatever country you needed to escape her wrath.

"Wednesday, look, I don't know what I did to you or your family but I'm really so so so sorry!" You rambled, eyes closed as your voice trembled, turning the door just slightly until it fully opened.

The creak of the door echoed throughout the room and your mind, like it was playing tricks with you or something to amp up your fear.

You opened your eyes to find not a thousand knives surrounding you and a bomb threat immediately attached to a chair but rather Wednesday standing there with something wrapped around her fingers. Her expression was unreadable unlike the many times it wasn't to you.

"What are you apologizing for?" she finally spoke, her voice monotone as she walked up to you. She looked... almost nervous? You didn't know if it was a ruse or she was actually nervous.

"I... I don't know exactly," you stammered, "I just thought, you know, I might've done something to upset you, and I really didn't mean to."

Wednesday's eyebrows arched slightly, a crease forming in her forehead.

"Okay, look, if someone writes 'meet me where satan sits or I will cover your flesh in slits' in, what seems to be, their blood I can't really help it but apologize and be so damn terrified you know?!'"

Wednesday's expression softened slightly at your explanation, "Ah, yes, I can see how that might be… alarming to most people like you."

She held out what she had been clutching in her fingers, a crocheted small bouquet of flowers all tied together by a ribbon "I do sincerely apologize for the… slightly murderous approach." Wednesday Addams, apologizing? "I intended it a like to a gesture of affection people seem to be giving out these days, though I may have overdone it."

What is happening to the world?

You blinked. Blinked more than a hundred of times now ever since you entered the room. You were unsure if you were dreaming or Wednesday Addams was actually showing the tiniest bit of softness towards you. On valentines.

Mouth hung open, you took the bouquet from her hands, your skin grazing hers as she lowered her arms back to her sides. You knew Wednesday wouldn't be the one to crochet, let alone to any of this, but there was so much detail and effort put into the bouquet, it's hard to believe she did it all alone.

"Thank… thank you, Wends!" You smiled, beaming even, "kinda unexpected of you." You turned the bouquet over in your hands, examining every thread, "didn't know you were joining in this Valentines."

This would be fine. Just fine. Just two friends greeting eachother on Valentines, and giving flowers to them.

If you didn't have the biggest crush on Wednesday Addams yet.

You couldn't contain the grin that spread across your face till you actually looked at the bouquet in your hands, gripping it with such excitement. It was real. This moment was real, and you weren't stuck in a daydream you're having in class. This was actually happening.

"Why'd you do all of this?"

You looked at Wednesday who seemed to have her own confused expression, as if you caught her off guard.

"I don't... I don't know."

Maybe you'd take a risk after all this valentines.

You took a step forward, letting the bouquet drop to the ground where Thing was standing the whole time, assuming a companion of some sorts for Wednesday.

"Do you allow me to touch you?"

She nodded, you inched a little closer.

"Allow me to hold you?"

She nodded, her eyes furrowing and her body almost hesitating, you hold her as if she was something fragile given to you.

"Allow me to talk to you as such?"

She nodded, you whispered to her. Your tone was soft, yet it was filled with hesitation and fear of being pushed away.

"Allow me to hold your hand?"

She nodded, you reached out for her hand, intertwining your fingers with her own as if it was your own soul you were protecting from ivy.

"Allow me to say something I never think I'd say?"

She nodded, you tightened your grip on her, letting your thumb graze over her cold skin in contrast of your warmth.

"Allow me to love you so, so, dearly?"

She nodded, slowly. It wasn't a question, it was something more than that. An oath.

"And for you to love me back?"

"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible if the both of you weren't so close enough already.

With your trembling hands holding Wednesday's palm, you cupped her face gently.

You allowed your eyes to cross every feature she had, your fingertips memorizing every contour of her face, allow them to be recognized to only you who seemed invested and let the world overlook her beauty, her soul through her dark eyes. As if you were seeing true beauty for the first time.

"May I?"

She was hesitating, she is hesitating. And, fuck, do you want to curse yourself for that.

"It doesn't have to be a kiss on the lips, Wednesday," you murmured softly, letting your words carry out with your actions, "We can take it slow at your pace. Whatever you're comfortable with, I'll do it."

You expected her to pull away, to maintain her usual stoic expression and distance. Yet, she didn't.

She leaned into your touch, her head finding a comfortable spot on your neck. Letting her eyes close, her breath going to your ears like a soft melody on a guitar, your worries slowly going away.

You stood there, holding Wednesday in an embrace you sure you wouldn't let go even if there was a force stretching you apart. Her heartbeat against yours, her arms slowly reciprocating the tightening grip you had on her, the faint smile that slowly graced her ever cold lips, it was nothing yet it was everything.

"I tolerate you." She muttered, her voice mumbled by your shirt yet somehow you heard everything.

A gentle chuckle escaped your lips, your other hand going above her head as you ran your fingers through her hair, "I tolerate you too, Wednesday."

It truly was a horrid day.

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cupid sucks so why not do the job for them?

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.0k

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You hear a door swing open, then a earsplitting slam echoed throughout the whole apartment, hell it even drowned the scream of some horror movie you were watching. Sounds of grumbling and loud stomping made it's way to you, an eerie aura you felt behind your back.

It's concerning how you almost immediately know it's Tara Carpenter.

"Welcome back I guess?" you greeted, a crease in your eyebrows as you turned to look at her, her back being the only thing you see. The potato chips you were about to eat stuck in the air for a moment of time.

The hell is that?

"Looks like cupid shot the wrong person," you chuckled, leaping over the couch to tug at a small arrow lodged behind her, a pop being heard as it came loose. "Why do you have this in your back?"

You hear Tara groan for the millionth time ever since she darkened her own doorstep, "Stupid fucks trying to get me into valentines when I'm clearly stressed about exams!" She turned around, snatching the arrow from your hands and snapping it in half without hesitation.

You flinched, "Aren't your exams not until March?" You jumped back into the couch, the soft cushion dipping as you laid down, your head turning back to the horror movie.

"Ugh, Tara, just tell her the truth," Mindy approached both of you from the kitchen, making her way to the you. "Have a little mercy and don't subject y/n to your lame excuses." She crossed her arms.

"What truth?" You sat up almost immediately, your head snapping to look at Tara with horrified eyes. "Is there something you've been keeping from me, Tara!? I thought we were best friends!" you shrieked.

Tara rolled her eyes, reaching out for your forehead and tipping it back down to the couch, "Dramatic."

Mindy excused herself, your legs retracting as you gave her space to sit beside you, "She's a little miserable because of a certain someone not giving her any valentines gift."

"Oh my God."

"You have a crush!?" You screamed. Almost happy, but then again, you were not. Definitely not happy. When the hell did this happen!?

"Please," Tara groaned, her eyes wrinkling as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "don't call it a crush."

"What the hell am I supposed to call it then?"

"Call it someone I admire," she made her way across the couch, her arms gesturing the both of you to move, "A little."

You hear Mindy give out a little scoff and chuckle, "You've been screaming into your pillow for the past four months of crushing on them."

"Why am I only hearing about this now!?" You exclaimed, a little hurt, yes, or it was more than a little hurt–finding out that the not-really-love-of-your-life-but-she-is-kinda is in love with another person was the type of blow on valentines day that made you want to reach up in the sky and strangle cupid.

Tara sighed, "Because I don't want you teasing me, especially you."

"Then how come Mindy gets to know?" you questioned her, your head leaning back against the armchair while your legs were sprawled on Tara's lap. "It's Min-dy, Tara!"

"I bribed her into telling me," Mindy chimed in with a casual shrug.

You have nothing to do with it nor do you have any right to, but you couldn't help it but feel a tinge of jealousy. People have to feel that emotion some times, right? You were only human, and this was just one of those moments where you'd get jealous for a somehow valid thing.

I mean, you were there when Tara healed from all her scars, you were there when she finally really talked with Sam, you were there when she got accepted into her dream college and even threw a celebration, you were there for Tara through thick and thin, and you never missed a birthday or a special event she had ever since you met her.

To sum it up: you were there for everything! How could some guy, who probably didn't even try as hard as you did, get Tara to fall in love with them!?

Your eyes gazed down to the lower corner of the TV, no longer paying attention to Mia Goth's stunning performance. You've watched this movie a hundred of times if not more, it was one of your favorites that Tara introduced to you next to the Babadook, so it was always an opening for conversations with her.

Now you could only imagine Tara and that, whoever it was, sitting on the same damn couch and talking about some stupid damn conversation and you just have to deal with it.

But it was fine. Tara had someone, someone she truly cared about, and that was a good thing. You were fortunate enough to witness her happiness with that person and have them as a constant presence in her life without any danger, that was a plus.

"Who are they anyway?" you grumbled, the words slipping out almost involuntarily before you could catch yourself.

The couch shifted slightly, Tara and Mindy exchanging knowing glances as you eyed both of them.

"Oh my God," you whispered in horror, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach, trying to face the truth even if it was meant to kill you. "Is it Chad!?"

Tara's face contorted into pure disgust, more disgust than ever while Mindy burst into a hearty laughter, "that is one of the most vile and revolting thing you have ever said to me, what the actual fuck y/n!?"

"Oh, you are disgusting!" Mindy laughed, throwing her head back as Tara's constant "ew" and her laugh filled the room.

"So if it isn't Chad, then who is it!?" You exclaimed, a slight smile coming from your lips as you watched them both.

"No way you're serious." Mindy raised an eyebrow, jumping off the couch and walking to her own room in the apartment, "I'll let the two of you figure this out!" She called out before you hear the door slam shut.

The silence was deafening. More deafening than having noise cancelling headphones jammed into your ears 24/7; it can be relaxing but it also can be so damn nerveracking.

You and Tara were always joined at the hip, no matter the situation was, the both of you almost always seemed to know what was a good conversation for the two of you.

Yet nothing good crossed your mind at this moment. By nothing good you mean having Tara namedrop her crush and have your life crashing down before your eyes.

"It.. it doesn't matter who you love or who is that special someone for you." You stammered, your voice cracking just slightly, hoping Tara wouldn't notice. "I'm just happy you have someone you admire and someone thats so lovely you want to be with them forever." Your fists were clenched as you continued, a soft smile graced your lips, sure, but hurt overcame everything.

"So I really want to get to know the sad and poor victim who had cupid hit Tara Carpenter square in the back," you laugh, turning to her.

You were expecting Tara to just go all in and scream in the top of her lungs her own love of her life and that she doesn't like you (optional).

Instead, she shot you with the most confused and offended look ever as if you just cursed her whole family bloodline through the most foulest of witchcraft thats dated wayback the 15th century.

"Who..." she started, her eyebrows creasing and her face twisting as if she was so done with you, "who else could it be but you!?"

what.

what hte fuck?? is she seirlous??? whathwhawthwhatwhatwhatwhatwhattheactualfuckishappening.

It was safe to say that your world froze. The tilt of the earth became an even number, a fraction maybe, the globes gravitational force flipping and rotating, the world spinning yet it stops every few seconds while your brain tries to process what the fuck just came out of Tara's mouth.

"Me?" you echoed, pointing a hand at yourself, your voice barely a whisper at this point, "you're insane... You're actually crazy."

Tara's expression softened slightly as she turned her whole body to you, her legs crossing and her eyes staring dead center right at you. "I don't want to sit here and just pretend I'm fawning over some guy so that you'd be better off not knowing I love you." She explained, "and I don't want to watch you treat me like any other friend you have when all I ever wanted is to be more than that."

Your mind raced, what was she saying? It was valentines, right? It's February the 14th and not April 1st. Sure, you considered the possibility of Tara liking you, but it was just because one of those manifestation videos you kept seeing on your page and you were too delusional for your own good!

"You can't be serious..." You laughed, chuckled even, taking all of this as a joke, "me? You like like me? Of all people, you chose me?"

Tara crossed her arms, letting out an eye roll and a scoff, "Yes, you! Who else could it possibly be but you? Am I talking to you through them, is that what you think?"

You stayed silent, mouth hung open but words just decided that it wasn't a great time to spill out.

"I... I understand if you don't like me the same way," she started after a while, "I just thought it'd be a great idea to confess now rather than any other day so--"

Tara's words trailed off, voice shaky, and you couldn't bear the thought of letting her finish the sentence with her saying something so foolish. Without another word that came out of her mouth, you closed the distance between the both of you and leaned in, capturing her soft with yours.

You never knew how her lips could be so addicting until today.

She responded eagerly after processing for a bit, her hands finding their way to your waist as she pulled your closer while you raised your hands and cupped her cheeks.

You can feel yourself melting within her body. Her breath was warm against your skin sent shivers down your spine, a feeling that made you think you were everything to her as you felt a smile coming loose from her lips.

She tasted like her perfume, her scent, her chapstick, her clothes, her everything. Her lips were soft, welcoming, and lovely. Tara was everything beauty was under if not more.

The kiss was soft but it lasted longer than it should've. Her palm flat on your waist, only bringing you closer and closer, the heartbeat and rush you felt when your bodies were pressed together like glue, the way Tara's hands grabbed you so possessively as if she'd die if she ever looses another second on your lips, it was perfect. She was perfect.

People fall in love with everything, their first love was nature. You were the same with the majority, you fell in love with everything you see. Your first sunset and sunrise, the first butterfly you saw, your friends, even your first crush. Everything you caught with your very own eyes; you fell in love.

Yet, they weren't your first love. Tara was.

And even if you get to see her everyday, her presence gracing your eyes every time you breath, every time you come alive for another day, you always seem to fall in love with her again and again with no fail.

It only made you so obsessed with her soul.

Now, you finally get to kiss your first love on the day of hearts.

When you finally pulled away, you wished you hadn't.

You looked into Tara's eyes and she looked in yours as she brought her hands to her lips, touching it slightly.

"I never knew," she whispered, smiling.

"I never realized," you admitted, your voice equally as soft as hers while a smile reflected hers.

You would admit, Cupid sucks at their own game. So why not do it yourself?

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cheers to a broken heart

Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.4k

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"Hhaaaapppyyy V day, bitches!"

Vada shouted across the heart-littered and Valentines-illed cafeteria, tray in her hands as she approached your table.

The 14th of February

The day where couples unfortunately couldn't get scolded by any passing teacher whenever they show any excessive public affection in the school.

Everyone was either singing a song to someone, couples weirdly somehow getting it on without a teacher scolding them, confessing their love to their crush and getting rejected (which was honestly Vada's favorite past time for Valentines), and everyone being in a lovesick haze that'll only last two days, give or take.

Nick dropped his food on his own tray, sprinkling off bread crumbs from his fingers as he looked up at Vada. "It's your birthday?"

"Vagina day?" You chewed on your food with your left cheek, leaving room for coherent sentences, "Seriously, Vada?"

"Okay, first of all," Vada sat down, her tray making a loud metallic slam as she sat in front if you, "you have to catch me on some next level shit to scream happy vagina day out loud." She held up her hand as she turned to it, "And second of all, come on Nick! We've been bestfriends for ages and you don't even know my birthday isn't until maybe a few months"

"If only I could forget, maybe my wallet wouldn't be in total wreck, and I wouldn't have the urge to start printing money."

Vada shot back, adjusting her chair, "Then who else is going to pay for my stuff on my birthday?"

"You?" Nick suggested, eyebrows knitting themselves together.

"Aren't you the joker?" Vada retorted, an innocent smile tugging on her lips while Nick playfully scowled

You only stared a them, giving a few huffs of a laugh here and there, your hand mindlessly toying with your food while your other arm rests on the table, holding up your slanted face.

You couldn't eat, you could only stare at it and maybe push some vegetables around to make it look like you're eating. You couldn't really be in the right mindset to eat, let alone have the energy to strike up a conversation not after what happened just a few hours ago.

"You good?" Vada looked up at you, concern tainting her face and voice as she stopped eating all together, "You don't really look good."

Nick raised his fork, pointing at you, "She broke up with her boyfriend."

"What!?"

It was wrong. Very, very wrong, but Vada couldn't help the smile that was fighting for dear life not to show.

Holy fuck, this was the best valentines gift ever!

Not that she was happy that you just ended an almost a year relationship with your partner that probably loved you dearly, she just... She just thinks she can love you 10 times as harder.

You put down your fork in defeat, covering you face in your hands, "I don't know what to do... It just—" you stammered, words faltering, "It just came out so suddenly when we were talking."

Vada raised an eyebrow, "you just don't break up with someone out of the blue on valentines. Come on, dude." She tried to sound emphatic, but she was covering her smile like the damn good friend she is.

"I know!" you exclaimed, "I know... I don't know." You picked up your fork once again, "I think I'm in love with someone new, maybe that's why I broke up with him."

Maybe she spoke too soon.

"Nick?" She turned to him, slowly, "Can you join me to get some food?"

Nick chewed, side-eying her, "Your tray isn't even half done—"

"Nick." She inhaled a little too hard, gripping his wrist, "For the love of fucking God, please."

Nick winced while nodding vigorously, "Alright, alright! I'm coming, damn." The both of you stood up, pushing back your chairs while Nick gestured for you to wait.

"Okay," Vada stood in line, glancing back at the table, "who do you think y/n is in love with!? I mean, yeah, we shouldn't probably pry, but Nick, you know better than anyone else that I would literally die for me to be her girlfriend and you know damn well how many sleepless nights I've stayed up to pray for her boyfriends downfall!"

Nick crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Are you actually getting food, or are we just—"

"Of course we're not getting food! I'll just get some water, now, answer my question."

"Vada," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I do not know. If I did, I probably would've told you my thoughts at this point. Y/n hasn't shown any interest in anybody."

Vada nodded, her hand resting on her chin as the line moved, "Yeah, I guess theres that. But y/n is so secretive at times!"

Nick sighed, grabbing Vada by the shoulders and excused people out of the way, "V, just ask her or maybe give her time. She's in a state of a break-up right now."

Vada and Nick returned to the table, Vada looking done as ever and Nick returning to eat his food.

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It was either Vada has gone insanely mad or she's just trying to do a friendly gesture by selling out every single flower and chocolate shop that Jericho has established and plans to give them all to you to cheer you up just a slight bit. And maybe let you see she was the one of you after all.

Friendly, maybe not so, but inane is on the mark. She just wants to make you happy!

It was already after class, an hour after to be precise, and she was waiting outside for you, phone in hand as she leaned against her car while a luggage—no—a semi-truck of bouquets and chocolates awaited for you in the back seat.

You exited the building, your own phone in your hand as you looked for Vada's bug-eyed car that she bought with her birthday money that Nick contributed atleast 70% of it, wind caught up in your hair as you finally see Vada in the distance, waving to you like she was just some idiot.

The very sight was a sight for sore eyes, endearing even. Her antics always brought a smile to your face at the end of the day, and her very person bringing unwanted butterflies in your stomach. But you wouldn't admit that. You wouldn't admit that Vada was the reason why you broke up with your boyfriend in the first place.

Vada's smile only widened more as you approached her, the small figure waving to you in the distance. You can practically feel her happiness. "I'm surprise you agreed so fast."

"Thought I needed some time to myself after a horrible breakup," you replied, walking over to the passenger seat right in the front while Vada got into the driver's seat.

"By time to myself do you mean time with the amazing and pretty cool Vada Cavell and her car?" She closed the door behind her, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she hooked her legs onto your lap once you were both seated.

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting out a slight scoff, "you're too insufferable for your own good."

Silence overtook her parked car, the outside wind being the only sounds that weren't drowned by the ringing in your ears, but it was the nice type of silence. It was the type of silence that made you feel like you were nothing, a spec of dust even, yet you were having the time of your life with the person you love the most beside you.

Your seat was adjusted to lay back while Vada leaned against the tinted windows with her legs sprawled on top of your lap, probably smoking a joint by the faint smell of weed and ashes filling her car.

You could feel her legs moving, her body sitting up and digging for something in her pockets.

"Vada, you know that I—"

"You don't smoke, yes," Vada's voice, surprisingly low and soft, cut you off. "I get that, I really, really do, and I am all for not breaking your lungs ahead of time." She pulled out a plastic ziplock bag that contained something… a bit more colorful than the regular blunts you'd see.

"…Buuuut," she continued, unlocking the zipper and pulling out the makeshift blunt by her two fingers, "I got you this blunt made up of fruit roll-ups! The inside of it is popping candy. Courtesy of yours truly." She grinned, passing you the candy, "Can't really puff, puff, pass that but it's something you gotta try."

"You're fucking insane, V," you laughed as you shook your head, taking the candy from her hands and putting it against your lips, "it's delicious anyway."

She shrugged, leaning back yet again, "told you so."

It didn't take long for the candy to disappear from your fingers almost immediately, the sweet taste lingering on your tongue, the candy still somehow popping in your ears.

"How do you cut a sandwhich, horizontally or diagonally?" Vada broke the profounding silence, exhaling a puff of smoke as she took the blunt off her lips.

You sat up immediately, a lift in your eyebrows as you looked at her with a concerned grin, "Oh, you are high high."

"Don't overthink it," She sat up, tapping off the ash into the nearby tray beside her floor console, remnants of smoke trailing upwards as she discarded the cig entirely, "Just say whatever comes to your mind."

She intertwined her legs with yours as you both sat up, her arms coming to her knees as she repeated, "Horizontally or diagonally?"

"Horizontally, of course, why would I—"

"Coke or pepsi?"

"Coke."

"Do you pour cereal or milk first?"

"Cereal."

"Why did you break up with your boyfriend?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

"Oh." Shit.

Your eyes widened, if only you were quick to shut your brain and mouth out, or maybe better yet, be both deaf and blind.

It was an understatement to say that panic replaced all your blood cells with the word itself, wishing so damn desperately to take back your words as if it would erase this moment in time and create a new one.

"Oh fuck," you whispered, your other hand ready to completely buck out of her car and sprint to no mans land, or maybe kill yourself. That seemed like the better option out of the others.

"Vada I—" You stammered. The car definitely felt smaller, heavier even. Like it was going to implode within a second. Your lips slightly parted as if you were about to say something, wanted to say something, but nothing came.

"Okay, look—" she gulped, raising her hands, the usual animated gesture while she explained herself.

"I'm… sad? Okay, not sad, that's the truth, you deserve to know it. But!" She exclaimed,, words coming out in a rush, "That's… okay? Not okay for you or for him but it's—" She paused to take a deep breath before continuing, taking your hand with hers, "I finally get to do something I've wanted to do for a very long time without some kind of big consequence."

Vada's fingers traced patterns on the back of your hand, a silent way of asking for permission, a way that made you felt important to the point you almost missed the glint in her soft eyes and a tug on her mouth.

She reached out and gently cupped your cheek, tilting your head a bit, the simple warmth from her touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your breath catching in your throat as you looked at her with pure eyes, listening.

"Would it be okay?" She whispered, hesitance evident in her voice, "would it be alright if I…"

Before she could even finish her sentence, you brought your hand up to hers flat on your cheek. With a gentle tug, you pulled her closer with your free arm, the softness of her lips melting against yours as you met them in a gentle kiss.

Both of your hands move over to her shoulders, messaging them slightly as you welcomed Vada's tongue into your mouth, your body tensing almost immediately yet softening when she removed her hands from your face and dragged them down to your waist, pulling you impossibly close to her.

Her lips were gentle, soft, and tender, smiling under yours. She tasted like chapstick mixed with cigarettes, a faint smell of the joint she smoked yet she still smelled so enchanting. You don't know how she does it.

You almost whined when Vada pulled away, familiar eyes staring right back at you. But they looked new. It was filled with love, endearment even, or maybe fondness.

She never looked more beautiful.

It only took a minute of silence before Vada realized what happened. "Are we—are we girlfriends? Well, we just kissed, I mean, I know that, but are we girlfriends girlfriends? I never had a girlfriend before, have you? I mean I guess you did but never a girlfriend. Ohmygod, am I your first girlfriend, holy fuck this really means—"

You laughed before planting a simple kiss on her lips, "Vada, as much as I love your rambling, please don't ruin this moment." You cupped her cheeks, your eyes tracing every single feature she carried.

"Yeah," she nodded, another smile on her mouth, "yeah." She laughed as she shook her head.

"Wait," She stopped you, her hands doing a stop gesture, "but this just technically means that I'm just a rebound? Oh, God, I don't wanna be known as that girl who got with you just hours after you broke up with your boyfriend! What if everyone flames me for it!? Y/n, I love you but wouldn't this ruin your reputation too!? What if they say you cheated on your boyfriend, what if—"

You rolled her eyes and kissed her yet again, "I don't think having a fuck ton of chocolates and flowers stuck inside the backseat of your car and having me in the passenger seat would help your thinking."

"That doesn't really help my situation." She tilted her head, eyebrows creasing.

"I'm saying that we'll keep it hidden, even if you'd be one itch away from telling everyone we're together."

"I wont tell, I promise!" Vada saluted, she always does that. Even before a pinky promise, a salute is always needed.

Not that you didn't feel bad about breaking up with your boyfriend out of the blue, it's just a simple problem that'll lead to a celebration for a broken heart.

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a/n: this was long overdue, sorry i posted it so late!! just seemed like writers block missed me a little bit too much.

#wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

Like How You Read It To Yourself

Request: Cairo sweet x fem!reader smut fic, maybe something with guided masturbation that escalates ‘til her and reader fuck 👀

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

Summary: Cairo’s new story makes r drive to her house and reenact what Cairo wrote

Warning: smut, guided masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, finger-sucking 😵‍💫, bottom!Cairo, top!reader

A/n: kind of a long one, sorry for the wait (some text is from the Miller’s Girl Screenplay, it might be slightly edited to fit the story and to avoid copyright??)

It was a typical rainy Sunday morning, you were stuck inside doing homework for your English class. That was until you got a notification from your email. It was from Cairo, all it had was a picture of her new book she was writing. As you opened the picture, it had highlighted section and you began reading, your face immediately turned red.

You knew Cairo wrote erotica, but this wasn’t just like any other book.

She wrote this about you. And your name was plastered there on the very page.

And holy fucking shit, this was good. You quickly shut your laptop and grabbed your car keys.

You quickly drove to her house, opening the door to find Cairo smoking a cigarette on the leather couch in her living room.

A whisper of smoke drifted from her mouth with practiced effort — something she’d picked up in some obscure noir she’d watched with her mother.

She threw it to the ground and stub it out with the heel of her shoe with slow, calculated movements.

She planned this.

You grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the bedroom.

Cairo opened her mouth to say something, but the words fell away as you hungrily pressed your lips to hers. You pulled away with a sultry whisper,

“I want you to read it to me-” You ran your thumb over her lower lip,

“-Read it to me the way you read it to yourself.”

As you pulled away, Cairo took her tattered notebook off the bedside table and spread it open in the comforter of her bed. You stood behind her as she leaned over the bed.

“Page thirteen”, you whispered as of your hands slid up the front of Cairo’s short cotton dress, as the other pointed to a sentence on the page. “Begin here.”

Cairo’s began to recite what she wrote in a shaky voice: “It’s not because she’s a child, it’s because she’s a child with no innocence.”

Her breath hitched as you placed your hand over hers. You slowly guided it to the mound at her center, pressing her fingers into the dark fold there — just behind the damp fabric of her panties.

She cleared her throat before scanning over the page again, searching for where she left off: “Look into her eyes and you see the monster of knowledge, the shadow of wisdom—“

She paused as she felt you pulling her panties over her hips, coaxing her thumb to circle her pleading clit, her other hand tightly gripped the comforter.

The pleasure Cairo was feeling was too intense for her to concentrate on the reading, the best she could do was mumble the words.

So you took the book from her and continued reading, watching her face closely as it contorted to one of pure ecstasy as she fingered herself.

“-Maybe in a bathroom stall at school, her own fingers knuckle deep-“

You gently persuaded her fingers in and out of her dripping cunt, helping her thrust them as she moaned into the sheets of her bed.

“-trying to rub out that itch. The ache inside.”

You closed the notebook and set it back down on the bedside table. You finally looked down at Cairo, her eyes clenched shut and her breathing labored, your hand still assuring her movements.

You could tell she was close by the way she grabbed your hand and placed it over her perky breast. You complied and gently rolled her covered nipple between your fingers as she thrusted faster.

Cairo came on her fingers with a loud moan, falling on the bed and flipping over onto her back to catch her breath.

You grabbed her wrist and brought up her fingers to your mouth, placing them gently on your tongue. You slowly sucked off her arousal, groaning at the salty-sweet taste.

You pulled her fingers out of your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and she quickly pulled your lips to hers, moaning at the taste of her lingering in your mouth.

You pulled away, kissing down her chest and stomach as she arched her body into your touch. You slowly kissed her inner thigh as she thread her fingers into your hair, pulling you towards her aching core.

You licked a slow stripe from the bottom of her folds to the tip of her clit, she whined from your unrelenting teasing.

You slipped a finger into her wet heat, pumping it in and out and curling it into her g-spot every other thrust. She gripped your hair tighter as you started to suck on her clit.

When you slipped in another finger, she moaned at the stretch.

“Please… ‘m so close, baby…”

You were sure she could feel your smirk but her mind was clouded with pleasure. You sped up your movements and a gush of wetness escaped her swollen pussy. Kissing her thigh, you continued to pump your fingers in and out as she rode her wave of arousal. You slowly lapped up her cum as she whimpered from the overstimulation.

You took your time pulling away, a string of saliva unraveling itself from your lips and her throbbing clit. You gently rested your head on her chest and she stroked your hair. After a while, she started giggling to herself.

You looked up at her with an eyebrow raised, “what’s so funny?”

“I should write about you more often.”

#cairo sweet x reader #18+#minors dont look #smut

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

testify

pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: you expose cairo to the truth she's been trying to escape from.

words: 1.1k

warnings: language & parental issues

"Cairo, What the fuck are you doing?"

Your voice was cold, sharp, and if it wasn't for Cairos focus on the pen moving in her notebook, she would've been startled. Your voice had never sounded so, angry.

Although Cairo couldn't help but let the rage within her continue to simmer and bubble.

"I'm completing my admissions essay." She stated simply, trying not to direct the anger towards you.

However, you had rage raising within you as well, and you had no plan on trying to control it. Her ignorance and lack of empathy was starting to piss you off, and you knew that she was aware of that.

"Don't act foolish Cairo." You spit, walking closer towards her ginormous bed, getting a closer look on the cigarette in her hand; a habit she had picked up to impress your current English teacher. "It doesn't suit you."

She didn't dare to look up, not until you brought up his name. "What are you doing to Mr. Miller?"

Cairo looked up at the mention of the teacher, and it was at that you noticed the trails of mascara stains under her eyes.

Her gaze didn't look regretful, it looked full of a burning desire for revenge.

"I'm testifying against him, infront of the school board." She stated simply, putting the notebook and pencil beside her to sit up, her legs hanging from the bedside.

"Why?" Your voice came out way more questioning than you had planned on. But you weren't stupid, you knew why Cairo was doing this, you had heard the full story from Winnie, and parts of it from Cairo herself.

Cairo was known by her friends to be vengeful, she always held a grudge towards people when she didn't get her way, like now. She didn't successfully seduce Mr. Miller, so now she's trying to fire him.

"He underestimated me. I overestimated him." She stood to her feet, slowly walking alongside the bed, like she was scared of you. Although you knew she wasn't, Cairo wasn't scared of anything; even when she should've been.

Her way of showing she had more power than the other person, had always been slowly walking towards them, deep eye contact with the person who she was trying to intimidate.

It never seemed to work with you.

"You're gonna ruin his life." You spoke, voice hard enough to shatter glass, the sentence and the harsh tone in your voice made Cairo stop, her jaw clenching. "And for what?"

Your voice came out as a whisper, but you didn't pay it any mind, since it seemed to make Cairo realize her mistakes. Which was extremely rare for her.

Cairo felt judged. She had never felt that particular type of feeling before, in fact, she never felt anything when people would scold her, nothing but the need for revenge.

Your eyes were looking at Cairo like she was depraved, twisted. Like she was disgusting to look at, she had never cared when anyone else did that. It was different with you tho. It felt like a sharp pain in the chest.

"To avenge your rejection?" Cairo looked back at you as you spoke, your voice basically echoing in her ears. "To punish him? Because he didn't want to fuck you?" You spit out.

"He wanted to fuck me, Y/n." She was quick to reply. Cairo had always been quick-witted, coming up with clever and snarky remarks before the sentence had the chance to be finished, but this time her words sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

You raised your eyebrows, snorting with laughter at her quick remark, "Sure."

Cairo almost felt frightened when your figure began taking slow steps towards her. She didn't know why she was suddenly feeling so intimidated and afraid by you, was it the look in your eyes? Or the fact that Cairo knew how wise you could be with your words?

"But he didn't leave his wife for you."

The sentence made Cairos face drop, her proud smirk fell as quickly as it appeared, her lips were now quivering instead, a new layer of tears beginning to coat her irises.

She breathed in deeply, chest slowly rising, trying to contain herself from letting the tears fall freely.

"And you know why that is, Cairo?" You moved even further towards her, now standing close enough for her to hear you take a breath before continuing. "Because he loves her."

You spoke slowly, like Cairo was a child that couldn't understand what was said if it wasn't in the right pace. Cairo hated being treated like a child.

"He didn't love you." She wanted to speak, reply with words, something. However her mouth didn't dare to move, was it because you were right? She couldn't bring herself to think that was an actually option.

"He just liked that you gave him the attention his wife isn't."

Cairo no longer cared if you were correct, she was now trying her absolute hardest to not give in, to not let your echoing voice take over her head. It was difficult, to say the least.

"But you thought he loved you, right? Because he showed you the least bit of attention, and you felt lonely.." The fact that you didn't stutter once while speaking, made Cairo feel scared.

She had never seen this side of you.

"Or maybe you felt like his daughter?" You tilted your head slightly, watching as her jaw clenched.

"Did you crave the love from an older man because you haven't experienced it from your father?"

"Stop." Cairos voice was shaky, something she was surprised by hearing herself, her voice had never been shaky, not even when crying as a kid.

You smirked proudly, just like she had been doing just minutes before, which you had quickly wiped of just within seconds of talking.

"Go ahead and testify against him. But think twice about if it's really worth it." Your voice was hushed now, but still just as hard and sharp as it had been the first time you opened her mouth, she could feel your breath onto her cheeks, and she didn't doubt you could hear her quickly beating heart.

And at that, you turned on your heel, your hair basically hitting Cairo in the face on the way there. You left the room, leaving Cairo alone in the haunted bedroom.

The tears were now flowing down her face. Cairo had never cried because of something another individual had said before, let alone cried over something you did in general. But now she was, and it was embarrassing.

You were right.

#cairo sweet x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 [𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄] — 𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐍𝐀𝐌-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐘

one / two / three / four / masterlist / wattpad

summary: Alycia finally confronts her father about your relationship.

warning/s: none.

author's note: here's a little bonus part that isn't very long because a lot of people wanted some sort of conclusion haha – not gonna lie, i was just gonna leave it open-ended but then decided to just quickly write this. Hope you like it!

I chewed my lip subconsciously as I watched Alycia and her father going back and forth at one another outside in the garden.

Stood inside the safe confinements of the dining room, I'd been observing their conversation-turned-argument through the glass for the past five minutes, the double glazing allowing for the occasional loudly-yelled word or phrase to be heard. It was enough for me to make out the unpleasantries exchanged, the absolute Clayton slander from Alycia and basically everything she'd ever bottled up in regard to her father.

It would have been satisfying to witness if I didn't feel so bad about it all. As annoying as her father was, it was still her father, and even though Alycia had promised to make things right after our cuffs came off earlier, it didn't change that fact.

When I felt a presence beside me, I looked away from them to see Millie had approached, standing beside me and looking outside curiously.

"Damn, she's finally standing up to him, huh?" she realised.

I nodded, looking back to them. "Yep. We leave first thing in the morning."

Mille hummed, surprised. "Well, I'm happy for you. It's about time Alycia stepped up for you. You deserve it, Y/N."

I smiled appreciatively, glancing at her. "Thanks, Millie. You're one of the few things that made this trip tolerable."

Millie snorted with amusement. "No worries. Happy to be of service."

I snickered before turning around when I heard the sliding door open. A quick glance told me Alycia's father was storming off in a mood, and Alycia herself was returning with a heavy sigh to mark her frustration and relief.

"How did it go?" I asked her with a raised brow, before sarcastically adding, "Looked great from where I was stood."

With a reassuring smile, she approached me. "It's all okay now. And I feel a lot better."

I exhaled, giving her a small smile, and then she noticed Millie stood beside me and grew embarrassed.

"Millie," she acknowledged with a nod. "Look, I... I must apologise for my behaviour earlier. It wasn't appropriate and it certainly wasn't fair of me."

Millie tried not to laugh as she replied generously, "It's okay. I kind of figured there was more to it."

Cheeks dusting pink, Alycia struggled for words. "Still."

Finally smiling, Millie said, "It's okay. No harm, no foul." A pause, and then she added, "It'll certainly be boring without you two around."

Laughing to herself, she left the two of us alone and Alycia seems to relax fully.

"It was nice of you to apologise," I told her, resting a hand on her arm as I stepped closer.

"I was an arse to her," she admitted. "It was needed."

I scrunched my nose up. "Yeah, just a little."

She rolled her eyes, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Whatever. Let's go pack, idiot."

I laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into my side as we walked.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon packing our things before relaxing in our room, watching some TV, before we had to endure a final family dinner tonight. I was dreading it slightly, worried her dad might kill me or something, but to our surprise, he didn't show.

Her mum was seated at the table already, Alycia and I soon joining her, but her dad wasn't there. Alycia didn't seem to mind, but I felt a little guilty, wondering if this was all worth it.

"He's sulking," her mum explained to us when she saw our expressions.

"Good," Alycia said dismissively. "I've said all I have to say."

Her mum sighed. "I know, hon."

"I refuse to visit here until he learns to accept my life as it is," Alycia told her knowingly. "That includes my girlfriend. But you're always welcome to visit us, mum, you know that, right?"

Her mum smiled and nodded. "I know. I'm sure he'll get over himself." Her eyes fell to me, softening apologetically. "He'll understand. Eventually. He's just too stubborn for his own good."

I nodded halfheartedly, eyes returning to my dinner plate as I wasn't sure what to say and it felt like I'd made things worse.

Thankfully, dinner went by quickly enough, with Alycia and her mum soon forgetting of the drama and simply having a final catch up before we'd leave tomorrow. After dessert, we all said our goodnights, and Alycia and I finished early for the evening, the day's events taking its toll on us.

Shortly after, I found myself curled up to Alycia's side in bed, head tucked in the space between her shoulder and neck as her hand gently stroked my hair. It was quiet, myself relaxing the longer we stayed like that, but then she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That it took so long for me to stick up for you. For us."

"Better late than never," I attempted to joke to lighten the mood, but she merely sighed in response.

"He'll come around," she said with certainty, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

"For your sake, I hope so," I said, lips brushing her skin. "He'll miss seeing how amazing you are and have no choice but to."

She chuckled quietly beside me, leaning back to get a better look at me. Her green eyes sparkled with adoration as they met mine, making me smile.

"I think you're biased, darling," she said softly, hand tracing my jaw.

I shook my head nonchalantly. "Nah, I'm not."

Her smile widened and she leaned in, closing the gap between us for a moment. When she pulled back, she said, "You're not?"

I shook my head again, eyes lowering to her lips before capturing them between mine briefly. "Nope."

She snickered before reattaching our lips, body pressing to mine in a way that fogged all my senses and made my heart blossom in my chest. Her tongue slipped between my lips and found mine, overwhelming me in the best way possible as her hand simultaneously slid down my side and past my waist.

It was safe to say that I couldn't remember what we'd even been talking about until that point.

—

"Is that the last one?" Alycia called from the bottom of the staircase.

"Yeah," I called back, before dragging the final suitcase behind me, taking it downstairs.

We were finally leaving the Debnam-Carey mansion, to my relief. I brought the suitcase outside where the driver was loading the car with our things and turned to see Alycia hugging her mother by the front door. Sucking up a breath, I approached them and waited patiently.

"He's not gonna say goodbye, is he?" Alycia asked her mum, trying to show indifference, but I could see that she was disappointed.

"He's sulking," her mum said with a slight frown.

Alycia sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. I placed a comforting hand on her back, though my insides were shrivelling with guilt.

"You've got a good thing here with Y/N," her mum said to her, surprising me. "Don't let his petulance ruin that." Alycia nodded, and her mum looked to me with a softened expression. "He's gonna come around. He's gonna see how important this is. How special you are to our Leashy. He never stays mad for long."

I appreciated her attempt at reassuring me, her no doubt having seen my guilty face, but still wasn't sure. "What if he doesn't?"

She smiled considerately. "Oh, he will."

I nodded slightly, a little more at ease. The last thing I wanted was to drive a wedge in their family. Alycia hugged her mum once more, thanking her for her support.

"I'm sorry I've never been too welcoming to you," her mum said to me with apologetic eyes, and for a moment, she resembled her daughter, making it difficult to hold a grudge. "But this trip has just proven how important you are in Alycia's life. So, welcome to the family, Y/N."

Growing warm at the attention, I nodded awkwardly, small smile on my lips. "Thank you. That means a lot."

Alycia's smile widened as she took my hand in hers, and I was glad that at least something good came out of this whole fiasco. Years later to be accepted was better than never, I supposed.

After a final goodbye, Alycia and I went into the car with a heavy sigh. She reconnected our hands across the middle seat as the driver began our journey, and gave me a soft smile.

"Time to go back home," she said, squeezing my hand.

I returned her smile, though still felt the need to check on her. "Are you gonna be okay? With your dad and everything?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, lighthearted smile on her face, like nothing could bother her right now. "He'll get over it. And I have you, don't I?"

I sighed, her happiness contagious as a smile crept on my lips. "You do."

She leaned forward to kiss my lips briefly before settling into her seat. "What a trip, am I right?"

I laughed, shaking my head with disbelief. "Don't you know it, love. Don't you know it."

#alycia debnam carey x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

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A Good Day for Death Valentine's Day Special 2024

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Ordinarily, Wednesday wasn’t a fan of Valentine’s Day. It was too sappy for her, and romance wasn’t her thing. That being said, everyone else being out on dates or with friends meant that Nevermore was quiet, and if there was one thing Wednesday liked, it was solitude.

She could come out of her dorm with her typewriter to work on her novel without being bothered. She finished her work for the day, packed away her typewriter, and walked towards the library to pick out a book to read.

Wednesday paused as she passed a hallway full of empty classrooms. Sounds echoed out from within, music and singing with a mysterious tune. Wednesday wasn’t someone to not investigate, so she walked down the corridor and arrived at a classroom. She looked in and saw the projector turned on and playing an animated movie. The character on screen sang dramatically, the sound reverberating through the silent school.

“Our son will be married, According to plan.”

Wednesday glanced between the unique animation and looked at the desks at the front of the room. She was a bit surprised to see (Y/N) alone. They were leaning on their hands while watching the movie.

“(Y/N)?” said Wednesday.

(Y/N) started and turned. They smiled when they noticed who it was. “Oh, hi, Wednesday!” They reached over and paused the movie. “How are you?”

“I thought everyone had gone out for the holiday,” said Wednesday.

(Y/N) shrugged. “All of my friends had dates.”

“I do not,” said Wednesday.

“We’re friends?” said (Y/N) teasingly.

“By the typical definition, I suppose,” said Wednesday, but she knew that they were. And, of course, she had a crush on (Y/N), but that was neither here nor there (another lie).

(Y/N) grinned. “Whatever you say!” They tilted their head. “What are you up to today while everyone else is out?”

“I worked on my novel,” said Wednesday, walking farther down in the room to the row of desks (Y/N) sat out.

“That’s cool. I just slept in, wrote a few melancholy poems about love—very ‘tragic poet’ of me, I know—and came in here to watch a movie,” said (Y/N). “Do you want to join me? If you’re not going to do anything.”

“I had planned to read,” said Wednesday.

“Oh, well, then, have fun,” said (Y/N), a little (lot) disappointed that Wednesday didn’t want to hang out. They knew their crush wasn’t exactly a people-person in any sense of the word, but they had hoped maybe she’d want to spend time with them since they were both alone and friends.

“…How long is this movie?” said Wednesday.

(Y/N) brightened. “A little over an hour.”

Wednesday pretended to consider, but she already knew she was going to stay. (Y/N)’s companionship was nice, and a nice moment alone with her crush would be…pleasant since usually Wednesday was also around other people.

“I will still have time to read,” decided Wednesday. “I’ll stay.” She sat down at the desk next to (Y/N). “What are we watching?”

“Corpse Bride,” said (Y/N). “It’s a fun Tim Burton musical. It’s on the spooky side. My mom and I watched it a lot growing up.”

“Is it a love story?” asked Wednesday.

“Yeah, but it’s got ghosts and murder and mystery, so you’ll enjoy it, too,” said (Y/N).

“You chose something you thought I would enjoy?” said Wednesday, not missing anything.

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and they chuckled nervously. “Well, you know, I knew you’d be in Nevermore, so I thought I’d choose something you’d enjoy in case you came in.”

Wednesday felt the now-familiar—but still disturbing—warmth enter her chest at (Y/N)’s consideration. “That’s…unusual.”

“To think of my friend?” (Y/N) laughed. “You need to get more friends, Wednesday.”

“I don’t have an affinity for people,” said Wednesday.

“Neither do I,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “I guess we make sense together, then. Two people not great with others but okay with each other.”

Wednesday allowed herself a smile. “I suppose so.” She steeled her features and faced the screen. “Now, how much have I missed?”

“Oh, not much! The movie just started. Basically, what you need to know is…” (Y/N) began to ramble.

Wednesday had to fight not to stare at them as they spoke so passionately and happily. It was pleasant to watch them be so happy and bright. Wednesday knew they were right: she and (Y/N) worked well together. They understood each other well, and Wednesday liked that (Y/N) was her friend. And it was nice to know they felt the same way.

It was amusing that neither knew they felt the same in another way.

Taglist:

@strawberriesareprettycool

@im-making-an-effort

@champagnewitnocham

@simpcreator

@ksunoosworld

@dot-and-co

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@itsyapeepkiri

@daza1s-w1fe

@tired-writing-reader

@mary-jinx

@ognenniyvolk

@under-kitty

@colezb

@simp4natasha

@emily-roberts

@left-and-right-up-and-down

@star583

@rainbow-love4ever

@nemtodd-barnes1923

@likefirenrain

@ziro-the-null-god

@youralphawolf72

@mjoiner1136

@alexkolax

#wednesday addams x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 [𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] — 𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐍𝐀𝐌-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐘

one / two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you try to avoid witnessing Clayton making moves on your girlfriend, you start to hang out with the help some more, only making Alycia jealous in return.

warning/s: none.

author's note: super delayed (my bad), but here’s the final part! hope you guys liked this one :)

Alycia's parents were treating her to lunch today, so I busied myself with icing the cupcakes Millie let me help her bake yesterday, and also the little 2-tier cake I'd baked for Alycia as a surprise.

It was fun, I wouldn't lie, even though I was terrible at baking and icing and anything creative in that aspect. But Millie was great company and it was a nice enough distraction from the utter boredom I otherwise would have felt with Alycia being gone.

"So, how did you and Alycia meet?" Millie was asking as we dyed our icing.

"It was actually at a job, working over the summer at one of her parents' camps," I answered. "Though, back then, I definitely didn't know she was the daughter to millionaires."

"Would that have changed anything if you did?" she asked with an amused smile.

I shrugged, weighing it up as I'd never really thought about it. "I'm not entirely sure... I think if I knew before speaking to her, I may have avoided her. But that would have been based on a preconceived idea that she's stuck up and spoilt, y'know? Obviously, I spoke to her because she was my buddy at the time and we got along from there. And by the time she told me about her parents, well... she's lucky she's cute."

Millie laughed at my joke. "That's adorable. You guys make a lovely couple. And you're right about getting to know Alycia. I've worked here for a year or so, mostly for her parents, but the few times she's visited and we've interacted, she's been kind."

I smiled, knowing that sounded like Alycia. Nothing like her parents, thank God.

"So, how did you end up being a private chef?" I asked curiously.

We passed time as we decorated, talking about how she went to culinary school, what she did when she wasn't baking and her love for it all. It was refreshing, especially because I'd never met anyone who did this for a living. And after she helped me not make a fool of icing the cakes, but also assisted me in decorating Alycia's, a waiter entered the kitchen to let us know of Alycia's return.

"That's your cue," Millie encouraged, before nodding to the cake in the box on the counter. "Knock 'em dead."

A little excited, I smiled gratefully before grabbing the cake and heading to the front door with hopes of finding Alycia. They were still outside, I noticed, when I glanced out the window, and then I realised they weren't alone. Her parents, her and fucking Clayton of all people were getting out the car, chatting and smiling. Had he gone to lunch with them? What the fuck? I literally stayed behind so Alycia could have some bonding time with her parents, not him.

Frustrated, I stepped away from the window and realised my anger had gotten the better of me because I'd unintentionally squeezed the box in my hand and, consequently, the cake.

"Fuck," I mumbled, before backing away from the door and returning to the kitchen.

"How did she– wait, what happened?" Millie started, but stopped herself when I tossed the cake box on the counter.

"Fucking Clayton and his fucking lack of boundaries," I muttered with irritation, before leaning my head in my hands on the counter to contain myself.

"Oh, Y/N..."

I'd never discussed anything of my feelings towards Clayton to Millie, but it was pretty evident how I was feeling right now. I thought I was over it, especially after Alycia's reassurances last night, but clearly I wasn't.

"It doesn't matter," I said with a heavy sigh. "It was stupid anyway. Just throw it out. It's basically bird food now anyway."

No doubt giving me a disapproving look, Millie grabbed the box and said, "Don't be silly."

I glanced up when I heard her shuffling about, only to see her taking the cake out the box and cutting a decent enough slice that wasn't destroyed by my inability to contain my anger.

"Go," she ordered, pushing the plate towards me. "Give this to your girlfriend."

I narrowed my eyes at the cake. "She's too busy with Clayton."

Millie gave me a knowing look. "It's her dad, not her, now go." I just about rolled my eyes when she added, "Don't be a child, Y/N."

Grumbling to myself, I straightened up and grabbed the plate. But not before glancing at her and saying, "You're getting too comfortable with me."

She cracked a smile, resisting the urge to laugh, before wafting me away with her hand. I groaned inwardly before returning to the front of the house, where Alycia, her parents and Clayton were just entering the atrium. As soon as Alycia spotted me, her face lit up and she ran to me, almost making me drop the plate as she hugged me. Admittedly, it made me forget why I was annoyed in the first place and I immediately returned the hug.

"Ooh, what's that?" she asked distractedly, eyeing up the cake slice. "My surprise, perhaps?"

Unable to stop my smile, I was about to reply, but was instantly cut off by her father.

"Oh, that can't be Millie's handiwork, surely," he said with a loud laugh. "What on earth is that decoration?" Glancing at Clayton, he added, "This is why you have to be picky with the help."

Clayton laughed at his joke whilst I tried very hard not to throw the plate at his head.

"Dad!" Alycia scolded with a look. "That's not nice!"

Her dad played dumb, then looked to Clayton for approval, which only boiled my blood more.

"Y/N, what is it?" Alycia asked, expression softening when she looked back to me.

"Nothing," I managed to say without flipping out irrationally. "Just leftovers from a practice batch Millie made." Swallowing hard, I took a step back. "In fact, I should probably throw it out. It's not that nice anyway."

Alycia frowned, about to speak, but bloody Clayton of all people spoke up.

"Alycia, your dad and I are going to get a drink, would you like to join us?"

Seconds away from smashing this plate on his head, I rolled my eyes and turned to leave instead. Storming back to the kitchen a second time, I made a beeline for the bin.

"Seriously?" Millie asked with playful disbelief. "You still haven't–?"

"It was a stupid idea," I snapped, setting the empty plate before her, before leaving to get some fresh air.

—

Not even half an hour passed when Alycia found me returning to the house after a well-needed sulk around the property.

"Y/N!" she called once she spotted me by the outdoor dining area. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I haven't been very far," I said nonchalantly.

She frowned guiltily, eyes flickering between mine. "I didn't know Clayton would be there. My parents took me out and he was already sat there at the table."

"He always seems to be present, don't you think?"

She sighed. "I know."

I lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Seriously? Why not doing something about it, Alycia?"

She raised her eyebrows too. "Don't you think I'm trying?"

I tried not to scoff as I crossed my arms. "Well, not hard enough."

Definitely surprised by my attitude, she gave me a look. "Y/N."

I looked down at my shoes, knowing my anger would return if we discussed this any longer. "Forget it. See you at dinner."

"Y/N," she started as I began to walk away.

"Or maybe we'll see Clayton, who knows?" I said sarcastically, before rolling my eyes as I left, ignoring her calls.

It wasn't her fault, I knew that, but she wasn't exactly telling her father to back off, at least not well enough. I was uncomfortable and her parents were doing a pretty great job at making me want to leave. So, why couldn't we?

—

Dinner time that same evening was awkward as hell and I was counting down the seconds before I could leave to go up to our room. Her parents were chatting, talking about the business and Alycia, and I was staying quiet because I seriously couldn't be bothered. The only relieving thing was that they hadn't invited Clayton.

At one point, the dessert was brought out – the cupcakes that Millie let me help her make, though she did ninety-nine percent of it – and her dad felt the need to comment.

"Ah, see? This is Millie's handiwork," he said with a smile as the waiter placed some cupcakes before us all. "None of that rubbish from earlier."

I bit my tongue as I distracted myself with my cup of tea. Alycia glanced over at me, wanting to say something, but as usual, she didn't.

When the meal was over, Alycia and I headed straight upstairs for bed. I never usually went to sleep so soon after eating, but I didn't want to stay awake and have to talk things out with Alycia, not when I was still so upset at the situation. So, after getting ready for bed, I jumped right in and laid down, turning my back to Alycia who was still unchanged from her day clothes.

"Y/N?" she called gently. "Can we talk?"

I closed my eyes, frowning to myself. "I'm tired."

I heard her sigh from behind me, and though a small part of me felt bad for treating her like this, the rest knew that it wasn't fair how I was being treated this whole trip. The sooner we left, the better. But for now...

"Okay," she muttered. "Goodnight, I guess."

I didn't say anything, but the door closed and I assumed she'd gone into the ensuite to get ready for bed, too.

—

I'd hoped going to sleep would put me in a better mood, but when I woke up the next day, I was only reminded of how shitty everything had been and my mood still remained.

There were only two days left before Alycia and I could go home, but for now I had to suck it up. I still wasn't in the mood to talk to Alycia, so I avoided her the best I could, which I soon discovered was ideal because none other than fucking Clayton was back at the house again. Apparently it wasn't for Alycia, based on what the staff chatter had to say, but rather for a business meeting with her dad. Either way, it was an excuse for him to be around and I would have rather stayed away.

Deciding that Millie was the only other person here that I knew and felt comfortable enough to be around, I went to bother her as she worked in the kitchens. Plus, I owed her an apology after my outburst yesterday.

When I found her, she was preparing some ingredients for something and almost didn't notice my presence until I stopped by a stool at the counter.

"Hey," I said with a small smile.

When she saw me, she returned my smile with a relieved one. "Y/N, hey. How are you doing? You seemed really upset yesterday."

I leaned in the palm of my hand nervously. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. It wasn't very nice, especially not after you tried to help me with the whole situation."

"It's okay," she assured. "I can see how annoying it must be to find out Clayton is always around. I'm guessing that's why you're here now."

I sighed, trying not to get worked up at the mere mention of him. "Yeah. I hope that's okay. I just can't stand being around him. And Alycia isn't helping the situation, so we're kind of not talking."

At this, Millie gave me a disapproving look. "You can't just not speak to her. You know this is an awkward spot for her. It's her parents, not her."

"I understand that, but how about me? I'm at my girlfriend's house to hang out with her family and instead of that, they're trying to show her off to another guy right in front of me. Why do I have to be okay with that?"

Millie sighed, shrugging as she worked. "You're right. It's shitty. But you need to communicate this to Alycia, not avoid her."

I put my head in my hands and groaned quietly. "Can I avoid her a little longer? I'm not in the mood."

Chuckling quietly, Millie nodded. "I suppose so. Maybe I can teach you how to make fresh pastry."

Glad she was letting me stay, I smiled for real and jumped off the stool. "Thanks, Millie."

It was probably a terrible sign that I enjoyed spending more time with a pastry chef than I did my girlfriend's family, but I didn't care. If they couldn't bother to make half the effort with me that I was making with them, then I couldn't change that. Besides, there were only two more days left. I could surely survive that.

After spending the morning with Millie, chatting away mindlessly and watching as she worked because it was better than watching TV for hours on end, it was soon lunchtime. We were supposed to be having an outdoor afternoon tea for lunch, with some baked goods that Millie and a few of the other chefs had prepared in advance. I was stood outside with Millie after she set the table, the two of us talking by the doors, when Alycia found me.

Millie and I's conversation ceased as soon as Alycia stopped by us, glancing at me with a tense jaw.

"Alycia," I greeted, still mildly irritated.

"Can I speak to you, please?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Before glancing at Millie and adding, "In private?"

I looked at her with disbelief, but before I could say anything, Millie nodded awkwardly.

"I should get back to work," was all she said, before returning to the kitchen.

When she was gone, I looked back to Alycia. "That was a little rude, don't you think?"

Alycia's green eyes stared holes into mine. "What are you doing?"

I was confused. "What?"

She crossed her arms with annoyance as she asked, "Do you like her?"

Absolutely baffled now, I raised my eyebrows and stared at her. "What? Are you joking right now?"

She clenched her jaw, unimpressed. "All you keep doing is avoiding me and hanging out with her instead. What gives?"

The audacity of her to make such assumptions was laughable, to the point where I had to stop myself from doing so.

"Wow," I said with both irritation and impatience. "You're kidding me, right?" Judging from her know-it-all expression and the patronising glare she was giving me, I knew she wasn't. I continued, "Maybe if you stopped appeasing your dad's wishes this whole trip and hanging out with Clayton all the time, you'd see that I'm bored! Millie is the only bloody person I can hang out with here!"

Alycia scoffed frantically, shaking her head and looking away. "That's hardly fair."

I widened my eyes as I gave her a questioning look. "Isn't it?! What's not fair is that I'm here to bond with my girlfriend's parents and, instead of doing the same, they're trying to set you up with a new man whilst I'm literally right here!"

"That's not what's happening–!"

It was my turn to scoff as I cut her off. "Sure it's not. Because he just so happens to be around all the time, doesn't he?" Giving her an angry glare, I said, "He drools over you, Alycia. And do you think I like watching him check you out? Because I bloody don't!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but just on cue, someone approached us and interrupted, and it was damn Clayton.

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Alycia–"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I shouted at him, before losing my patience and shoving past him to return indoors. I didn't have to deal with this – it wasn't fair!

Storming up to our room, I shut the door and tried very hard to contain my frustration, but it was too late, I was already fuming. It wasn't fair! I didn't deserve to be treated like this! And I wasn't going to stand for it anymore. Being here was only making me miserable, so I had to leave. Alycia could stay the rest of the trip with her parents, but they didn't want me here and I didn't want to be here.

Pulling out my suitcase, I grabbed as much as I could from the wardrobe and threw it in, deciding to pack everything up. Clayton and Alycia's parents could live happily together, but I didn't care to see it.

I was midway through packing when the door suddenly opened and Alycia appeared.

"Y/N, we need to talk," she said sternly. "Not argue."

"I'm not interested," I said dismissively, throwing another shirt in.

She must have realised what I was doing, finally paying attention, as she lost her irritation and looked to me sadly. "You're leaving?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "No, I just thought the suitcase was a looking a little empty. What do you think?"

"Y/N!"

I ignored her and continued to pack, moving to grab some toiletries from the dressing table.

"Please, let's just talk this through," she tried again. "I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I, but I can't be here anymore," I said, throwing my toiletries in my bag. "We can talk it through at home. You should stay the rest of the week."

"We're literally talking right now," she pointed out, making me roll my eyes. "C'mon, just sit. Please."

I met her eyes with a hardened stare. "Not in the mood."

She frowned and then her jaw clenched and I saw her impatience shining through. "Y/N."

I was stubborn, but so was she, and I refused to let her get her way this time.

Returning to my packing, I planned to ignore her presence until I finished, and even when she rounded the bed to approach me, I blanked her out. A little too much, in fact, as I didn't realise she'd pulled out some handcuffs from her back pocket and snapped them onto my wrist, connected to hers.

"Alycia!" I scolded. "Unlock it right now."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "Nope."

I bit back my irritation. "Maybe when you were a kid this sort of behaviour was cute, but it's not now, so let me go."

"Talk to me then," she insisted. "I don't like how things ended before and I don't like seeing you upset."

"Well, I'm not in the mood to speak to you right now and I just want to leave," I retorted. "So, respect that."

Her gaze softened. "Please."

I outstretched my free hand. "Key. Now."

Just when I thought I'd have to wrestle it from her, she sighed and gave in. "Fine."

As she patted down her pockets, I pushed my hair from my eyes and groaned inwardly. "Where the hell d'you even get handcuffs anyway?"

"Toy set from when I was a kid," she mumbled, before I watched her pat her pockets some more. Judging from the worried look she had, I couldn't imagine the news being good.

"Alycia, give me the key," I repeated, growing nervous, and she tensed her jaw with annoyance. "This isn't funny."

"D'you see me laughing?" she snapped, before checking her back pockets and coming up with nothing.

I tried to pull my wrist from the metal cuffs, but it pulled her wrist too, making her yelp, and that's when I realised she really wasn't joking.

"Alycia, are you insane?!" I shouted, already stressing because of what this meant.

"Just shush!" she ordered, though the guilt was seeping through. "Panicking doesn't help!"

I gasped sarcastically. "Sorry if we're bloody handcuffed together and I'm panicking! Because in case you didn't realise, darling, we're handcuffed together!"

"I know!" she shouted right back, before giving up with her futile searching. In a quieter voice, she said, "I've lost it. I must have missed my pocket when I put it in."

I groaned loudly, attempting to sit on the bed, but she of course came with me and I had to remain standing.

"Look, let's just go back downstairs and retrace my steps," she said hopefully. "It'll show. And if not, there's gotta be some tools somewhere."

I stayed quiet, not wanting to snap at her even more when I was already pissed off and she was the last person I wanted to be handcuffed to right now. Instead, I let her lead me downstairs and around the living room and old playroom, with hopes of finding the key on the floor somewhere. But we searched everywhere and there was nothing. Not wanting to give up, Alycia assured me we might be able to find some tools in the shed outside. But of course, it was just our luck when there was nothing there either.

"No offence, but you're terrible at this," I told her bitterly, before flagging down the pool boy who was nearby. "Hey, mate, are you alright to give us a hand? Alycia over here has handcuffed us together and we need something to unlock it with."

The pool boy, more of a man in all fairness, glanced at our handcuffed wrists. "Have you tried the key?"

I closed my eyes, containing my constant frustration that didn't seem to leave me today. Thankfully, Alycia responded so I wouldn't have to.

"We lost the key. We were thinking something like a screwdriver or a hammer. Anything else, really."

"Hmm...," he thought to himself. "I'm not sure about the wrist part, but I can definitely separate you by chopping the chain with a butcher's knife."

How hadn't I thought of that? It was genius!

"Yes!"

"No!"

I blinked, looking to Alycia. "I'm sorry?"

"Y/N, are you insane?" Alycia asked with disbelief. "That's so dangerous! What if he missed?!"

I opened my mouth, stunned. "Are you– are you kidding me right now, Alycia? Insane? You bloody handcuffed us together! The only insane one here is you!"

Taking that as his cue to leave, the pool boy turned on his heel and left Alycia and I to bicker.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, not even attempting to disguise her annoyance anymore. "Sorry if I had to take extreme measures to talk to my girlfriend!"

"I said I would talk about it back home!" I reminded her, before yanking our wrists towards me. "Now c'mon! I don't want to be handcuffed to you any longer!"

"I said no!" she said, yanking me back as I attempted to walk away.

Frowning, I pulled her towards me. "We're using the knife, dammit!"

"I said no!" she repeated firmly, yanking me back towards her.

"Alycia!"

"No!"

"We're going to the–!"

"You're not listening–!"

"Alycia–!"

And before either of us knew it, she'd yanked me too hard, enough for me to go tumbling right into her and knocking us both into the pool. The cold water shocked the anger right out of me and I immediately tried to resurface, gasping for air. I made sure Alycia was okay beside me, momentarily stunned, and when she was pushing her wet hair from her eyes, the realisation settled in and my anger returned.

"I can't believe you just did that!" I shouted.

"Me? You're the one who fell into me!"

Swallowing hard, I began to swim to the stairs. Thankfully, she got the hint, and we both returned to our room dripping wet.

"We'll go to the garage in town first thing in the morning when it opens," she suddenly said when we were stood there making a mess on the carpet. "They'll have tools."

I resisted the urge to glare at her. This was probably the biggest fight we'd ever had and, right now, I hated her.

"I'm showering," I said without giving her much choice. "Come on."

Yanking her into the ensuite, I shut the door and grabbed a towel, mumbling to myself, "I'd have a bath but I can't because tweedledum is handcuffed to me..."

"I'm not stopping you," she said defensively. "Go for it."

I glanced at her, trying to see if she was joking, but when she wasn't, I thought what the heck? I deserved a nice, relaxing bubble bath. Though preferably one that didn't include her. Unfortunately, I couldn't manage that, but I could still have the bath, so I filled it up as I undressed and forced her to sit on the edge of the tub, look at the door and be quiet. Being Alycia, however, she couldn't manage that, and she was nonstop talking about how she didn't like Clayton or what her dad was up to or anything about this week so far. And I'd finally had enough.

"Alycia!" I snapped, opening my eyes. "The whole point of this is for me to relax. Be quiet, please."

She sighed, but thankfully listened, and I closed my eyes again, trying to forget that she was attached at the wrist and sat on the edge of my supposed-to-be relaxing bubble bath. Just when I thought I was doing better, she suddenly moved, making me open my eyes, and then I saw her jump into the bath with me, sitting opposite me and with her clothes still on.

Widening my eyes, I looked to her. "Alycia!"

"I'm sorry," she said with a pained voice, ignoring my shock and her current situation. "I know I need to do more. This week hasn't been fair on you. But my dad doesn't listen and I don't know what else to say. I don't mean to appear ignorant. I care about you, Y/N, so fucking much."

The sincerity in her voice was convincing enough, but I was still staring at the fact that she was soaking wet and fully clothed in the bath with me.

"Say something," she pleaded.

"You're wearing clothes?" I said with disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "Forget that. Just talk to me. Please."

Despite the stupidity of everything, it was the distraction I needed to finally tell her how I was feeling. I hesitated, not planning to do it whilst sat naked before her in a bubble bath, but she clearly wasn't going to leave, so it was now or never.

"I've tried to be respectful, but your parents don't like me, Alycia," I started, meeting her eyes. "I can't stay here any longer whilst they do what they're doing. I just want to go home. This whole week has been a train wreck."

She sighed dragging her hand down her face. "I know."

I sighed too, looking down with embarrassment. "I know you don't like Clayton. But seeing him with you doesn't feel good. It's not that I don't trust you, but I can't help it if I feel jealous sometimes. Especially when I'm here because of you. I don't know. It just sucks."

She rested her cuffed hand on mine, rubbing her thumb gently. "I feel the same with you and Millie. And it wasn't fair of me to accuse you of anything. I was just pissed because you already hated me and she was making you smile and I got stupidly jealous."

I frowned, meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry to make you feel like that. I don't hate you, Alycia. I've just been upset. I'm not usually the jealous type and it got ugly."

"You're not," she agreed. "Neither am I. I guess this whole trip has just pulled us apart, huh?"

I hummed in agreement, leaning on the side of the tub with my elbow. I didn't know where to go with this. Her dad wasn't listening and that couldn't be changed. So, now what?

"I love you," she said, earning my attention. "I want to make things right. And that starts with you being comfortable. So, we'll leave tomorrow."

"It's your family, we can't just leave."

She lifted a brow. "Wanna bet?"

I gave her a knowing look. "Alycia. No. Look, I'll go. You stay. I'll see you back home in a few days."

"I'm not staying without you, and you don't want to stay, so we go together," she insisted, moving closer to me, unbothered by the fact that she was chest deep in water. "Besides, I don't really want to stay either. Not when my girlfriend is being shit on time and time again."

That was all I'd wanted to hear, selfishly enough.

"You're sure?" I asked. "I'll stay if you really want me to. And I won't sulk."

She cracked a smile. "I'm sure, love. We've been here long enough."

I nodded, relieved. "Thank you, Alycia."

"Thank you," she corrected. "For being so patient."

I gave her a small smile, before nodding to her clothes. "Take them off, idiot. You've already made a mess from jumping in here."

She laughed, pulling off her clothes whilst still in the water, only making a further mess of water on the floor. I rolled my eyes but gladly pulled her towards me, struggling at first but managing to keep her between my legs and hold her tight.

"Sorry, I was jealous," I mumbled into her shoulder.

She kissed my cheek and leaned back. "Me, too. And I'm sorry I couldn't try the cake you made me. It looked really nice."

I sighed. "No, it didn't."

She began to smile, her body moving slightly as she held in a laugh. "Yeah, no, it didn't."

I squeezed her playfully, making her laugh properly, and refused to let go.

#alycia debnam carey x reader

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myfavoriteficss · 2 months

Text

everyone but her pt.40

Summary: Wednesday is on the hunt for whoever - or whatever - is attacking everyone. She just needs to make sure you both don't get in over your heads.

Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: swearing, mentions of attacks, descriptions of a dead body (nothing graphic) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

As summer approached, Wednesday was no closer to finding the culprit that had attacked Ash and Joel. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, that much was certain. With your assistance, she had combed the woods near the attack, had talked with Ash and Joel, and had even done some digging into the past attacks since the group had started school.

Her investigation board was packed, every inch covered in research and police reports. It didn’t even include her own notes, which were in a folder on the side table. Or it should have been; it was currently residing on the table beside your side of the bed. She supposed it was nice to know you were interested in her research.

She just wished you would be interested without displacing her things.

Though she supposed she shouldn’t complain; any time you spent at the apartment was positive. After the events of the attack, you had made sure to keep both Ash and Joel within sight. It wasn’t your usual “Let’s hang out” attitude, but the one she recognised when you first got released from prison.

The nights, she realised, were the most difficult for you. Something about it reminded Wednesday of the days immediately following Mack’s death. Those nights where you wandered around, either too afraid or too wired to sleep. Sometimes you would end up staying in bed, keeping you both awake with your incessant moving, or your wings keeping her so warm she felt she might combust.

But at least she could keep an eye on you far easier.

Wednesday’s feet were suspiciously cold when she awoke. After so many years of you sleeping by her side, her feet had grown warm during the nights. You didn’t run quite as hot as Enid, but your temperature was nothing to scoff at. She had hated it at first; you were ruining her attempt at being as close to dead as possible. But she had grown used to it, and now it was uncomfortable.

She let her eyes adjust to the dark before moving. The sounds of your light snoring, or your wings twitching were absent in the empty room. Silence, much like her cold feet, was something she now found no pleasure in. For what was a room without your presence? Even just the sounds of your breathing was enough security to continue to face the days head on. Your presence was no longer simply a gift, it was a requirement in her life.

And you were no longer sharing the space with her.

She knew where you were; Wednesday always knew where you were. You had the ability to be silent, but you were not, on your own, silent. Whether it was the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, or the almost-inaudible program you had put on the television. There was never a time, in your shared apartment, that Wednesday was unaware of where you were.

So she wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear the television on and the soft drip-drip-drip of the coffee maker when she stepped out of the bedroom. Instinct had her looking at the couch, where she would more often than not find you unconscious in the most inhuman, uncomfortable position she had ever seen. When you weren’t there, she turned to the table.

That was where she found you. Sitting at the table with a coffee mug and the laptop in front of you. The back of the laptop was facing the hallway she was standing in. Your face was illuminated by the blinding glow of the screen. Even in the dark she could see the bags under your eyes and your slumped shoulders.

There were two ways Wednesday could get you back into bed. The first, which was only occasionally her favourite, was to entice you. Sometimes all it would take was a well placed kiss, right behind your ear or between your wings. One singular kiss and, if you were both consenting, you would carry her back to bed within an instant.

At that moment, Wednesday would have been okay with it. She would have revelled in it, actually. To feel you above her, your callused hands feeling impossibly soft on her skin. The feel of your lips on her neck, even just in imagination, was enough to have her shifting her weight between her feet.

Your head fell slowly before you jerked it back up and blinked rapidly. No, it wouldn’t take a well placed kiss to get you back in bed, not at that moment. Which left Wednesday with her second option and, quite frankly, her favourite. She made sure to emphasise each step as she walked toward you. You slow blinked once, but otherwise didn’t move.

By the time she finally approached you, you had leaned back in your chair. With the ease of a veteran, she sat in your lap. Her legs hung over your thighs and she could rest her head in the crook of your neck. You smelled of coffee and the slightest hint of whiskey.

Wednesday knew you didn’t drink, not really. Especially not after the frat party. You would, however, try on occasion. It occurred most often when you were worried. There was a singular bottle of whiskey in the top cupboard; you would usually pour it into your coffee on nights like tonight. She had never worried about it because you never went beyond a single, half-hearted attempt before you replaced it with your regular coffee.

On your laptop, there were numerous tabs open. She couldn’t read every title, but the page you were on was enough; some obscure website about the different Outcasts. There was a good deal of information just on that one page alone, and Wednesday could practically feel the mental strain coming off you. You weren’t unintelligent by any means, but you had never denied your distaste in lengthy readings.

“I don’t think it’s a shapeshifter,” you said in a raspy voice as your arms wrapped around Wednesday’s waist.

“It would explain the resemblance to Bianca,” Wednesday replied. Not argumentative; she never felt the need to defend her beliefs with you.

“I talked with Ash and Joel the other day,” you said. “They said they never saw anyone, just heard voices.”

“Joel said he didn’t remember anything.” She shifted on your lap so she could look at you. “He simply woke up in the hospital.”

“He lied,” you said with a shake of your head. “He told Ajax he heard you asking him to help you with something.”

Wednesday remained silent. She could feel you tensed up beneath her, your arms squeezing around her just a little too tight for comfort. It wasn’t painful by any means, simply more secure. There was no need to question the change.

“Sirens can mimic voices,” you continued as if nothing was wrong. “I don’t think it’s all of them, but some of them can.”

“You believe a siren is at fault,” Wednesday said.

“Doesn’t explain the wounds themselves,” you sighed, “but yeah.”

One of your arms lifted and you placed it on the table. You flipped through the tabs on the screen until you landed on a different page, this one looking far more like a - what had Kent called it - a forum. She didn’t try to read through everything seeing as you scrolled too quickly, but you stopped on one of the replies.

“This person is from Latvia,” you said as you pointed at the reply with your finger. “It’s a rough translation, but they said they’ve seen sirens and fairies team up a lot.”

“Fairies,” Wednesday deadpanned. “You believe a fairy attempted to kill our friends.”

You gave her a tired smile. “You said our friends.”

“Focus,” she commanded. Thankfully, you couldn’t see the light flush on her cheeks.

“I think it’s a possibility,” you said, looking back at the laptop screen. “I’ve gotta do some more research though.”

You didn’t make any sort of move to close the laptop. In fact, you continued to scroll, looking through more posts. Wednesday hadn’t thought you meant more research at that moment. There was nothing healthy about it. Even just the shake of your fingers was enough to confirm her belief.

She lifted her hand to cup your jaw, gently turning you to face her. As usual, you didn’t dare put up any resistance. You were nothing if not compliant to her every wish. Sometimes she found it incredibly attractive how pliable you were for her. Following her every command with an eagerness that was often found when you were seeking praise.

Other times, like that moment, made her sad. You followed without question not out of an eagerness to please, but an acceptance of authority. It was the way you had been when your parents still had some form of control over you; when Nicky was still alive, even if it was in the loosest sense of the word.

“No more research tonight,” she said. It was an unusual thing to come out of her mouth; she was usually the one staying up late to do some more research.

“I have to figure it out,” you said softly.

“Not tonight,” she replied just as softly, though no less stern. You could be upset, but she wouldn’t dare let you throw yourself into an endless pit of despair. That was her job.

You didn’t utter a sound as Wednesday slid off your lap and stood up. Her fingers locked with yours and, with the gentlest of tugs, pulled you out of the chair. The trust you put in her was unparallelled. You didn’t even question her closing your laptop, or pulling you back to the bedroom.

There was also no argument as she pushed you back onto the bed. Wednesday made sure she was gentle; she didn’t want you to crush your wings or bend something into an unnatural position. Only she could bend you unnaturally. You positioned yourself to be laying on your side, as usual, which left just enough space for Wednesday to crawl into bed in front of you.

It was instinctual after that much time for your arm to wrap around her waist and pull her closer. When she slept on her own - which so rarely happened - she still slept as she used to; on her back with arms crossed over her chest. But with you? There was an unexpected comfort in being enveloped in you. Your scent, your warmth, your touch, it was all so… horrifically wonderful.

Neither one of you said another word. She felt your lips press against the back of her neck before you fully sank into the bed. There was no joy in having to find more and more creative ways to get you to take care of yourself, but she would do them without hesitation. And if she slept better with you beside her, that had nothing to do with your health. It was simply a bonus.

—---

“Tell me again why we’re out here?” You asked from behind Wednesday.

“Because,” she said without turning around, “I need to read the autopsy reports.”

“That’s so weird,” you mumbled to yourself even though she could still hear it.

Wednesday smiled internally to herself. As weird as you supposedly thought it was, you were still following her down the dark street to the police station. After hearing your theories thoroughly the morning after that night, she had started to dig deeper. You were a surprisingly thorough researcher when it was something you were passionate about. It was far more attractive than she would have anticipated.

Though all of the joint research was moot when she realised she had no idea how the two fraternity brothers had died. Yes, the police had said a werewolf had killed them, but it wouldn’t have been the first time the police had lied. You yourself were proof of how far they would go to put someone specific behind bars. She wanted to see the reports for herself.

And the only way to do that was to get them directly from the police station.

Much to Wednesday’s pleasure, you hadn’t argued when she had first brought up the idea. Although she hadn’t expected much opposition from you, she felt you would voice a concern or two. She should have known better. You were nothing if not an eager accomplice.

However, it did not guarantee you wouldn’t find something to complain about.

“You won’t let them take me to jail again, right?” You asked, thankfully quiet enough for no listening ears to hear.

“Cara mia,” she said with a smile you couldn’t see, “you look stunning behind bars, but I prefer you with me.”

Behind her, you chuckled. “Save the dirty talk for the bedroom, dear.”

Thanks to walking around in the dead of night, the usual crowd was long gone. There was something comforting about an empty street in a town full of life. Eerily ethereal to hear the silence, backed only by the creaking signs or the wind blowing between the buildings. Your footsteps were light, and she could barely hear the ruffle of your feathers.

It almost made Wednesday laugh to herself at your ability to be silent when you really wished to. In the day to day, you were loud and a bit clumsy. Not that she still had an issue with it. If anything, she almost preferred it seeing as it was easy to keep track of you. It was simply humorous how quickly and efficiently you could turn it off and on.

“Did you want me to go in?” You asked when the police station appeared. “I can cause a distraction in the lobby while you go around back.”

“They know you,” she said with a shake of her head. “It would simply tip them off.”

“Well that’s no fun,” you mumbled.

You reminded Wednesday of the old days. She had thought it on a few occasions recently, this certainly not being the first. It was an oddity now for you to be more carefree and make jokes about everything. An oddity that she wished wasn’t reality. She may never admit it aloud, but she found a spark of joy in your lightheartedness of all situations.

As you both passed the police station to go to the back where it was pitch black, she could feel the energy radiating off of you. She believed it was similar to how the athletes you watched felt before a game. Even though she didn’t turn around to confirm, she could hear your feet hitting the ground a little harder than your usual walking.

Wednesday turned around to face you once you both approached the proper location. You had both scoped it out on numerous occasions the past few days. There was a singular spot to the left of the station, right underneath a window, that was outside of every camera. All they had to do was stick to the side of the building to stay out of view until they reached the blind spot.

She didn’t hide her miniscule smile from you when she saw you jumping on your toes and shaking your hands. You very much looked like the athletes you watched, with the exception of circumstance. It was endearing to see how excited you were to break the law with her. She truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

Both for life and in crime.

“I’ll hoist you up,” you said as you walked over to the wall underneath the window. “You’re sneakier.”

She nodded. “Whistle if someone comes near.”

“You got it, pretty girl,” you said with a crooked smile.

It was as if something had taken over her body. Before she stepped onto your thigh, she leaned forward and kissed you. She heard you inhale sharply before leaning forward into the kiss. When she pulled away, she could still taste your lips. Too sweet coffee with a hint of the marijuana you still sporadically smoked with Kent and Ajax.

“Hurry up already,” you said as you shifted into a better position. “I want another kiss like that when we get home.”

Wednesday simply gave you a small smirk before finally stepping up onto your thigh. Thanks to you being so much taller than her, it was almost effortless to reach the window. Much to her pleasure - though not surprise - the window wasn’t locked. Perhaps they believed it was high enough off the ground to be safe. How foolish.

The only downside to the window being so high off the ground was dropping into the room. It was the filing room, and the poorly carpeted floor muffled her drop. She took just a moment to dust the invisible filth off her clothes before properly looking around and getting to work.

To no one’s surprise, it wasn’t Wednesday’s first time searching for files in a police station. She knew her way around the unsystematic filing cabinets that called the room their home. It would be a waste of time to look alphabetically; she would just have to get started on the most worn looking drawer.

Which just so happened to be the one directly to her right.

Wednesday pulled out the small flashlight you had gifted her only a few weeks ago. It was small enough to remain unnoticed, yet held a bright enough light to assist in her late-night excursions. The filing cabinet creaked when she pulled on it, but otherwise slid open smoothly. She waited a moment to make sure no one had heard before she started to dig.

If she hadn’t been so focused on her mission, she would have paid attention to everything she came across. There was no question in her mind that she would find something good, something she could dig deeper into. But she was on a sole mission to find more information on those attacks, and that’s what she was going to do.

Or so she thought, until she found a file with your name on it.

A part of her mind told her not to touch it, to leave it where it rested. There was nothing in it that she wasn’t already aware of. You had told her everything, even if it was a time after the event. Nothing was hidden between the both of you, and she would have betrayed your trust if she looked through the file.

On the other hand, she couldn’t deny her curiosity about what the police were saying about you. Wednesday wasn’t ignorant of the tactics the police used to get what they wanted. Surely they would be aware of your past seeing as it was public record. Had they found a way to spin it in their favour yet?

Against her better judgement, she reached out and took your file. It was far thicker than she had anticipated; full of loose papers and sticky notes. Her fingers flipped through page after page until she finally opened it, looking down at the handwritten notes unceremoniously taped to the page.

Her heart stopped beating when she read the one on the top left.

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

A whistle from outside the window made Wednesday jump and nearly drop your file. She looked around quickly to confirm no one was around before shoving the file back into the cabinet and closing it. It was stupid to look through your file, she thought as she started climbing out of the window. She should have been looking for the thing she had gone in there for.

She could think about your file later.

“What on earth do you two think you’re doing?”

Wednesday’s feet had barely hit the ground before she heard the familiar voice. It wasn’t even a shock when she turned around and saw Weems standing in front of you, her hands on her hips. For a moment, Wednesday felt like she was back in Weems’ office at Nevermore getting scolded for leaving the grounds on a full moon.

Oh, those were wonderful days.

“I finally leave my office for the night and see you two sneaking around the police station,” Weems said. “What do you believe you’re doing?”

“Some light reading,” you said with a shrug that failed to hide your fear. “The library is closed.”

“I didn’t ask for an excuse,” Weems said harshly. No one missed your slight recoil. “What are you doing?”

“Attempting to find more clues on who has been attacking people lately,” Wednesday said.

“And you believed breaking into a police station was the wisest decision?” Weems asked.

“It’s more than the police are doing,” you said, standing taller than before. Wednesday almost swore you were a little taller than Weems now. “They don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

“It is not your responsibility to find the attackers,” Weems said. “That is solely the responsibility of the police.”

“Then make them fucking do it,” you said quickly. “All they ever seem to do nowadays is question me for shit that I didn’t do.”

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

“Perhaps if you stopped putting yourself in dangerous situations, they wouldn’t be questioning you,” she said harshly.

Wednesday looked over at you. There was a hardness to your features that she couldn’t quite place. She knew Weems wasn’t entirely incorrect in her statement. A lot of the situations were coincidence, of course, but even Wednesday couldn’t deny you somehow always found yourself at the centre of things. It was an unusual change of pace, seeing how it was normally her who was in the centre of trouble.

“You must be more careful,” Weems said in a far softer tone. “The both of you.” She looked at Wednesday for a moment before looking back at you. “What would Nicky think of this recklessness?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said as you adopted the harshness Weems had dropped. “He’s dead.”

Weems looked at you with eyes that only a mother could have. It was easy to forget how much she loved you. There hadn’t been many talks between Wednesday and Weems, not when they involved you, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see it. Only a mother could look at you the way Weems was; Wednesday wondered if you could see it too.

“He would be very disappointed in you,” Weems said in a small voice.

Your shoulders tensed at the words. Wednesday could only imagine what was going through your head. She wanted to reach out and comfort you. Take your hand in hers and remind you that you weren’t alone. She didn’t know if Nicky would have been disappointed in you or not, but Weems would. And if she dared to voice that belief, it must have been genuine.

You shook your head slowly. “He can get in line.”

Wednesday and Weems watched as you walked off, back to the sidewalk and, supposedly, starting the walk back to the apartment. She wanted to follow you and confirm you were alright. Well, alright, she was no professional with emotions but even she could tell you weren’t alright. At least she could make sure you were safe.

“She’s bound to get herself killed at this rate,” Weems said quietly with a shake of her head. “And I don’t know how to help.”

Wednesday stayed silent. Not out of the stubbornness she so often fell into, but out of not having a single thing to say. As much as Wednesday hated agreeing with Weems - out of principle - she did. She wasn’t quite convinced you would get yourself killed, but you would certainly get yourself hurt. Or in trouble. Or possibly both.

“Please look after her,” Weems said, and Wednesday finally looked her in the eye. “She loves and respects you enough to let you.”

Wednesday didn’t know what to say to that. She opted instead to nod in agreement. It seemed to be enough for Weems, who reached out to place a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. Part of Wednesday wished she would pull her into a hug. The thought quickly disappeared when it caught up with her that she did not like hugs.

You were turning her soft.

Weems bid her a goodnight as they both headed in opposite directions. Thankfully, Wednesday caught up with you at the apartment. However, what should have been the end of the night was turning into something else. Instead of your usual pouting and hiding in the room, you were rummaging around the apartment.

“What are you looking for?” She asked when you slammed the closet door shut.

“Your shovel,” you said. “It’s not in the closet anymore.”

She walked over to the bed and knelt down. The wooden floor was rough on her knees, but she quickly grabbed the shovel from underneath the bed and stood back up. Her skin pulled tight before relaxing again, and the ache around her knees quickly subsided. Only once it had eased did she hold the shovel out to you.

“Why do you need it?” She asked as you grabbed it and shoved it into your duffle bag.

Which also held a crowbar and what looked to be two flashlights.

“You remember our first date?” You asked as you stood up straight.

She thought back to all those years ago. “Yes,” she said slowly, “you took me gravedigging.” It had single handedly been the most amazing date she had ever been on. She would never forget it, in life or death.

“We’re recreating it,” you said with a closed mouth smile.

You hoisted the bag over your shoulder and grabbed her hand with yours. She didn’t have any time to protest or question you further before you started pulling her out of the apartment. A small part of her mind told her to convince you to go back inside and sleep off your emotions.

The much larger part was ecstatic to go gravedigging once again.

The streets were still empty as you made your way through town. Wednesday took note of how much more careful you were being; staying away from the street lights and cutting through alleys when necessary. It was admirable how you were sticking to the dark even when she knew you had the slightest fear of it.

“Here,” you said when you pulled her to the open, ungated graveyard. “Should only need one of them.”

You set the duffle bag on the ground and opened it, quickly pulling out the travel shovel you had also gotten her in the past. Now that Wednesday thought about it, you seemed to get her a lot of suspicious looking items. They were all things that she adored, but most would find it suspicious.

She loved that you always knew what she would want.

“Are you sure I can have the honours?” She asked as she placed the tip of the shovel into the dirt.

“It’s all yours, darling,” you said with a full smile that showed off the slight glint of your slightly larger than normal canines.

For the third time that night alone, Wednesday didn’t bother hiding her own small smile. You certainly knew how to woo an Addams. She didn’t even hesitate before pushing the shovel into the dirt and got to work excavating.

You kept a look out for any potential passersby. If you felt someone was near, you placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her still; only once the potential threat was gone did you let go and allow her to continue. Luckily for you both, she was a professional. She made quick work of the grave before hitting the top of the casket.

“Here,” you said as you squatted down and handed her the crowbar. “Make it fast, the keeper might come to work soon.”

Wednesday took the tool from you and shoved it into the thin crack of the casket. It only took a slight amount of effort before popping open, and you craned your neck to peer in. The smell was immediate, but it was such a lovely scent. Behind her, you did your best to hide your cough, and out of respect she ignored it.

“That’s nasty,” you mumbled even as you continued to look. “Check out the wounds.”

The body itself was already decomposing. It would be more difficult to tell the differences between wounds, but when you handed Wednesday a camera, she knew your intent. The first flash was enough to startle the both of you, and you looked around frantically to ensure no one had noticed. Only once you were certain did you nod for her to continue.

Wednesday took more photos, making sure to document every injury she could see. She moved clothing aside and took photos to be certain she covered every inch of skin possible. If she wanted to find the culprit, she would need solid evidence. Once she was completely sure she was finished, she closed the casket back up. You held your hand out for her to grab and pulled her out with ease.

She loved to see your strength in action.

“Let’s cover him back up,” you said as you started using your hands to push the dirt back into the grave. “I’m not getting arrested for grave robbing.”

It only took a few moments of frantic shovelling to fill the grave once again. Once full, you shoved everything back into the duffle bag and grabbed Wednesday’s hand, pulling her into a light jog back to the apartment. It was just early enough in the morning that a few building lights were starting to turn on as their occupants got ready for work.

“I’ll print them off,” you said the moment you shut the door to the apartment behind you. “Give me just a moment.”

Wednesday knew your determination wasn’t coming from a sense of wanting to know who the culprit was. She wasn’t in the place to have you explain. At the moment, you were keeping yourself busy, and she would allow it. Now that you were both back in the apartment, she couldn’t complain too much. At least you were safe.

While you were working on printing off the photos for her board, she sat on the couch and finally, finally started to consider what she had seen at the police station. That handwritten note had been bouncing around her head all night, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it.

You had been devastated about Mack’s death. If she was to compare, you were almost as devastated as Nicky’s death. Something about it had shaken you up to your core, and it had taken you months to sort out your grief. How could they possibly believe you were involved?

“Got it,” you said, pulling Wednesday from her thoughts.

She stood up and walked over to the table as you laid the photos out. Some were blurry and unusable, but most were of decent enough quality that you could see the individual injuries. The lacerations covered the torso and face, and they very much looked like claw marks.

To the untrained eye, at least.

When Wednesday looked closer, she noticed a few discrepancies. There were only three lacerations in each spot; from what she had seen on Enid’s wolf out, a werewolf paw would cause four lacerations. Then the depth varied from each injury, leaving not even an ounce of uniformity.

“What?” You asked when Wednesday stood up and sighed.

“You’re right,” she said, “it’s not a werewolf.”

“Was I right about the fairy shit?” You asked. “Because if so that’s cool as hell, it was a longshot.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t believe it’s a fairy.”

You looked disappointed even though you had already admitted you knew it was unlikely.

“What is it?” You asked again, leaning back over the pictures to attempt to see what she had.

“I believe they came from a knife,” Wednesday said.

You stood up slowly and looked down at her.

“The police said it was a werewolf,” you said.

The muscles in your jaw tensed as you looked back down at the photos. It seemed the police had lied to the entirety of the town. Which meant they had surely lied about other things in the process.

Which meant it was just you and Wednesday against the police.

This was going to be fun.

#wednesday addams x reader

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