#wednesday would kill for you both | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letorip · 3 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 #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega

1K notes · View notes

pickingupmymercedes · 3 months

Text

She's here and she's ours - Lewis Hamilton

Pure fluff.

Series: She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

a/n: I'm 100% sure Lewis is gonna be a girl dad, like there's no other option in my mind. Also, I might make this a series of firsts with his kids, maybe 🙃

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_____________________________________________________________

First-borns took longer to come, you’d been told that much, but 26 hours of active labor seemed like a bad joke.

The due date had been almost a week prior, which meant she had to be induced, but at the end of it all a perfectly healthy, and tad bit big, 20.7 inches and 7.3 pounds baby girl had made her arrival in the early hours of a cold, but sunny, Wednesday.

The three days stay at the hospital also meant all of your and his family had had more than enough time to get to Monaco still in time to chat, have lunch and joke around with you, contractions only ever getting really strong the night before your water finally broke. At a time your perfectly thought-out labor plan had already been torn to pieces.

She was meant to be born in the water, that’s how you and Lewis had dreamt of for months, but being as stubborn as both of you were she didn’t turn and a breach meant being ready for an emergency c-section, if needed. It also meant an epidural would be more than likely required, something you fought your hardest against but eventually agreed to after a couple hours with labor going quicker with the water broken. At the end you still managed to have her naturally, with a second degree tear nonetheless.

But the tiredness, your back killing you, the heartburn, the swollen feet and the pain, none of it took center stage in your mind as you watched your daughter, as weird as that word sounded, falling asleep in her father’s chest.

As soon as she had had her first feed in your breast the nurse asked if skin on skin with the father was something you both would like to happen. His eyes, who had been gleaming with pride since the second the doctor announce she was girl, watered as the nurse handed the infant to a shirtless Lewis, seated at your side in the sofa by the window.

She squirmed a bit as her small body tried to find comfort against his muscular chest, one of his hands almost big enough to hold her entire body while the other supported her neck and head. And as if in a movie, as soon as he spoke, her body relaxed and she contently sighted with the sound she had spent the last months hearing from inside you, a voice almost as constant as yours to her.

“She’s here, babe, and she’s all ours.” You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that, his eyes wouldn’t leave the infant in his arms and his movements were careful and kept to a minimal

“How you feeling dad?” Your voice breaking the spell he seemed to be under, his eyes shining with love for his family, the one he finally had.

“Amazed, hopeful, scared… in love” He almost whispered after thinking for a bit.

It was Lewis first year with Ferrari, all the excitement and buzz from the move were gone and real life had set in. Redbull were still dominating the grid, Ferrari a bit closer than the previous year, with both driver even managing to snatch a vitory each, but still the focus was now on the new regs for the 2026 car.

The mandatory summer shutdown was the perfect opportunity to destress for at least a week before the chaos started back again and Lewis made sure the ever-shorter time he had for a vacation would be perfectly spent with family and friends alike, somewhere in the sunny Mediterranean ocean.

It was on a hot and clear night that summer that your lives began to really change.

His step mom was talking about how hard it’d become to gain a few pounds of lean mass after menopause had hit, a curiously shy Willow asking her mom what menopause was and getting the period talk on the side while you mentally panicked that your period had been due for at least about 2 weeks, something you completely put to the back of your mind with the craziness of summer shutdown preparations.

You were on birth control, but still it could happen, you both knew that and had agreed on no condoms. Later that night, while Lewis got a late workout in and everyone else went to bed, you franticly looked for the package at the bottom of your suitcase, hoping the damn thing was still there.

Almost twenty minutes later Lewis found you on the bed staring at the night sea, lost in thoughts, shaking and so in over your head it took him at least 10 minutes to comprehend your rumbles about the test, still untouched at the adjoining suite sink, the line that read “pregnant 5-6 weeks” screaming back at you both.

To say the pregnancy took sometime getting used to was a light hearted way to say you went through hell mentally and physically. But still, the moment that tiny creature first kicked you after hearing her father’s voice melted any sign of a doubt left.

You were not only gifting Lewis his most treasured wish, you were gifting yourself a perfect symbol of the respect, companionship and love you two shared. A tiny human you and him got to raise and protect until she went out into the world and left her mark.

As everyone else came into the room to finally meet the newest Hamilton, Lewis’ moment with his newborn was interrupted by his mom getting to hold her newest grandkid, followed closely by his sisters, brother, niece and nephew crowding the sofa he sat just a few moments before.

“Thank you, babe, truly. I don’t even know how to tell you how grateful I am.” His lips kissing your hair from the top of your bed, eyes attentively watching as your girl got passed around.

“We’ll have at least 18 more years with her, you’ll have time.” You looked up at him to get his toothy smile just as your family walked into the room to complete the party.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you'd like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #formula 1 #f1 imagine

788 notes · View notes

thenightling · 1 month

Text

Dead boy Detectives review

I've watched all eight episodes of Dead Boy Detectives and it was a decent show. It's not something I may obsess over like The Sandman, or The Witcher, but it was decent.

Dead Boy Detectives is the story of Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland. Edwin was killed during a Satanic ritual in 1916. Charles died from hypothermia and internal bleeding after some bullies drove him into an ice-cold lake while throwing rocks at him.

(Note: That was not how Charles actually died in the source material. In the comics, Lucifer had quit and shut down Hell (the basis for the TV show Lucifer) so many evil souls returned to Earth, including the boys that sacrificed poor Edwin. They badly burnt Charles' back on a hot stove and Charles died from his injuries.)

The two ghosts decided to dedicate their afterlife solving mysteries to help other ghosts find peace. They are aided by psychic, Crystal Palace, who is haunted by her abusive ex-boyfriend who happens to be a demon.

Both Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland originated in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: Season of Mists, The Sandman: Volume 4. Issue 25 of The Sandman comics, and within Act 2 of The Sandman audio drama.

The Dead Boy Detectives made their TV first appearance in Doom Patrol for HBO Max (now Max). During a shakeup at Max the show was moved over to Netflix as to better connect it with The Sandman since that is where they originated.

The show features different actors from the ones that played Charles and Edwin on Doom Patrol.

The Dead Boy Detectives is a decent show but ...it feels a bit like a CW teen drama. I had been told that some of the show's writers were originally writers for the CW... and it shows.

There are some deliberately surreal elements of the show that I think are a callback to their appearance in Doom Patrol.

I love the variety of supernatural entities in the show, including the appearance of two of Morpheus's siblings. Death and Despair. The things I don't like about the show can be considered CW tropes or cliches. The angsty romances and unrequited love. The ham-fisted abusive ex metaphor between Crystal and David The Demon.

And of course the most tedious of CW tropes, the end of the episode pining and angst while a sad pop song plays in the background.

If you look past the CW-ness of it, the show is enjoyable.

The only other things I can complain about is the "connecting thread" subplot of The Afterlife: Lost and Found feels like unnecessary filler. And I wish they would openly establish that Edwin, being an innocent, would NOT return to Hell if collected by Death now. I don't think that should be left hanging over his head. Especially since we're supposed to see Death as a kind entity. Also I think Charles says "Aces" a little too much. It's very distracting and makes me feel like the writers didn't know much late 80s English slang. It would be like if he was an American and they had him say "Radical" all the time. I get that it's kind of his catchphrase but it also got a bit annoying.

The parts I don't like are CW tropes and what I'd consider to be late 90s Vertigo edginess.

The thing I liked were plentiful though. The protagonists were and are likable. The ending is satisfying enough so that if there is only one season this was still good. I liked that it appears that one can ascend out of Hell after some self-reflection as is indicated by the boy Edwin confronted in Hell. The blue light was established to mean ascension, a good afterlife.

I also LOVE the opening credits theme music and animated sequence. It reminds me of the intro to Showtime's Creature Feature movies. (See the trailer for 2001's She Creature, not the 50s version. Watch the trailer at thirteen seconds in, on Youtube, and you'll see what I mean).

That's two Gothic themed shows from Netflix in the last two years with great opening credits sequences. The first being Wednesday. That one won Danny Elfman an Emmy.

It's funny, Wednesday and Dead Boy Detectives (which is a spin-off of The Sandman) have great opening credit intro sequences but The Sandman does not. Apparently Neil Gaiman was told people don't watch the opening credits anymore so The Sandman doesn't have them.

I feel we were cheated out of what could have been a great opening sequence for The Sandman.

Episodes 7 and 8 of Dead Boy Detectives were probably the best of the series. I liked it well enough that if Dead Boy Detectives gets renewed I'll happily watch season 2.

#Dead Boy Detectives #The Dead Boy Detectives #The Sandman #Sandman

387 notes · View notes

wesstars · 10 months

Text

sorry, baby x (i)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: you’re friends-with-benefits with wednesday (maybe a bit more on your part,) and you can’t help but push her buttons a little. wc: 5.2k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, light D/s dynamics, praise, boots, strap-on referred to as both ‘cock’ and ‘strap,’ crying, biting, denial, light choking, begging, reader shushing during sex, all that good stuff. a/n: i’m very rusty. please forgive me haha. title from killing eve. this iiissss inspired by/for someone, you know who you are ;) say hi if you find me!

read part two here!!

masterlist

The last class of the day was always the worst.

Even as the afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, casting the quiet classroom in a white gold glow, you could barely focus enough to remember what subject you were in. The instructor droned on about something or other—you were never the best at paying attention, relying on your subconscious and review session to get good grades. How could you listen when the lesson was just so boring, and you could steal the review from a certain Addams later on, anyway? You blinked slowly, trying to yawn discreetly. Calm was the atmosphere, as everyone was nearly falling asleep as the hour stretched on.

A note fluttered through the air to land gracefully in your lap.

Meet me after class.

Wednesday’s neat script, immediately recognized, made you grin, and you looked up. You spotted her, sitting next to Enid. Almost as if she could sense you looking, she spared a precious second from her notetaking to cut you a glare that could fell an army. You only laughed, covering your mouth to hopelessly hide your snicker.

The note had given you a bout of deja vu—it all started with a note, really. By virtue of you being Enid’s friend, you started in Wednesday’s peripheral circle, but you were always unafraid to confront her and eagerly prodded her to bicker with you. Enid would roll her eyes once the two of you would start again, but the way Wednesday’s neutral expression seemed to relax just a bit, made you think she didn’t mind as much.

The first time you gave her a friendly shove during a mock argument nearly had you apologizing, as she’d frozen as soon as your hand touched her shoulder. You didn’t want to actually cross her boundaries, but when she shoved you back, nearly pushing you into a bush, the ice was broken. Your friends now often had to give the two of you the wide berth as the arguments would escalate into shoving and chasing, and one time, almost a full out siege where you were to defend Jericho and Wednesday was to defend Nevermore.

All of the back and forth you two had was nearly as intense as you and Wednesday each were—she liked that about you. At least, that’s what you told yourself. She liked it enough to drop a note in your lap during class, some three months ago, asking you to meet her in an empty class “for warfare.” You had come with a knife hidden in your sleeve, but it ended up clattering to the floor as Wednesday pulled you in by your tie and bluntly asked you if she could kiss you. Before she could change her mind, you had kissed her hard enough for her own hidden knife to fall to the floor next to yours.

Wednesday Addams didn’t have friends. You, certainly, were not her friend, not in the way you touched her and not in the way she let you. Enid called you friends all the time, but she didn’t know about how Wednesday would pull you into a broom closet and push you down to your knees. You were sure that Wednesday would rather die than have a proper conversation about the… hooking up? late night meet ups? booty calls?? that the two of you were having. But you thought of her as your friend, and decidedly not anything more. You gave a lazy smile as you spotted Wednesday looking at you again. You knew why she had slipped you the note—the last time you’d been at her dorm room, rushing to give her an orgasm before Enid returned, you had stolen her favorite pair of Louboutin boots. You figured that the gods had given the two of you the same shoe size for a reason. No harm, no foul, right? Kicking your feet, you scuffed her shoes against the ground, knowing she could see them, knowing she could recognize them.

The sudden shuffling of books and scraping of chairs broke you out of your reverie. Class was dismissed, and you put away your supplies neatly, watching Wednesday leave first. She didn’t even look at you when she brushed past, but you knew she’d be waiting in the hallway outside. Sure enough, as you hitched your bag higher up on your shoulder, slipping your tie off, you spotted a head of raven dark hair amongst your classmates.

Wednesday looked at you evenly, ignoring all of the students filing out of the room. “You have what is mine.”

“Well, hello to you too,” you smiled brightly. Hearing her monotone voice always made your heart beat in technicolor, something chronic that you probably had to go to the infirmary for.

She only stared, eyebrows raising a centimeter. Turning to start towards the dorms, she waited for you to catch up to her before saying, “do not play dumber than you already are.”

You shrugged, wide eyed and used to her empty insults. “What do you mean? I’m innocent.”

“No one would ever accuse you of being innocent,” she shot back. “You are a thief, at best.”

“A thief?” You asked, in mock surprise. “What do you mean?”

She pointed down between the two of you, at the red-soled boots on your feet. “Give them back.”

You cackled, unable to keep up your façade any longer. “No.” You made a heart with your hands, winking at Wednesday through it.

Her hand collided, hard, with your wrist. Her grip was nearly painful, but you just smirked down at her. “I will only ask you once.” Her voice, still flat as usual, had a dangerous edge to it.

“Make me.” You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help yourself. You were selfish, always forcing Wednesday’s attention to you. Even though you knew you probably annoyed her to no end, you didn’t know how to stop. Of course, if she ever told you to stop—seriously, not by way of her customary glare—you would.

You only just had time to finish your thought before Wednesday nearly tore your arm out of its socket, dragging you across the grounds towards your dorm room. How such a small girl was so fast, you had no idea. Before you knew it, you were in front of your room, with Wednesday reaching into your pants pocket to take out your keys and push you inside.

As soon as the door shut, you could visibly see Wednesday relax, which was saying something. You drew her smaller frame closer, wrapping your arms around her waist. She turned her head to tuck it into your neck, letting out the smallest sigh. Feeling her hand come up to grab the hem of your shirt, you leaned back a little.

“Wednesday.” At your beckon, she unfolded herself from your neck to look up, eyes as dark as wood immediately on your lips.

“This is not forgiveness,” she told you.

You reached for her bag, dropping it and yours to the ground. “Mmm,” you hummed as you tilted your head down to kiss her, slowly, enjoying the burn in your stomach as she kissed you back. “Maybe you’ll forgive me later, after I’m done with you.” She pulled away, giving you an unimpressed look.

“Arrogance does not become you.”

You just laughed, taking off your jacket, leaving you in your shirt, slacks, and last but not least, Wednesday’s very important boots. Leaning into her space, you nosed along her neck, nipping playfully with sharp teeth. You felt her arms drop back to her sides. “We’ll see about that, Weds.”

This time, she pushed into you first, all soft lips and razor teeth on yours. You sunk down, somewhere in the lowest deep as you kissed her, but your bliss was short lived, broken by your hiss of pain as she bit down on your tongue. Her hands were cold on the back of your neck, trapping you close, and you had no complaints. “Boots. Now.”

“If you want them back so bad,” you muttered, ducking your head to leave a dark bruise on her collarbone, “take them yourself.”

Wednesday put both hands on your shoulders, a glint in her eye the only warning you get. She pushed you, hard, so the backs of your knees hit the bed and you landed on your ass.

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, Weds,” you goaded, even as she grabbed you by your shirt collar.

“I’ll take your ankles off with those shoes,” she snapped lowly, but she let you kiss down her neck again, that pale column of skin too hard for you to resist. You took your time, leaving murky violet constellations, and with each mark that you sucked into her jawline, you heard her breathing grow shakier.

“Alright,” you said amusedly. “Take them off, then.” You bit down on that spot on her neck while pushing her shoulders down, and she gave surprisingly easily, landing with a thud on her knees.

“Do not go too far,” she hissed, trying to push you off, but you kept her there, her narrow shoulders bracketed by your legs. Her gesture was empty; you were confident that she would simply throw you off if she wanted. The many times you’d ended up tossed across the room showed as testament.

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Leaning in, you whispered, “can I take this off?” You thumbed the lapel of her jacket.

She nodded her assent, even though you could tell she was plotting a way to get you back. You went slow, leaning over her as you slid her jacket off, kissing the crown of her head.

“Very good,” you whispered into her hair, loosening her tie. Wednesday attempted to suppress her shiver at your words, but you felt it anyway. It gave you the courage to go to her shirt, sliding the buttons open hesitantly. She straightened her back, showing you her simple but elegant black bra, which was probably from some niche French designer and worth more than the boots you stole.

But the look on her face as you slid your hands slowly into that expensive bra was priceless: her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing the slightest bit as her lips parted. You squeezed gently, letting out a small moan of your own. She was so soft, and—

“You’re so perfect, Wednesday,” you growled unevenly in her ear, your composure slipping just a fraction. You sealed your lips with hers and thumbed her nipples, licking up against her teeth as soon as she let you. Breaking apart from her for one unbearable second, you stuck your fingers in her mouth, coating them in saliva. The affronted look on her face disappeared quickly as you pinched her nipples again with sticky fingers, the whine she let out going straight through you like whiskey.

She shuffled closer, seemingly content on her knees despite her earlier protest. Her grip was tight on your thighs, bordering on blissfully painful. Wednesday was nearly pulling you off the bed with how hard she was yanking you in to kiss her, teeth clacking with yours. She sat back on her heels and grabbed your ankle.

“What’re you doing?” You rolled her nipple between your fingers. “Finally getting your—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale as she spread her legs, stocking covered knees sliding. She lifted your leg and planted your foot between her thighs, the heavy boot slamming into the ground. You raised an eyebrow, head swimming with the direction she was going.

Wednesday was a pretty picture in front of you, shirt open, chest flushed, skirt bunched up around her hips. Uncharacteristically demure, she leaned her cheek against your knee, palm sliding up your clothed calf.

“What?” She asked, her turn for faux innocence. “You said to do it yourself, did you not?” Wednesday shimmied forward, her chest up on your shin.

You felt her start to press up on the laces, something hot and slow, and your mouth went dry. Her knees spread more as she adjusted, her hand grabbing yours to place it on her cheek. She grabbed your belt loops, the pressure on your boot heavy. Just the mere idea of Wednesday’s pussy grinding against your—her—boots was something you could never imagine, but her shiver as she got settled made you nearly combust.

“You’re so needy, my girl…” the words slurred their way out of your mouth, likely more loving and adoring than you’d intended them to be.

“Looks like you’re the one fucking yourself,” she huffed out, a rare twisted grin gracing her face. Wednesday’s head tipped back again, a pleased little exhale falling from her lips as she pressed harder.

You cupped her jaw, pushing her shirt from her shoulder to bite, something possessive, with no inhibition, in you rising to the surface. “You do that to me, darling.”

You shift your boot closer to her, meeting her grinding circles, making her gasp and cry out your name. You were content to watch her like this, chasing her own high on you like some sinful temptation. With just the sound she was making, and her lip, bitten red, you knew she was getting her slick everywhere. Her breaths came harder with each time she pressed herself into the laces, her gentle rocking becoming more and more erratic. You almost wanted to see if she could cum like this, but as her eyes got hazier and her movements more erratic, you couldn’t help yourself.

“That's enough, Wednesday.” She barely has your clipped tone as a warning before you pull her off your boot, rough as you hoisted her up, but keeping your grip gentle.

“Come here.” Surprisingly, she did as you asked, throwing her clothes off with the air of a girl who knew what she wanted. You watched her, every inch she uncovered sending prickles of heat up your collar. Her panties, thin and damp, landed in your hand, and you knew she saw your jaw clenching when the corner of her mouth quirked up in the smallest of smiles.

You tucked the thin fabric into your pocket and reached for her, her cool skin soothing the burn in your chest. You turned her around to tuck her into you, sitting on your lap. Manhandling her easily, you could feel her muscles, taut from fencing, under your palms. You hooked her knees over yours, and spread your legs. Unable to resist a smirk at her sharp inhale, you kissed up her neck, scraping your teeth against the shell of her ear.

“You look like magic,” you murmured. “So good for me, Wednesday, letting me spread you open like this,” you continued, tilting her head to lean it back on your shoulder.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she rasped out as you mapped your hands along her ribs, sliding them down her tense stomach to grip her thighs, thumbs rubbing circles.

With each circle, you pulled your hands higher, close enough to her pussy that your fingers were sticky from her inner thighs. “Oh, I am.”

You cupped her pussy, already feeling her wetness coating your fingers. Forcing her legs wider, you rubbed up and down, purposefully avoiding her warmest spots as your other hand skimmed up to her chest. But you never were able to keep yourself from Wednesday for very long, testing your own patience as much as hers.

“Fuck,” you whispered, and as you pushed a finger in, her hand shot up to grab the back of your neck with a quiet oh. You crooked your finger, her slick making it easy on you. Letting your palm graze her clit with every motion, you smiled as her hips lifted, searching for more friction.

You take your time, knowing that Wednesday’s pussy was the softest thing you’d ever touched, and it was likely to remain that way. Pushing another finger in, you made sure to grind your palm against her clit every time you curled your fingers. Her soft noises were enough to have you on your knees, and you would’ve, if she didn't sigh out your name, getting your attention. She squeezed your fingers, jaw tight enough to creak.

“What is it, Weds?”

“I…” Wednesday cut herself off with a whine as your fingers twisted, the high sound shooting straight through your stomach. You beckoned with your fingers, hard, and she keened in your ear.

“I need you to fill me up.”

Her words snapped something already delicate inside of you. You took your fingers out, smearing her slick all on her hips as you flip her over. If you had it your way, you would be able to see her face, but you knew this was her favorite position. You saw her swallow in anticipation as you stepped briefly away from the bed, kicking off those catalytic boots and rummaging under your bed for you and Wednesday’s box.

Everything in the box you kept meticulously clean, knowing Wednesday’s routine of cleanliness. It would only be Wednesday Addams, a contradiction in her black heart, that loved to be as messy in your bed as she was clean in hers. You picked a black strap, one that you two used frequently. Pulling it on and adjusting it, you get on your knees behind her. For a moment, you watched her, captivated by the sight in front of you, grasping her hips. She arched her back, getting comfortable, as if you weren’t already trying not to fold and just take her like a ship to water.

You pushed yourself up against Wednesday, hips flush to her ass, letting the silicone glide against her clit. To her credit, Wednesday’s breath only came out the slightest bit shaky, even as you guided her thighs apart with a knee. You hummed as she pushed herself up onto her forearms to rock back, head turned to look at you. Wednesday had to grind down past your strap for her pussy to touch your thigh, and you laughed lowly as she flushed with the action. She froze.

“What’s wrong?” You rubbed a hand over her lower back, ready to pull away if she gave even the slightest signal.

“Do you…” she swallows, eyes flicking from you to some distant spot in the corner of the room. “Do you not want me to do that?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe your ears. There was a rush of indignation on Wednesday’s behalf, that she could ever think you wouldn’t love her desperation. Then, the wave of understanding broke over you—Wednesday wanted your approval, over an action that was decidedly un-Wednesday-like, and the final flick of her nervous gaze towards you told you that this was important.

You grabbed her hips, hard enough to leave shadows that you hoped you’d see tomorrow. Anything physical, Wednesday would undoubtedly best you, but this was something you could hold your own on. You pushed her pussy down onto the strap, onto the rough fabric of your slacks.

“Why would I ever not want you to show me how much you want it, mmm?” Your question was a growl wrought with satisfaction and a winner’s unapologetic glee, and the effort you put into your tone was worth the way the tension vanished from Wednesday’s eyes. She rolled her hips again, her Addams confidence returning, letting you guide her into a smooth rhythm.

“Besides,” you leaned forward, one hand letting go to come down a hair's breadth from Wednesday's nose. You folded yourself over her body, your tight grip still controlling her hips. “I know you can’t cum like this.”

The whine came unbidden from Wednesday’s throat, high and breathy and perfect. Nevertheless, her hips and keening gasps followed your even rhythm, and you saw her grip on the pillow go white-knuckled.

“I’m pleased with you, my dear. I do love to watch you suffer.” At your words, sunk roughly into her ears like cannonballs on kindling, Wednesday moaned, loud, into the space between the two of you. You ignored the burning torch that her sounds dropped into your lower stomach, choosing to murmur: “you can take it, right?”

“I can take it,” Wednesday whispered back, almost mindlessly. “I can take you,” she continued. “I want it.”

You settle back on your heels, satisfied. The sudden quickening of your heartbeat was only to do with your physical exertion, and nothing with how you felt for the girl under you. I can take you, not I can take it, I want it, not I want you.

You pull your thigh from under her roughly, making her yelp. Reaching around her narrow hips, you trailed your fingers down from her belly button to her clit, rubbing small circles. “Ready?”

Wednesday nodded, another whimper escaping at your touch.

“I need you to tell me yes, Weds.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

You push in, slowly, giving her body plenty of time to adjust. She was still prepped from your fingers earlier, but you didn’t miss the chance to gather her wetness and smear it against her clit. Wednesday was taking deep breaths beneath you, just like how you taught her the first time you two had used a strap. The rush of endearment you felt for her at that memory was distracting, you decided, and you pushed it away.

You slowed yourself down as your hips were once again up against her ass, hands moving to squeeze her shoulders. You saw her eyes shut tightly, the corners growing shiny. Wednesday always needed a moment once you put the strap in, something you were happy to give her.

She was still inhaling deeply, thighs trembling. “It…”

“It what?”

Wednesday opened her eyes; they were brimming with tears, dark lashes sticky. “It hurts…”

Your body tensed, already about to pull away, but with a surprisingly strong twist, she forced herself back onto you. A whimper rose high from her throat, and you had to take a breath to keep yourself from flipping her around to kiss her right then.

“Hurts good,” she whispered. You close your eyes, near involuntarily. Fuck, this perfect, perfect, girl would ruin you, just as much as you wanted to ruin her. You lean forward, pressing your chest into her back, forearm across her shoulder blades to ground her.

“How does it hurt, love?”

“It’s—I’m full,” Wednesday gasped out, glossy eyes sliding shut as you shifted on your knees, cock shifting inside.

“It fills you up, huh?” You breathed into Wednesday’s ear.

She nodded.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” she said, almost immediately. Experimentally, she swiveled her own hips around, and it made her hiss and bite her lip. “You fill me up.”

You exhaled through your nose, resisting the urge to just grab Wednesday and slam your cock impossibly deeper. “And?”

“And it’s good,” Wednesday whined out. “Hurts good.”

The knot in your chest loosened, the tension in your body broken like a wave. Surely, it wasn’t healthy to hang onto Wednesday’s every word the way that you did. You pulled out almost all the way, and snapped your hips forward, hard, burying yourself into her.

“Good girl.”

Wednesday let out a breath that bordered on a moan, and you smirked to yourself. Maybe she was right, and the arrogance was getting to your head, but you couldn’t help it. You set on a steady pace, gently brushing one of her braids aside to grasp the back of her neck. You felt yourself slipping into it, drunk on the way she let you touch her, your world tunneling down to just Wednesday—everything was Wednesday.

Every time you pushed in, it was punctuated by her gasps, and you could feel her breathing start to grow uneven. It stirred up something innately protective in you, for Wednesday. Her shoulders were shaking, tension pulling her taut.

“Wednesday, baby,” a pet name she would only tolerate in her hazy, lust filled state, “I need you to breathe for me, alright?” You slowed down, following your intuition on what she needed.

Still flush to her back, you listened to her stuttering inhales, deeper but not enough for her to catch her breath. “Shhh,” you cooed low into her ear, covering her eyes, and taking her hand, still tight on the pillow. “Breathe, my love.” Inexplicably, Wednesday let go of the pillowcase and intertwined your fingers, squeezing your hand and your heart tightly. She listened to you, for once, slowing down and softening her breaths. You could feel her tears on your palm, and you shushed her again, pressing kisses on her temple where her hair stuck to her forehead.

“Alright?” You slid your hand away, watching her eyes carefully.

She nodded. Skimming your fingers along her cheekbone, you let the warmth in your heart for the smaller girl seep into your words.

“Just say the word, Wednesday, and we’re done.”

“No,” she murmured back. “If you stop now, I’ll throw you out the balcony.” Though she was out of breath, a sticky, flushed mess under you, you had no doubt she’d follow through on her threat. You smiled.

You pick up your rhythm again, this time covering her smaller body with yours again to suck hickies into the back of her neck. Your other hand brushed down between her thighs to rub her clit in circles—she was so wet that it was hard to keep up with your thrusts, but it was worth the choked cry that escaped from her throat as you hit that spot, her fingers tightening around yours.

Wednesday arched her back into you, burgundy lips bitten blood red right before your eyes. “Keep going,” she told you. You had no intention of stopping, watching a flush bloom on her neck as you kept up your ruthless pace.

But despite that, you wanted to take your time with her. Every time she would tense up, you would slow down, making it impossible for her to reach that peak you knew she wanted. You forced yourself to slow down on both her pussy and her clit, just as she was starting to shake, and in spite of herself, she cried out in frustration, a tear slipping free.

“Sorry, baby.” Your tone edged on cruel, desperately needing to see how much she could handle. “I know you can handle it, just for me, okay?” Strap still fully inside, you bent to kiss the juncture of her neck, lips and teeth leaving a bruise. Her skin was hot to your touch, even though your shirt. You bit down again, matching all of your other marks that graced her skin.

Wednesday whined again, inhibition cracking faster by the second. “Don’t stop…”

“Don’t stop what?” You asked, voice turned mocking. “Use your words.” You reached up to clasp the back of her neck, rubbing the tension out. “And be good.”

Her breath quickened, and she squeezed her eyes shut as another tear rolled through her mascara. “Don’t stop…”

“C’mon,” you cajoled, hand coming around her neck to squeeze her throat. “C’mon, my love.”

“Please… don’t stop fucking me.” The words tumbled out in a rush, and she mewled as you nuzzled your lips against her shoulder, your fingers starting up on her clit again.

A shiver shot up your spine, making you curl protectively around Wednesday, the hot burn of possessiveness, to mark her again, near unbearable.. “Anything you want, darling.” You slammed back into her, hard enough to push the both of you up the bed. One of her hands grasped at your forearm, pulling your grip from her neck. She wrapped your arm across her shoulders. Your breathing came hard, but you didn’t stop, each whine in your ear making your head spin. You had no idea how much time was passing, or if it was even night or day; your entire world was hazy and fuzzed with raven black.

“I’m—” Wednesday cut herself off, biting down on your arm for a moment, leaving a smear of lipstick.

You let out a noise that was more of a growl than anything. “Let me hear you, baby.”

She gasped when you pressed a hand to her lower stomach, briefly feeling the bulge there from your cock, before going back to her clit. You didn’t pause, each thrust pushing Wednesday closer to the edge. “Use your teeth,” she choked out, her cheeks flushing. “Now, please.”

You complied, eager. Scraping your canines down her ear, you stopped at a tender spot behind her pulse point, the skin already marred with purple and red. A sailor’s delight, you thought, a bit hysterically. You sank your teeth in, not holding back, knowing she wanted it. The effect was near immediate; her eyes slid shut, and her body tensed against yours, an unrestrained sob tumbling out from her lips. She reached for you, nails digging into your arm. Your hands shook, all of her tightening the coil in your stomach. Wednesday’s orgasm crashed down, and it shattered something in you, deep and addictive.

Far down in you, below what you were willing to admit, Wednesday’s unknowing grip on your heart tightened even more. You felt like you’d just jumped off your own edge, inevitable as the eternal separation of sun and moon.

“I came,” Wednesday’s voice was a ragged whisper, a ghost of her earlier whimpers ringing in your ears.

“You did, my love,” you shushed, gently sliding your cock out, catching Wednesday as she seemed to melt into the bedsheets with no support. You guided her into her back, relishing in the way she trustingly let you. Tucking the strap away to clean later, you massaged her thighs, thinking they’d be sore later. She seemed to be in a daze, dark eyes fogged with the afterglow. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara from her tears, and the rims of her eyes were a fuschia pink. You’d never seen anything more beautiful.

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve said that her gaze behind her slow blinks as she watched you was just as possessive as you were. You did know better, you swore, but it didn’t stop you from nuzzling your face into her stomach, intoxicated on the smell of her arousal, delaying the clean-up for just a moment longer.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” You teased, unsure if she could even hear you. You smoothed her fringe off her forehead, already moving to sit up and get her a bottle of water. But before you could move, Wednesday’s hand grabbed your wrist with lighting speed, a shadow of the earlier afternoon.

She cracked an eye open, and though her eyes were shot red, there was a challenging shine, blade in moonlight, there. “Who says you’re done?”

reader: i fuck her good but i don’t think she likes me back :(

wednesday: if you don’t hold me right now i Will murder

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, or take from my work in any way without express permission. thank you!

masterlist

2K notes · View notes

mechaknight-98 · 5 months

Text

Home Run (NSFW) Ft. Sohee

The winner of poll for Wednesday’s fic. Hope y'all enjoy.

Sohee had always loved baseball for the entirety of your relationship. It was so all-consuming that you often wondered if she loved the "sport" more than you. You couldn't stand the sport however mostly because of its glacial pace, and lack of stacks in moment-to-moment play. Rugby was more your speed, but you learned the tells and watched 4 full seasons of Eagles games. at this point, you knew the sport almost inside and out begrudgingly, but you loved Sohee and she did make it worth your while. when watching the last game of the season you partially zoned out as a new game on the switch came out. so you were enjoying that Muted so Sohee could get the full experience of watching her team. As the game winded down you looked towards the stat sheet to catch up on what was going on.

"Ugh well, there goes our chance at playoffs." Sohee groaned indicating that both the game and her team's season were over.

Absent you say, "Their playoff hopes were dashed ages ago and until they do something about their offensive play then they will continue to fall behind the pack."

Sohee turns to you surprised, "How do you know this she challenged

"Well, defensively they are great 12 strikeouts to 8 is insane, they also had a similar number of at-bats, hits, and batting averages. the disparity comes in runs batted in and bases on ball which contributed to an early lead for the Giants that was just too much to overcome. You explained without looking up from your switch.

"but other games have been closer!" Sohee asserted confidently.

at this point, you look up from your switch to smile at your lovely girlfriend and say, "Baby I love you but your team finished 9 out of 10 in the rankings this year. I know you say it's not a "numbers" game and there is more to it than stats but in this specific case the numbers don't lie." To soften the sting you kiss her cheek.

Sohee smiles and says, "Since when did you become an expert on my team."

"Babe," you groan, "We have watched this entire season. Now I know they are not the same team as last year but at least for this season, they had offensive issues. That much is apparent with how many games ended in one-sided games of 7-2 or 8-0, or..." Sohee seeing your point kisses you before you start running more numbers off. Quiet as it's kept she would always get so turned on when you talked baseball. She was dripping wet when she straddled you as the kiss languished into a full make-out.

"Someone's feeling frisky." you tease.

"I just can't help it. When my boyfriend knows his stuff it makes me all excited." Sohee replies demurely, she would never admit it to you but whenever you started getting super into the stats and numbers her head would begin to spin with arousal and she always had to resist the urge to just drain you then and there. Today though you were both off for the next couple of days so she could fuck you as long as she wanted. She began the horizontal tango by pushing down on the couch as she began to kiss you more fervently.

"Um, babe I hate to kill the mood but can I ask that you give me one second to let go of the switch." You asked as she broke the kiss to breathe.

"hm," Sohee huffed.

"Hey I can't massage your ass the way you like if I don't have both my hands." you tease. Sohee smiled gleefully and let you go. you run to the dock to place your switch before going back to her, and she wastes no time returning to her attack on your body, but you are not merely prey. you counterattack her kisses of your neck and collarbone by massaging her bountiful rump. She mewls in pleasure eager to egg you on. As the two of you kiss her tongue is the first to explore your mouth. She draws you in and refuses to relinquish control as she has her tongue dance along the whole of your mouth. when she breaks the kiss to breathe a trail of saliva links the two of you together still Sohee licks her lips and purrs before unfastening your belt. You groan in pleasure as she fishes out your cock and begins to suck on it. you try not to push her down as her cheeks hollow and she takes you further than ever, but the comfort and warmth of her throat cause you to buck your hips which leads to a further loss of control as you begin to relentlessly fuck her throat. You watch as your girlfriend's eyes roll back as you continue to use her throat to pleasure you. the sounds of gags break the silence of your shared apartment, as she submits to you wholly and completely. You continue to use her throat with reckless abandon

You don't stop until you feel your release and cum down her throat. As you sense, you see Sohee stare at you with a look she has never displayed before. She gets up and smiles at you lustfully. "You like using me like a little fuckdoll?" she says with angered lust.

"You like just using my throat like it's your toy?" she pressures. She begins to corner you and of course, this leads to the bedroom. she pushes you down and begins to suck your cock again. you groan as she takes you down her throat, but this time it's different as she begins to manipulate her throat muscles in a way that's foreign but insane to you.

"Oh God," you scream as Sohee works over your cock. Sohee smiles and eggs you on

"You gonna cum for mommy. Come on cum down Mommy's throat like the good boy you are and I just might let you fuck my pussy." You can't hold out much longer as Sohee continues to relentlessly suck and gorge herself on your rod before you cum again, but she's not done with you yet. she begins to rub your cock to get it hard again

Your overwhelmed body barely can stop the moan of pleasure and discomfort as Sohee takes you inside. She smiles at Sickly while watching you squirm under her.

“Babe please stop,” you beg but Sohee begins to ride you oblivious to your discomfort she chases her high.

“Oh I just love how you fill me up,” she says as she begins her deadly body roll her tight tummy hypnotizes you as she continues grinding on your cock. She continues to chase her release despite your protests. You groan and wince as she pushes you further and further past your

limits, while she loses herself more and more to pleasure. Eventually, you pass out.

When you wake up your head is pounding as you feel something wet and tight on your crotch it's Sohee. She's passed out while you're still inside her. You chuckle and adjust so the two of you can cuddle together. When you get into a comfortable position Sohee nestles closer.

“I may not know baseball but you are my favorite home run,” you say as you fall asleep again

#alice sohee #kpop fanfic #male reader #sohee #sohee smut

606 notes · View notes

sweatervest-obsessed · 4 months

Text

Secrets, Secrets

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader.

WC: 1.2k

TW: Heavy make out, semi-public making out, hot hot Steve Harrington. Foreplay, but not smut.

A/N: Some sexy sexy Steve for your Wednesday night.

“She’s going to fucking kill us.” You giggled out, slotting your lips back in between his.

“No.” He mumbled, pushing you into the wall even more, leg slotting between yours for support, among other reasons. “She’ll kill you. She just won’t talk to me for a few days”

You huffed, causing him to pull his lips away.

“Babygirl…” He whispered, kissing up your jaw and slowly making his way to your neck.

You tried to ignore the way the nickname went straight to your core, and bit your lip to keeop the sigh stuck in your throat.

He slowly pulled you impossibly closer up his thigh. The feeling of his breath fanning over your neck caused you to lean your head back against the wall.

“Fuck. Steve.” You whined his name, closing your eyes, and tugging on his hair, causing him to moan against your neck.

“Sweetheart.” He grumbled. “We have to be quiet or she’s gonna get pissed.”

You shoved his chest slightly, causing him to detach from your neck, but still staying pretty fucking close. His pupils were dilated, and his lips were red and puffy from kissing you for the past five minutes.

“Don’t give me a fuckin hickey then.”

“Mouth gorgeous.”

“Oh please.” You rolled your eyes, tugging on your bottom lip with your teeth. You couldn’t help your self. He just looked so fucking good. And you promised your favorite cousin you would not sleep with Steve Harrington. But fuck, he was delicious. “You love my mouth.”

“You’re fuckin’ dirty.” Steve bit his bottom lip as he eyed your lips.

You grinded up against him, tugging on his hair again. “Never heard you complain about that before.”

Steve had shown up to the bar in these jeans that hugged his ass in the most delectable way possible, and this tight button up with the sleeves cuffed right at his biceps, making you all but drool when he came up to your group.

The look of surprise on his face when he saw you was definitely worth it.

He quickly hugged Robin and Eddie, saying his hellos. But then he turned to you.

“Hiya Princess.” Steve whispered in your ear as he gave you a hug, causing you to try and hide the blush growing on your cheeks as you pulled away. “Robin didn’t mention that you were in town…”

“I’m actually in town for the whole summer. I got in this morning…”

Steve’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Huh. Good to know.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and smile at him. “It’s good to see you too Steve.” It was going to be a long night.

Robin watched this entire interaction, alongside Eddie. She had enough of the blatant flirting so she chugged her drink and grabbed your arm.

You barely had time to truly ogle Steve up close before Robin had dragged you over to the bar to get another round for everyone. She ordered the drinks before turning and snapping in your face.

“No.”

“What?”

“You know the rules. You are not allowed to sleep with him.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “You think so poorly of me Robs.”

“Yeah, well I know you, and I know him. It’s not happening. Are we clear?”

“Robin, we’re not seventeen anymore. I’m twenty-one, he’s twenty-two, we’re both adults.”

“But I said no. I don’t want my favorite cousin and my best friend sleeping together because if it doesn’t work out, I do not want to deal with the bullshit between you two.”

“Robs…”

“Y/n I’m serious.”

“Yeah Yeah Fine.” You sighed and grabbed four of the glasses set down in front of you, walking back over to the table where her friends were.

“If she didn’t want me to fuck you then she should’ve told you to show up in a fucking prom dress then.” You grinded against his leg slightly, causing him to squeeze your waist. “But you probably looked fuckable in that too.”

“You think I’d look hot in a prom dress.”

You shoved his arm slightly and laughed a bit. “Steve Harrington, You could be wearing a garbage bag and still somehow be voted People’s hottest man of the year.”

“You’re gonna make me blush gorgeous.” He mumbled, kissing your neck again.

Once you and Robin had distributed the beverages, you watched as Eddie took the stage.

The group had eventually abandoned the table and were the first ones dancing in the crowd. You and Robin would lip sync to the songs you know, or drunkenly scream words of encouragement to Eddie and his band while they performed.

Once more people started to join in, Steve managed to covertly keep a hand on your waist or even dance with you subtly enough that Robin wouldn’t think anything of it. Robin was drunk enough that she didn’t see any of it, or if she did, she thought it was a trick of the light.

Eventually it was packed, shoulder to shoulder causing you to lose sight of Robin. You had been dancing with Steve fully at that point, singing at one another and dancing up against each other. You had decided this was the moment to maybe sneak off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” You yelled out to him, trying to be heard over the noise.

He nodded at you and watched as you slid through the crowd off towards the the bathrooms. He waited until the song ended before following the same path you took.

“I have to get back because if she sees we’re both missing…”

Steve laughed as he kissed you again. “If you're that worried about it then go.”

You stayed right there, grabbing his collar and kissing him fiercely.

“If she finds out—” You moaned softly into his mouth, cutting off whatever thought you were in the middle of saying.

Steve had grabbed your waist and slowly started grinding up against you, almost dragging you up and down his thigh. He smirked at the moan and kissed down your jaw, back to your neck.

Your hand made its way into his hair and you pulled on it, partially to regain some control of the situation, but also because you wanted to hear the pretty little moan that came out of his mouth when you did.

“Princess…” He warned and you kissed his neck softly, trailing your lips up to his neck.

You released your hold on his hair and kissed him. The tone of this kiss was definitely different then the past five minutes where you had basically almost fucked each other up against this wall. It caused Steve to falter for a minute, dropping his thigh, but not loosening his grip on your waist.

He pulled away after a moment, a slight smile on his face. “What was that for…”

You shrugged and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Want me to do it again?”

Steve didn’t answer you, and instead kissed you again, pushing his whole body into yours. The two of you stayed like that for the next minute, slowly making out with one another. There was no rush, only languid kisses and tongues lazily exploring each other.

Robin was going to kill the both of you for a myriad of reasons.

But you were about to jump off a building anyways, since you were sure you were starting to fall for Steve Harrington.

#x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve stranger things #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington angst #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington one shot

752 notes · View notes

otdiaftg · 3 months

Text

The King's Men - Chapter Fifteen (17)

Day: Friday, March 22nd / 23rd* Time: 11:30 PM EST

Neil locks the door behind him and crosses the room to Andrew's side. Andrew lets him take the vodka away without argument or resistance. Neil screws its cap on tight and sets it where neither of them could knock it over. Andrew is ready when Neil turns back to him, and he catches Neil's collar to pull him down. Neil plants one hand against the rough carpet to keep himself leveraged off Andrew's body. The other he buries in the beanbag near Andrew's head. Andrew drags a hand down Neil's arm from his shoulder to his wrist. "Last I checked you hated me," Neil says against Andrew's mouth. "Everything about you," Andrew says. Neil pushes himself up a bit. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am." "And I'm not as smart as I thought I was," Andrew says. "I know better than to do this again. Perhaps it's the self-destructive streak in me?" If it wasn't for that "again" Neil would think this has to do with Wednesday's terrible conversation. Neil ticks through all the possible explanations as fast as he can, from Roland's rejected advances to Andrew's complicated family issues to the Foxes and Drake. Pressure on his wrist finally turns his thoughts where they need to go. Neil had once asked Andrew if it would kill him to let something in. He should've known better than to say such a thing after seeing Andrew's scars. Andrew had nearly killed himself trying to hang onto Cass Spear, but he'd still lost her in the end. "I am not a pipe dream," Neil says. "I'm not going anywhere." "I didn't ask you." "Ask me," Neil insists, "or stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself." "I'll get bored of you eventually." "You sure?" Neil asks. "Rumor has it I'm pretty interesting." "Don't believe everything you hear." Neil ignores that dismissal because Andrew is already pulling him down again. They kiss until Neil feels dizzy, until he isn't sure he can hold himself up anymore, and then Andrew pulls Neil's hand off the beanbag chair. He holds it up away from them for an eternity, then slowly presses it flat against his chest and lets go. Andrew tenses up underneath Neil's hand but relaxes before Neil can pull away. Neil isn't fooled. Andrew had made it very clear the first time he kissed Neil how important an actual "yes" is. This casual surrender isn't genuine consent. Andrew is doing this because of what they'd said on Wednesday, but Neil isn't sure which one of them Andrew is trying to convince. It's only been three months since Proust's abuse and four months since Drake's attack. Neil doesn't know when Andrew will be okay with this but he knows it isn't today. Neil leaves his hand on Andrew but refuses to move it from that spot. "I won't be like them," Neil says. "I won't let you let me be." "One hundred and one," Andrew says, "going on one hundred and two." "You're a terrible liar," Neil says, and Andrew kisses him into silence.

Art used with permission by rainbowd00dles. Thank you @rainbowd00dles

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

377 notes · View notes

prefer-to-be-vilified · 1 year

Text

Enid, discussing whether or not her parents know she’s gay: I mean it’s not like it matters, I’m going to die alone anyway.

Wednesday, without hesitation: You’re right. You’re incredibly annoying.

Enid:

Enid: That was uncalled for.

Wednesday: I apologise. Would it help if I married you?

Enid: You know what? Yes. Yes it would.

Wednesday: Well if I must.

[Later that evening]

Wednesday: And you said I’d have to tell Enid how I felt to convince her to marry me.

Thing: YOU’RE-A-MENACE-TO-SOCIETY.

Wednesday: Why thank you Thing.

Thing: TELL-ENID-YOU-LOVE-HER.

Wednesday: I’d sooner kill us both. Now focus, we have a wedding to plan.

#enid: what do you mean you weren’t joking??? who proposes like that?#wednesday: so you don’t want to marry me?#enid: don’t be stupid of course I do but I’m not getting married in a morgue #wednesday: …what about a cemetery?#enid: in summer #wednesday: deal #wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #thing wednesday #wenclair #enid x wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday 2022 #incorrect wednesday quotes #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday #ptbv

2K notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 1 year

Text

rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)

You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.

Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick

———

“Fuck you, Minho.”

“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”

You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”

”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.

It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.

And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.

“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.

“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.

“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”

“Minho and Y/N.”

Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.

If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.

But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.

And the worst of it all, you miss home.

You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…

You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.

“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.

“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”

Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.

Fucking. Great.

———

“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”

“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”

“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”

“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”

“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”

It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.

Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"

"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."

There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.

Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I tell you, of all people?"

"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."

You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"

"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.

You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"

Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."

It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.

Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.

It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.

But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.

You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.

It feels lonely.

------

You're kind of sick.

Not physically sick.

Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.

Sick of being here.

For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.

Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.

So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.

"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.

He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"

"You're not packed."

"Wise observation, smartass."

He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"

"None of your business."

He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"

"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."

"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."

"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.

It stings, "why?"

"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"

"My dad died. Two years ago."

There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.

There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.

"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"

"I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't. You never asked."

"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."

You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."

It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.

Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.

And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath

To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.

"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"

"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"

"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”

The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.

Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.

“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.

Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

———

“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”

You stare.

Your reflection stares back.

Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.

However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?

Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.

So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.

“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”

“The dude’s standing right here.”

Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.

“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.

Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.

The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.

“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.

“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.

Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.

In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.

“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.

“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”

You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”

Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.

Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.

“What is it?” You ask instead.

“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”

“About?”

His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.

“About me. And you.”

You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“

“I like you.”

You blink.

He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.

So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.

Wait…your mind backtracks, what?

“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"

His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.

"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."

You sense a but. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."

"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"

"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."

Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.

Cute. Your brain chants.

"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."

"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."

"Tomorrow? But wait I--"

"You better be there, doll."

And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.

---

Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.

Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.

Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.

The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.

Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!

Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.

Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!

Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.

Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!

Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?

Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?

So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--

No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.

That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.

His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”

“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”

He grins, “we’ll see.”

Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.

“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”

“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”

You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.

“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”

“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”

“Not what?” He scowls.

“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”

Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.

As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.

"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."

"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."

Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"

"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."

Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.

"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."

“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”

Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.

You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.

“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”

He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”

“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.

“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”

“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.

You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”

“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“

“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.

You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.

And you’re all here for it.

“Why not, though?”

His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”

“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“

“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still went out with them.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“

That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.

And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.

“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”

Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.

You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.

———

“Was that romantic enough for you?”

Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.

Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.

“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“

“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”

“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.

“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.

You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”

The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.

It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.

“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.

“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”

Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”

“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.

“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”

Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.

“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”

“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.

“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.

He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.

You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”

“Do me a favor?”

One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.

“Hm?”

“Stop talking.”

And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.

Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.

You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.

Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.

He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.

Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.

Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.

He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.

The curfew bell sounds and he curses.

“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.

The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.

“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”

“Curfew’s in two minutes.”

“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.

“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.

“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.

———

A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.

1K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do like Wednesday x fem yn but like Wednesday trying to tell mortica and gomez she has a gf and not knowing how they'd react and edin trys to help her and in the end they find out somehow you can pick if they take it good or bad but yea

A/n: I’ve seen this get asked to another person but I’m too proud of what I had already written to throw it away.

The crystal ball upon Wednesday’s desk taunted her with the impending call from her parents. Wednesday was something she hadn’t been in a long time; worried. The last time she had spoken with her parents, a lot had changed and one of the most recent and most prominent changes was that she had found herself a girlfriend.

How you met was the typical run of the mill meet cute, Wednesday was caught doing something she wasn’t meant to and she threatened to take your tongue, vocal chords and hands should you ever rat her out. Your response? “You’re beautiful.” Ever since then you had been constantly drawn to the chaos that was Wednesday Addams and not once has the thought of ever letting you go crossed her wicked mind. She was happy, a word she never thought she’d use in a lifetime but truly, for the first time in a long time she was happy. You made the insides of her hollow husk of a human vessel warm.

You lit a match and threw it upon her coal heart, setting it ablaze with the very foundations of life as the fires reflected in her dark eyes. You were her cara mia as she was your mon cher. For you Wednesday would die for you, kill for you, even live for you should you command it of her. It was moments like those that she began to see how alike she was to her father; Unhealthy obsessed with the object of their eternal attraction. So unhealthy in fact the pair might possibly be clinically insane with their love. However not even a highly facilitated psychiatric ward would be able to prevent Wednesday from coming back to you.

For she would have it burnt to the ground in your name as though she were a crazed religious fanatic, pleading her love to the only form of higher power that ever truly existed; You. If she had it her way, you’d both would’ve carved out and calcified your beating hearts for the other, to have and to hold until you were both cold and dead within the ground that would make up your grave. You would now and forever more belong to Wednesday as she would belong to you until the dark forces swelled you both whole; snuffing out your mortal flame for good.

So as Wednesday clamped down on her finger nails, bitting them right down to the nub and then some, Enid couldn’t help but feel concerned for her friend as she stared vehemently at her -seemingly- only form of communication with a look in her eyes. “What’s chomping you at the bit.” Enid asked, begrudging to know the answer but knew that Wednesday was in a situation where a friend was something that she could use right now. “My parents will be calling soon.” Wednesday merely said, not taking her eyes off of the crystal ball as though she was awaiting for it to go off.

“That’s great! Unless your relationship with them is questionable at best then that’s…not great.” Enid trails off when she began to notice that she wasn’t helping in making the situation any better even in the slightest. However the blonde wasn’t one to give up even in the face of adversity, Enid presses onward and upward. “My parents only sent me here to mold me in their image, to forge a carbon copy of themselves out of me by the time inn through with this place,” Enid stayed silent, “I get sent to the same dormitory my mother once resided, I have premonitions like she does.” Wednesday falls silent as her fists clenched in silent anguish.

“However I am not my mother, nor will I ever be like her because unlike her I have a heart to give and I gave it to y/n upon a moonlight night; the same night where the crows dropped dead before us and black dahlias bloomed by our feet.” Enid smiled warmly, remembering the twinkle in Wednesday’s eyes when she came back to the dome after her first official date with you down by the greenhouse. It was a dangerous twinkle but a twinkle none the less, Wednesday could’ve told her that you had a sparing match that ended with the tips of your blades poised at the others throat and the werewolf would’ve still somehow find it romantic.

“Now I am seemingly at an impasse with the illogical concerns of how my parents would react to me engaging in romantic circumstances with another girl, despite being well aware of their stances on societal demands.” Wednesday admitted, not use to feeling this vulnerable in front of another person but at this point in their relationship, Wednesday trusted Enid -despite how much of a gossip she could be- a smidge more then she did the rest of the student body that made up Nevermore. So if anything, this was Wednesday’s silent cry for Enid’s help and luckily she wasn’t overly dense to not notice.

“Wednesday,” Enid began as she moved over to stand by her friends’ side, “what your parents think shouldn’t reflect upon your relationship with y/n. You love her and she loves you, so why ruin a perfectly good thing by listening to what you parents think.” She places her hands on Wednesday’s shoulders and made sure that they were meeting eye to eye. “Never, not once, since I’ve came to know you had you given a shit about what others thought of you. So why give a shit now?” Wednesday has to admit, Enid was right. Why should she all of a sudden care when all she’s ever done thus far was deflect other peoples opinion on her. It made no logical sense but she guessed that now that you were in the picture with her; Wednesday worries about her parents perception of you.

Just as Enid was about to continue with her speech, the crystal ball went off and within the clear cut glass could the image of Gomez’ stout figure and Morticia’s taller frame could be seen as though they were actually trapped within the crystal itself. Upon seeing their daughter, Gomez and Morticia sat up straighter and smiled at Wednesday who only stared blankly at them, blinking slowly like a cat does when trying to convey their emotions to their owners. “There’s my little death moth, how’s Nevermore been treating you?” Gomez started as Morticia only took in her daughter’s expressions with a curious furrow in her brow but she didn’t speak upon it. Yet.

“Same as usual, however-“ “however you have found love, with a girl perhaps?” Wednesday straightened at her mother’s words. “How did you-“ “call it a mother’s intuition my dear death blossom.” Morticia’s unnerving voice cut her off as she looked to Gomez who was already looking at her, love sick. “Our daughter has found love Gomez, the ancestors must’ve blessed her already.” Gomez only grasped Morticia’s hand that rested on the chair arm tightly. “That’s amazing ‘tish, our little cope has found her forever mouse to play with until she too becomes a viper, until she becomes an Addams.” Wednesday perks up at this, her parents were indirectly giving you their blessing to marry her, to join your soul with hers as one until the end of your shared days.

Enid, still in the room, was trying her hardest not to squeal in excitement. Sure this event wouldn’t be until later down the line but she hopes she becomes your guys maid of honour.

#wednesday addams x reader #Wednesday Addams x you #Wednesday Addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams fic #Wednesday Addams imagines #Wednesday Addams imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #Wednesday x you #Wednesday imagines #Wednesday fanfic #Wednesday fic

4K notes · View notes

alocon · 4 months

Text

Still Irresistible [2] - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

written by alocon

Summary: Despite all hope, Lando never lost his feelings for his best friend's twin sister. However, he still hadn't acted on it. Well, that was until the party, which led you two into a long-term secret relationship

Warnings and Tropes: Fluff, part 2 to the story released the other day.

[Part One Here] [Part Three Here] [Part Four Here] [Masterlist]

Irresistible - LN⁴ x Fem!Reader

"Lando Norris"

You two had never broken apart as quickly as you did just then. The pair of you had been in your kitchen, cooking together for the arrival of P and Max. You had forgotten that he had a key. He quickly placed another kiss on your lips before stepping back, sitting on the counter beside you just in time for your brother to walk in.

"Hello, beautiful," P said, walking over to you to place a kiss on your cheek. You greeted her back, returning the gesture.

You and Lando had, expertly, invited the pair for dinner. They didn't know that you and Lando were together. I mean, God. Max would surely kill you for it. Which is exactly why this wasn't a double date. It was simply two roommates, one roommates brother and the brother's girlfriend having dinner.

It wouldn't be the first double date that you two had. You had also had some with Alex and Lily, as those two had witnessed your first kiss at the club 8 months prior and had a few with Oscar and Lily, who had only found out about you because Lando accidentally slipped up when he was speaking. Other than that, though, no one knew. You travelled to a lot of his races with him, so, of course, there were rumours about the two of you. However, Max was not suspicious as that had happened since he started driving in Formula One. It was how the sport went. Racing on Friday-Sunday, Rumours from Monday-Wednesday, Answering those rumours on Thursday. It was just part of the sport.

The group of you began to discuss how you had been, how things had been going. You all stood in the kitchen talking so that you could cook and still be involved. "What about you, Lan? Have you found someone yet, mate?"

Almost as if it was rehearsed (it was), Lando began to use his excuse. You both had agreed that, had this question came up, you would say you weren't, and he could choose on the day. "There's someone I'm interested in. She's great. We've talked, but I haven't taken her out on a proper date yet." You smiled as you stirred the pot of pasta. Smart, you thought. Technically, it's not a lie. He hadn't taken you out on an official date, just you two, but you had been on double dates, and you had also had many dates in the house. And when you went out in public together, it wasn't considered an official date, so no one was suspicious. Didn't mean you both didn't consider them dates.

"That's great, mate. It's about time you got yourself out there. I swear, since we were little, it was always 'yeah there's someone I like but we can't be together', I had started thinking that you might love my sister." Max let out a chuckle as you thanked God that you were facing away from him as you listened in, more intrigued. You decided to start teasing Lando.

"Awwe. Used to have a little crush on me, did you?"

Lando picked up on the usual jokey-flirting and decided to hit back. "Nope. Can't stand you."

"Yeah, yeah, that's why you used to get super nervous talking to me when we were 13." You turned to him, watching as his face flushed slightly red out of being called out. He was only able to mumble a 'shut up' in response, making you and Max laugh.

"Doesn't surprise me, I was amazing and very funny and beautiful growing up."

"Still are. Except for the beautiful part," He quickly added the last part onto his sentence as he spoke too quickly for that to be considered friendly. Max eyed him before turning away. You began to plate up the pasta and sent Max off to go set the table, P opting to follow him. "That was close," Lando whispered to you, causing you to wack him gently.

"God, Lan. Watch what you say," you responded, placing your hand on his face to pull him in for a quick kiss. That kiss turned into a longer one, though, as he clearly didn't want to break away from it.

"Right. Make yourself useful." You said, pulling away before they could get caught. You passed him two plates. "Go take these out please. This one is P's, this one is Max's."

"Yes ma'am. Do I get paid with another kiss?"

You rolled your eyes, placing another peck to his lips before he grinned, heading out of the room with the plates.

You grabbed the other two, following suit and placing them on the table. "Right, I'll be back in a second, I'm going to run some food over to Martine."

"Alright, tell her I say hi," Lando responded as you went to the kitchen.

A look of confusion appeared on Max's face. "Who's Martine?"

"Our neighbour. She's 60, and she's been struggling a lot recently because her husband passed last month, so we've been taking her food and inviting her over for dinner so she isn't lonely."

"Aw, that's lovely!" P said, smiling as the door shut.

You stepped across the hallway, knocking the door of your neighbour opposite. After a few minutes, she answered. "Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good, how are you doing? We have some extra food, so I wanted to bring it over for you." You passed her the tub of food, and she smiled gratefully.

"Oh, thank you, dear. I'm feeling a little better than yesterday. It's getting easier day by day, you know?"

You nodded in response, accepting the hug she offered you. "Would you like to come over for dinner again on Friday? Like we have been doing the past few weeks?"

"Are you sure it wouldn't be too much bother?"

"Not at all. I would've invited you over today, but my brother and his girlfriend are over for dinner, and I remember you saying that big groups got a little overwhelming for you."

"Ah right, having a double date, are you?"

You shook your head. "No, my brother doesn't know about Lando and I. Lando says hi by the way."

"Oh, do tell him I say hi back. How come your brother doesn't know? Haven't you been together for 8 months now?"

You grinned cheekily in response to her question. She was such an angel. You absolutely loved Martine. She was hands down the sweetest neighbour you had. "Lando was Max's best friend before he was my boyfriend, so Max would be a little upset if he found out."

"Oh, right. Well, you can't decide who you fall in love with, darling." You heard a door open behind you. "Love is something you can't really control. If you feel like someone is really, really right for you, he probably is, you know?"

You froze when you heard a voice behind you. "Uh. Sorry, who are you in love with?"

Martine turned to your brother. "Oh, hello, you must be the brother. I've heard a lot about you. Don't mind our conversation, dear. I was just telling her about my daughter and her new boyfriend. I'm Martine."

'Martine, you legend,' you thought as she smiled sweetly and innocently.

"Oh right, I'm Max." He shook her hand before looking at you. "Where's the red wine?" You turned to see Lando poking his head around the door too, shooting you a wink.

"Top cupboard, right at the back. I had to put it back there because someone..." You paused to dramatically look at Lando. "Smashed up the last bottle we had."

"It was an accident."

"Yep. And now I have to Lando-proof everything." You turned to Martine. "Right, Martine. I'll leave you, your daughter and her boyfriend, be. Do tell them I say hi."

"Of course, dear. It was lovely to see you, as always. See you Friday."

You three headed back inside, Max heading to grab the wine.

Sitting at the table, you and P waited patiently for the return of Max and Lando. You made friendly conversation, as always. You two always got along quite well. P looked around for any signs of the boys before leaning towards you. "So... Anyone you're interested in?"

You looked at the woman. She knew something. You sighed, shrugging. "There is someone I am interested in. Please don't tell Max though, we both know he'll get all protective twin about this."

She nodded. "Do I get to know who? Because I could take a few guesses."

You shook your head. "Maybe some other time when people can't listen in."

She understood, luckily, and it was only a few moments until the boys reappeared, laughing away as they carried the wine glasses in. Lando sat beside you, gently giving your hand a quick squeeze under the table.

Dinner went normally, you all talked and messed about, the usual. You then all retreated to the living room to play some games.

"Oh fuck you!" Max wasn't happy as you crossed the line once again to take first place, having barely overtaken him just before the end due to an ability you had saved. "You cheated!"

"You can't cheat in Mario Kart, Max. Stop bitching because I'm better."

"Right," Lando spoke up before they could continue arguing. "Bed time, I think. What do you think?" The other 3 of you nodded in agreement. Max and P would be staying over so Lando had given up his room, stating that he was more than happy to sleep on the pull out sofa bed in your room.

You were laid down on your bed as Lando locked the door, Max and P having already retreated to Lando's room and P having already fallen asleep. Lando was the last to come to bed. He took his shirt off, placing it on your chair before removing his jeans so he was only in boxers. He slid into bed beside you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him. He let out a soft, content noise as you cuddled up closer to him. "I've missed doing this."

"Lan, it's only been a few hours," you noted as one of his hands ran up to play with your hair.

"A few hours too long, being away from you sucks so bad."

"What are you going to do when you go off to races, then?"

"I don't know." He looked down at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. "You could always come with me."

You looked up to meet his eyes. "To which ones?"

"All of them." He paused, taking some time to admire your face, to watch the way to smiled softly. "Every. Single. One." He placed kisses to your lips between each word before placing his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

"Okay."

"Okay? You will come to more races with me?" His eyes lit up as he thought of all the time you could spend cuddling after his races.

"Lando." You stopped speaking a second, your hand moving to the side of his face, thumb gently moving over his cheek. "I would go anywhere that you asked me to."

He pulled you into another hug, his head on top of yours, squeezing you tight, not wanting to let go. He whispered a few I love you's to you, placing kisses all over your face as he spoke. He then placed another to your lips, a longer one than previous. One full of love, adoration. One that made you feel that you two were the only people in the world. One that made you feel like nothing else ever mattered. One that showed you that, no matter what Max thinks when he finds out about your relationship, it really doesn't matter. As long as he had you, everything was perfect and how it should be. You balanced him, you showed him the love that he always dreamt of being shown. You showed him what adoring someone truly felt like. And he found you irresistible. He would always find you irresistible.

-The End-

[Word Count - 2,012]

Hi All,

Another part to the Lando Norris "Irresistible" story because I thought the first part could do with a part two. Hope you are all well, as always, have a lovely day x

Alocon

355 notes · View notes

dorabledewdroop · 4 months

Text

FIRST TIME SMUT OKAY IM SORRY

18+ only pls if you’re younger avoid this?

Warning: Smut but also it’s really badly written I’m so sorry

Summary: a little misunderstanding Tony’s new AI leads to a pretty pleasant conclusion.

It’s not really dubcon because everyone has feelings for each other but they act on it before talking about it?

I wrote this in an hour and it’s my first time writing smut I’m sorry it’s not that great but I’m trying my hand let’s see.

X—X—X—X—X

“I think it would be better if we tell her now” Natasha told Wanda. The both of them sitting in the kitchen while Wanda made breakfast for the team.

“What if she’s too scared? What if she says no? What will we do then? I don’t think I can handle that rejection, Nat” Wanda replied to her girlfriend, not looking her in the eye.

“You know that’s not going to happen, malyshka” Nat assured her.

It was no secret that you were hopelessly in love with the witch and the ex-assassin. Everyone knew about it. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to it. Always avoiding to spar with both of them, flushing red anytime somebody even remotely teased you about it. Not to mention the fact that Wanda could always hear your thoughts about the two of them, never failing to blush at just how utterly smitten you were. It was getting ridiculous, why wouldn’t you just tell them? Could you really not see how they were flirting with you? Did you think that they would let just anyone cuddle with them during movie night? How about the fact that in the event of a nightmare, both of them would leave their shared room and ask to lay down besides you. Was that not clear enough? Could you-

Ms. Maximoff. Ms. Romanoff. Ms.Y/L/N appears to be in distress and calling for the two of you. Tony’s new beta AI ‘Wednesday’ interrupted the conversation.

Her vitals indicate increased heart rate and raised body temperature. She also seems to be repeating your names.

Sharing a concerned look they both rushed to your room

They were about to knock when they heard a loud ‘FUCK’

Not waiting, they barged into your room without knocking.

You yelped as the two of them entered. They noticed you were trembling, face flushed, and practically hyperventilating.

“W-what are you d-doing here?” You stammered, wide eyes darting between the two of them. “Detka, Wednesday told us that you weren’t doing well and that you were calling for us” Natasha said as she sat down beside you, causing a whimper to come out of your mouth. She noticed how your knuckles were white as you gripped the bed sheets. She was about to put her hand against your forehead when she glanced at your unlocked phone beside you. As soon as she saw the app that was open, she realised where the slight buzzing was coming from and put two and two together. Hiding her smirk she glanced at Wanda, and pointedly looked at your phone. Wanda’s eyes widened when she realised what was going on and grinned. Wanda slowly made her way towards your other side.

“I’m- shit- I’m fine” You muttered weakly. Closing your eyes, trying so so hard not to combust on the spot.

Without you realising, Wanda had taken your phone and increased the vibration setting to the second highest.

“Holy fuck.” You eyes widened as your chest started heaving, gripping the bedsheets even more.

“What’s wrong kotenok?” Wanda asked with faux concern. Running her finger up and down the side of your arm.

“Nothing. Just.. p-please leave. I’d like to be alone right now” You said, not looking at either of them in the eye. Trying so hard not to come right there. The vibrator inside you not doing you any favours. Why the ever-loving fuck did you not lock the door. You were going to kill Tony and his stupid AI.

“Are you sure you want us to leave, malyshka?” Natasha asked sweetly, looking at you as if she was going to eat you up-

Nope. Nope. You can’t think like that. You weren’t going to last and thinking like that definitely wasn’t going to help things.

“Holy fucking shit” You exclaimed, as the vibration jumped even higher. (Thanks to wanda. Not that you knew anyway)

“You know..” Wanda started

“If we did leave right now.. there’s something that we wouldn’t be able to tell you” Natasha continued.

Trying hard to control your breathing but failing. You were so close. You looked up at them in question.

They both leaned right next to either side of your head, their warm breath tickled against your neck.

“This is what we wanted to tell you” Wanda whispered

Natasha looked at her smirking and bit your neck.

“Come for us, baby” Wanda stated right next to your ear.

That’s it. That’s all it took. With a scream, you came. Your back arching, waves of pleasure leaving you writhing on the bed as they both helped keep you still. You just kept on coming, screaming their names until your voice gave out.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for us” Natasha praised against your ear, earning a loud moan. The vibration just didn’t stop, and soon enough, you were coming again. This time however, the vibration stopped.

You felt like you were about to pass out until you realised where you were and whom you were with.

Your eyes shot open as you began to apologise when you saw their hungry looks. Your words died in your throat. That’s when you saw your phone in Wanda’s hand.

“You- you di-“ you started weakly

Wanda shushed you.

“Just enjoy this sweetheart.” She said as she stroked your forehead.

“You’re not upset?” You asked feeling vulnerable.

“No, baby, we’re not upset. We were deciding to how to tell you that we feel the same way when Wednesday told us you were calling for us.” Natasha said

You blushed, turning your head into the pillow and groaning in embarrassment before you turned your head in shock at the two of them.

“Wait. You like me?” You asked, hopeful

“No baby” Wanda said chuckling.

Natasha slapped her arm when she saw your hurt look and hurriedly continued. “What she means is that we don’t like you, we love you”

Your lower lip trembled as you looked at them.

“I love you so much too” you whispered, each hand caressing their cheeks. Your heart melted when they both simultaneously nuzzled into your palms.

Unable to hold herself anymore, Wanda practically fell on you as she enveloped you in a hug, only pulling back when you let out a loud squeak. She looked at you in concern.

Your face burned as you explained “It’s.. um.. it’s still inside me”

Both of them looked at each other and laughed, much to your embarrassment.

“Guess we’ll have to do something about that” She replied with a smirk, slowly leaning towards your face.

You were going to kill Tony. Maybe just hug him too.

X—X—X—X—X

I’m not a writer and definitely haven’t done this before. Pls tell me if you liked it and all thank you for reading.

#Wanda Maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff smut #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha romanoff smut #Wanda maximoff #Natasha romanoff #marvel #avengers #mcu

367 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 6 months

Text

everyone but her pt.37

Summary: Wednesday knows, without a doubt, that you weren't the suspect everyone thought you were. And your date nights were getting rather interesting, but she's not entirely convinced about this new date idea.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, grief, past trauma, child abuse (in the past) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Don’t even think about it.”

Wednesday sighed and pulled her hand back from the bag you were refusing to let her carry. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because you were being chivalrous. It was the second week after your therapist had gone missing, and you were still upset with her. She didn’t like it.

“I have already apologised,” she said as she walked behind you. “What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said in a faux sing-song voice that she had heard you use with Ash before. “Maybe to have my girlfriend not assume I’m stupid enough to kill my therapist?”

“No one has claimed you were stupid,” she said.

“And yet no one has agreed that I wouldn’t kill my therapist,” you finished a little too quickly.

She followed behind you, trying to open the door but you wouldn’t move aside for her. Instead, you turned the doorknob with your elbow after more than a few failed attempts and entered the apartment. At least Wednesday had the opportunity to close the door behind you both.

“No one believes you killed him,” she said as she tried to help you put up groceries. All it took was one look before she stepped back. If you were determined to be so stubborn, then she was determined to let you.

“Oh yeah?” You said; you practically threw the apples into the fruit drawer. “Because Bianca didn’t seem too disbelieving of it.”

“Bianca is ignorant,” she said quickly. “Additionally, she never claimed it was you, simply questioned your whereabouts.”

You threw the milk into the fridge next; Wednesday would need to make sure you didn’t bust the container. “Which I specifically told you before I left the apartment.”

Wednesday wasn’t foolish. Even though she truly felt you were being absurd, she was not foolish enough to continue the argument when you became so agitated. When you placed your hands on your hips and furrowed your brows. She would never claim to be an expert at reading physical cues, but she certainly knew yours. Or at the very least, she knew yours well enough.

“Anger metre?” She asked.

“Immeasurable.” You sighed and looked down at the floor. “An 8.”

Your hands fell from your hips rather pathetically. It was a look Wednesday hadn’t seen since those years at Nevermore. Back when you were a little too nervous to talk to her like you did now. She remembered it vividly; every time you would try to talk back, she would shut you down, and you would stand there awkwardly like a scolded puppy before walking off.

It almost warmed her cold heart to see you hadn’t grown out of it.

“Am I really that untrustworthy?” You asked; your voice was soft. Horrifically so. “Do people really think I would kill someone?”

Wednesday wasn’t prepared for an emotional conversation. She had been attempting to get you to relax about the accusations, but she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could come of it. A foolish thing, she knew; you were becoming more open about your feelings when they upset you so terribly. It was something she had encouraged in you even though she had never truly thought to grow with you in that regard.

There was no better time than the present, she presumed.

“Can we-,” she sighed, blinking twice before looking back at you, “-can we continue this in the living room?”

You raised a brow and tilted your head.

“You’re letting all the cold air out,” she said.

You frowned before your eyes slowly grew larger. It only took a moment before you shut the door to the fridge, stopping the incessant warning beep that came more often than not when you were in the kitchen. She thought back to when it had started; she had lied to you about the electric bill staying steady after you had panicked. Clearly you took bills more seriously than she had previously thought.

After hearing that it was okay, you hadn’t intentionally left the fridge open each time. It was simply how you were; getting distracted, finally free of the constant nagging and worry about the bills. Yes, Wednesday should have known you would be hyper-aware of such a thing, but she hadn’t imagined you would lose your focus that quickly.

“Come on,” you said quietly, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her into the living room.

Your hand was warm in hers. Even after all this time, after so much physical contact with you, your body heat would surprise her. There was no reason, she had grown accustomed to it long ago. Whether it was simply your hand in hers, your hand pressed against the small of her back, or your body curling around hers at night. You were warm, almost painfully warm, and it was sensational.

Wednesday sat on the couch opposite you, turning just enough to face you. On the other side, you crossed your legs on the couch, looking like an overgrown child. Or she supposed it was more reminiscent of a rather large dog not understanding quite how large they were. Behind you, your wings strained against the confines of not only the loosened harness, but the jacket you had yanked on earlier in the day.

“Do you think I would kill someone.” It wasn’t so much a question anymore; any hesitancy in your voice had long faded. “Be honest.”

Yes. Yes, she did believe you would kill someone. She remembered the fear and anger in your eyes back at Nevermore when that rogue werewolf had gone after you and Eugene. If it had gone after Eugene, you would have killed it without a moment’s hesitation. Add on to that the looks she had seen you give others who attempted to harm - whether emotionally or physically - any of your friends? Yes, she believed without question that you would kill someone.

But not, however, without reason.

“No,” Wednesday lied effortlessly.

“So you believe I didn’t do it?” You asked. “There’s no doubt in your mind that I’m innocent?”

“In this instance, yes.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. There was an unusual relationship surrounding the both of you and your criminal proclivities. While you wouldn’t fault the other for their activities, you were both incredibly willing to tell the other one if they’re guilty. For instance, you had acknowledged her grave digging scandal from last year. Not with shame, but admiration. On the other hand, she would not hesitate to remind you of your underage, international murder scandal.

It was an exceptionally beautiful relationship.

“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” You asked, doe eyes looking up at her through your eyelashes. A faux innocence that did wonders for Wednesday’s imagination.

She shifted in her seat and inhaled deeply. “I taught you better than to leave evidence behind.” You snorted with laughter. “Leaving behind an entire foot is an amateur move at best.”

“And here I thought you’d say I was too kind for murder,” you said.

Wednesday would have been content to allow the conversation to end as it was. As long as you believed she had faith in your innocence, there wasn’t much else to say. Your anger had appeared to dissipate and there was no need to dwell on the topic. After all, as long as she believed you, could you really be all that upset?

But you still didn’t move from your spot. In fact, you didn’t even move to grab the remote, or to put on some sort of noise in the background of the usual apartment noises. You simply sat there, legs crossed, playing with your fingers. Dread welled up in Wednesday’s chest; she knew those mannerisms.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out long enough for Wednesday to feel not only dread, but pure horror. “Wanna hear my new date idea?”

She sat up straighter, eyes moving around the apartment for nothing in particular. Oh. Well, that wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.

You waited for her to nod once. “Remember when I visited Nicky for Christmas?” She nodded again. “Well, I think I remembered something.”

Another pause as you recollected your thoughts.

“He had this notebook,” you held your hands out like you were holding the object, “or I guess it was a journal.” Your hands squeezed into fists. “He wrote everything in it, and I need to go find it.”

“Why would you need a journal?” She asked.

You sighed. “I think he wrote about everything our parents did and I just- I- I need to know.” Your pupils were blown. “I have to know what happened in that house.”

Wednesday still said nothing.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you said, “and I need to know what happened before I lose my fucking mind.”

The skin on your knuckles paled as you continued to ball your hands into fists. Even as her outward demeanour remained the same, Wednesday felt the effects of her heart rate increasing. She hadn’t needed Enid to explain what panicking was, though this was getting dangerously close to falling off the ledge of “panic” and into the pool of “desperation.”

If it had been anyone but you, she would have felt humiliated as she so-eagerly reached out to place one of her hands on top of yours. Her small, cold hand couldn’t cover your entire fist. Yet that didn’t seem to matter when she felt the tendons in your hand ease up, and you quickly turned it over until you could lock fingers with hers.

She would never admit such a thing aloud, at least not to anyone but you, but her chest warmed when she was the cause for your relief. It wasn’t the same warmth she felt for selfish reasons; it was vastly different from when she beat Bianca at a game of wits. This was more encompassing, more… more.

“How does that relate to your date idea?” Wednesday asked.

You looked up at her through your lashes again, though your smile was far more mischievous than earlier.

“Wednesday Addams,” you said in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “would you like to commit a B&E with me this weekend?”

Now that. That was wholly deserving of her own matching smile. You certainly knew the way to an Addams’ cold heart.

—---

It didn’t take long for Wednesday to realise just how long you had been planning this “date,” or at least something similar.

“They’re never home on weekends,” you said when you dropped the both of you into the yard. “They’re always either at the Catskills, or schmoozing their way through the Senate.”

She admired the way your wings tucked against your back. As much as she hated flying, she wouldn’t deny her fascination with the appendages, especially after the fact. Only when they were still could she see the muscle underneath the feathers and skin; muscle that had to be incredibly dense if they could carry you and her without a larger wingspan.

Maybe it was time she strapped you down and studied your musculature again. Clearly you had grown since the last time.

“There’s a risk doing this in broad daylight, is there not?” Wednesday asked when you stopped underneath a window.

You shook your head without looking away from the house. “Everyone in the area is still sleeping off their hangovers.”

“Cameras?”

“Fake.” You finally looked at her, a certain glimmer in your eye that had Wednesday’s stomach twisting into knots. “They always said just the belief someone was being watched was enough of a deterrent.”

“A foolish mistake,” Wednesday mumbled to herself.

“But helpful for us,” you said with a smile. “The window goes to my room,” you said, locking your fingers together to create a makeshift step. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Silent alarms?” She asked as she placed her hands on your shoulders to steady herself. Your muscles shifted underneath your shirt when you started raising her closer to the window.

“Nope,” you said. “They rely on their fake security cameras and Eddy.”

“Who?” Wednesday asked, her hands stilling on the outside lock of the window. She adored you for saving the lock for her to pick.

“Our security guy,” you said. “He’s sweet, but shit at his job.”

The use of the word “our” did not escape Wednesday’s attention as she pulled herself through the now-unlocked window. It wasn’t often that you would lump yourself into the same group as your parents. More often than not, you attempted to distance yourself as much as possible, even going so far as to call them by their first names. Though she supposed, at the end of the day, they were still your parents no matter what they said or did. You loved too deeply to eliminate them completely.

For the sake of easing her curiosity, she slowly made her way around your room even as the gentle flap of your wings could be heard outside the window. The room itself reminded her of her own room back at Nevermore. Almost no personal items, nothing indicative of who you were. The only thing that would indicate anyone had even lived in the room was a singular photo in a frame; a photo of you and Nicky on a sailboat in a time long forgotten.

“Ready?” You asked over the sound of the window sliding shut. “It’s a quick trip down the hall, unless they moved everything to dad’s office.”

There was an air about you as you crossed the room. After Nicky, you had tended to roam, seemingly without any direction. If someone said jump, you would ask how high. But this was different; you looked like you had a mission and there was a clear physical determination in the set of your shoulders and the glint in your eye.

Wednesday reached out to grab your arm. Your muscles were taut, but quickly relaxed when you looked down at her. She hadn’t forgotten what you were both there to do; she was more than aware of the desperation you kept hidden behind a cocky smile.

It did nothing to ease the growing affection she had for you in that moment. Breaking and entering was a good look for you.

All it took was one firm tug on your arm to pull you down to face level. She simply had to lean forward slightly to kiss you. You were always like putty in her hands when she kissed you. In those moments, she swore you would have done anything she asked, no consideration required. It gave her a sense of control that you so often inadvertently took away.

When she pulled away - though, surprisingly, hesitantly - your eyes fluttered before opening fully. Her amazement at your reaction to her never eased over the days. Back at Nevermore, she had fully believed her body would become accustomed to how you reacted; she had never been so grateful to be wrong.

“If only my parents knew I just kissed a woman in their house,” you said softly, your words tumbling from your lips faster than normal. “They would die from shock.”

Wednesday ignored the flutter of her heart. “Lead the way so we can go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a tip of your invisible hat.

You manoeuvred your arm until you could hold her hand, pulling her after you on the way out of your room. Not the best way to stay inconspicuous, but Wednesday had become rather fond of the way her hand felt in yours, so she wouldn’t dare pull away.

The both of you peeked around the doorframe, looking both ways before exiting your room. The house was far too pristine for Wednesday’s liking. How could a family reside in a house with so little belongings? Where was the tapestry of history hanging from the walls? The artefacts that belonged to generations past to symbolise where you came from? Instead they were bare walls, minimalist in a way that even she found tasteless.

It only took a few steps down the hall before you attempted to open the door. The doorknob jiggled, but wouldn’t turn. With a sigh, you pulled Wednesday closer until she had full access to the lock. She was more than aware that you knew how to pick a lock; you had practiced it for weeks after she had mentioned it. But she appreciated your allowing her to have all the fun.

The lock was child’s play; your parents may have been intelligent, but they didn’t appear to take security very seriously. You pulled her with you into the room before turning and closing the door quietly, the click of the lock almost inaudible. She felt the cold air hit her palm as you pulled your hand away.

“Look for a journal,” you said. “A leather one with a black string tied around it.”

You didn’t wait for her to acknowledge your statement before digging around the room. And as much as Wednesday wanted to help, she couldn’t help but watch you. There was a gentleness to your rushed movements, almost as if you were worried you would break something. She knew you still grieved for Nicky even if you didn’t outwardly show it. His items were sacred to you in a way few things were.

“You okay?” You asked, and Wednesday was faced with the humiliation of getting caught staring.

“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound as uninterested as possible. Unfortunately for her, you had broken her emotionless facade years ago.

Unlike your room, Nicky’s held some semblance of life. Select baseball cards were put in small plastic cases and propped up on the dresser. Under his bed was shoebox after shoebox, filled to the brim with comics, toy cars, marbles, and a menagerie of random Lego pieces. Toys that had been absent from your room.

“I can’t find it,” you said once you finished looking through every inch of the closet. “Just his stupid, stuffy clothes.”

Wednesday was kind enough to ignore the jacket you quickly tied around your waist.

“You mentioned it might be in your father’s office,” she said.

You sighed. “I guess I always did want to see what he hid in there.”

You didn’t grab her hand before leaving the room; she was thankful you couldn’t see her frown at the realisation. But she was quick to follow, closing the door as softly as you had. The new wooden flooring was a blessing, being far too new to make a sound when you snuck down the hall.

The hall opened up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. A large grandfather clock was almost directly below, tick tick ticking away; Wednesday couldn’t imagine hearing the sound every single hour of your life. The marble flooring was beautiful with its golden veins, though it was far from her sense of style. It all looked beyond pristine.

How had you ever managed to live in such a sterile environment?

“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing Wednesday’s hand to pull her away from her staring. “I want to get out of here.”

Your grip on her hand was a little too tight for comfort. You would never hurt her, she knew that, but it was certainly pushing the boundary. She tried to squeeze your hand, only barely managing to do so, but your grip lightened almost instantly.

As hard as she tried, there would be no way for Wednesday to know how you felt about being back in the house. You hadn’t let her know much about what had happened before and after the funeral, but she had seen the damage. The weight loss, the jittery movements, the avoidance. She would admit, she couldn’t recall a time where she had felt so uncomfortable in a location.

It was an unusual feeling, wondering how someone else would feel in a certain situation. It settled deep in her stomach, leaving behind a feeling of… emptiness. Was that how you felt, being in your childhood home once again? Knowing that there were no good memories, only sorrow and grief and a void that you could never fill?

“Y/N?”

You froze, standing up as straight as possible. Wednesday often forgot how tall you were; you took to slouching more often than not. She attempted to see who had called your name, but you quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from sight.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” you said softly. Your tone was gentle, almost similar to how you talked with your mother. “I promise.”

“Is that her?”

You squeezed her hand. There was a moment where the air was so thick, Wednesday truly thought she would drown in it. Yet another feeling that she was rather unfamiliar with. It only got worse as you stepped aside, turning your body sideways to keep a strategic position between her and this new guest in front of you.

The woman looked homely. She looked older than Wednesday’s own mother, though not as old as Grandmama Addams; the wrinkles on her brown skin gave it away. Even as she dried her hands on the hand towel in her pocket, Wednesday could tell they were well worn from years of use. And yet she still looked at you with a kindness that Wednesday knew you had never gotten from your own mother.

“Mabel,” you said softly, “this is Wednesday.”

Mabel smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

The statement left an uncomfortable weight in Wednesday’s chest that she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t believe it was because of the statement itself, it was simple enough. No, it could potentially be from the implication? Perhaps it came from knowing that you had talked about her to someone from your past. The same past that she was blind to, that you actively hid from her.

Someone from your past knew about her and it was… frightening.

“We just need in the office,” you said, “and then we’ll be gone.”

Mabel said nothing. She simply stood to the side of the hall, leaving plenty of space for you to pull Wednesday along. There was a moment where Wednesday met her warm brown eyes; they were filled with a look of motherly care. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t touch anything,” you said when you closed the office door. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Wednesday didn’t think she could have searched for anything even if you had asked her to. She couldn’t get Mabel’s eyes out of her mind. There was a horrifying amount of tenderness when she looked at you. Your head had been turned too far, but she could imagine the same sentiment had been in your own eyes.

What a world you had lived in. To grow up receiving care not from your actual parents, but from your brother and the family maid. Now, Wednesday was not overly fond of how her own parents showed their affection; they were too forward and extravagant. That did not, however, change the fact that they loved their children with their entire beings.

She walked forward while you were still digging around. You weren’t touching things, just ghosting your fingers over the spines of books, the shelves, hesitating before pulling open the metal filing cabinets. There was the smallest tell in your actions; your hands shook not with anger, but with fear.

Her feet stopped her in front of a small set of shelves covered in awards and framed newspaper clippings. Your father’s winning cases littered the wall, each seeming to receive a more extravagant frame than the last. But right in the middle of all of them was a singular picture frame, a misfit amongst the glory with its chipped black paint.

It was a family picture of all four of you. The lot was bundled up in winter clothes. Your father held skis in his right hand, and a young you in his left. Nicky stood between your parents, and your mother was looking regal as always. A snow capped mountain made for beautiful background scenery, but that wasn’t what Wednesday was focused on.

You were all smiling.

Your voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, telling her not to touch anything. But who was Wednesday to deny her own curiosity? Curiosity sparked new thoughts, new revelations, and she was never one to deny herself such satisfaction. Besides, you were far too busy with your own search, how would you know if she simply picked up the picture to get a closer look-

-her brain didn’t even have time to process the shock before she felt the chill of winter whipping around her. She couldn’t orient herself properly, but she recognised the snowy mountain in front of her. The peal of laughter brought her spinning head to a halt; it was higher pitched, but she would recognise it anywhere.

You were waddling across the snow after Nicky, hands outstretched in front of you. The look on your face was so genuine, so pure, Wednesday wasn’t entirely sure she had ever seen it on your face in all of her own years of knowing you. It was almost a peaceful aura about you, as if nothing had troubled your young mind just yet. Perhaps it hadn’t.

A little further behind the both of you, your parents stood together, smiling down at you. It was different from the polite, professional smiles she had seen on their faces before. These reached their eyes. If she let her mind stretch reality for a moment, she could almost see… love in those smiles.

“Come on, you two,” your mother said in her slightly accented voice. “Let’s get inside before it gets late.”

“Coming!” Nicky called, letting you chase him as you both ran through the snow that was starting to pile higher on the ground.

Wednesday followed along behind the four of you, keeping her distance for better observation. Nicky was quick to get beside your mother, while you stayed beside your father. His hand grabbed yours gently, dwarfing your entire body beside him. The look on his face would have been precious if she hadn’t known how he ended up treating you.

She stayed outside of the small cabin when you all went inside. It was nothing fancy, nothing that would indicate the small fortune that you came from. Simply a secluded cabin on what appeared to be a secluded mountainside. Wednesday could appreciate the small structure even as she stood by the window, peering in.

There was a small fire on the far wall, and Nicky was quick to shed his winter clothes to sit in front of it. Your father stayed behind, helping you out of the clothes that probably weighed more than you did. It amazed Wednesday how someone so small could turn into the absolute giant that you were in the present.

Your father’s hands were so gentle on your skin. If she didn’t know any better, it would have looked like love. Maybe it was. Perhaps it used to be. Surely there had been a time, much like this, where you had been loved so unconditionally that it reflected off your smile. He was so careful with you, helping you with each layer of clothing as if one wrong move would break you. You were cherished, you were loved, you were cared for.

He helped you take off the last remaining layer aside from your shirt. It stuck to the small coat, pulling up until it caught on your head, and Wednesday felt that uncomfortably familiar weight settle in her chest. Your back, untouched by the traumas of the future, was bare. No wings, no indication of anything that would signify you were anything other than a Normie.

Your parents loved you because you were “normal.”

“Wends?”

The chill of the mountain air disappeared, too quickly replaced by the warmth of your home. It was a painful switch, leaving her fingers tingling and burning at the same time. She pulled her hand back to her side, being careful not to move the picture frame. You were sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, your brows furrowed. The crinkle between your eyes was more prominent than usual.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

She nodded once, hesitantly.

“I can’t find it,” you said with a sigh. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

You didn’t move from the desk, just kept looking at her. And all the while, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her heart started to race. Sitting at that desk, with your back ramrod straight and arms resting on the mahogany wood, you looked like someone who belonged there. A completely different person than the one she had unceremoniously fallen for time and time again.

You looked just like your father.

She would never say it aloud.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #jenna ortega x reader #everyone but her au

331 notes · View notes