superrslut

[superrslut]

Its not a hear me out, its a hold me back😛

my hear me out is katieb the streamer bc omg she’s so fine i need her

[superrslut]

a summary of this user:

[superrslut]

this simple gif makes me so infuriatingly feral

[superrslut]

OH MY GOSH!! This is literally what I needed.

This had me giggling if I gotta be honest😛

Omg please please please fake dating trope with bob reynolds!!!

I beg🙏🙏

I love the fake dating trope with all of my heart and I also love Bob so why not combine???

okay, I’m going to try a bit of a different format here. it’s basically going to be a list of headcanons, but my brain has not been able to formulate a specific story lately. just a cluster of thoughts and random ideas. that being said, I hope you still enjoy!

fake dating bob reynolds would include:

“I could be your date.”

You had just been telling Yelena about a friend’s wedding coming up, and how your friends are always giving you shit for being alone at these things.

And you nearly fucking choke when Bob speaks up from across the kitchen because that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

Bob takes your reaction the wrong way and quickly amends.

“I could pretend, I mean - pretend to be your date.”

And this time, you’re a little better at hiding your reaction (though Yelena clearly sees the disappointment flicker in your eyes) and you plaster on a smile.

“You would do that for me?”

Bob shrugs, “Well, yeah.” And he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You said you don’t wanna go alone.”

And then Bob sees you all dressed up for the wedding, and it’s his turn to nearly choke because yeah, you were cute, and maybe he had an ulterior motive in offering to be your date, but damn, he didn’t know you would look like this.

“Do I look okay?” You ask.

And Bob has to remind himself that this is fake - just pretend, just to keep your friends off your back.

“Yeah,” he stutters out, nodding, “yeah.”

Then you show up at the wedding, and Bob plays his part, and he plays it too damn well.

He's charming and sweet, he never leaves your side, and he even answers all of the "how did you meet?" and "how did you ask them out?" questions without hesitation (because maybe he's thought about it all before).

He even dances with you, and sometimes it's silly and funny, but he holds you through the slow songs too.

And the night is perfect.

Except it's not real.

And he walks you all the way back to your room in the tower and tells you "goodnight" with this shy smile.

You shut the door, and then you're both standing there and staring at the door like it may provide the answer.

Bob can't help it; he knocks a minute later.

And you swing the door open too quickly, making it completely obvious that you were just standing there too.

Before he thinks too much about it, Bob cups your face and tugs you forward to press your lips to his.

It's passionate and sweet and over way too soon.

And Bob is grinning and whispering, "I wasn’t pretending.”

[superrslut]

certified boyfriend material 🙂‍↕️🫶🏻

[superrslut]

me when i dissociate if you even care.

[superrslut]

Oh my gosh this is so good!! I can’t wait for more!!

Merry Christmas | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: After everything that’s happened, you follow through on your promise to spend Christmas with Wednesday and her family.

Masterlist

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I have no idea why I agreed to spend Christmas with the Addams's.

Besides Wednesday, I don't know any of them. I only met them that one time during Parents Weekend, and I'm not sure I made the best impression.

Besides, back then, Wednesday made it crystal clear to her parents that we aren't friends, so what will they think now that we're... together?

Are we together?

I don't know. We haven't made anything official yet, but we are soulbonded so...

Relax.

I stop looking at the landscape flying by outside the window and glance at Thing who's perched on the backseat of the Addams' hearse next to me.

Lurch picked me up from Nevermore two hours ago and while I was disappointed Wednesday wasn't with him, I was consoled by the fact that Thing was.

He explained that Wednesday had intended to come along, just like she'd said in her letter she sent a week ago, but that she'd been too occupied with a fight she had with her mother this morning to come along.

I asked Thing what it was about and he just kind of sighed, or whatever an appendages' equivalent to a sigh is, and signed I'd find out soon enough.

I'm pretty sure it has something to do with me, but there's no point in worrying over it. If they didn't want me at their Christmas, it would have been made abundantly clear.

It must be something else, but like I said, there's no point in dwelling on it.

Making a good impression however...

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little nervous," I admit quietly.

Thing climbs onto my leg and I meet Lurch's eye in the rearview mirror for a moment before looking back at Thing.

There's nothing to worry about. You died for Wednesday. That alone gives you Morticia and Gomez's approval, he taps.

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. He's right, but I'm still nervous. Especially because I haven't seen Wednesday in two months since the semester ended early.

Most students went home, but the few of us who couldn't leave earlier than expected, or not at all in my case, were allowed to stay under the watchful eye of Coach Vlad.

We have written letters back and forth since she still refuses to use a phone, and things have been good between us, but still. I'm nervous to see her again.

Thing pats my knee in a consoling way and signs that we still have two hours to go, so I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.

A grunt makes me snap out of my daze and I open my eyes, realizing I must have fallen asleep because Lurch brings the hearse to a stop in front of a giant manor and kills the engine before getting out and opening the door for me.

Thing stretches, having also slept on my lap, and then shakes himself before jumping out and landing on the gravel driveway with a thump.

I get out of the hearse as well and gape at the manor.

It's three stories high, built from weathered grey stone, with steep gables, tall narrow windows, and walls covered in dormant, frost-laced ivy.

A thin layer of snow dusts everything from the roof to the windowsill and the stairs that lead up to the massive front door.

I expected it to be... darker if I'm honest, but then again, with the Addams' you can never know for sure what to expect.

I knew they had money, for example, but I didn't know they were this rich.

I move to grab my trunk fastened to the roof of the hearse, but Lurch beats me to it.

"Thanks." I reach for it when he sets it down with a grunt, prepared to carry it myself, but he lifts it onto his shoulder like it weighs nothing and turns and makes his way toward the manor. "I-Uh... Thank you."

Thing scuttles after him, and I swallow nervously before doing the same.

An icy wind bites at my cheeks and I'm quick to shove my hands into my jacket pockets right as the front door swings open, revealing Wednesday's father.

"Ah, Lurch. Finally."

The butler bows slightly and brushes past Mr. Addams, vanishing inside the manor with my trunk.

Thing taps my shoe encouragingly without Mr. Addams noticing before greeting him and hurrying into the warmth of the manor himself, leaving me all alone.

"H-Hello," I stutter, slightly intimidated by the deadpan expression on the man's face. "It's nice to see you again. Thank you for allowing me to spend Christmas with you and your family."

Mr. Addams' dark eyes take me in for a second longer before grinning suddenly and pulling me into a hug.

My eyes widen, but I hug him back, the angle of our embrace a little awkward because I'm quite a bit taller than him.

"Anyone who dares to speak their mind in front of my daughter and gets to walk away in one piece is welcome here," he says, which makes me choke in surprise.

How he knows I'm not afraid to disagree with or stand up to Wednesday, I'm not sure but I'm sure Thing has something to do with it.

"Also, you saved my little girl's life, losing your own, if only temporarily, in the process. That makes you family and 'Tish and I will forever be grateful to you."

He pulls back and I blink back the sting of tears behind my eyes. "I... Mr. Addams I don't know what to say," I admit, feeling a wave of emotion rush over me.

I haven't felt like being part of a family in a long time, and hearing someone say I'm part of theirs makes my heart ache.

My parents don't know what happened a few months ago, and neither does Lara. I refused to inform them since it's none of their business and I didn't want to scare Lara.

Coach Vlad also didn't even know who to contact because only Weems had their number and I wasn't about to give it to him.

"Then don't say anything. Also, call me Gomez. I'm sure 'Tish wouldn't mind being called by her first name either. Mrs. Addams is her mother and the devil knows she does not want to be associated with that woman," Mr. Addams says with a twinkle in his eyes, gesturing for me to come inside.

I exhale softly and offer a small smile before entering the manor. Unlike the outside, it's exactly as I imagined. Black wooden floors, candelabras with black candles everywhere and headless black roses in vases.

It smells faintly like smoke and sandalwood and my pendant heats up against my chest when I get a faint whiff of cedar wood as well.

Wednesday.

I unleash my powers a little and focus, smiling faintly when my ears pick up on her heartbeat somewhere in the house.

"Y/N."

My eyes snap up at the sound of Morticia Addams' sultry voice.

She's descending the grand, winding, black marble staircase to my right in a tight black dress and with a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Her eyes are as dark and piercing as Wednesday's and it takes everything in me to hold her gaze.

How on Earth I had the guts to stab Crackstone, but I'm unable to stay calm in the presence of my girlfriend's mother, I have no ideas.

Wait, girlfriend?! Wednesday isn't— We haven't talked about—

"It's good to see you again."

"You too. Thank you for having me," I reply quietly, nervously, trying my best to reciprocate her smile.

Almost as if sensing my nerves, she softens a little and touches my shoulder gently.

"You're very welcome. I hope the drive went well?"

"If by well you mean without incident, then yes. If by well you mean Lurch hitting a pedestrian and blowing up a gas station, then no."

I have no idea what prompted me to say that, but Morticia's eyes glint with delight and I see her sharing an amused look with Gomez.

"Hmm. What a shame," she chuckles softly. "Well then, I'm sure you'd like to freshen up before dinner. I've instructed Lurch to take your trunk to the guest room. It's upstairs, all the way down the hallway to the right."

I dip my chin in silent thanks and go to ask about Wednesday when Morticia seemingly reads my mind, adding, "Wednesday is in a bit of a mood at the moment. She and I got into a tiff earlier, so if you'd prefer to stay in one piece maybe don't go looking for her."

I cringe.

Yikes. So they really got into it...

"O-okay..."

"Don't worry, dear. I'm sure she'll be back to her old, broody self come dinner."

I smile gently, a little worried about Wednesday but also feeling a bit awkward about being caught in the middle of their family drama.

Morticia gestures for me to go ahead and go upstairs, so I do, feeling her and Gomez's eyes on me all the way until I'm out of sight.

I take in the house, impressed by the portraits on the wall and the ornate black carpets that swallow the sound of my footsteps.

From behind one of the doors I pass, I hear classical music and the tell-tale sound of someone hacking away at a typewriter, which makes me smile softly.

Heeding Morticia's warning, I don't dare to knock though. I simply continue walking until I reach the guest room.

I take in the massive bed with the satin sheets and the black drapes framing the floor-length windows.

The grounds outside are covered in the same dusting as snow as the house and driveway and I take a step closer to the window to admire the view.

Past the rolling meadows surrounding the manor I can make out a dark lake, half frozen over. It looks ominous, almost as if wanting to swallow you whole if you get near enough, so I make a mental note not to. I can also make out the edge of a pine forest in the distance and momentarily wonder how big the Addams' property really is. Then, I turn, grab some clean clothes from my trunk, and head to the ensuite bathroom to shower.

The door flies open and I whirl around with a start. I was just sorting through my trunk in search of a sweater to wear over my shirt.

"Wha—Oh. Hi..."

My heart warms at the sight of Wednesday stepping into the room and closing the door behind her with calm, calculated movements.

"I see Lurch didn't run the hearse off the road," she states, her dark eyes settling on me.

I feel a bit of tension radiating off her, so when I cross the room I do so tentatively and with a disarming smile that she doesn't reciprocate. "Was he supposed to?" I joke and much to my relief, the corner of her mouth actually quirks up.

"I have yet to decide," she says quietly when I stop right in front of her. There's still some tension in her shoulders and a crease between her eyebrows but the longer she looks up at me, the longer said tension fades.

Her eyes soften when I raise a challenging eyebrow and I take that as permission to step even closer, slowly bringing my hands up to touch her waist. "Is that so?"

She doesn't answer but blows a sharp breath out through her nose, almost as though trying not to laugh. Her face stays fairly neutral though, and she holds onto my forearms, keeping me from pulling away. Not that I would, mind you.

I realize this is the first time since Crackstone that I'm not seeing her in her school uniform and I take a moment to appreciate her oversized, black, cable knit sweater and cuffed, black jeans. She's also in socks, which is a sight I never thought I'd get to see. It makes her look soft, even though she's the exact opposite. Well, most of the time...

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly when she doesn't say anything for a couple moments. "Your mother—"

"I'm fine," she snaps, only for her eyes to widen in regret a split second later. "I didn't—"

"I know." I pull her closer and lift one of my hands to brush her bangs out of her eyes. "Parents can be—"

"Obnoxious? Self-serving? Wildly out of line?"

I chuckle and nod, lowering my hand once again to hold onto her waist. "Yeah..."

Wednesday sighs, her face softening again as her eyes dart between my eyes and my lips.

I watch her, waiting for her to move with bated breath.

She tightens her grip on my forearms and gets on her tip toes, meeting my eyes one for permission.

I nod, subtly, and close my eyes when she cups my cheeks and closes the distance between us.

It's a gentle kiss, her soft lips moving against mine slowly but surely. Despite it lacking any heat though, it still makes my stomach flip and I can't help the way my fingers curl around the fabric of her sweater.

When we break apart, she rests her forehead against mine and whispers, "Hi..."

I smile without opening my eyes, feeling the pendant around my neck pulse once, almost as if in recognition of my feeling whole again now that Wednesday and I are together once more.

Being apart for the last eight weeks really felt like torture and I realize now how dependent on her presence I've actually become.

"Hello again," I whisper before pecking her lips again. Then I pull back and open my eyes to see a dazed look on her face.

It makes me smile again and I can't help but kiss the top of her head once before wrapping her into a tight hug.

"How's your extended break been so far?" I ask resting my chin on the top of her head.

"Torture," she mumbles against my shoulder. "Just like this hug."

I actually laugh out loud but don't pull away because despite pretending to hate it, Wednesday actually tightens her arms around my neck.

"Sounds like fun." I whisper. I'm actually a little surprised she's tolerating this much physical contact, but then again, who knows how bad her soulbond induced withdrawal symptoms were over the last eight weeks.

I know is she won't be this touchy in front of her family, so I soak it all in while I can.

"I'm assuming Thing told you all about the fight I had with my mother?" she says after a few more moments of silence.

I pull back after leaving one final kiss on her forehead and lead her to the bed, taking a seat on the edge while she remains standing, her hand still in mine.

"No, actually. All he said was you two had a fight," I say, careful not to make it sound as though I'm pushing to know more about it.

"So he can keep his fingers still..." She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment before sitting down next to me, keeping her eyes on our intertwined hands. She fidgets with my fingers, her black nail polish glinting in the low light. The sun began to set and it started snowing while I was in the shower which forcing me to turn on the small lamp on the bedside table in order to see something. I could have turned on the overhead lights, but I've always been a fan of smaller lights since they're not so bright and are easier on my sensitive eyes.

I know Wednesday wants to say something because she keeps fidgeting with my fingers, so I stay silent and take in her side profile, admiring her freckles for the umpteenth time.

"My mother is under the impression that she alone knows what's good for me and what I want," she admits finally, meeting my gaze.

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate but a knock on the door makes her tense and stand up abruptly, putting some distance between us just as the door opens.

"Y/N I just wanted to let you know that dinner— Oh... Wednesday, darling. You're here." Morticia's eyes flicker between her daughter and me.

"Yes, mother. I'm here," Wednesday snaps, her voice cold and void of any emotion.

It's honestly a little impressive how she can switch between moods.

I still have no idea why she's being like this with her mother because yes, I know they've had a fight but I'm still no closer to knowing why than before.

Morticia sighs softly and simply directs her attention towards me. "As I was trying to say, dinner is ready."

"Thank you. We'll be right down," I say with a gentle smile.

She nods and leaves again, leaving the door slightly ajar as a silent reminder not to take too long.

I get up and grab the sweater I was looking for earlier from my trunk before turning to Wednesday who's still glaring at the door with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Come on, let's go eat. If you're still mad at the door later I'll help you break it down." I joke which makes her direct her glare at me and roll her eyes.

She follows me though and even links our pinkies together until we make it to the dining room where the rest of her family is already waiting for us.

I can't sleep. It's almost one in the morning and I'm standing in the Addams' dark living room with a glass of water in hand, watching the snowstorm outside through the big windows.

Dinner was fairly smooth save the dirty looks Wednesday threw her mother every now and then. Gomez kept me engaged in conversation about being an Ægiryn with Pugsley asking questions about my powers every now and then. Wednesday didn't say anything except when asking for some food to be passed to her.

Morticia was also fairly quiet, but I quickly realized it's just the way she is.

I hear the creak of a floorboard out in the foyer, making me tense, but then my ears hone in on a familiar heartbeat which makes me relax once more.

I don't stop watching the snowstorm until Wednesday brushes up against my side.

I look down to find her dressed in a matching set of black silk pajamas. I've seen it before when she came to my room the night I saved Thing after he was stabbed, so I'm not surprised by it. What I am surprised by however is her hair. For the first time ever it's open. No braids or braid, no ponytail or bun. It's gorgeous, framing her face with her bangs perfectly. It's also a tiny bit wavy because of her earlier braids and I can't help but smile at her because it makes her even softer than before.

I know commenting on it, even if it's to compliment her, would make her put it up again, so I don't say anything.

My smile alone makes her squirm the tiniest bit and avoid eye contact so I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her against my side. "Can't sleep either?"

"Mm-hmm." She wraps her arms around my waist and exhales against my collarbone.

It's baffling how physically affectionate she's been since I died and she brought me back, but I'm not complaining. I actually like it a lot, even if she only initiates it when we're alone.

We silently watch the snowstorm for a few moments before she sighs and whispers, "My mother suggested you sleep in my room with me."

"I... What?"

"Thing blabbed about our bond so she insisted."

To say I'm surprised would be an understatement. Morticia wants Wednesday and me to sleep in the same bed? I would have thought it would be the other way around...

So that's what they fought about.

I can't help but feel a twinge of hurt, considering they must have argued because Wednesday doesn't want to share a bed with me, but then Wednesday goes on, much quieter, "I was actually considering asking you when you got here, but the fact that she brought it up..."

I snort and pull her closer. "You didn't want to prove her right."

Wednesday's silence is all the confirmation I need and I roll my eyes fondly. Of course she couldn't ever let her mother think she was right, but then again, I'm sure it has to do with the fact that she doesn't want to be seen this soft and vulnerable by anyone but me too.

"For the record," I whisper, brushing a kiss to her temple. "I would have said yes."

Wednesday freezes for a moment before pulling back and looking at me with an unreadable expression. I smile softly and hold her gaze until she steps out of my embrace, wordlessly grabbing my hand and leading me out of the living room, through the foyer and up the stairs into her room.

I close the door behind us and let her lead me to bed, setting down my glass of water on her nightstand before letting her pull me into bed.

It's warm and smells like her, and I actually shiver when she tugs my arm around her waist so my chest is flush with her back.

Everything's happening so fast, I barely have any time to wrap my head around this sudden step up in physical closeness.

It seems as though Wednesday doesn't care about her mother or her reaction to potentially seeing us like this anymore, so I relax against her and brush my nose against the back of her neck.

It makes her squirm and I hear her heart skip a beat, which makes me smile all the way until I fall asleep.

I wake up to the feeling of being watched and open my eyes slowly. My heart flutters at the sight of Wednesday quickly averting her eyes when she realizes she's been caught and I'm quick to tighten my arm around her, whispering against the side of her head, "Like what you see?"

"Ask that again and you lose your tongue," she snaps. There's no real bite to her tone though, only embarrassment, so I roll my eyes and chuckle, closing my eyes again and settling back in.

Wednesday is draped over me, with her head resting on my chest and her arm thrown over my stomach.

If you'd told me Wednesday Addams could ever be this touchy after our first encounter, I would have had you committed. Now though... My dying and coming back must have really flipped a switch in her.

"Can I ask you something?" I mumble a moment later, trancing gentle circles on her back. It's clear  we're not going back to sleep but that we're going to stay in this moment a little longer.

"That depends entirely on what you want to know," she replies with a teasing edge to her voice that I haven't heard before.

"Okay then," I play along for a second before getting serious. "The bond... What does it feel like for you?"

Wednesday stills completed before lifting her head, prompting me to open my eyes to meet her gaze.

"Why?" she asks, her face blank.

I reach up and straighten her bangs out a little, also running my hand through her hair to tame it a little. "Dunno. Just curious, I guess."

Her eyes stay on me for a second longer before she lies back down, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper she admits, "It calms me... I can sense what you're feeling and every time you're close, I feel this profound sense of being whole."

I take a moment to let it sink in before kissing the top of her head. "Thank you for telling me. I know you don't usually do feelings, so..."

"Bring it up again and I'll make you regret it," she retorts which makes me snort.

"Got it." A beat. Then, "Just so you know, it's the same for me, by the way. Every time you're near, I feel like I can breathe easier."

I expect another sarcastic remark, but surprisingly, Wednesday stays silent.

That is until another thought crosses my mind and I ask, "I've been meaning to ask you since I got here...What did you tell your parents about us? What we are, I mean?"

She shifts and sits up with a sigh, turning to look at me. "I didn't tell them anything."

I frown, a little hurt.

She clocks it instantly. "What?"

I shake my head and sit up myself. It's obvious she's not ready to have the what-are-we talk yet. "Nothing."

I push the comforter off and turn, swinging my legs out of bed. Before I can get up though she grabs my elbow and shuffles over the bed until she's sitting on the edge next to me. "No. What is it? You don't get to just ice me out like that."

I sigh and run a hand down my face. "It's stupid."

"I'm sure it is, but that's not important right now," she says, making me glare at her.

I consider her for a moment before admitting, "I just... What is this?" I gesture between us. "What are we doing? Are we together? Are you my girlfriend? Or—"

"Why would you think I'm your girlfriend?" she cuts in, her nose actually crinkling with disgust at the term 'girlfriend'.

I exhale in disbelief and ignore the way my heart aches.  "Wow. Okay then. Great talk." I go to stand up again, but Wednesday beats me to it, getting up and standing in front of me, blocking my way.

"Wait. That's not—" she shakes her head in frustration "— I didn't mean it like that." Her voice softens and I meet her eyes, seeing genuine concern in them. "I simply wouldn't use girlfriend as a word to describe myself... You're an Ægiryn and we're bonded. That term is just so trivial and doesn't do our relationship any justice."

My eyes widen but she goes on, softly, before I can say anything.

"You are the one constant in this grotesquely unpredictable world. So no, I am not your girlfriend. I'm yours. Period."

I'm yours.

That statement alone knocks the breath out of me. I gape at her, noticing the way her eyes flicker with uncertainty the longer I stay silent so I stand up, leaving virtually no distance between us, before lowering my chin and resting my forehead against hers.

"I'm yours, too," I whisper which makes her exhale shakily, relieved.

She raises her hands to cup my cheeks and kiss me but I lift my head so her lips land on my chin.

She throws me a dirty look and leans up again, but I actually push her back a step with my hands on her hips, saying, "Let's brush our teeth first. No reason to ruin this moment with vomit-inducing morning breath."

She grumbles something under her breath about hygiene and impossibly high standards but agrees with a tiny nod.

I smile and press a kiss to her forehead before slipping past her and leaving her room, heading to my own room to brush my teeth.

I waste no time, brushing my teeth as quickly as I can and even then, when I exit the en suite, Wednesday is already in my room, having already brushed her teeth herself.

I laugh softly at her apparent eagerness but avoid indulging her for a moment longer to grab something from my trunk. It's a small wooden box, the size of my palm and Wednesday's eyes narrow when her gaze lands on it.

"What's that?" she asks.

I smile knowingly and hand it to her, wordlessly gesturing for her to open it herself and see.

When she does, she stiffens at the sight of the signet ring inside. Bewildered and confused, her eyes snap up to meet mine. "How—Where—Why?"

I take the empty box from her after she takes the ring out and toss it onto the bed, closing the distance between us and watching her gape at the ring.

It's the ring with the Stillmark symbol Crackstone stole from that young Ægiryn boy centuries ago. I found it in the Quad right before being taken to the medical ward. It must have been left behind when Wednesday killed Crackstone once and for all, so I took it and held onto it, waiting for this exact moment to give it to her. Not only will it serve her as a reminder of what we overcame, but I thought it might also help anchor her since we know now she's part Ægiryn herself.

Her eyes keep flickering between me and the ring so I take her hand and gently closeted it around the ring. "Merry Christmas, Wednesday."

I'm the only Ægiryn left, so I figured it was up to me to decide what to do with the ring and since I already have a Stillmark, I came to the realization that Wednesday having it would be the only logical conclusion.

Whether she decides to wear it or not is entirely up to her. I just want her to have it.

She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment, and I'm convinced she's about to reject it, but then she tightens her hold on it and kisses me, pulling me down by the back of my neck with her free hand.

She tastes like mint toothpaste and I immediately sink into the kiss, pulling her closer by her waist.

I know this is her silent way of saying thank you, so I let her lead until she pulls back again, which is much too soon for my liking.

I chase her lips, but she's gone in a heartbeat, leaving me dazed and confused until she returns a moment later with a present of her own.

She's also pulled her hair out of her face into a neat, low bun, making me smile fondly.

I love her braids, don't get me wrong, but seeing her with her hair down or up in a bun like right now feels special. It's a part of her I'm realizing not even her family gets to see, which makes it feel extra special.

"Whatcha got there?" I tease quietly, eying the present. It's wrapped in shiny black wrapping paper with a simple black bow tied around it.

She hands it to me wordlessly, shifting somewhat nervously as I slowly undo the tie and start unwrapping it carefully.

"I spent some time reading up on your kind over the last couple of weeks and I thought you might find it useful," she explains when I open the cardboard box, revealing a pair of headphones.

They're black and bulky, similar to the ones I already own, but there's a, tiny but shiny black symbol on the headband, contrasting with the matte finish of  the rest of the headphones.

"That's..." I trail off, astonished.

The Stillmark.

I glance at Wednesday, noting how intently she's watching me before taking the headphones out of the box and putting them on.

Almost instantly, everything goes quiet. I can't even hear her heartbeat any more which makes me pause.

It's so quiet...

I can't remember the last time it was this quiet. My ears are always picking up on things, even if I don't notice them consciously, making this is a relief so unexpectedly pleasant, my eyes actually well up with tears.

I swallow thickly and take them off again, sound flooding my ears once again. I don't mind it though because I can hear Wednesday's heartbeat again, and right now it's a little frantic with nerves.

"Do you like it?" she asks, obviously a little confused by my unshed tears.

I chuckle in disbelief and shake my head. "Do I like it? This is the best gift anyone's ever given me," I admit.

I set the headphones back into the box and set it down on the bed.

"You can also use them to listen to music. The witch I bought them from said they have integrated bluemoon."

"Bluetooth," I correct gently, blinking back my tears and smiling softly. "I love them. Thank you."

Her lips twitch the faintest bit and her cheeks turn an endearing shade of red. Before she can turn away or get embarrassed and turn away, I quickly pull her into a tight hug, bending down and burying my face in the crook of her neck.

She hesitates a moment before hugging me back.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N."

I hum and press a kiss to her neck, making her breath hitch.

Then, a door opens down the hallway, snapping us back to reality. I pull back and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "We should head downstairs to exchange presents with the rest of your family."

She rolls her eyes and glares at the door almost as if imagining her family standing right behind it.

"Must we? I'd rather listen to Enid's soulless pop music."

"Yes, we must," I tease, kissing the top of her head one final time. "Now come on."

She grumbles again and quickly puts her hair into her signature braids before letting out an exasperated sigh and brushing past me, ready to face her family.

‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆ ⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧˚⋆⋅‧

Surprise little update! Did ya miss me? Jk.

This was a request by @rillylogers

If anyone wants to be added to/taken off the tag list for this AU just comment down below.

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308 @trashcannotbealive @gloriousvariant @brocoliisscared @1863rdorv-reader @fck-this-name @iamprodigious @kiwidreamersstuff @rillylogers @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @aka-persephone

[superrslut]

This is so good and so accurate to how Wednesday would act!!

Silent Pulse (W.A.)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Rh-null is the rarest blood type in the world—and the most unpredictable. Its lack of antigens cause potions and curses to act erratically. For this reason, you volunteer to help Nevermore’s advanced hemomagic class with their experiments. But Wednesday doesn’t seem to approve, and she has a good reason not to.

Romantic - Fluff/Comfort - Reader - Slight Angst if you squint hard enough

AO3

The Experimental Hemomagic course wasn’t a very popular elective for the majority of Nevermore’s alumni. You were only in the class so you could share a class with Wednesday.

You probably shouldn’t have chosen your courses based on a small crush, but what’s done is done.

Dr. Cartwright—the class’s professor—was handing out flyers. Volunteers needed.

“These flyers contain details for blood donation. Since our class isn’t approved by the Red Cross or the state of Vermont, we have to experiment through less official means.” He paused, glancing at you.

“You are not required to donate to continue this class. Remember that. But because this class is project-based, it cannot continue without volunteers.”

You read the flyer. ‘Please enter classroom 203 during lunch hours. All blood types are welcomed. Rh-Null is preferred.’ Of course it is. You sigh quietly, looking back up to follow whatever lesson he planned for today.

Practical applications of hemomancy. Wonderful.

.

.

When the class comes to an end, you pack up, the same as everyone else. “Miss L/N, please stay for a moment.” You pause.

Everyone else was indifferent, not caring whether you stayed or not. They all wanted to get to lunch. What you didn’t notice, however, was Wednesday watching Cartwright like he just said something rancid.

“Of course.” You respond, feeling a strange heat at the back of your head. You turn; Wednesday wasn’t just watching, she’s glaring.

‘I’ll be fine.’ You mouth. Liar. She doesn’t mouth it or say it, but you can tell that’s exactly what she’s thinking. You shrug and get up, going to Cartwright’s desk. You hear Wednesday leave.

“At your service, Sergeant.” You try to be nice, like you aren’t bothered by what he’s going to ask.

He just smiles. “I’m sure you’re aware why I asked you here.” You nod reluctantly. How did he even know?

“Your participation would be invaluable. Rh-null in itself is incredible; it bypasses all we know about blood magic. But that’s not all; despite the lack of antigens in your blood, you aren’t experiencing any health complications like a regular person would. That makes your blood extraordinary.”

“Is flattery meant to work here?” You’re still skeptical. It wouldn’t be the first time an outcast tried to gain access to your blood. He smiles again. “It’s your choice. Nothing’s going to be forced on you.”

Wednesday will like it. You think before you can stop yourself. Dammit. You two are supposed to be friends. She barely likes Enid, much less you.

“I’ll consider it. I’ll come by tomorrow during lunch.” He nods. You give him a polite nod and leave.

“Well?” You jump, making a small noise of surprise. “Fuck—don’t do that.” Your hands over your heart. Wednesday raises an eyebrow. She has basically hiding behind the door, waiting.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Wednesday starts walking towards the mess hall, and you trail behind her, falling into the role she’s already written for you.

“Good. It’d be foolish to.” That surprises you; you figured she’d want you to donate blood. “Why?” She scoffs. “Your blood is invaluable for certain spells. I highly doubt Cartwright will do a good job of protecting your identity.” You consider her warning.

‘You don’t want me to?’ You almost ask. Stop it. She’s trying to be a good friend. “Would be fun though… wouldn’t it?” You ask hesitantly.

She stops. “Do what you’d like.” You pause as well. “Ok.” Your voice is small when you reply. Wednesday keeps walking, and you follow, dropping the subject.

.

.

You lie on Enid’s beanbag. She’s rambling on about her Pinterest; she made a mood board on a ‘Sunshine Werewolf Aesthetic’ or something like that. You’re only half aware of what she’s saying.

Your mind is occupied with what Cartwright said. ‘Rh-null in itself is extraordinary…’ You were born rare.

Telekinesis was amazing, but other students had the same ability. Your blood was the only thing that separated you from them.

You hiss. “Wake up.” Enid poked you with one of her claws. “That hurt a lot more than I would have expected it to.” She grins, flopping onto the beanbag next to you.

“So… Someone told me about Cartwright’s volunteer flyers. I was thinking of donating some of my own, but I’m O positive so I’m sure he already has a lot. What about you?” You shrug, moving your arms above your head and linking them. “I don’t know yet. Would be cool to see how the spells react.” Enid already knows about your blood; she was there when Wednesday ran tests on it when she saw you bleed golden blood while fencing.

Cheeky bastard.

Enid hums. “I think Wednesday’s planning Cartwright’s funeral. I saw her looking at that little graveyard model you made her; she still updates it.” You begin to smile, but then you pause.

“Really?” She grins. “Mhm… told you she thinks of you as a friend.”

The model—you made her a graveyard model out of Legos. ‘For your murder plans.’ You told her. ‘So you always know where there’s an empty spot.’

Wednesday’s plan to commit premeditated murder on your behalf caused a concerning but not unwelcome warmth to your chest. It’s almost uncomfortable.

You let out a puff of air. “Mmm, I think I’ll try it. Maybe the experiments will be fun.” Enid hums in acknowledgment and starts rambling about her Pinterest again. This time you pay attention.

.

.

The next day during lunch, you find yourself outside Dr. Cartwright’s door. You knock faintly and open it. The cold air surrounding you smells like antiseptic. The professor is sitting at his desk writing down student information. Probably other volunteers.

“I wouldn’t mind donating.” He looks up from the papers. He doesn’t seem surprised, like he knew you would come.

“Miss L/N, nice to see you. If you truly want to donate, I’d be happy to do so now. This way we can experiment tomorrow.” You nod hesitantly. “How much would it be?”

He replies quickly, “Absolutely no more than one pint a day. Since you’re not fully grown, I’ll only take half a pint.” You nod. “That doesn’t seem like enough for so many students.”

He grins, “Don’t worry Miss L/N, each experiment should only use a drop, maybe a little more, for full effect.” He gets up, gesturing to you to sit at one of the front desks.

You hear a cabinet open as you find your seat. A few moments later he sits next to you with some supplies.

When the half-pint bag is filled, he expertly puts a cotton ball and gauze on the incision site. “All done. You can choose to donate more in 3 days if you wish.” “Alright.” And that’s the end of it. You get up and leave, meeting Enid and Wednesday in the cafeteria.

“Hi.” You say a small greeting as you sit down at the table. Wednesday sees your bandage, and her jaw clenches down slightly.

“Oh my gosh, how was it?” Enid seems happy. “Normal. It was just a donation.” You shrug. It really wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“How much?” Wednesday asks. “Half a pint.” She doesn’t respond, just looks back at her meal. Enid starts to rant to you, and the day continues just as it would normally.

.

.

“Hey Y/N, can you pass me the mint green?” Enid asks from her desk. You hum and make the nail polish float towards her–

CRASH

Glass shatters on the hardwood, the nail polish splattered around.

“Oh shit–I’m sorry.” You start apologizing. “Woah woah woah, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Enid reassures you. “That’s never happened before, has it?” You shake your head, already reaching for something to clean up the mess. “Shit.” Thankfully your backpack has some napkins from yesterday’s lunch.

“Least it wasn’t on the carpet.” You say, trying to calm yourself. Enid scoots back from the mess on the floor.

Enid grabs a napkin and helps you clean up some of the drops that splattered away from the main mess. “Are you okay? You look sick.” You puff out a breath of air, thinking.

“Thanks for the compliment.” You reply absentmindedly. When you stand up your vision clouds slightly. It’s not unusual for that to happen sometimes, right?

But your telekinesis has never done that.

Enid reaches for some of the glass. “Don’t cut yourself.” You say without thinking, already reaching to grab it yourself. She grabs the big piece of glass anyways and gets up to throw it away.

“I think we have a broom in Wednesday’s closet.” You grin, “Is that her midnight ride?”

“No, but we could test it if you repeat yourself.” You don’t even have to turn to know who it is. “Bummer. Suits you.”

Her eyes flicker to the shattered glass on the hardwood. “What happened?”

“Well you see, gravity causes-“ Enid smacks your shoulder. “She was making it float and it dropped.” Enid helps you scoop the glass into the dustpan.

You can feel Wednesday’s gaze lingering on you. You try to ignore it while you throw away the soiled napkins, but your chest decides to tighten anyway.

“Did you eat? Water?” You hear her ask. “Yes?” She doesn’t answer. If she nods you don’t see it—because the moment you look back at her she turns and walks to her side of the room.

.

.

So far you’ve only donated blood for Cartwright’s class twice. Once Tuesday of last week, and on this week’s Monday. You thought donating blood once every few days would be fine, but now it’s Thursday and your powers are still weak.

You sit at your usual lunch table with Wednesday and Eugene. Enid went off somewhere with another group which wasn’t unusual. She still needs gossip for her blog and of course she wants to be around her pack.

Your vision feels slow, like your brain isn’t registering it as fast. Maybe you didn’t sleep enough last night. You stayed up watching a new show and fell asleep at 2AM. Yeah, that’s probably why.

“Stop staring at me. You’re creepy remember—or am I that beautiful?” Wednesday’s been looking at you since you’ve sat down. But it’s more of a glare than a look of concern.

“I’m searching for symptoms of hypovolemia.” She ignores your comment. Eugene tunes in. “Oh yeah, you’ve been donating haven’t you?”

You nod. “Hypo- what?” You don’t hear Enid behind you until she says “AHH” and grabs your shoulders. You jump. “Dammit Enid.” She sits down next to you.

“Low blood volume causes weakness and dizziness.” Wednesday looks at your hands. “And loss of fine control.”

She looks up at you. Her gaze strong enough to kill you if she willed it, but maybe that’s just because she’s looking at you. “You have to be monitored.”

“She’s just worried you’re going to paint our dorm’s floor pastel again.” Enid teases beside you. “Do I hear a volunteer?” You ask, Wednesday doesn’t seem amused.

“I never specified that you had a choice in the matter.” Enid snickers, a heat creeps up your neck. You end the conversation there.

.

.

By Friday your movements still feel sluggish, like your head isn’t quite there. It’s only 2 donations a week—one on Monday and one on Friday—spaced out just like Cartwright promised.

Wednesday is waiting for you outside his class. She’s leaning beside the door like a guard. You ignore the faint hum in your head.

“I’ll be here when you’re done.” It’s not a question, not even a command. Ever since lunch yesterday she’s been monitoring you.

Commenting on your clear signs of low blood volume. How you press on your temple when you think nobody’s looking, or how your powers slip last second when you carry your phone towards you. How the paper cut you got yesterday hasn’t healed yet despite your enhanced healing ability.

“Yes sir.” You mumble and enter the class. Pretending to not be shaken by her eyes burning into you. That her presence itself doesn’t make your chest feel odd in ways you can’t explain.

When you come back out—sure enough, Wednesday is waiting in the same spot you left her in. “Wens, I’m fine.” It comes out softer than you intended.

“Your color’s off.” It’s a simple statement—clinical even. There’s nothing intimate about it, so why does it feel like it is?

You sigh quietly. Wednesday doesn’t comment, she just starts walking knowing you’ll fall in behind her. You always do.

.

.

It’s Saturday now, Enid invited you over to study for Monday’s English exam. Frankenstein.

You float your pen in the air, flipping it. It feels heavier than usual. You walk around Enid’s side of the room, it helps you concentrate.

Enid’s rambling about the creature, how his creator just left him like a newborn being left at an orphanage in an oldies movie.

You’re about to respond to something she said but something feels off. Your head starts ringing—loud. Then the edges of your vision blur, like a photo that isn’t fully developed. You close your eyes trying to steady yourself, reaching for her nightstand.

You have a faint memory of someone running to you. You’re on the floor, leaning against the nightstand. Why is it so loud?

Fuck can someone stop that ringing. Shit. And why is it so bright?

You can hear someone talking but it’s muffled. Your eyes are open, you know they are, but there’s black dots everywhere like you looked at the sun too long.

“Y/N.” Wednesday. You understood that. You can feel her hands on your face, your heart beating weird.

You hum a response, still dizzy. “I’ll get her water.” It sounds like Enid. “Look at me.” You try to focus your eyes on Wednesday’s face. You try to blink the dots away. Enid comes over with a bottle of water.

Wednesday makes you drink it. After a minute they can see your eyes start to focus. “How many times?” You hear Wednesday ask. Your vision comes back just enough to clearly see her.

“Monday and today.” Your reply sounds weak, almost empty. Her jaw flexes. “And you think that’s acceptable?” She sounds angry. I just wanted you to have fun. You think.

They give you a minute to catch yourself. “Ok. Ok, I think I’m good now.”

“You’re not donating anymore.” She pushes hair away from your face. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Just give me a bit.” You mumble, still a bit drowsy.

“You’re telling yourself what you want to believe.” Her voice is still stern, but her voice is softer now. “You were wrong.”

“C’mon, let’s get you off the floor before I have to be an alibi.” They help you up. You stumble slightly as they help you onto Enid’s bed.

You try to ignore the warmth building up on your face. Wednesday’s hand is still secured behind your head. She makes you lay back on Enid’s heart pillow.

You see Enid hesitating. You know she was planning on hanging out with Yoko later. “Go Enid, I’m fine.”

“She’s not.” Wednesday says quickly, looking back at Enid. “Go, I’ll watch her.” Enid nods hesitantly. You close your eyes when Wednesday hands you another water bottle. You hear Enid move around the room as you drink the water.

Before she leaves you open your eyes and look at her. ‘Good luck.’ She mouths. You give her a lazy thumbs up as she closes the door behind her.

The room goes quiet after the door clicks. Like a forest when it’s waiting for a predator to strike. Maybe I should try to make a joke?

“You don’t have to guard me Wednesday. I think I’m retiring from dramatic dizzy spells.” Her expression stays the same. “No. You’re staying where I put you.”

Your face feels slightly warmer. You ignore it—try to at least. “Bossy much?” She gets up and goes to Enid’s desk. She sits on the chair but spins around to look at you, arms crossed.

“Look, I’m fine Wednesday, really. I’m choosing to donate-“

“Well your choice is flawed.” Her tone is flat but just as sharp. “I can decide for myself Wednesday.” Your voice is defensive.

“No.” You freeze. “You are not donating again.”

You want to argue—you do—but when you look at her you just, stop.

The icy expression she usually wears is gone. Her jaw is tighter, movements far more calculated. Like she’s waiting for something to happen.

“Ok.” Silence fills the room again. It's not comforting, it’s loud, and it’s heavy.

She looks down. She turns and grabs whatever book she can find on Enid’s desk. Frankenstein. You almost laugh but you can’t find it in yourself to move. “I’m tired.” You mumble.

You don’t remember what happens next, just that you wake up in Enid’s bed. The digital clock on the nightstand says 8 PM. Two hours. You’ve been asleep for two hours.

“I’ve decided.” Wednesday says after a minute. “You stayed.” You tell her. She’s still sitting in the chair. From what you can see, she hasn’t progressed through the book. At least not enough for it to be noticeable.

“I told Enid I’d watch you.” She doesn’t look up from the book. You study her, her eyes haven’t moved much. Is she even reading?

You hum. “I thought you meant until I fell asleep, or I left.” She finally looks up, closing the book. She wasn’t reading.

“That would be pointless. You’re most vulnerable when asleep, and I wouldn't have let you leave. Not in your condition.” She turns around in the chair, setting book down and turning back to face you.

You move your head back against the pillow. “So you watched me sleep? What if I started snoring? Like, full blown middle aged man snoring.” You turn your head to look at her.

Her response is quick. “You didn’t.”

“You would’ve told me if I did?”

Her eyes narrow. “I would have documented it, for future leverage.” Wednesday’s answer makes you smile. “What did you decide?” You say, sitting up.

Wednesday stands up and hands you a snack bar. Where did she even get this?

“Cartwright. Bloodletting seems like a fitting punishment.” You laugh nervously. This wasn’t really Cartwright’s fault, he probably thought your quick healing would prevent this.

“Wednesday that’s not-“ She shakes her head. “Only if necessary.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re inconveniently important to me.” Your mind goes blank. She looks away from you.

“Ok. I’ll tell him I’m out on Monday.” She nods. ‘Inconveniently important’ You know better than to mention it.

.

.

When Monday comes Wednesday personally monitors your conversation with Dr. Cartwright after class. She’s subtle, staying behind like she’s just moving slower than usual. Her eyes linger on you in front of Cartwright’s desk.

She can’t hear what’s being said—not clearly. But she catches the ‘of course’ from Cartwright and moves towards the door.

You fall in behind her. She comes to a stop when you both leave the classroom, the corridor already empty. “Wednesday?” You ask softly. She turns, a small glass jar in her hands.

“Hibiscus tea leaves, for blood circulation.” You take the jar from her when she hands it to you.

“For someone who says I’m an inconvenience, you seem to keep going out your way for me.” She doesn’t reply right away. She takes a step towards you. A small one.

“You aren’t donating again?” Her voice sounds small. Not gentle though—never gentle.

“No. I’m not.” Her stance relaxes slightly. The corridor is silent, but it’s calm. Wednesday leans in and you freeze.

Her lips graze your cheek. “Good.” She pulls back and turns around quickly. She starts walking, knowing you’ll always be behind her.

╰────╮

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: This is definitely the longest work I’ve written so far.

Want more? Wednesday Masterlist

[superrslut]

I literally love Wednesday like this!!

Like Father, Like Daughter| Wednesday Addams

Summary: Grumpy x Sunshine trope but make Wednesday act like her dad.

To the outside world, Wednesday Addams was the picture of composure– dark, sharp, and utterly intolerant of human nonsense. Except when it came to you and that, according to everyone at Nevermore, was both baffling and… frankly, terrifying.

The incident began innocently enough. You were in the quad, chatting with Enid and Xavier about weekend plans when Wednesday appeared out of nowhere, silent as the grave, as usual but instead of her normal curt “hello” or mildly insulting observation, she strode right up to you, took your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“My moonlight,” she said in that low, deliberate tone that made people’s spines straighten. “I counted the minutes until I could see you again. Ninety-seven, to be exact. Each one a dagger to my heart.” Enid’s smoothie straw froze mid-sip. Xavier blinked like he’d just had a minor stroke.

You flushed. “It’s literally been an hour and a half since class.”

“Ninety -seven minutes of exquisite suffering,” Wednesday corrected. “Your absence was an abyss.” Enid mouthed “What the hell?” at Xavier, who mouthed back “I don’t know, don’t look at her, she’ll kill us.”

You tried to hide your smile. “Did you… just walk all the way here to tell me that?”

“No,” Wednesday said, slipping her arm around your waist with a proprietary air. “I also came to ensure no one else has attempted to woo you in my absence. I would hate to have to duel over you again.”

“Again?!” Xavier choked.

Wednesday ignored him, eyes fixed on you like you were the only person alive. “Have you eaten? Slept? Have you been emotionally fulfilled in my absence, or shall I begin making reparations immediately?”

“I’m fine,” you said, laughing softly.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she murmured, brushing a piece of hair from your face like you were some fragile Victorian heroine instead of a fully capable person holding a cup of iced tea.

Enid couldn’t take it anymore. “Wednesday. Are you… okay?”

Wednesday turned her head with glacial precision, fixing Enid with the kind of stare normally reserved for things she wanted to dissect. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just–” Enid gestured helplessly toward you two. “You’re… you know… this.”

Wednesday raised a brow. “You mean I’m expressing my deep, unending affection for the only person whose existence I find tolerable? Yes. Scandalous.”

Xavier muttered under his breath, “That’s not just tolerable, that’s… that’s Shakespearean.”

Wednesday tilted her head at him. “Would you like me to recite Shakespeare to her? I’ve memorized Sonnet 116 for such an occasion.”

“NO!” Enid yelped, before you could say yes. You were blushing now, half from embarrassment, half from the thrill of being the only one who got this side of her. “Wednesday, maybe we should–” you started.

She took both your hands in hers and stepped closer, ignoring the gawking crowd of your friends. “Cara Mia,” she said, slipping into perfect Italian, “you are the marrow in my bones, the ink in my veins. Without you, I am merely a shadow.”Xavier’s jaw actually dropped. Enid looked ready to faint.

Wednesday leaned in, voice dropping to something private and dangerous. “Walk with me before they steal another moment of you.” You let her lead you away, casting your friends an apologetic glance over your shoulder.

Enid immediately smacked Xavier’s arm. “We just saw Wednesday Addams act like Gomez Addams.”

Xavier shook his head slowly. “I need to lie down.”

[superrslut]

Immortal love

Daniel Chester French, 1923

[superrslut]

I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty, just... endless nothingness.

[superrslut]

You: I think I have a stalker.

Enid: oh really?

You: yeah they left this in my dorm this morning *shows a weird creepy picture of you sleeping, with the words ‘I wonder if the darkness within your mind echoes mine, forcing us to be interlinked in a tragic romance’*

Enid: …that’s….nice….totally not weird at all. *looks at Wednesday* I wonder who could’ve done that.

Wednesday: whoever they are, they seem to have a blackened heart and one that only beats for the truly unique. You should be honoured someone who go to such lengths to proclaim their love.

Enid: more like obsession but yeah let’s call it that.

[superrslut]

I NEED THAT

[superrslut]

You just don’t understand.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER 1.06 One World, One People

[superrslut]

Thunderbolts* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier

Behind the scenes with Lewis Pullman

[superrslut]

#Love him

[superrslut]

This is so cute!!! I love how Bob’s love language is acts of service, it’s so him!!!

My Sweet Sunbeam ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x GN!Reader

Summary: Even in the midst of a brutal New York heatwave, Bob can’t help but want to cling to your side. You eventually give in.

Warnings: None, pure fluff!

Notes: Based off this request! I now have a prompt list, so please feel free to come over and request some stuff!

Navigation | Prompt List

The fan is broken. Of course it is.

The thing has been on the brink since last summer, and now it finally gave out at the exact moment it would have been useful. Of course. You’re trying not to be bitter about it, even though your skin is already sticking to the sheets, and it’s barely 8 in the morning.

You lie still in bed, starfish pose, arms flung wide like the shape will make any difference. You hope that the heat will stop clinging to you like wet cotton. It doesn't. Obviously.

And then Bob moves.

You feel him before you see him, you feel the subtle shift in air, the heat of him radiating like a second sun beside you. There’s a groggy sigh, followed by a soft inhale as he reorients to the world, and then the inevitable shuffle of limbs under the thin sheet you both had mostly kicked off sometime in the midst of slumber.

You already know what’s coming. “Don’t,” you warn softly, eyes still closed.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” Bob says, which is technically true but deeply misleading.

“You’re thinking about it.”

There’s a beat. Then, sheepishly, Bob admits, “I am thinking about it.”

You groan into your pillow. “Bob. It’s so hot. I’m going to combust if you touch me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Bob murmurs, lazily rolling over onto his side. You can feel the heat of him even before he’s touching you. Bob Reynolds runs hot as a furnace. Not in the cozy sense, or at least not at this time of year. There’s something in his physiology, some quirk of power or biology or whatever Valentina refuses to answer when she gets asked, but the point is, love it or hate it, Bob’s internal body temperature is not normal.

It’s like cuddling with an oversized golden retriever made of pure, relentless sunlight. It’s great in the winter. In December, you cling to him like a space heater. In January, you curl against his chest, bask in the warmth like a sleepy cat, and thank the Gods for your ridiculously overpowered boyfriend.

But right now? In July? With no AC, a dead fan, and 92% humidity? Not ideal.

“Bob,” you warn again, but it’s too late. A large hand splays across your back. Not even subtly. He commits to it. You yelp.

He flinches. “What?! Are you okay?”

“You’re boiling!”

“You’re exaggerating, you dramatic little-“

“I dare you to finish that sentence, Bob!”

Bob has the audacity to laugh. It rumbles in his chest and borderline vibrates through the mattress.

“You’re being mean,” Bob says, and you can hear the pout in his voice. He’s got that wounded golden-boy tone he uses when you tell him he can’t microwave marshmallows again. “You always let me cuddle you in the morning.”

“Not when I’m melting!”

“But I missed you…”

You groan again, flipping over and squinting at him with half-lidded eyes. He looks unfairly soft, his hair messy and sunlit, eyes still bleary with sleep, the bare slope of his shoulder visible under the sheet that’s barely hanging onto his frame. His skin’s already warm enough to shimmer.

You can’t prove it, but you’re 80% sure Bob’s body temperature goes up when he’s emotionally clingy. Like his subconscious tries to swaddle you in affection and warm, sweet, cozy, but relentless, love.

“You saw me last night.” You try not to smile. You’re failing.

Bob frowns. “But I didn’t get to hold you. You said it was too hot then too.”

“Because it was! We’re in a heatwave! I was sweating just looking at you!”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Bob insists, propping himself up on one arm, all golden skin and soft lines. “You’re acting like I was going to climb on top of you and suffocate you or something. I was just going to,” Bob makes a vague flailing gesture, “Like… super gently drape.”

“Bob.”

“Like a blanket.”

“You’re a human sunbeam, you nightmare.”

He grins, wide and unrepentant. “A sunbeam full of love.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not cuddling you.”

Bob tilts his head. “Just a little?”

“No.”

“Just one arm, then?”

You stare. Bob shifts closer anyway. Slides his arm beneath your shoulders, snaking it under your neck, and you don’t stop him, not really, because it’s Bob, and he’s warm and safe and has that look on his face, like holding you is the only thing anchoring him to the world. It’s not fair, honestly, how good he is at that expression.

“You’re doing the whole puppy eyes thing again.”

“It’s not a thing,” Bob mumbles pathetically, curling his fingers lightly into your hair. “This is my face.”

You grumble. “Your face is manipulative.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he says, “You love my face.”

You do. Painfully so. Against all better logic and the laws of thermodynamics, you let your body sink a little further into his side. Bob immediately hums, content, his arm looping fully around your waist.

“I am sweating,” you inform Bob, accusingly, as if that might change anything.

“I’ll get you water in a minute,” Bob whispers, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Just this, right now.”

Just this. You sigh, closing your eyes. The air is stifling. The ceiling fan turns lazily overhead, doing nothing. Your skin is hot. Sticky. But, Bob is steady. He always is. A comforting presence. You feel the warmth of his chest rise and fall, slow and steady. And even with all the sweat and heat and your overwhelming need to crawl inside of a freezer, you find that don’t want to be anywhere else.

“I swear,” you say finally, “if I die of heatstroke, I’m haunting you.”

Bob huffs a laugh, almost half-asleep again. “As long as you cuddle me in ghost form.”

“You’re hopeless.”

Bob grins, eyes closed. “I’m in love.”

It’s not the first time he’s said it, he’s said it a hundred times before, in the quiet between battles and the grocery aisle and once while brushing his teeth like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Every time it hits different. You twist your fingers gently into the fabric of his shirt, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too. Even if you’re a disgustingly warm cuddle beast.”

He smiles against your hair, letting out a childish, amused chuckle. “You said cuddle. You love me.”

“Shut up and go back to sleep, Sunbeam.”

You end up napping like that. It’s not practical. You’re sweaty and tangled, and at one point your arm falls asleep and you wake up with pins and needles and Bob, horrified, borderline yells a very concerned “Did I break your arm?” like the drama king he is. But, you survive, just barely.

And when you finally do get up, he keeps his promise. Gets you water. Fills the freezer with popsicles. Fixes the fan, or rather, replaces it entirely with some souped-up old Stark tech monstrosity he ‘borrowed’ from HQ and insists is ‘energy efficient’. You roll your eyes. But, you let him install it. Then, you happily let him bring you a bowl of chilled grapes and kiss your wrist where the pulse beats, soft and quick and alive.

And when night falls and the heat is still clinging to the walls like static, Bob reaches for you again.

He’s warm. You don’t protest.