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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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Inej Ghafa x gn! Reader - One deep breath

A/n: you fuckers are lucky, i'm so sick right now but I decided to post anyways

Request: tumblr ate it, sorry anon, the request went something like: Inej and reader dancing around their feelings for each other

Warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of homelessness, mentions of gangs, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, death, swearing, there is religious imagery if you squint (not christian), I think that's it? You have been warned!

The Three P's: [Pronouns used: you/your] [Pov: 2nd person] [Pairings: (romantic!) inej x reader, (platonic!) crows x reader]

The flowers took up root in your lungs before you began to violently cough them out. You curse as they come out of your throat, chocking you to the point of nausea. Tears fill your vision, and you swear at the saints when you see purple geraniums cover your hands and bed.

In the dead of night you'll slip out of the Slat using the very skills of the person who's killing you and go to a cemetery south of there. It's a quaint little thing, meant for the middle class people in Ketterdam, people who aren't poor enough to be barrel rats, but aren't rich enough to be sleazy sloths. Comfortable.

The grass there is soft, and the dirt warm, the perfect place to plant your geraniums.

Or maybe they were hers.

By day you would collect every flower, washing off the crimson from the purple and by night you would plant them. You planted them in an empty corner of the burial ground. It was nice, and pretty, as a pretty as her eyes. Meaning it was pretty enough to be buried there.

Inej was your dawn, she's what got you to the Dregs, out of your homelessness and back on your feet. Simultaneously she will also be your death, as she sails away on her ship, but comes back often enough for your stupid heart to yearn. Saints, you hate the yearning.

Saints, you hate the saints.

She's coming back again today, she'll be coming back later in the afternoon. Probably closer to midnight, in your bones you feel it might be your last. The flower stems take control of how much air gets in and out, and all you can smell around you is summer.

Inej's mother was right about them smelling like the sweet summer air, but now it wasn't sweet. It was a pounding in your head, a knife to throat, yet it reminded you of her. Of your sweet Inej, and despite the sea now staking it's claim over her scent, she still could smell like the summer air when she was happy. Genuinely, undeniably, happy. You didn't want it to disappear, and you would die because of that. Because you wouldn't let the shadow go, you wouldn't let the untouchable Wraith out of your desperate grasp.

As your time ticked by Inej had climbed into your room in the Slat through your window. The only reason you noticed she was there was the now obvious pattering of the rain outside and the fact that she was looking at you through your mirror across from your bed.

When your eyes met your lungs contracted painfully as those eyes full of everything good in this world enchanted you further into your delusions. They observed every part of your soul, and you couldn't help but look away before you would have to cough up a new round of purple petals.

"Hello, Y/n." She whispered as she came up to give you a friendly hug from behind, her arms wrapping around your middle "I missed you."

Saints, you wished she meant it in the way you did, because you had missed her in ways she wouldn't even be able to comprehend. You missed the burning of your lungs from being in her presence, you missed the way the blood would flow from your lips, because then you knew she was near. Inej wouldn't ever know that loving her was the same as suffering, that every time she looked at you, your chest would heave and you would smile at the clear malice of being in love with her.

Some part of you wanted this to all end, maybe if you had moved away from here, from her, so she could never find you then. But your heart has learned that a life without the Wraith, is not one worth living, so you'll take the flowers in exchange for seeing her.

Even if your life is to end, you'd rather take her pain, than leave, and take her love, because when you've lived for so long doing the same thing you get comfortable. The pain gives you solace, consolation that you won't ever have to see life without her, even if yours is too short for comfort.

"I missed you too." You nuzzle your head into her neck, your whispers the only sound other than the rain. Ketterdam for once is quiet, as if even she knows what is to come. "Tell me about your trip." You ask, as if it were any other normal night.

She grins and launches into a whole story about the new slavers she had been hunting, and some of the new recruits on her ship. Her stories took many twists and turns, and often they were long, but you would listen even if they went on for hours. During the time she was telling her tales of the sea, you two had drifted over to your bed, where you both now sat comfortably. Side by side, knees touching, bodies leaned forward, faces almost touching.

If you didn't know any better you would say you looked like lovers, but you did know better.

Eventually, it all comes to an end when her account of her sailing activities had finally dwindled away. All your left with is her goodbye, and those goddamn eyes, staring straight into your soul.

"Get some rest too, Y/n, it seems like you need it." She comments before she leaves.

You only roll your eyes at the Suli Girl. "If you insist."

I love you.

"Goodbye Inej."

As soon as she leaps from the windowsill you're on the floor coughing, more and more flowers, more than ever before. Purple geraniums flood your lungs and all you can think about is her.

_____________

Inej couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong when you didn't see her off when she left the next day.

She's felt like something has been bothering you for a while now, but she could never pinpoint what the problem was. Now she was back at sea, feeling as uneasy as ever, and she just couldn't shake off the feeling. That something just wasn't right, that there was something she had missed. It was as if she'd seen a shooting star in the sky, but turned around to view the moon instead.

Decidedly, she followed her gut, and her crew was now docking the decks of Ketterdam once more, and much more earlier than the last time.

When the Slat came into view, she noticed there were no lights in your room. Perhaps you were still sleeping, or maybe you were on a job.

Maybe her little lover is sick.

Although when she finds no trace of you in your room, her unease grows, finally she goes down to the crow club to try and find Kaz and see where he might know where you are.

His answer is not the one she is expecting.

It's not one she would ever dream of hearing.

"Y/n's dead," He spoke flatly, but even he, couldn't keep the grief from his voice. "They had the hanahaki disease, and chocked to death." He hands Inej a note, addressed to her. "Wylan found this when we were trying to figure out what killed them."

You were dead? But that wasn't possible! You couldn't be- you couldn't-

Snatching the letter out of Kaz's hands she begins to read, albeit with trembling hands, making everything so much harder than it already was.

Dear Inej,

If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. This letter is for you, to let you know that none of this is your fault.

I'm sorry that this is the way you found out, but it was always meant to end this way. Your love is like the sun, and I am nothing but to burn underneath your touch. For another it wouldn't have, but to me your love burns like the scorching sun.

That is not to say it is your fault, my lovely Inej, it is not your burden to bare the blame. If anything it is mine because of the choices I made. I decided that I wanted to live out the rest of my days loving you, (even if in secret) than living apart and trying to love someone else. The truth is Inej, I wouldn't have found anyone else even if I tried.

May your life be overflowing with love,

Y/n

____________

Inej was back on her ship, she had been for the last four months after your death.

Now, to fill the ever growing void in her chest she would throw herself into her work. While she's neglected to dock back at Ketterdam as it had brought too many memories. Your grin, your laughter, your stuttering smile - the way your lips had probably trembled as you chocked.

If her crew saw the bloody, black chrysanthemums she had been coughing up, they didn't say anything. Not even as her ship had started to leave a trail of beautiful carnations, because they had heard the news about her late lover. They all knew their great Wraith was now living on burrowed time.

In a corner of a cemetery for people living comfortably, purple geraniums were growing wild, as they bloomed and created more. All of it pretty enough to have your corpse laid. Where she too, in time would lay beside you, black chrysanthemums surrounding her tomb.

Lovers, too late.

Words 1577

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Grishaverse taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626 @brekkers-desigirl @emmsamultifan06

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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The Free Fall

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Notes: might be obvious but No Ghostface AU

They are six years old when they meet for the first time.

It's the first day of the first grade and Y/N stands in the crowded schoolyard looking scared and lost. One hand is white knuckled around her lunch box; the other is at her side, loosely picking at a backpack strap. She recognizes Chad and Amber from last year's kindergarten class in the distance playing on the playground, but neither seems to notice her and she's far too shy to trek through the hoards of older kids.

The school bell rings, loud and shrill, and everyone scatters towards the doors. Everyone but Y/N. She's partly frozen on the spot, not really sure where to go and her heart sinks when she looses sight of Chad and Amber.

She's nothing but nerves and the threat of tears, but she won't show it. Her jaw is tight, her back much too stiff for the likes a six year old, and her gaze is steady at nothing in particular. That is, until she feels a presence sidle up to her.

"Are you lost?" a gentle voice says and Y/N turns to follow it.

Y/N is small, but the girl she finds standing next to her is even smaller. She's all dark brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a denim skirt covered with what looks like iron on flower patches. Y/N might recognize her from a different kindergarten class, but doesn't know her name.

Y/N shakes her head turning her gaze away, but the girl next to her doesn't move.

"You look lost," the girl tries again.

"I'm not lost," Y/N says softly but firmly. There's a hint of a waver in her voice. She is lost though, completely. She's never been on this side of the school before and when her mom had told her there'd be a lot of bigger kids, she was not expecting this, not expecting to feel like she might get trampled or swallowed at any given second.

The girl takes a step in front of Y/N, but Y/N looks past her. "Okay," the girl says shrugging. She waits a moment before turning on her heels but only makes it about three steps.

"No, wait," Y/N calls out, closing the distance. She looks at the girl sheepishly. "I'm...lost," she says, quieter this time.

The girl smiles, eyes lighting up like she has been waiting to help Y/N. "Who is your teacher?" she asks.

"Um, Ms. Garcia, I think."

"Hey! Mine too!" The girl squeals, practically jumping on the spot. "Come on," she says, grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

Y/N follows, but pulls her hand out of the girl's. The girl stops, turns around, and half pouts.

"I don't bite," she says, re-extending her hand. Y/N eyes it apprehensively and eventually takes it when she hears the rush of kids coming from behind her.

"I'm Tara, by the way," the girl finally says when they're inside in the school. "You're Y/N right?"

"How did you know?" Y/N says, following Tara closely, eyes sizing up her surroundings.

"You know Chad and Amber. They're my friends too."

"Oh," Y/N nods. "Yeah, I'm Y/N." She smiles for the first time all morning.

They're in a maze of hallways, loud noises, and big people and it's actually Tara who tries to let go of Y/N's hand first, but Y/N clings tightly. Her heart isn't beating as quickly as it was a few minutes ago, and she doesn't feel like slipping through the fence in the schoolyard and running home to her mom and dog anymore.

If Tara minds Y/N's sweaty palm in hers, she doesn't do or say anything about it. In fact, it actually makes Tara squeeze harder. It's not until they're safely inside the classroom that they both reluctantly let go. They stay close though, never drifting more than a few feet apart.

Y/N doesn't understand it now, but years and years later, she'll pinpoint this moment as the very first time she fell for Tara Carpenter.

ii.

Y/N finds Tara outside on the trampoline; knees hugged tightly to her chest as she sits and watches the breeze ruffle the treetops in the backyard. The sun is low now, the sky a deep, smoky orange colour.

Somewhere in the Carpenter household, the adults are all cleaning up the aftermath of Tara's 12th birthday party. It had started wonderfully, all her friends present; now Tara is feeling foolish for letting it end with herself in tears.

"Hey," Y/N says gently as she climbs through the side netting of the trampoline, crawling next to Tara. Tara sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes looking away.

"Hey," Y/N repeats, even more gently this time while draping an arm around her best friend's shoulder. "Wes is the dumbest person I've ever met. Don't let him ruin your birthday."

Tara is silent, willing the tears to stop. She knows that Y/N is right, knows that Wes loves to cause trouble and is all around a grade A jerk. Still, he's in her friend circle and she hates how he has always known how to get under her skin. Always saying the wrong things at the wrong times.

"But did you hear what he said, Y/N/N?" Tara finally manages through a sob, hurt laced into her words. "He said I'd never be as pretty as Liv and that should I just stop trying."

Y/N shakes her head, feeling the anger starting to bubble in her blood. She has never liked Wes Hicks, not from the first day they met in the third grade. Everything about him is stupid as she always likes tells Tara, especially his hair. Y/N had once tried to gift him with a comb at school, but it ended up back in her cubby with a note that read, "you could use it more." It has been war ever since.

"I can beat him up for you if you want," Y/N offers with a sudden sparkle in her eye and lilt to her voice.

Tara leans her head into Y/N's, trying to hide a smirk. She doesn't doubt Y/N in the slightest; Y/N would do anything for her, always loyal to her word.

"I just don't want to be his friend anymore," Tara says, heaving a sad, shaky sigh.

"So don't," Y/N says, holding out her free hand across her lap into Tara's. Tara takes it and holds onto it like she always does. "Wes isn't worth it," Y/N reassures, trying to mend her best friend's broken heart.

"He's a stupid boy with a stupid name and an even stupider haircut." She pauses, mulling over her words. "Liv is pretty, Tara, but you're prettier. The prettiest girl in school."

Tara scoffs almost immediately. Her tears are gone. "No I'm not. You must be crazy."

Y/N pulls her head away from Tara's in search of her gaze. When she finds it, she smiles shyly. "You are to me," she says.

There's a beat of silence and then Tara is back to usual grinning self. She wraps her hands around Y/N's neck and pulls her close, planting a firm, but wet kiss onto her cheek.

"Thanks, Y/N," she says, pulling away and tucking her head into the crook of Y/N's shoulder. "I love you."

Y/N lets the words fill and expand in her chest, and the warmth spread throughout her body. There's a slow burning sensation deep in her stomach and she's not all too sure what it means. What she does know is that she wouldn't mind staying like this for a little bit longer, nestled in as close to Tara as possible. She also knows she doesn't ever want to see Tara like this again: sad because of a boy; sad because of anything. All she ever wants to do is make Tara feel as safe as Tara made her feel on the first day they met.

"Love you too, Tara," Y/N breathes, ruffling brown flyaway hairs that tickle at her nose.

iii.

It's their senior year in high school and they're in Charleston, South Carolina for spring break. They forgo the big party cities despite Liv's pleas for them to join her, Chad, Wes, Amber, and Mindy, in Miami. Hearing Wes's name is more than enough for Y/N to immediately shun the idea, and Tara doesn't want to be anywhere that Y/N isn't.

Wes and Chad try to tag along, but Tara insists this is a girl's trip. Best friends only.

On their second day there, they meander through sunny colourful streets in tank tops and flip flops; large sunglasses and floppy hats. Often they're hand in hand with silly grins plastered on their faces. It's nice to spend time alone together like this and if Y/N is being honest, it always becomes harder and harder for her to spend any time away from Tara.

After what seems like hours of walking, hunger catches up with them and they stumble into a small and quite café nestled between an antique store and bookstore, which backs onto the water. Y/N leads them out onto the patio to a table as far away as possible from anyone. There isn't much shade out here, the sun relentless on their skin, which will later turn pink and sore. A waitress promptly brings them water and menus.

"I'm really glad we came here," Tara smiles. She means Charleston of course, not the café. Y/N flashes a smile back, reaching for her water.

"Me too," she says, and then crinkles her nose. "I'll bet Chad and Mindy are throwing up in a hotel bathroom somewhere."

"Gross," Tara laughs, pulling off her hat and hanging it onto the side of her chair. She leans back and unabashedly regards Y/N for a moment. Y/N's eyes twinkle brightly like emeralds in the sunlight, and her lips are full and probably taste like the chapstick they've been sharing.

"What?" Y/N wrinkles her brow, feeling her cheeks slowly tickle pink. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Tara says, opening up the menu trying to dismiss the conversation.

"Tara," she presses again and Tara closes the menu.

"Do you remember after my 12th birthday—"

"You mean the night my hatred for Wes came to life?"

Tara purses her lips into a straight line, trying to suppress a grin. "Yes, that night. You said you thought I was prettiest girl in school. Did you really mean that or was that just something a best friend is supposed to tell their best friend?"

Y/N swallows hard and she's certain of the blush that's creeping up her neck. She's also aware that Tara is aware.

"Of course I meant it. Why—"

"We're in high school now. What about now?"

Y/N blinks and her gaze is calculated. She doesn't understand where this is coming from and takes a moment to measure Tara's words before answering.

"The statement still stands, Tara. It always has and it always will."

There's a rigidness in Tara's shoulder that dissipates when she hears the words. As if for some reason she needed to be reassured of this, as if Y/N doesn't already look at her with a look that's only reserved for her.

As if they don't look at each other like they are the damn universe.

Y/N makes no mention of her observation at first, letting Tara's gaze flicker back to the menu. She does however make quick of the moment, letting her own eyes settle onto Tara. Tara is beautiful all the time, but right now, hair sloppily thrown into a bun and sunglasses resting atop her head, face bright and carefree, she looks a different kind of stunning and it leaves Y/N breathless.

The light catches the tiny scar under Tara's eye, the one she had gotten when they had both fallen out of a tree when they were about nine years old. No stitches required, but Y/N remembers the moment well—Tara nearly passing out from the sight on her own blood.

Y/N reaches her arm across the table and softly touches the side of Tara's face. It takes her by surprise at first, but then Tara is closing her eyes leaning into the warmth of her palm and Y/N is running her thumb across the scar.

"That wouldn't be there if you hadn't kicked me," Tara teases quietly.

"I didn't kick you, my foot slipped and you just happened to be in the way. It's not my fault you have the slowest reflexes ever."

Tara narrows her eyes, but her smirk makes it less than menacing. Before Y/N can retreat her hand, Tara reaches up to keep it in place. She places a quick and tender kiss in the centre of her palm and then lets Y/N have her hand back.

"I never told you," Tara starts, "but I always thought you were the prettiest girl in school."

Y/N is beet red for sure now. She can feel the sting high in her cheeks all the way up to her ears. There's a familiar buzz circuiting through her entire existence and an even more familiar rolling tug in the pit of her stomach. The only difference between now and the first time, is that now she can place an emotion to it, can identify it for what it is.

She's falling for her best friend and it's eating her up.

iv.

They are both a little drunk when it happens.

Too many miles have separated them for too many weeks and Y/N never fully understands the phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder" until they both go to different colleges.

Now they're practically cuddling in Tara's dorm room at Blackmore University and laughing and catching up while they share a bottle of luke warm white wine. ("I'm on a starving student budget," Tara says, "we're drinking straight outta the bottle.")

They've always been overly affectionate growing up—their friends not so subtly taking bets on when they'd finally get together—but tonight, whatever line that does separate their friendship from anything beyond that starts to become a little blurry.

It starts when Tara falls to her bed and pulls Y/N onto her lap. It's innocent enough, nothing out of the ordinary, much like old times when they'd watch TV or movies together at each other's houses. Tonight, however, Y/N's sits perpendicular on Tara, her legs dangling off of her to the side. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Tara's shoulders for support while Tara's arms are securely around Y/N's waist. Tara rests her head into Y/N's chest and Y/N prays that she doesn't hear the way her heartbeat quickens.

"I missed you a lot, Y/N," Tara mumbles into the well worn material of Y/N's shirt.

"I missed you more," Y/N says, placing a soft kiss into Tara's temple. She likes to humour herself in thinking that there's a permanent dent there from all the times her lips have made their mark. "This is so much better than FaceTiming and texting."

"Tell me about it." Tara shifts, positioning Y/N more comfortably on top of her. Her hand slips though, and winds up flush against the warm skin just above Y/N's hip. The goosebumps read like braille.

"I'm squishing you," Y/N fidgets, quick to remove the attention from herself, and it's comical because even if she's some five inches taller than Tara, she's always been just a hair thinner and lighter. "I'll move," she offers.

Tara's grip only tightens. "No, stay," she rushes, then more slowly: "I mean, it's fine, I'm totally comfortable."

Y/N gets up anyways, her fingertips trailing the width between Tara's shoulder blades as she does. She doesn't actually want to get up, but she knows that the longer she's like this with Tara—so intimate—the more she'll start to lose her resolve and the last thing she wants to do is something stupid.

You know, like, kiss Tara.

Instead, she retrieves the half bottle of wine from the desk and hands it to Tara; another stupid idea in it's own right.

"Drink up, buttercup," Y/N urges, a coy smile playing at her lips. Tara's eyes don't leave Y/N's until her mouth is pressed to the bottle and her head is tilting back. And Y/N's eyes are definitely not the painting the length of her neck.

After a long swig, Tara hands the bottle back.

"You know the rules. Wine must have wine."

They never actually finish the bottle. They don't need to. They're both teetering the line between tipsy and drunk (Tara more so on the drunk side than Y/N) and for whatever reason unbeknownst to either of them, especially Y/N, they want to keep their wits about them.

Maybe it's because they both know that for the past year or so, something has changed. Like a switch has been flipped.

Sure, they've been best friends for as long as they can remember, but there's always been an undercurrent of something deeper than friendship that runs between them. Something they've both been too scared to explore. (Maybe it's for the best.)

Now it feels like an opportunity is presenting itself. For Y/N, it's an opportunity that could make or break them.

The next time they check the time, it's well after two in the morning. The alcohol is slow to leave their system; their senses dulled, their guards are down. Not that they ever really have one up around each other anyways.

Tara is already in bed (not) watching Y/N change into one of her oversized t-shirts. Y/N is overtly aware, though, her ears burning. Tara has never been one for subtleties and is caught in the act when Y/N unbuttons her jeans and slides them off.

"You looking for a show, Carpenter?" Y/N winks.

Tara has always been good at the recovery though.

"Maybe. Why? You wanna give me one?"

Y/N rolls her eyes and simply toes off her sock and kicks it at Tara's face, who swats it away. "Shut up," she laughs and climbs into the bed next to her.

It's small, the bed, and they are suddenly both overcome with nostalgia.

"Remember when my dad bought me that bunk bed so we could have sleepovers?" Tara sighs fondly, rolling onto her side. She slings an arm and a leg across Y/N and nestles so closely that her breath tickles at Y/N's neck.

"Mhm," Y/N hums, heart singing at the memory.

"And remember all the times we'd end up in each other's bunks?"

"Doesn't feel any different right now."

"You're right."

There's a silence filling room, a growing sort of static electricity. Y/N reaches out to turn off the light and then makes herself comfortable, relishing in Tara's body heat. She smells good too, like the same shampoo she's used since she was a teenager.

Maybe it's the alcohol, but Tara can't seem to keep her hands still. They're tracing up and down the side of Y/N's ribcage and as a result, Y/N's shirt has bunched up, her underwear partly exposed beneath the covers.

"Sorry," Tara whispers, her hand coming to a halt. She doesn't move it though, instead, it lays splayed on Y/N's hipbone, feeling the thin layer at her fingertips.

Y/N doesn't say anything. She blinks into the darkness not really sure of what to even say. She's been in the position a million times with Tara, but never like this. It's new and exciting and yet she knows she should probably turn the other way and go to sleep. But her heart is beating a little faster, her body temperature is rising, and she wonders if it's possible that Tara can hear the blood whizzing through her veins. She shifts, and instead allows herself to bear more of Tara's weight.

"Night, Y/N/N," Tara manages. And maybe it's because it's too dark and her head is in sorts, but she's quick to realize that the goodnight kiss she means to place on Y/N's cheek actually ends up on her neck.

It's so unexpected that Y/N can't help the small gasp of air that escapes her and then she's covered in goosebumps again.

Tara stills once more, her mind working overtime, but Y/N's lack of resistance cloaks her in a blanket of braveness so she kisses her again.

This time longer; this time more purposely.

Y/N lets out something more akin to a moan this time, her breathing suddenly more shallow and rapid. "Tara..." she tries, but before she can get much else out, Tara has shifted and is hovering above her; nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

"Y/N," Tara breathes so quietly, eyes closed, onto Y/N's lips that Y/N can taste it more so than she can hear it. It sends a rocket of a shiver down her spine and then her hands are gripping Tara's waist, hungry, holding her in place. "Y/N," Tara breathes again, rocking forward slightly. This time their lips actually brush. "Tell me I shouldn't do this."

Y/N screams it loudly in her head, but can't fathom it into words or actions. This isn't how she wanted this to happen; not while they're drunk and desperately missing each other, but alas she just can't find the willpower to stop it and thus her silence is answer enough to prompt Tara close what little space is between them.

Y/N's lips are much softer than they look and they taste sweet like the wine; and Tara does this thing with her tongue that if Y/N were standing, her knees might have given out. Nothing is frantic though. In fact, it's all very slow and tender because this isn't a random make out session with a stranger. It's two best friends kissing each other for the first time, one of which may have loved the other for the better part of a decade.

It's Y/N asking Tara if she's okay even though it's Tara who initiates the kiss.

It's Tara meticulously peppering Y/N's face with kisses, light like raindrops.

It's Y/N's hands nervously creeping their way underneath Tara's shirt, mapping the bumps and ridges as she goes.

Mostly it's Y/N being cautious, fully aware of the ramifications that tomorrow may bring.

But for now, Y/N will put up a mental block. It's years and years of pent up heart aching desire and love that Y/N is going to drown herself in because right now she can't separate her head from her heart.

They don't see each other until the Thanksgiving break. When they do, it only happens once.

It is far too quick and unfulfilling. Y/N drops by the Carpenter residence the night before Thanksgiving Day to have dinner. Tara's parents and Sam welcome her with open arms as they have been since Y/N was six years old and this is the only place Y/N feels more at home than in her actual home.

They laugh and reminisce over spaghetti and meatballs like nothing has ever changed, but Y/N can feel it, can feel the distance that has wedged itself between her and Tara, though Tara's parents are seemingly oblivious, as well as Sam.

She doesn't regret sleeping with Tara, she regrets the way it happened: alcohol induced after desperately missing each other for too long. Y/N knew that Tara would not see it for what it was the next morning, solely blaming it on the alcohol and poor choices. Y/N also knows that if Tara could look past the alcohol, she could see that maybe, just maybe what happened had been a long time coming—inevitable.

Instead, now they walk on eggshells and Y/N is starting to lose the person she loves the most.

—

By the time Christmas rolls around, they talk so infrequently—sparse texts, not a single phone call—that Y/N begins to wonder if they are even still friends. It's not for lack of trying on Y/N's end, Tara just doesn't seem ready to face the reality.

It's tragic and earth shattering, the thought of losing Tara completely, and Y/N would rather die than entertain the idea.

It's after midnight and the ground is powdery and white when Y/N peers out of her bedroom window. Everything behind her is dark, lit only by the moonlight that reflects off the white glow of snow. She stares outside for so long, completely mesmerized by the giant snowflakes that drift from the sky that it's not until her phone buzzing on her side table startles her back into reality.

Her heart practically stops when she sees Tara's face light up on the screen and she has to will herself to pick it up.

"Tara?" Y/N answers in a hushed tone almost too urgently. She can really only hear her pulse thumping in her head.

"Hey you," Tara says softly, her voice raw and Y/N can't tell if she's half asleep or has just been crying.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" It's the first time they've spoken in way too long that Y/N doesn't know how to react other than alarmed and worried.

"I—I miss the sound of your voice," Tara says earnestly and Y/N's heart grows heavy in her chest. It aches all the way to her toes and she wonders how a voice could break her so easily.

"I'm right here," Y/N assures, sitting on the edge of her bed. She buries her head into her free hand and rubs at her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tara squeaks, her voice wavering. There are rocks settling in Y/N's stomach.

"For what?"

There's silence and Y/N thinks the call is dropped.

"For how we got to this point. I'm—"

"Tara," Y/N interrupts. She not sure she wants to hear whatever else Tara has to say. "Don't. Please."

There's silence again and the sound of sniffling in the background of the phone breaks Y/N heart all over again.

"Can you meet me outside your house in fifteen minutes?" Tara finally says.

"But it's snowi—yes. I'll be there."

—

Y/N is sitting on her porch bundled in her jacket, hat, and scarf when Tara finally appears at the edge of the driveway, dressed in similar fashion. She springs to her feet trudges through the snow to meet her halfway, but before any words can be exchanged, both girls are hugging each other tightly unwilling to let go. Y/N lets a tear roll down her cheek but quickly wipes it away before Tara notices.

When they pull apart, Tara's eyes are red and raw. She has definitely been crying and all Y/N wants is to go back to simpler times, to when they were ten years old and hiding from the boys in the cardboard fort they had built in Mindy and Chad's backyard, water guns as their only defense.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me," Y/N comforts, even if she feels like she has nothing much to give. "You can tell me anything, okay? I love you."

The words almost feel like poison on her tongue because Tara will never know just how deeply she means them. Of course they love each other, but Y/N loves Tara. Unforgivingly so.

They end up walking aimlessly in silence for a few blocks, all the while Tara's gloved hand is intertwined tightly with Y/N's bare hand. It might feel like everything is back to normal again if they can stay like this long enough. When they eventually wind up at Tara's house, Tara doesn't lead them inside. Instead, she takes them through the side gate into the backyard and onto the trampoline.

Y/N's heart swells at the sight. It was never just a trampoline; it was their safe space growing up. Rarely was it ever used for bouncing and both girls have lost count of the number of times they've fallen asleep on the canvas under the stars after hours and hours of endless talking, zipped into the security of the surrounding safety netting, only to have woken up the next morning covered in blankets from the living room.

Tara unzips the flap and ushers Y/N in first. She brushes away a small area of snow so they can sit then reaches out to help Tara in, who then re-zips the flap shut behind her. There's history within these walls—secrets, tears, laughter, anger—that not even a textbook could rewrite.

They settle in side by side, keeping each other warm. When Tara finds Y/N's gaze, any unfamiliar outsider might mistake it for disinterest, but only Tara knows she's been hurt and there's nothing more devastating than knowing that ultimately, it's because of her. Her stubbornness, her fear.

"How did this happen?" Tara seemingly blurts out, like she's been holding in too many words for too long. Her body language is unnatural. "How did we get here?"

It's rhetoric more than anything else.

Y/N lets out a light and airy laugh that puffs white and wispy through her parted lips. Two months ago she would have never predicted being in this situation.

"I can think of at least one reason."

Tara turns her head, slight disapproval at first; then Y/N meets her gaze and lifts a knowing eyebrow. They both laugh together for the first time in what feels like forever. It's not a huge weight lifted, but it's something, a start. (Or an end. Y/N violently bemoans the idea in her head.) At this point, the least of Y/N's worries is that her love for Tara goes unrequited. She just wants her best friend back.

"So do you regret it?" Y/N asks. The air is heavy again, thick with unanswered questions. Tara confidently shakes her head.

"No. Not at all. I regret what happened after. How I acted, how I pushed you away. I was just so scared."

"I wish you would have talked to me," Y/N sighs. She angles herself so she can look at Tara more directly. It's been so long since she has really looked at her best friend that the pang of affection that follows is overwhelming. "You never have to be scared when it comes to me, okay? Tara, I lo—"

Y/N stops herself. She knows that in this context, I love you is just a simple gesture of their friendship, even if it's being held together by threads right now. The thing is, she can no longer say it without meaning it on a whole other level, a level that Tara can't reciprocate.

She's willing herself to say something when Tara cuts her off.

"That's just it," she tells her, "you love me, and I love—" Tara pauses, searching for eloquence in her words. She shifts, propping herself up onto her knees so she can regard more steadily at Y/N.

"Remember when we were in Charleston for spring break?" she tries again.

Y/N's face contorts in confusion, but she's listening and nods.

"And I asked you that stupid question if you still thought I was the prettiest girl in school and you said yes and then I said you were also the prettiest girl in school?"

Y/N nods again, swallowing. Of course she remembers. She remembers everything.

"I asked you because I had all these confused feelings about you, for you. I knew I was attracted to you, but I didn't know how far that attraction went. I had so many questions for you, I wanted to tell you so many things. Eventually I just repressed all of it."

Y/N blinks, letting the weight of the words register. It's a revelation, really, and Y/N is struggling to find the right words to fill the silence. If only she had known; if only she had the courage to speak up. Maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe this, maybe that. She can't fault either of them for this being the current situation; no one is to bear the burden of simply feeling.

She can, however, find a way through it.

"What about now?" Y/N asks, pulling Tara back into a sitting position. She leaves her hand wrapped around Tara's wrist, letting her know it's okay, that she's safe not only within the walls of the trampoline, but within her.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you still have questions? Do you still have things you want to tell me?"

Y/N can see the gears turning in Tara's head. She knows there's so much in there that wants to come out so she waits patiently until Tara is ready.

Then finally:

"Y/N, you are my best friend and I literally can't remember anything before that. You're the only person I've ever felt completely safe and like myself around. You are my better half, and you are everything to me." Tara pauses, catching her breath. She takes a second to study Y/N, to see if she should stop, but Y/N is wide eyed and all ears. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that is it so unheard of to fall in love with your best friend? Is it so unheard of that two people who have shared their entire lives together would have this, sort of, visceral connection?”

By now, Y/N's heart is beating somewhere in her throat. There's a welcomed hum buzzing under the skin, but still, she is cautious. It is not often she is guarded around Tara, but she is not looking to have her heart crushed anymore than it has been.

"For how long, Tara?" Y/N asks hesitantly.

Tara shrugs. "I loved you in the first grade when you were lost in the schoolyard and refused my help."

Y/N laughs. "Shut up." She swats at Tara's arm and Tara flashes a genuine smile for the first time all night.

"I loved you when you pushed Chad down a slide for kissing me on the playground. I loved you all those times you offered to beat Wes up for me. I loved you when I went on my first date with Chad and you went on yours with Amber. I even loved you when you kicked me out of a tree."

There's a break in the sky and the snow stops falling. The moon shines through brightly, haloing Tara in silver light. Her eyes are wet and she looks more scared than she ever has.

"I told you," Y/N hushes, heart slowly filling with warmth. "I didn't kick you. You got in the way of my foot."

"That's hearsay."

"Whatever," Y/N rolls her eyes, but it's only laced with affection. She pulls Tara closer by the front of her coat so she can wipe the tears that have fallen. Her hand is cold against her face and Tara shivers.

"Sorry," Y/N whispers, placing a feather light kiss on her cheek. Tara closes her eyes and leans forward into it.

"No," she says pulling away, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I ran away from what I was scared of. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Y/N's guard is low though there is still much to be processed and talked about. But for now, she will take this moment for whatever it may be, letting herself ruminate in the gravity of it all.

"Come on," Tara says, a hitch in her breath, "say something. I know I don't deserve much an explanation, but I need to know I'm not gonna have frostbite in the morning for nothing."

"I mean, what is there to say?" Y/N says, bearing everything she has into Tara's soul with her eyes.

"I've loved you before I even knew what love was. It's as simple as that."

"And now?

"The statement still stands, Tara. It always has and it always will."

The words are familiar and they etch themselves into the walls of the snow-covered canvas, into both of their hearts. This is where the free fall begins to slow. The parachute deploys as Tara leans in close, pulling the scarf away from Y/N's face.

She whispers, "I love you," low and slow onto Y/N's lips before she kisses her soundly, no holds barred, no more questions in the air. If Y/N is teeth chattering cold, she isn't anymore. She let's herself melt into Tara, pulling her onto her lap. They kiss until their ears and toes are numb and there's nowhere left to go but inside to get warm.

And this is where Y/N's feet finally touch the ground.

The free fall is over.

Tara has caught her.

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

Text

Car

Y/N: So, Emma, when’d you get your driver’s license?

Emma: My what?

Jenna, in the backseat: I need to get out of this car-

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

Text

God damnit Kate

Kate bishop x !gn! reader

Author note: I have not done any marvel characters yet so here you are.

Warnings: Guns, Violence, Kidnaping, Knives, explosions, fire. A bit of angst but mostly fluff.

Summary: Kate gets herself captured again, and it’s up to you to save her.

You find yourself sitting anxiously on the couch, bouncing your leg up and down while nervously biting your lip. It has been an hour since Kate was supposed to return, and the worry is consuming you as you start to panic.

Picking up your phone, you make yet another call to Kate, hoping she will answer this time. Although to your surprise, someone else picks up on the other end.

"Hello?" The voice doesn't belong to Kate.

"Who the hell is this?" you practically yell into the phone, losing all patience at this point. There are more voices in the background, and they sound rough and menacing.

"Tracksuit Mafia, you calling for Kate?" a different man replies. You quickly stand up from the couch and respond, trying to maintain your composure.

"Yes?" Your response comes out more like a question than you intended. You hear more muffled voices on the other end, and you know these are the dangerous people Kate has mentioned before. With that knowledge, you quickly begin to track Kate's phone. As you do so, a man's voice is heard again.

"$10,000 for Kate to be safe," he demands. You don't reply, instead retrieving your two guns hidden under the coffee table and your two daggers.

"Give me a minute," you say to whoever is on the other end and hang up.

----------

You cautiously approach an abandoned building, peering inside to spot around twenty men, and in the center, you see Kate Bishop tied up in the air.

Examining Kate more closely, you can't help but smile, even in this tense situation she still manges to chat up her enemys. You're annoyed with yourself for developing a crush on her, but it's a feeling you can't deny.

Refocusing on the task at hand, you burst out of your hiding spot, shooting at the closest guys to you. They all turn to look at you, but before they can react, you throw one of your daggers, cutting the rope that binds Kate's hands. Kate lands on her feet and swiftly takes down a few of her captors.

"Come on, Kate! We don't have all day!" you shout, firing your gun at another guy who tries to approach you.

"I'm coming, let me just get my bow!" she yells back, dashing towards her bow.

As you continue to take out more guys, Kate runs towards you, pushing some of them out of the way with a grin on her face. Together, you manage to clear a path, and you open an escape route. Kate sprints past you, and you follow closely behind.

"Kate, that car over there!" you shout, pointing to the vehicle you had stolen and brought here. But before you can reach it, something is thrown at the car, setting it ablaze. Thinking quickly, you grab Kate's hand and lead her in the opposite direction.

You hear an explosion behind you as you both keep running. Turning down another alleyway, you finally stop to catch your breath.

It's in this moment you realize you're still holding Kate's hand, and you quickly let go. She doesn't seem to notice, as she's still trying to catch her breath. You stare at her, reminding yourself that you should be angry with her, not admiring her. Attempting to put on a cold expression, you give her a death glare as she starts talking.

"Y/N/N, you're right, I really do need to go on more runs," she says, oblivious to your simmering anger. Confusion flickers across her face as she notices your glare, looking somewhat like a lost puppy. It almost breaks your death stare, but not quite. “What?”

"God damnit, Kate, I was so worried about you!" you raise your voice in frustration.

"Why were you worried? I was fine!" she retorts, which only infuriates you further. You push her against the wall, placing your hands on either side of her head. You're inches away from her lips, and for a moment, you consider kissing her.

"I was waiting for an hour at our apartment, wondering if this time I wasn't going to see you again. If this time-" Your words are cut off as Kate's lips press against yours. Shocked at first, you quickly respond, matching her passion in the kiss. She pulls away slightly.

"Was that okay?" she asks, her nervousness returning.

"More than okay," you reply, pulling her in for another passionate kiss.

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

Text

be mine?

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: You and Wednesday have a reputation to uphold. Is it worth it?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Profanity. haven't written in a long time so its probably trash.

Note: Where Wednesday is a lovestruck fool and I just really wanted to write about it.

Word Count: 5.4k+

Preview: 'The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relish in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers.'

“Wednesday, I have to go…” You mumbled, disconnecting your lips from the girl.

“Mhmm.” She mutters back agreeing but continues tightly gripping the back of your neck with her cold hands.

“Enid and Thing are gonna be back soon.” You say breathlessly against her mouth, trying to gather some semblance of control of the situation. But let’s be real here, you lose all sense of self-control around the Addams girl.

“We’re…gonna…get…caught.” You mumbled through her hot open-mouthed kisses. God, you’re an idiot for not picking her up and throwing her on that bed.

“Wednesday.” You pull away, slightly pushing at her shoulders. Dark, blow-out pupils meet your own, the two of you – breathing hard. Her blinking is unfocused, clutching you tight to steady her breathing.

“What?” She blinks once again, this time looking into your eyes.

“Enid and Thing?” You remind, fondly amused at her tousled appearance. A sign that she allowed herself to lose herself in your presence. Wednesday would rather be caught dead than not have everything be to her liking. So, for her clothes and usual twin braids to be undone and disorderly made your head feel a bit woozy. You take the time to fix the mess her fringe had become as your breathing evens out.

“Right… Yes.” Wednesday untangles herself from your touch and your body’s reaction was instantaneous – already cold from losing contact with her, craving it in silence.

You and Wednesday caught yourself in the midst of a secret. You’ve been dating? Fooling around? Hooking up? You haven’t exactly talked about it, but it’s been going on for about two months now and none of your friends had caught on.

See, you and the Addams had quite a reputation; forming a rivalry of sorts. It was well-known around the school that you and her did not get along, like at all. You both always compete to outdo and outrank each other; whether it be in class, extracurriculars, or for no reason at all. Your friends often caught you two bickering over some trivial matters, engaging to rile each up then eventually escalating to points of threats of bodily harm – which is when your friends would have to step in and physically separate you two.

Before this… situationship, the only similarity you two had was your friend group, who knew to never leave you two alone for fear that the arguing and tension would boil over and you two would finally fulfill threats of harming each other.

Once you had a common goal to achieve, after being paired up for a school project; You and Wednesday found each other more than... decent. A deadly argument and kiss later, an undefined relationship blossomed.

“Come back tomorrow night. Enid is sleeping over at Ajax’s dorm, we will have the room to ourselves.” Wednesday says, murky, lust-filled eyes flickering to your mouth as she takes her thumb to smudge away remnants of her lipstick on your lips.

“Can’t get enough of me already?” Smirking, unable to resist teasing the girl.

“Please, as if you were not the one who was practically begging me all day to sneak away with you.”

Eyebrows rising to your forehead, “Me?” You retort in disbelief. “You kept making your eyes at me.” Gesticulating with widened eyes to emphasize your point.

“What eyes?”

“You know, the eyes you make at me when you wanna get down…” Wiggling your brows at the insinuation while hers bumped together in displeasure.

“I don’t make those eyes.” She grits, “And don’t call it that, ever.” But she pursed her lips in annoyance because her desires were so easily read by you – it made her black heart thud harshly against her rib cage; turning away from you to hide the tint of redness painting on her cheeks and ears.

She hated how easy it was for you to bring these emotions out of her, it made her want to vomit.

“You may go now.”

You chuckled, deciding not to push her buttons and point out how adorable you thought she was. You reach over and peck her cheek from behind. “I’ll see you later, Wednesday.” The raven-haired girl was more than glad she was facing away from you so that you didn’t see her cheeks reddening even more.

You make your way out of her dorm, smiling to yourself. You couldn’t keep it at bay even if you tried; overwhelmed with a fuzzy feeling that Wednesday always manages to make you feel. Keeping your head down, you walk down the hallway and away from her room.

“Y/N?” A voice called out, breaking away from your daydreaming.

“Enid! Hey.” Your eyes slightly widened, “what are you doing here?”

“I live here?” She responded with amused confusion, racking her eyes over your figure. You were looking slightly dishevelled, fidgety.

“What are you doing here? You live on the other side of campus, and it’s almost curfew.”

“Um… Wednesday.” The werewolf’s brow upturned at the mention of her roommate, curiosity sparking in her.

“Something about a lead in her investigation.” The lying was nothing new to you; having been doing it for months now since starting your relationship with the Addams girl.

Enid continued eyeing you, not completely believing Wednesday would ask you for help, but also knowing her roommate. That girl would never let a petty dispute derail her progress on an investigation. So it was plausible at best.

As Enid continues to observe you, she sees a tiny smudge of colour on your shirt collar and on the skin under. A shape of lipstick, she deduces. “Oh alright! Well, I’ll let you get back to your dorm. I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

Letting out an internal sigh of relief that you didn’t set off too much suspicion from the werewolf. You smile widely and give an acknowledging nod, “Goodnight, Enid.”

Enid continues to watch as you walk away and eventually out of her eyesight when you turn a corner. She skips to her room with a slight pep in her step, opening the door widely to scan the room for her gloomy friend.

Her gaze lands on the Addams typing at her typewriter. “Good evening, roomie.”

Barely sparing the werewolf a glance, Wednesday regards her friend with a simple, “Hello.”

For a brief moment, silence takes over the room and Wednesday can practically feed Enid swaying on her feet from behind her. Her roommate obviously wanted to say something. “Spit out whatever you feel you must say, Enid.”

“What did you and Y/N get up to tonight?” The mention of your name made Wednesday straighten her already perfect posture; back stiff and strained.

“Y/N was having trouble with our previous lesson in Botany. I offered to tutor her, she clearly needed it.” The goth lied with ease; imperceptible to most, fooling almost anybody – perhaps even Enid, if she didn’t just catch you two in a lie.

“Weird. That’s exactly what she said when I saw her.” Wednesday's features fight to remain impassive. For a moment she wonders if you had slipped up and exposed the secret.

“Well – not weird, ‘cause why would it be weird that she said the same thing? Ha, anyways I’m gonna go get ready for bed now.” Enid excused, and with a turn of her heel, leaped to their shared bathroom; smiling widely in secret.

Wednesday decides to ignore her roommate's rambling not sure if she wanted to divulge the details of her odd demeanour.

– –

Granted, You and Wednesday got along more often these days it still didn’t stop the fact that you were both stubborn; annoyingly so. Whilst the arguments were not as vicious as before, you and the goth still definitely loved to get under each other’s skin.

You think it gives Wednesday the excuse to be more aggressive and take out her frustrations on you – not that she ever needed an excuse.

So the next day, when Enid leaves her herbology class and down to quad to meet her friends she wasn’t expecting you and Wednesday to be at each other’s throats again – Now Enid wasn’t expecting love and rainbows and crap from you two but these last two weeks have been surprisingly calm and cordial, after what she found out last night she deduced it’s because you two have finally recognized that you two are true love!

Which leads Enid to her confused present self.

The werewolf took a weary glance around the table – the group caught in the middle of an impending warzone. It was like walking onto incoming traffic, really. Just an accident waiting to happen.

Enid takes a seat next to Yoko, who – even with her sunglasses on – can be seen with slight fear in her expression. “What is it this time?” She whispers to the vampire.

“Our roommates are at it again.” She explains, “I think Y/N accidentally spilled her elixir on Wednesday’s bag in potions class – well, it started off as that. Now we’re at threats of violence.” Yoko rolled her eyes behind the frames; slightly torn between being scared or fed up with you two.

Down the table, your and Wednesday’s argument continues to ensue.

“I already said I was sorry! What more do you want from me!” You scowl, eyes burning with annoyance – already fed up with her incessant nagging.

“Perhaps I’ll cut off your tongue as punishment and use it as a sponge to scrub away your sorry excuse of potion off of my belongings!” She threatens, her brown orbs turning darker than you thought was possible.

Wednesday is certain her journal and notes were ruined because of your clumsiness. This is what she gets for pairing up with you; your mere presence distracted her which caused her to absentmindedly place a flask too close to your elbow – you can guess what happened next.’

You mildly gulp in fear at her tone, but your pride trumped any terror she can inflict. “Kinky… but I’m gonna have to give it a hard pass.”

“You are insufferable.” Wednesday retorts, crossing her arms – aggravation clear as day on her face.

“And you’re not as scary as you think you are.” Smirking when it breaks the tension. “Actually, you’re quite adorable, knowing all I know about you.” Your voice drops an octave as you lean closer on your elbows; discreetly eyeing her up and down; your words heard only by you and Wednesday.

If looks could kill, man, you’d be six feet under.

“But seriously, I said I was sorry. If you don’t want the apology, you don’t have to take it. But that’s all you’re getting from me.” With that, you left to stand and gather your things then turn to walk away.

Wednesday doesn’t miss the dismembered hand scurrying to keep up with your pace as you made your way back inside – Thing will surely pay for his disloyalty. Though deep down she couldn’t exactly blame the hand, her bag slightly reeked from the inside – thanks to you; no way Thing’s vainness allows for his soft, supple skin to touch such a surface.

For a moment, Wednesday sits there in silent fury, watching as you walk off. Clenching her jaw, she swallows her pride, gathers her things as well and chases follows after you.

Enid and Yoko, along with the rest of their friends who were watching the show, let out a sigh of relief as the goth girl left. The seemingly thick tension around the table dissipating.

“Um… should someone maybe follow them? You know – cause they might actually kill each other this time.” Xavier reasoned, wearily glancing in the direction Wednesday followed you in. “Just not me, please! Not after last time.” The boy visibly shivers at the memory.

“Ugh! I’ll do it.” Yoko relents – but Enid is reaching for her arm before she can stand.

“No!” Everyone turns to look at the werewolf’s sudden outburst. “Just leave them be, they’ll be fine.” She reassures.

“I don’t know Enid, it seems kinda bad this time.” Eugene cuts in, apprehensive.

“It seems bad every time! But we can’t always play ‘referee’ here. Let’s let them settle their differences on their own.” That seems to convince everyone else as they relent and decide not to follow you two. Enid prays her suspicions about you two are correct – even though she’s 80% sure already. Because she cannot be caught in the middle of your fighting again.

– –

The rough tug on your hair has your head jerking sideways away from the softest pair of lips you’ve ever tasted – face almost smacking the shelf in the tiny closet the Addams girl had dragged you in.

Wednesday’s lips violently nip at your throat; sucking, biting, tugging, releasing, then soothing with the coolness of her tongue. It has you throwing your head against the wall in a groan but her grip was tighter, preventing any sort of movement as she continued her assault on your neck.

“Shit – Wednesday.” You slump against her, tightening your grip on her waist when she bites down even harder at a particularly tender spot.

“That hurts.” Squirming as she continues to suck at the spot, the pressure turning into pain until she finally relents – releasing the skin with a ‘pop’ sound. Your hand instantly clamps down to ease the thudding pain.

“It’s supposed to.” Was all she said before she tenderly grabs the back of your neck to slot your lips together; this time much softer; way too soft for someone like Wednesday Addams.

The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relist in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers. Her gentleness has your mind in a cloudy haze. When she finally pulls away, she’s reaching for your cheek, caressing it in the softest manner – something Wednesday didn’t even know she had in her. But that’s what you do to her – make her do things she didn’t think she was capable of.

You stare into her dark orbs with a lovestruck look that you hope doesn’t seem too obvious.

Unbeknownst to you, Wednesday finds herself caught in a similar trance.

“It still stings,” You pout, hoping to gather some sympathy points. Wednesday merely rolls her eyes before grabbing your wrist – still painfully clutching your neck – lowering it.

She eyes her creation with a smirk; her mark is big, the innermost part already turning purple, covered by a ring of angry red skin – pride swells in her chest at the sight of you marked by her. The bruise would surely be a tough one to cover up.

Instead of Wednesday’s usual quip, you were pleasantly surprised when all she did was lean down to carefully and tenderly kiss the spot, rubbing a cautious thumb over it while blowing a cool breath to ease the swelling skin. All you could do was stare at the top of her head with heart eyes as you swooned. It was pathetic of you really – that one girl managed to make you weak at the knees with a simple touch – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. No, not when Wednesday Addams is in your arms, touching you, like that.

When Wednesday pulls away, she looks at your, still, pouting lips and connects them in another soft kiss; unwinding the pout. When she pulls away, she stares up into your eyes, “Better?” She asks so sincerely and your heart just about expanded five times its size at her tone.

You nod slowly, a soft smile tugging on your lips in appreciation for the goth’s affection. “Way better.” You pepper kisses on her jaw. Then, you pat her ass twice and give it a squeeze as you relinquish your hold on her waist.

“We should head back out. I’m pretty sure we already missed the first half of class.” You smirk cheekily, keeping your hand at its landed destination.

“Take your hand off my bottom, Y/N.”

“No thanks.”

She sighs irritably though she still hasn’t made one move to take your hand away from her ass. Actually, she seems rather comfortable still being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Why must you ruin every moment?” She murmurs in defeat.

“We were having a moment?” She huffs irately at the way your head tilts to the side when you ask the question. You were bewitchingly attractive even with that stupid smirk on your lips, but even still, Wednesday refused to swallow her pride this time – so she wills herself to pull away.

You let out a hearty chuckle, grabbing at her waist again to bring her even closer so you can plant a long kiss against her lips. Wednesday’s reaction was – as it always would be – instantaneous as she reciprocates the kiss when her hand finds its home on the nape of your neck, pulling you close.

“Seriously though, we need to leave.” You say when you finally, for the last time, pull away.

“Fine.” She untangles your mess of limbs to grab her backpack that was hastily thrown on the floor, slipping it on. “I will see you at lunch.”

“Mmm, nope. Detention.” You remind, and she huffs at remembrance. Why must you always get into trouble – not that Wednesday can speak but at least don’t get caught… as much.

“Don’t worry baby, we have tonight remember? Detention can’t keep us apart.” You foolishly try to wiggle your brows.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, walking over to the door handle, “You are insufferable. Call me that again and I’ll truly chop your tongue off.”

“But you love that–” the door shuts. “–about me.”

– –

“That was not scary.”

“It’s not supposed to be scary. It’s a parody of scary movies. They’re making fun of it.”

“Then they should not title it ‘Scary Movie’. It sends the wrong message to its audience… I should burn your copy of all five installations of this abomination.” You chuckle amusedly at her statement kissing atop her head.

The night had been a success. You and Wednesday had spent the evening watching a healthy dose of a variety of films, mostly horror as it was the only genre of movies Wednesday can stomach. You had cuddled, kissed, had sex; it was perfect. You lay there in utter peace, tangled up in bed together; no sense of where and which pair of limbs starts and ends.

It was nice having the evening to yourselves. Between classes and sneaking around your friends, you two don’t get many moments like these often. You made sure to cherish and appreciate them more. It made you feel like you were in a relationship. Even though you two haven’t exactly defined what this is – you find yourself simply appreciating the mere fact that you are the only person who gets to do this with her and that is more than enough for you.

And now, you both laid there – dressed in nothing but underwear and each other's shirt – Wednesday leaning her head on your chest as you twirl a strand of raven hair. Both on the precipice of sleep, the warmth radiating from your tangled legs becoming a gentle tug to give in, with the TV playing aimlessly in the background as an aid.

Just as Wednesday nestled her face closer to your neck – about to follow suit and doze off, she hears the sound of footsteps and keys jingling. Wednesday springs into action, startling you awake with a hand on your chest. She gives no verbal warning before she’s shoving you by the head under her thick duvet covers.

The door swings open followed by footsteps and your eyes instantly widen. “Hey, Wednesday.”

“Enid. Yoko.” Wednesday greets while you’re mentally freaking out about both of your roommates being so close to the truth.

“Yoko just tagged along with me to grab an overnight bag for my sleepover at Ajax’s,” Enid explains, grabbing her things.

“Ouu! Scary Movie! Didn’t think you’d like these. Cute hair by the way!” Yoko points out excitedly,

“You know of this abomination?” Wednesday inquires, choosing to ignore the other comment.

“Yeah, Y/N made watch all of them when she first moved in. It’s like her favourite or something.” They truly were.

“I’m not surprised, they’re awful. Of course, she would like these.” If she could see your face right now, she would see how offended you are by that statement. The nerve!

“So then why are you watching it?” Enid asks bemused.

“It was a recommendation from someone.”

“Huh… alright. I’m slightly offended you’re taking recommendations 'cause I’ve been begging you to watch The Great British Bake Off with me.” Enid squints, playfully glaring.

“I did not have a choice in the matter.” She mutters under her breath, only for you to hear. Wednesday discreetly wacks your hand away when you hit her thigh in jest.

“Anyways… speaking of Y/N.” That makes you and Wednesday stiffen, “have you seen her? ‘Cause after classes, she came by the dorm and hasn’t been back since. Enid and I have been in there all night. No signs of her still.” Yoko inquires with a mysterious lilt.

“No. I have not.” She lies smoothly like she always has.

“Oh really? ‘Cause after the bag incident we saw you follow her. Oh man, please don’t tell me you killed my roommate, it’s so hard to find one you actually like.” Yoko rambled, lost in her own thoughts. Enid had to forcefully lay a hand on her shoulder, Wednesday surely doesn’t miss the exchanged silent look between the two friends.

Could she – could they know? The Addams is nothing if not attentive, she was never wrong.

“Chill, Yoko. What she means is have you seen Y/N? We’re just worried.” Enid slid in and took the lead, plastering on a smile but it looked more like a grimace.

“ I followed her, merely to argue some more, then we parted ways for our next class. I did not see her again after that.” Wednesday answers with half-truths, your make-out session during second period did start off as an argument until it wasn’t.

“Alright…” Enid relents.

She knew better than to try and break Wednesday down. That girl was like a brick wall of information. She could probably trick a polygraph test. Enid should’ve gone to you first – if they could find you. With a goodbye, Enid tugs Yoko along and out the door. Wednesday waited a few more seconds, using her heightened hearing to see if the pair had actually left. Only when she was sure, did she pull you from under the covers.

“Jesus Christ, I felt like I was gonna suffocate.” You gasp, flinging yourself on your back as the high of almost getting caught begins to wear off.

“You would have been fine.” She side-eyed your dramatics.

“We just pulled a Chandler and Monica in London, babe.” You joked, grinning childishly at her. The goth’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at the reference.

She pinches your side with a firm clinch and you groan flinching away. “I do not know what insipid pop culture reference you are citing and I said don’t call me that.”

“FRIENDS?” All you get is a blank stare.

You sigh in defeat – remembering who you were talking to. “Nevermind that, do you think they know?”

“Yes.”

‘Fuck.”

– –

Wednesday was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. She was the human embodiment of the ‘DANGER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION’ sign – and people warily did so.

You and Wednesday have not had alone time, not since your last close call during movie night.

She and you had agreed to keep things ‘chill’ and ‘slowing down’ which meant cutting your already reduced time together to practically non-existent, at this point. Wednesday finds herself deeply regretting agreeing to the foolish agreement. She hasn’t been alone with you in two weeks and Wednesday is growing distressingly annoyed.

Your period of separation has made Wednesday realize that she finds herself always wanting to be around you – slowing down, be damned. Because if slowing down and hiding this relationship you have with her meant more of this strange, painful feeling in her chest then she wants no part of it. The pressure is fleeting but it always comes back when the goth sees something that reminds her of you; in these last two weeks, it seems you have plagued everything in her surroundings because the goth simply cannot rid her thoughts of you.

Wednesday doesn’t think she can do the hiding and sneaking anymore in favour of keeping up this enemies/rivals facade.

Why torture yourselves by keeping apart from one another?

She fumes at the thought of how idiotic you two have been – she was mad, mostly at herself for not seeing it sooner. She supposed it may be healthy for her to acknowledge her fear of love; romantic love no less is a contributing factor to why she hasn’t spoken about what your relationship means. Because Wednesday Addams doesn’t do love.

But now as Wednesday furiously clanks at her typewriter’s keys; her usual graceful and fluid motions were anything but as her heart physically constricts at her last interaction with you – her beliefs could be swayed.

You two were sitting in botany class, doing well to avoid Enid and Yoko’s watchful eyes. It seems the pair have taken it upon themselves to start their own investigation on your and Wednesday’s relationship – lurking around your guys’ shoulder, always watching.

They were close to your scent that night, so you needed to throw them off your trail.

Hence the period of separation, but none of that mattered anymore because you were rejecting her, again.

Wednesday sees you sliding a haphazardly ripped paper with new writing, it read:

“im sorry u know i still cant come over. still too risky :(“

Wednesday’s aggressive typing catches up to her when she realizes she’s made an error; pressing an incorrect key. She clenches her jaw at the mistake and the memory of your rejection.

She reaches out to grab the stack of fresh paper that was laid out in advance but realizes she had used it all up from her previous mistakes. You have been the reason for her scatterbrain tonight and it seems her disorderly is catching up to her. She never makes a mistake during her writing time.

Wednesday pushes her chair back, standing to make her way to the closet to grab more paper. She glances a brief look at the clock on the wall, noting the time. It was late evening and the friend group should all be at your and Yoko’s dorm by now.

After your last class with Wednesday – where you dejectedly rejected her invitation – your friends all hurriedly made Friday night plans. They came up with an evening at the Weathervane and then a movie night at your and Yoko’s dorm; they insisted Wednesday tag along for the event but with her increasingly irate mood she knew she would not be good company.

She didn’t miss your pleading glances at her as if to say ‘please come’. Wednesday is not sure why would want her there anyway, seeing as you and her still had a facade to keep up and that you haven’t made a single advance towards her in the last two weeks.

She bitterly looks away from the clock at the last thought.

Wednesday steps into her closet, making swift steps to the cabinet she knew had more of her typing paper, but her feet stumble at the sight of your shirt absentmindedly thrown over some of Wednesday’s clothes. She must’ve chucked it there after changing in the morning.

The goth reaches out to grab the fabric, bringing it up to her nose to smell the comforting scent – it was fading, terribly so. It felt like you were fading, it had been two weeks after all.

Wednesday screws her eyes shut in annoyance at the two words; two weeks, a sour reminder of her time apart from you.

With that overwhelming agitation rumbling in her chest, again. Wednesday thought: enough. Dropping your shirt where it was found, her heavy boots clunk against the old hardwood floor as she leaves her room. She makes the familiar trek out of Ophelia Hall and to the fastest way to your dorm.

She thought of the fury of demands she would hurl at you, once she pulled you away from everyone. She doesn’t exactly know what those words are going to be yet – and footing stumbles at the thought. All she knows is the pressure in her chest is growing uncomfortably painful and the only remedy she can think of is you.

Before she knows it, she’s reaching your door, bringing a tightly-wound fist to the surface banging down; loud and hard.

It took a few seconds, but there you were, opening the door with a confused frown on your face and Wednesday’s semi-rehearsed fury of words toward you was gone. Behind you, she can see your guys’ friends all pretending not to be watching but failing miserably.

“Wednesday? I thought you said you didn’t want to hang. Did you change your mind?” It was Enid who calls out from her spot inside the room.

“No.” She responded immediately, but she was still only looking at you; unable to break her stare. You were looking at her with such a concerned gleam in your eyes as you took in Wednesday’s dishevelled appearance from her trek over here. The goth’s heart skips a beat. No one has ever looked at her like that before.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You sprang into concerned questioning, allowing your act of hostility toward her to slip away. Suddenly the space between you and Wednesday as you stand on opposite sides of the threshold feels too far.

Abandoning all rational thinking and consequences that may come after, Wednesday reaches forward and grabs at your waist – knuckles in a tight-white grip around your shirt. She’s pulling you out into the hallway, lips pressed together in a frenzied but gentle manner. Your hand gingerly cups her jaw, as your body surrenders to the familiar feeling of her kiss – the door slamming shut behind you, no doubt giving your friends a snippet of the show.

You can kind of hear excited screaming and loud talking behind the door. But you tune that out and focus on the girl in your arms.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against hers, trying to swallow shallow deep breaths.

“What was that for?” You ask breathlessly against her lips.

Her gaze turns soft, gulping before starting, “I could not go any longer without having you near. These last two weeks have been agonizing. Being alone, without you was torture – and not in the way I usually enjoy. It was… debilitatingly painful to exist without you. I wish to never experience it again.”

You were the human embodiment of heart eyes right now.

“So, please. Don’t do that again.” Wednesday pleads with – she’s sure – is the most pathetic expression right now; desperation clear as day. But she can’t bring it in herself to care anymore. No, not when she brushes a soothing thumb to your lip and you react with a giddy smile.

“What about what the others might think?” Nodding towards your room – which has seemingly quieted down; if you didn't know any better, you’d say your friends had their ears up against the door, listening in.

You were practically already putty in her hands but figured you’d tease and ask for good measure.

Wednesday briefly glances at the door; scowling in thought. When she looked back at you, she was shaking her head with a frown.

“I don’t–” She hesitates, gathering her thoughts, “–I do not care about what anyone else thinks… I just want you.”

And with the softest doe-eyed look, you’ve ever been given, your heart swells ten times its size. You reach forward to slip your tongue in her mouth to bring her in for another searing kiss that you hope encompasses all you feel for the other girl.

You pull away for a breath, gasping as you say, “Be mine.”

She whispers a hoarse, “Yes,” as she tugs on your bottom lip with her teeth; nodding slightly; noses bumping together.

You hear a thud from behind the door at Wednesday’s response.

On the other side, Yoko and Ajax have caught a fainting Enid in their arms.

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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“Yes. I’m here to court you, Y/n.”

Wednesday x f!reader

The story of how Wednesday and reader finally end up together.

(0.8k words)

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Keep reading

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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“Look me in the eyes, Wednesday.”

Wednesday x f!reader

Reader gets back at Wednesday for embarrassing her.

(0.5k words)

Keep reading

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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Just so you guys know

Hey I just wanted to let you guys know that I won't be posting anything for a couple more days (so like three days in total), due to having a DnD session soon and from just getting back from camping. Although I will leave my request open, so for when I get back I can wright a bunch of stuff for you guys.

Hope you guys have a great day or night,

Hobby 🐹

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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canon: they died

fanfic: fUCK YOU

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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I finally wrote it. This art is a fanfic now. Please enjoy.

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fanficismyhobby · 9 months

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Will I see you again? Part 4

Wednesday x reader !gn!

Author note: I decided that I wasn't going to add the kiss scene that I had planned and intead added conflict.

Warnings: Angst! Insults, injuries, please tell me if there are more!

Summary: In this case, you are an Erchitu. You can free yourself from your torment only when you encounter someone brave and strong, capable of cutting the horns on the head with one precise shot.

It had been a week since that night with Wednesday, and you hadn't spoken to her since. You tried confronting her, but whenever you attempted to, she would disappear, leaving you feeling even more confused and hurt. You knew you messed up, but in your defense, you thought Wednesday felt the same way about you. After all, you had caught her staring at you so many times, and it seemed like there was an unspoken connection between you two. But perhaps you had misread the signals, and that realization weighed heavily on your heart. Despite not having shared a kiss, you had come close to it, and the memory of that almost-moment played on repeat in your mind.

Feeling horrible, you sat in your bedroom. Opening your phone, you noticed an overwhelming 20 messages from Enid. Why would she need to send so many? You opened them up, finding a series of urgent messages about finding Wednesday.

Yo, have you seen Wednesday?

Can't find her.

I need your help, please.

Go find her.

The worry in Enid's messages only added to your distress. You groaned, deciding to head over to Enid and Wednesday's dorm to see what was going on. You quickly changed into a clean outfit before making your way to their room, texting Enid that you were on your way.

Arriving at their dorm, you knocked and entered, not expecting what you found inside. Wednesday stood there, looking as if she hadn't slept in days, her usual composure wavering. Confusion filled your mind as you tried to understand the situation.

"Wednesday?" you questioned, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

She looked at you and asked, "What are you doing here?"

Baffled by her response, you looked closer, noticing the bags under her eyes. Something was clearly bothering her, and you couldn't help but worry.

"Enid sent me to look for you because you were missing," you explained, hoping to get some clarity.

"Does it look like I want to be found, Y/N?" she spat, venom dripping from her tone. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt hurt by her animosity.

In your frustration, you defended yourself, raising your voice, "What the hell, Wednesday? I didn't do anything wrong. You're the one who's been ignoring me for days!" You crossed your arms, trying to hide the hurt that was bubbling up inside you.

She retorted with more sharp words, "I don't need a self-absorbed person with daddy issues, being so needy and acting like you can't control that stupid Erchitu when we all know it's for attention." She snarks back, keeping her tone flat. Hurt crosses your face as you look down at Wednesday. The room is dead silent as you both stare at each other. You're waiting for an apology, and when you don't get one, you reply, walking close to her.

"So that's what you think of me, huh?" you murmured, your voice lower now, as you stepped closer to her. "Says the one who can't keep her feelings straight and then proceeds to take it out on people and manipulate them into thinking they are the horrible person or that they are in the wrong. When really, it was you all along," you whispered in her ear, your words a mix of frustration and sadness. "You know your friends are only friends with you because they're scared of you? That's the truth, Wednesday, and you know it."

With that, you pulled away and walked to the door, feeling a mix of anger, pain, and sadness. Opening the door, you left without looking back.

----

You wandered through the nearby forest, even though it was pouring rain. The dark and gray sky mirrored the storm of emotions inside you. You found yourself sitting next to a large oak tree, tears mixing with the rain as you pulled your hood up. The weight of the situation bore down on you, and guilt washed over you like a heavy wave. You knew you fucked up, but what Wednesday said had angered you so much that you lashed out at her. Now, you were left wondering if you could fix this mess.

In the midst of your thoughts, you heard a noise and perked your head up, quickly wiping away the tears. A black-haired girl was storming over to you, Wednesday Addams. You debated whether to confront the situation or flee. You chose the latter, dashing blindly into the forest.

Adrenaline rushed through you as you picked up your speed, not daring to look behind, trying your best to run away from your main problem. You began to slow down, thinking that you managed to get away until you tripped on a foot – a black boot, to be exact. You tumbled to the ground and let out a loud groan, gripping the wrist that took the brunt of your fall. As you looked up, you noticed it was Wednesday Addams, starring down at you with the slightest smirk on her face.

"How slow do you think I am, Y/L/N?" she taunted, and you grumbled in response, standing up and brushing yourself off with your good hand. The bad one was starting to throb, and you winced in pain as you tried to move it.

"Apparently not as slow as I thought," you mumbled. "Why are you here, Wednesday?" You asked, genuinely curious about her intentions.

She hesitated for a moment, seemingly struggling with her words. "I… I want to say…" Another pause, and you could tell it was painful for Wednesday to apologize. "I'm sorry." She looked up at you, silently asking for you to apologize as well.

"I'm sorry for what I said back there too. I wasn't thinking right and was just hurt by what you said," you admitted, bringing your good hand up to the back of your neck. "So, what now?" you asked, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty.

"First, we get your hand fixed up," she said, pointing at your now swollen wrist to emphasize her point.

"Okay, yeah, let's go," you agreed, grateful for the chance to mend things with her. She grabbed you by your good hand, leading you back to the school.

_____

Author note: My requests are open is you have any.

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