#WEDNESDAYS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MY FAVORITE

[bethiewhimsy]

i apologize for the person i will become when wednesday arrives

[crossbackpoke-check]

in love with your novels in the tags, they're so much fun to read - @softvikings

thank you!!! i have so much fun writing them and i love hearing that they bring other people joy as well, these are Our Tag Novels now 🥹💕🥰

[sapsolais]

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[elizabebabe]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.” 

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?” 

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you “stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

© elizabebabe

[strange-doll-child]

Finally started watching that Wednesday Netflix series that came out after everything

[queenxxxsupreme]

Ghost (Logan Howlett x reader)

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic in a while, so please just bear with me. This takes place after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. I feel like I am not too great at writing Wade’s character and I think I’m still learning how to write Logan so just please don’t hate me if anything seems out of character. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of thoughts of suicide, nothing else out of the ordinary for a Deadpool and Wolverine fic

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: What happens when the man who broke your heart shows up on your doorstep with a weird man claiming to be from another universe?

As you were tying your robe into place, the sound of glass shattering in the other room caught your attention.

“Fuck.” You muttered before hastily making your way down the hallway. “Nugs, what the hell are you doing in here?”

The overweight orange cat meowed loudly from where he sat on the floor. Directly beside him was a pile of dirt and the remnants of your favorite flower pot.

“Nugget! Dude, we have talked a million times about you trying to get up on that shelf.” You shooed the cat away from the mess, then went to retrieve a broom. “You are far too big to be trying to climb up there. You could get hurt.”

He meowed again and rubbed against your calf, offering his own version of an apology.

You swept the dirt and plant material into the dustpan. As you were making your way towards the trash can, a firm knock came at the front door.

Nugget started meowing loudly. It was almost like he was trying to imitate a siren and warn you that there was someone at the door.

Cautiously, you moved towards the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, sure, but you also knew absolutely no one in the city, so why would someone be knocking on your door at 11:30 on a Wednesday night?

You pulled the door open to see an unknown man. He wore a trucker hat with the words ‘this is actually my first rodeo’ stitched on to it. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. The skin covering his face was scarred badly.

“Can I help you?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh my FUCK! You didn’t tell me we were coming to see Y/N!” The man turned around to reveal Logan Howlett.

Your heart jumped to your throat at the sight of him, and the very thought of breathing went right out the window.

He stood with his arms crossed. The dark red flannel he wore stretched over his muscles. It was like the shirt was two sizes too small for him. The jeans he wore were dark and fit him snug. His hair wasn’t as poofy as you remembered it being, but it was still styled and spiked just like he had always done.

As you took in the sight of the Wolverine, you realized he didn’t look as unkempt as you so vividly recalled him being the last time that you saw him.

“Uh, hi, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name almost made you vomit right then and there. It had been years since you last heard him say your name.

You snapped out of your trance, the tension and nerves in your stomach twisting into anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Logan?”

”I know it’s a long shot, but we need somewhere to stay for the night.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. What made him think he had the right to ask you for anything?

You started to close the door but the man you didn’t know stopped you, placing his hand on the door.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N! We have some wild— and I mean wild —stories to tell you.”

”I don’t know you, fuck nuts.” You snapped. Your irises disappeared as the entire eye turned black. “Now if you two don’t get the hell away from my apartment—,”

”I know you don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” Logan paused, taking a second to admire how stunning you looked. You stood there in nothing but a soft pink robe with little cherries all over it and your hair was wet. You even smelled the same. “We’re doing some…. work nearby and we need somewhere to stay.”

”Go fuck yourself, how about that?” You tried to close the door but this time Logan stopped you. His hand was firm and steady as he held the door open.

“I-I just want to talk to you.”

You held his gaze, your eyes returning to their normal Y/E/C color.

Perhaps if he hadn’t looked so different from the last time you saw him, you’d slam the door in his face. But he didn’t look broken, his eyes weren’t empty. The Logan standing before you was more like the one you fell in love with years ago, rather than the one who had broken your heart.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

Logan let out a heavy breath and almost rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It was, like, forty-five minutes ago. But it was just one drink.”

”He’s seriously been cutting back on the alcohol.” The stranger nodded his head. “But if you ask me, I’d rather him be loaded with that shit. Makes him more tolerable.”

Logan elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

”It’s a good thing I didn’t ask you then isn’t it, buddy?” I raised my brows at the stranger.

”Yikes, you are just like I remember you being. All sweet and mean and shit.”

“Please, Y/N.” Logan pulled your attention back to him.

With a sigh of defeat, you stepped back and held the door for the two men.

“Yes! Thank you, Y/N.” The stranger happily entered your home. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what your place was like. The you from my world banned me from her place a long time ago. We wear the same size shoes, you know. And apparently, she doesn’t like to share. Said I stretched out her Burkins. And her nighties.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to the man ramble.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

”Wade Wilson.” The man turned around to face you, holding his hand out. “You might know me as Deadpool.”

”No, actually. I don’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Where the hell did you get this guy, Logan?”

”Uh, it’s a long story.”

”I can explain it all, momma. Let’s have a seat.” Wade gestured to your kitchen table and then pulled a chair out.

***

You stepped out onto your balcony, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket in your jacket. Your eyes flickered out over the city.

Never in a million years did you think that Logan Howlett would show up at your apartment looking like a kicked dog. Never in a million years did you think he’d be able to dig himself out of the hole he tried to bury himself in ages ago. And never in a million years did you think he would have the guts to stand in front of you asking to stay for just the night.

He needed somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere to rest in the midst of whatever the fuck he was doing. And with him came a strange man by the name of Wade Wilson.

The air was cool and a gentle breeze blew through your hair. The faint sound of car horns kept you from being too absorbed by your own thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. It was Wade.

You took a puff of the cigarette and then offered it to him.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m trying to limit my oral intake of carcinogens.”

You nodded, finding it best not to question him, and moved to sit down at the little table.

“Sometimes I think things couldn’t get any more crazy. The man who broke my heart and made me contemplate offing myself shows up at my front door out of the blue with a man claiming to be from another universe entirely. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Wade opened his mouth to answer your rhetorical question with something sassy, but he stopped himself. He could see that your eyes were glossy and your breath was shaky. Your hand trembled as you held the cigarette up to your lips.

He slipped into the seat next to you, racking his brain for something to say.

“Did you know that?” You asked him, your eyes finding his. “That when we broke up, when he…. When Logan decided that he was done…. I thought about killing myself.”

”No, I didn’t.” Wade spoke softly.

”We were together for years. Almost a lifetime. And he just…. He just couldn’t take it anymore. After what happened at the school.” You paused for a moment. “He couldn’t move on, but he couldn’t die either. Everything just turned him into someone I— someone I didn’t know. Don’t know.”

Wade watched you in silence. His chest began to feet tight, like it was hard for him to breathe. Seeing his best friend— or at least his best friend in his world —so torn up, so genuinely hurt, made Deadpool feel bad.

“In my world, you two were together until his dying breath.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, unsure that you had heard him right.

”What?”

”Wherever you were, he was not too far behind. You two were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip.”

You gazed at him for a few moments, giving yourself time to process his words. An ache began to stir in your gut, the same ache that you fought every single minute of every single day to suppress.

“He-He died? In your- In your world, I mean.”

”Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Wade rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “It was a real dark time for everyone. I never even got to team up with him before he croaked.”

You flicked the ashes from your cigarette into an ashtray. You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“Your Logan, was he like this one?”

“Very similar. This one gives off slutty vibes. And he’s more drunk than the one from my world.”

“Was I happy with him, Wade?”

The Deadpool looked at you for a while. It was so weird to him that you were questioning your happiness with Logan Howlett. In his world, all you ever did was talk about Logan, about the memories you had with him.

“Happier than anyone I ever knew.” He nodded his head softly. “Look, I don’t know your situation with him in this world, but I think you should let him talk to you.”

You took a deep breath of the cigarette. The back of your throat burned.

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Just let him talk and explain himself. Make him feel like a dick for what he did. Then have the hottest makeup sex ever. Lovers-to-enemies-back-to-lovers sex is the best. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t had a chance to experience that yet. Still on my bucket list.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me before. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”

“In our little journey we’ve had, I think I’ve been a good influence on him. I got him to smile, like, three times.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust the words he was telling you and the grin on his face. But you couldn’t stop thinking back to the Logan you remembered.

The cigarette between your fingertips disappeared beneath your touch, the gentle breeze taking away the particles of what was left of it.

You looked down at your hand, a shaky breath leaving through your lips.

“I don’t know, Wade.”

“That’s okay, momma. That’s okay.” He put his hands up. “It’s late and it’s been a wild and odd day for you. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, standing from your chair.

He stood to his feet and looked down at you for a few moments. Then his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Oh, uh–,”

“Shhh. Just let me hug you.” He whispered.

You were confused and shocked a little bit, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

“You smell just like the Y/N from my world.”

”Alright, okay.” You pulled away from him.

“I’m gonna go see if the princess is done with her shower yet.”

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You watched him walk back into your apartment and he disappeared around a corner.

You stood there for a few moments in silence. He was an interesting man. You almost enjoyed how much he constantly annoyed Logan.

“What a fucking day.” You rubbed your temple with one hand as you moved to return to your seat.

The cigarette pack was pulled from your jacket pocket and you took out a second cigarette. You put the stick between your lips, then reached back into your pocket to pull out a lighter.

Someone cleared their throat. You turned your head to see Logan standing in the doorway. He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was damp, a telltale sign that he had just gotten out of the shower.

You said nothing to him for a few heartbeats.

“Your friend is strange.” You nodded to the seat beside you that Wade had previously sat in. As Logan sat down, you held out the pack of cigarettes for him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, taking the box and pulling a cigarette out. You took it back from him and tossed it down onto the table. “He’s…. He’s not too bad.”

You lit your cigarette, then passed the lighter to Logan.

”When’d you take up smoking?” He placed the lighter down on the table next to the pack of cigarettes.

“Couple years ago.”

Logan wanted to look at you, to see how much you had changed in the years since he had last seen you. But he couldn’t bring himself to see the way that you looked at him. The sadness. The grief. The anger. So instead, the Wolverine focused his gaze on the skyline ahead.

The two of you sat there in silence for what felt like ages. Part of you didn’t know what to say, but the other part of you didn’t feel like it was your job to be the first to speak. That was on him.

You finished the cigarette with one final deep breath, then you put it out in the ashtray. The silence was getting to be too much, and you contemplated getting a third cigarette.

“Why did you come here, Logan?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

”I wanted to…. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. “The whole way here, I was trying to think of something to say, of what I could say to apologize to you, to show you that I am sorry. But nothing is good enough. Nothing sounds good enough.”

You turned your head to look at him, tilting your head to the side just a little.

“Start with an actual apology, Logan. Tell me that you are sorry. God knows you’ve never fucking done that before.”

Logan pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, not yet at least.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the breeze blowing over the balcony made your damp cheeks feel cold. You turned away from him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I am— I’m so, so fucking sorry for everything.” Logan’s voice was quiet.

“I thought about killing myself, Logan.”

It was his turn to look at you. His brows were drawn together and his lips parted.

“What?”

“I had no one left. The Professor was gone. Storm, Jean, there was no one fucking left for me to go to.” Your voice trembled as you said each name.

“I’m— Y/N, I’m sorry. I just…. There was a lot going on and I—,”

”You don’t think I didn’t fucking see what was going on, Logan?” You cut him off. The sadness and grief you felt quickly turned to anger. “I wanted to help you. I did everything I could to try to help you! And you just shot me down like I was a fucking nobody to you. Like we hadn’t spent the last fifteen plus years together!”

”I didn’t know how to process everything!” He raised his voice. All the emotions from all those years ago came flooding back to him. “You couldn’t fix everything, Y/N! You couldn’t just make things better with a snap of your fingers! I was an asshole. The biggest fucking asshole in the world. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stood to your feet. The thought of just sitting idly while you felt the white hot anger of a thousand suns under your skin made you want to vomit.

“Fuck you, Logan. Actually and genuinely fuck you. To think you have the right to find me and just waltz in and try to apologize for fucking being the absolute biggest dickhead in the entire—,”

Logan cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into what was perhaps the tightest hug you had ever had in your life. He buried his face against the side of your head, his hands pressing firmly into your back.

You were frozen in shock for the first few seconds. What was he doing? What was he trying to do?

”I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, you melted around him. Your arms wrapped around his torso. You buried your face in his chest.

Sure, you weren’t completely accepting of his apology. There were still plenty of conversations the two of you needed to have to work through your issues. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for years.

You stood there for a long time, probably too long, holding him as tight as you possibly could. Your tears dampened his hoodie at the center of his chest and you were sure you could feel his own tears making your hair damp.

When he finally felt that he had held you for long enough, Logan pulled back. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath through your lips. His large hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tears away.

”We should go to sleep.”

”Yeah.” You nodded your head, stepping away from him so that you could gather yourself quickly. “Um, yeah. I think Wade said something about sharing the guest bed with you.”

”Oh, great.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“You can always sleep on the couch if you want.” You offered, moving around him and into your apartment.

You stopped in the kitchen to watch him. As he stepped into the dim lighting of your home, you found yourself staring at him once more. It felt like you were dreaming, like maybe this was some sort of coma dream. Maybe you fell down the stairs in your apartment and this wasn’t real.

”Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Logan.”

[babygorewhore]

Bite me!

Rafe Cameron x fem reader

When Rafe sees you after picking up Wheezie, he decides that he wants to win you over. Your intoxicating presence hypnotizing him despite your mysterious existence. And Rafe can never back down from a challenge.

W. C almost 3k! Part two

Warnings! News reports of violence! Daddy kink! Male masturbation! Spitting! Biting! Fingering! Non graphic mentions of blood! Unprotected sex! Breeding kink! Light choking! Hints of a sequel…👀 dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx and thank you for always being my sexy beta reader!

Rafe seeing you, a mysterious girl walking around with his sister wheezie after he was picking her up from school immediately caught his interest on a Wednesday afternoon. You wore dark clothes, knee socks and heels despite everyone else wearing sandals and sneakers. You were stunning-no beautiful. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your magnetic smile and whip of your hair as you confidently smiled at him as Wheezie approached him. Her backpack slung over her shoulder and she gave him a knowing look.

“Seriously? She’d never go for you.” She crossed her arms as she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself. Rafe cast her a glare and started the car.

“What’s her name?” She tells him and he nods, savoring the way it sounds. “Pretty. How old is she? Does she work here?”

“I’m not a matchmaker, asshole.” She snaps and he rolls his eyes as he drives home.

“Just tell me.”

“Fine. She’s your age. In her twenties. Yes she works here. She’s a teacher's assistant. And she’s really cool. Kinda quiet but she’s not shy. I like her. She keeps the students in line but she’s fun! She has some crazy stories.”

“Crazy stories?” Rafe muses as they near the house.

“Yeah. She likes to go to graveyards and collect things. She said her favorite time is nighttime and she travels to places around the island for vintage jewelry and furniture.”

Rafe’s mind immediately searched for ideas on ways to get your attention with this information as he parked in the driveway, Wheezie was already half out of the car when he exclaimed, “Wait!” But she was jogging to the front door, ready to pull out the keys for the lock when he caught up.

“I still want to know more,” She lightly slapped his chest as they entered the house.

“Rafe, find her yourself and talk to her. Stop being weird or I’ll tell her you’ve been asking.” Rafe growled softly as she walked away but he knew she’d make good on her threat.

Rafe decided to take his little sister's advice and find you. He went on his phone and typed your name, searching until he found your instagram and he leaned back in his chair in his bedroom as he scrolled through your pictures. Wheezie was right. You did have a collection of unique photos. Including a collection of…vials? He narrowed his eyes but he couldn’t tell what the contents were inside the bottles. You had an array of rings. Expensive ones. But what caught his attention the most was your smile. When you grinned, your teeth looked sharp. Rafe must have been imagining things, too distracted by how fucking pretty you were.

As luck would have it, you posted on your story and he shamelessly clicked on it within seconds. You were at a local coffee shop, which happened to be only a few minutes away and he quickly got up.

When he arrived, he searched for you, finding you reading alone in the corner of the building. Away from the sunlight as you twirled your ring on your finger. You didn’t look up immediately as Rafe neared you, smoothing down his shirt.

“Hey. You’re…?” He spoke your name, causing you to look up with a quirk of your brow.

“Yes?” He swallowed at the sound of your voice. It was low with a hint of a rasp. He set his shoulders and turned on his charm, something that always worked.

“Can I sit down?” He asked and you made a noise of contemplation before nodding.

“Sure, Rafe.”

“Of course, you know who I am,” Rafe chuckled as he sat across from you. You lean back in your seat and cross your legs.

“Well, duh. I mean you’re The infamous Rafe Cameron. Your sister talks about you a lot. About how much of an asshole you are,” You smirk at him and he rolls his eyes but you continue. “But…she does love you. You must be doing something right.”

Rafe paused at the compliment. “Yeah? You think so? You have a lot of opinions.”

“So?” You challenge and Rafe holds up his hands.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, princess. Don’t bite my head off,” He chuckles and notices the way your eyes briefly darken at the statement before it disappears. “Are you…new around here? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Sort of. I moved here a few months ago. Needed a fresh start.”

Rafe tilts his head at your answer. “Where are you from?”

“Salem.” You give him a smile and he hums.

“A little bit of a culture shock, huh? Going from doom and gloom to the beach. You don’t exactly fit in.” He shrugs and half expects you to glare at him but you instead laugh.

“Ha, that is true, Rafe. You’re asking a lot of questions. You like me or something?” Your bold question takes him off guard for a second before he decides to answer honestly.

“Yeah, I do. You interest me. You wanna go somewhere? I can get to know you a little better-“

“Who said I was interested back?” You toss at him but Rafe smirks.

“You wouldn’t talk to me if you weren’t, baby. Come on. Give me a chance. Let me win you over. Name it and I’ll do it.”

“Oh, someone’s playing a dangerous game.” You remark but you lean your elbows on the table. “But I’ll play along. How about a party?” You offer.

“A party? That’s it?”

“Not so fast. Not like one of those bullshit things you probably used to throw. A real party. One where we dress up. Where it’s dark. Good music. Good drinks. Sophisticated. I’m a woman of class, you know.”

“For you?” Rafe leans forward and inhales the scent of your perfume. The intoxicating smell lingers in his nose and he sighs. “Anything. Be at my house tomorrow at eight. It’ll be the night of your life.”

Rafe invited a list of people over at his house for that evening the next day, including Barry who was interested in seeing a girl actually out smart him with remarks as he hung up the phone and focused on the tv in his bedroom.

Reports of five people being in the hospital after being attacked by some mysterious animal who drained them of blood. Not that far away from his penthouse. He had half a mind to pull Wheezie from school but decided ultimately she would be safer in a group of people.

As the day progressed and he got the house ready, Rafe waited for you to arrive as his friends did. He didn’t invite many. Prioritizing people who would give him plenty of privacy and entertain themselves.

Where were you? He looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes later and he was getting anxious. Fuck, did you bail?

“Boo.” He heard a whisper in his ear and he spun around in shock.

You stood behind him with a wide smile but he immediately noticed your clothing. You were wearing a dress that fit your curves perfectly. Heels that highlighted your legs, jewelry that dangled from your ankles, wrists and hung above your heart. You still wore expensive rings and your nails were painted black. Your lipstick was red. Rafe breathed in deeply before trying to grasp whatever semblance of calm as he stepped close to you. And you didn’t back away.

“Mmm, you look fucking amazing, baby. Thought you weren’t going to show.”

“I’m a woman of my word, Rafe Cameron. I was exploring.” You flashed your eyes wide for a second before setting a hand on his chest. And he shivered from your cold temperature. “And damn. What a house. But what I noticed was in your entertainment room. It’s like you know me or something.” You chuckle and Rafe raises his eyebrow in confusion.

“It looks like you have a dance floor.” You crossed your arms, your hips shifting inside the material of your dress. “And I love to dance.”

“Is that right?” Rafe mused and you nodded. You reached forward and took his hand. He looked down at your laced fingers as he felt the chill raise on his own skin from the contact. “Well, why don’t you go ahead and show me, baby girl. Show me how good you are.”

You both walked to the entertainment room and he noticed the way the dim lighting illuminated how beautiful you were. You were so elegant. You walked as if you owned everything in this world and he loved that. He loved the way you marched forward but he also took in the way you watched the guests. Your eyes narrowed on their throats before they shifted back to the direction you were both heading towards.

You gently pushed Rafe down on the couch, the pillows shifting from his weight. The room was empty and you smirked at him. He went to sit up but you pin him in place by placing your heeled shoe against his chest. You shake your head and click your tongue. “No, no. You sit there. And enjoy the show. But while you’re being a good boy and listening…you can hold onto these.” Rafe breathed heavily as you gently touched your own leg that was propped up. Your palm slowly grazed your skin, moving up until you hooked your fingers along the elastic of your underwear.

You removed your shoe off him and wiggled your panties off. Stepping out of them, you dangle the soaked pair in front of him. “These are my favorite pair, daddy. But you’ll take care of them, right?”

He was rendered speechless for a second before he snapped out of it and snatched them out of your hand, causing you to laugh. He held them against his lap as you took steps back. You walked to the speaker, picked up the remote and went through a series of options before selecting a song. It was a rock song. One he recognized from social media. Living Dead Girl was the name.

You lower yourself to the ground, getting on your knees in the middle of the floor, you separate your thighs and roll your body. You take your time, running your hands all over your torso before they settle on your tits, you squeeze them lightly as you start bouncing.

Your ass moves as you crawl forward, shifting your body around so you're slowly dancing to the rhythm of the beat and Rafe felt like he was losing his mind. His cock was so hard it hurt and he was desperate for any sort of relief. He eyed your pair of panties and finally decided to use them.

He unbuckled his belt and moved down his pants, his dick stiff against his boxers as he pulled it out, it slapped against his thigh and he wrapped the lace material around it.

He gasped as he ran his hand along his shaft, your underwear clutched in his fist as he watched you start to suck your fingers, laying on the ground as you spread your legs, your fingers brushing against your bare pussy that was exposed as it glistened in the light and he moaned deeply as he tugged at himself.

“Fuck,” He huffed out. He wanted to touch you. So badly but he also didn’t want to interrupt your performance as you slapped your cunt before putting your fingers back in your mouth.

He was getting close already as he harshly jerked himself off, your underwear dampening as precum leaked out as his stomach flexed, his head falling back against the cushion. You looked like a fucking dream as you slowly stood up, continuing to dance to the music as your shoes clacked against the wood floor.

He hadn’t realized his eyes drifted shut when he felt a light tap against his cheek, snapping him out of his trance. You were leaning over him, both hands on either side of his head. Your chest right above his face. “Cum for me, daddy. Make a mess like the dirty whore you are.”

That sent him over the edge and he spilled into your panties. His release coating them as he trembled and he felt your smaller hand wrap around his cock before sliding to his balls and you massaged them. His vision went white as you pumped him through it before you gripped his chin and swiped your thumb along his lower lip. “Open.” You order and he does.

You move above his mouth and spit inside causing him to growl and pull you forward. He maneuvered you on your hands and knees on the large sofa, giving your ass a slap and causing you to whine as he yanks your dress up. He groaned at your sticky inner thighs and he ran his finger along them before focusing on your clit, causing you to buckle but he wrapped his other hand in your hair. “Uh uh, you can fucking take it, princess.”

He rubs circles on your center and you mewl as he pulls your hair harder, feeling you drip onto his fingers and he slides two of them inside your cunt, curling them deeply. “That’s a good girl. Squeezing me so fucking tight. But I think you need something to suck on while I fuck you.” He shoves your panties past your lips as he works you over, making you grind onto his hand.

Rafe runs the tip of his dick along your slit, tapping it a few times before effortlessly pushing it inside. He moans and rests his head briefly on your back, holding you up by moving his head to grip around your neck. “Such a greedy little slut,” He breathes and thrusts hard. “You fucking feel that? I’m gonna breed this tight pussy and you’re fucking mine.” He grits his teeth as he snaps his hips into you.

Your hands grip the arm of the couch as he pulls out before slamming back in, causing you to sob against your underwear in your mouth, his cum and your spit mixing in the corners of your lips as you nod your head, encouraging him to keep going.

The music began repeating, stirring him onward as you clenched around him and he smacked your ass again, feeling you grow closer. “Gonna cum, baby girl? Cum all over daddy’s cock like the good fucking whore you are.”

That’s all it took for him to feel your warm wet cunt pulse before you came all over his dick, you shuddered and cried out as he thrusted a few more times before reaching his own climax.

Ropes of cum coating your insides and he shook before catching you. His balls slapped against your ass as he pulled out of your cunt that leaked on the couch. “Fuck, baby. I think you should lick that clean, don’t you? You’re a dirty girl.” He shoves your face down and removes your panties. Your tongue laps up your own cum as he bobs your head up and down. “You listen to daddy so well,” he praises.

But at a sudden turn of events, you turn and pin him down by his shoulders and straddle his lap. You sink down on his cock again, causing his eyes to widen and pleasure to rise in his veins as you bury your head in his neck. You pepper kisses along his skin as he grips your hips and guides you through riding him.

Your wet pussy takes him to the brim and he groans against your shoulder. He feels your teeth graze his flesh before he feels a prick of pain but it quickly disappears as you wrap a hand around his throat. Keeping him in place as you rock your pelvis.

“Fucking Christ,” he manages and reaches his orgasm again, his cock twitching before his cum gushes inside you. But you still don’t remove your face from the crook of his neck and he’s all too content to allow you to fuck him however long you want as his eyes drift close.

He jerked awake and sat up straight. Minutes had gone by and he looked around. He saw you adjusting your dress, wiping your lips as a trail of red droplets dribbled down your mouth and he tilted his head, subconsciously reaching up to cup his neck.

He felt two punctures that were wet and he pulled his hand back. Rafe dug his phone out, pulling out the camera and he saw it.

A bite mark.

Everything snapped into place as he stared at you, slowly putting his phone down as you turned towards him. “Are you-did you fucking bite me and drink my…blood?”

Instead of denying it, you gave him a wicked smirk. “But you’ll keep that to yourself, daddy. Won’t you?”

Rafe remembered the news report earlier that day. People were drained of blood and how mysterious you were.

You were a fucking vampire.

“But how is that possible?” He whispered.

“Darling, you have no idea what kind of creatures are out there. You’re lucky I like you, Rafe. But I have to go. You certainly held up your end of the game didn’t you?” You giggle and begin walking away.

“Will I see you again?” He questioned and made you turn your head.

“And why would I forget someone who tastes so fucking good, baby?” You wink at him before finally exiting the room and Rafe sank into the seat.

“What the fuck?” He whispered to himself but didn’t couldn’t deny himself the truth.

This was the night of his life.

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @rafescurtainbangz @emsgoodthinkin @take-everything-you-can @valeskafics @slvt4jamesmarch @gri959 @oceandriveab @rafesthroatbaby

[jazzyoranges]

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

[melrodrigo]

tranquil

Wednesday Addams x G!N Reader

Summary: Wednesday gets a bad case of the late night feels.

Word Count: 600+

A/N: A short one simply for the vibes. Ty @wesstars n @mindyswhore for helping me out 🫶🏻 also i’m gonna mention @bingwriterxo simply cuz i miss her. Hope u enjoy!

It’s been a harrowing day.

After getting a presentation you’d been dreading for weeks done- which had effectively taken all your strength and social battery, you’d been hit with homework for every single class.

Which is how you ended up in your dorm, on a Friday night, sitting and stirring in a mix of damning pride and self-loath.

A knock on the door has your head shifting up and has you turning down the volume of your blasting classical music.

Classical music you’ve never cared for till you met Wednesday Addams.

Most popular loner to live. The infamous young detective. Psycho freak girl. A living black-and-white comic. All the names you can think of, but your favorite thing to call her is your girlfriend.

She’d played something on her cello one night while you were hanging out, and the music had flown through you so easily, lifting you and rattling you to the bone. It had been so magical you had to ask her what she was playing.

You saunter over to the door, somewhat unwillingly, believing you’ve had enough social interaction for one day, but speed up when another knock sounds- this time louder and more hurried.

“What.” You growl, before even looking at your personal space intruder.

“Are you playing tricks on me?” Wednesday, your girlfriend of two years, asks the moment you open your door. Her expression is stoic, as always, but a quiver in her lip tells you better.

The sight of her has the opposite effect on you as it would others.

You feel that little jump like you do every time you see her.

You cock an eyebrow at her, mouth upturned slightly on one side. “Well hello to you too.”

She ignores your comment, favoring instead to walk briskly into your dorm room, one that belonged to you and only you- perks of being the headmaster's kid.

You watch her as she breathes in deep, a display of immense emotion for the Addams, and sags her shoulders.

Contrary to popular belief, Wednesday did have emotions, and not to toot your own horn, but you were well versed in all her different moods by now.

But right now, there’s a different feeling in the air you can’t quite place. She seems…unguarded, unnaturally open.

You shut the door and lean back into the wall in time to see her turn around and walk up to you. She stops just centimeters away from you.

“What’s this about me playing tricks on you?” You question, a little hesitant, distracted by the glint in your girlfriend’s eyes. They barely show through her bangs nowadays, but today they shine brighter, demanding your attention.

She’s blinking slowly, gaze flitting between your lips and your eyes.

This was a look you were quite familiar with.

“Does someone want a kiss?” You tease, placing your hands on her waist gently. You break out in a grin when she sighs at the soft touch.

“Do you enjoy knowing you have control over me?” She asks, tilting her head up to stare into your eyes properly. You look for a joke in her eyes, but her expression stays the same.

Your heart soars at her words. You, out of everyone, would know how much depth her words contain.

Wednesday Addams never says anything lightly.

“Control?” You prod, wanting to make the most out of whatever this mood of hers is.

She nods, looking so relaxed and adoring it makes your heart ache.

“Control.” She whispers, very much staring at you like she wants to grab you by the face and kiss you.

“Yeah? Like what?” You tease further, ready for her to take back her former comment and call you an idiot.

What she does instead, surprises you. She turns her back and talks.

“Why are you turned the other way?” You inquire softly, so as to not ruin the moment.

Wednesday takes another breath that has your heart beating faster.

“It…helps me express my feelings.” She says. You see her hesitate before speaking once again.

“I want you to control me. Or something very close to that. I don’t know what this peculiar feeling is, but it’s dreadful. I’d do anything you asked.” She says, turning around to meet your gaze.

You soften, reach up to brush her face gently. As much as you’re enjoying the vulnerability, you’re a bit worried about what came over her to be so open.

“What’s happened? Are you okay?” You ask her quietly, concern seeping through your voice.

All she does is laugh lowly, shaking her head and bringing a hand up to cup yours.

“I am well, Y/N. I’ve just missed you.” She says, leaning further until she’s pressed up against you, not leaving any space between the two of you.

“We saw each other today.” You say, somewhat meekly, blushing furiously due to your girlfriend’s unexpected antics.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Your absence leaves a hole in my heart.” She tells you, adverting her gaze like she’s suddenly overcome with doubt.

You take her chin in your hands and tilt her face back to you, wanting to get rid of any uncertainty she has about expressing her feelings. It took ages for her to even open up to you, and you never want her to go back to feeling guarded again.

“I missed you too.” You tell her, as sincerely as you can.

Wednesday’s eyes soften even more like she doesn’t believe you said it back.

Eyes all misty and cheeks tinted red, she looks good.

You lean forward and nip her lips, then pull her in harder when you feel her shiver underneath you.

She responds immediately, grabbing tight at your pjs.

You affirm your prior statements with the most tender kiss you can muster, and you know by the way she grips you even tighter that she understands.

[deantfwinchester]

Late Nights

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, back on my Joel x Teacher!Reader shit (though her work hardly plays a role in this), established relationship

Summary: Getting home late is an unfortunately common occurrence in Joel’s line of work. When you both have busy days, it can be hard to find time to share, but you make do.

Warnings: extreme fluff, just utterly fucking saccharine at this point, is fluff without plot a tag?

——————

It’s Wednesday night. Joel’s night to cook dinner.

You get home earlier every day, no question. But since you like to take most every night during the summer months, he insisted on a 60/40 split during the school year. Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays are his. You had Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday & Saturday are mainly for pizza, take out, or date-nights.

When he’d grill on Sunday afternoons, you liked to try and help him with prep, but he’d just pour you a glass of wine or mix you a drink and try to usher you out of the kitchen. You’d always sit and talk with him while he worked anyway. Sarah too, when she wasn’t working on homework or out with friends. It’s one of his favorite parts of the week.

On the nights he’d come home late, though, he always worried about leaving you to it. He was meant to be home cooking for the three of you while you relaxed, tried to let the stress of the school day roll off your back. He loved giving you that time.

This particular night, when six o’clock rolled around and he realized he still had a good hour or more on the site, he knew he needed to let you know he wouldn’t be timely with his return. Didn’t want you to worry.

You’re on the couch, grading. By this time of night, Joel’s normally taken the work from your hands and pulled your attention toward anything else. Noticing the room darkening, you wonder where he is, just as your phone dings:

Wednesday, October 7, 6:03 PM:

Sorry baby, gonna be later than I hoped tonight. Y’all don’t wait on me, okay?

Supposed to be my night too, dammit. I apologize, sweetheart.

You’d told him till you were blue in the face he didn’t need to apologize to you when he was the one having to work until long after dark. It never took.

You responded quickly, knowing his phone would be back in his pocket and forgotten again soon when his attention turned again to the work and his team.

Wednesday, October 7, 6:04 PM: (Outgoing)

Dont worry about it, sweetie. i promise i can handle dinner, just don’t work too hard and get home when you can ❤️

And take a break and drink some water, will ya? if that bottle ain’t empty yet, you haven’t had enough! see you soon, love.

He’d be dead on his feet when he walked through the door, that much you knew. And he’d have no business rifling around in the kitchen for something random he’d throw together, not substantial enough by far for a day of working like he’d been. You hopped up and started to the kitchen, determined to make a hearty meal for you and Sarah to share now, and to ensure Joel had a real meal when he finally made it home for the night.

————

A couple of hours had passed by the time Joel finally walked through the door. You’re back on the couch, this time reading a book while the lights from the tv danced softly in the dimly lit room, with a bare haze of sound playing at low volume.

It was nearly 8:30 when you heard the key turning in the door. Sarah had retired to her room for the night after dinner. She’d tried to help you clean the dishes, but you’d ushered her off to relax after spending most of the afternoon doing homework.

Joel trudges wearily through the door, shoulders slouched and eyes heavy-lidded when he thinks you can’t see him. The second he lays eyes on you, though, his posture straightens and his expression brightens, eyes opening a bit more as he lifts into a smile. Your expression mirrors his, and you sit up, closing your book and rising to meet him halfway. You practically speak over each other in greeting:

“Hi darlin’, how was your day?” he says.

“Hey honey, how’d it go today?” you ask.

You laugh a bit when you realize you’re asking the same question on top of each other, and he pulls you close, arms resting heavily around your waist. You drape yours around his neck as he leans down to kiss you. When you pull away to look at his face, you see past the tired smile he wears to the exhaustion etched in his face, settled in his drooping eyes.

You move one hand up, fiddling gently with the strands of hair at the back of his head. You smile and put light pressure on the base of his neck with your other hand, moving his head down to rest on your shoulder. He catches on instantly, and settles comfortably where you direct him. He nuzzles into the nape of your neck and you feel his eyes close against your collarbone, his warm fatigued breaths rhythmically grazing your chest.

You continue playing with his hair with one hand, while the other remains resting on the back of his neck. You turn your head to place a soft kiss to his temple and, after a moment of restful silence, quietly speak:

“You’re tired, huh? I missed you today.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he murmurs against your neck, tightening his grip around your waist, and snuggling closer.

“You gotta be hungry. Got a plate waitin’ for ya in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?” you ask him, moving your hand down his neck to rub gently against his back. He breathes deeply in contentment at your comforting touch.

“No, I’m never leaving this spot. I live here now,” he says, and you feel the rumble of his voice against your chest. You chuckle lightly and speed up your ministrations, applying a bit more pressure as you discover the tightness of the muscles in his back.

“Mhm. And when was the last time you ate? Or drank anything for that matter?” you ask knowingly.

“Uhhhh, i guess it was, arou-“ he cuts himself off with a yawn, “around lunch time? Maybe one? Did finish that bottle like you asked, though,” and he smacks his lips lazily, somehow nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Good, thank you. But lunch was seven hours ago now, so you need to eat something. Wanna start there? Or shower first?” you ask, chuckling a bit.

He raises his head a bit and squints at you, frowning playfully. “You sayin’ I smell, darlin’?” he mumbles, laughing into your shoulder.

You giggle in response before elaborating: “I’m saying you’re sweaty and would feel better if you rinsed the day off before crawling into bed.”

He sighs and rasps into your neck, “you changed the sheets didn’t you?” you feel a smile form against your chest.

“Sure did. So it’s food, shower, and bedtime. You can pick the order. Which first? Want me to grab your dinner?” you ask.

He sighs deeper this time, “What’s that thing about objects in motion and objects at rest or somethin’? Gonna keep doing whatever they already got goin’ on?”

You rumble a little laugh in return before responding. “I see. C’mon Newton, let’s keep ya moving. Go hop in the shower while I get your dinner ready.” You say, patting his cheek as he raises his head with a little groan.

You catch his eyes with your own and let your hand rest on his cheek. You move a thumb beneath his chin and pull him to you, giving him one last peck before ushering him down the hall. You pull his plate from the fridge and get to work on reheating his meal.

——————

He emerges less than ten minutes later smelling fresh and dressed in a clean t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, padding into the kitchen just as you’re filling a glass of water to place next to his warmed plate. He rubs a fist into one eye, yawning again, and plops into a chair at the kitchen table.

You approach behind him, placing the glass on the table with one hand and rubbing his shoulder with the other. He lifts a hand to grab yours and squeeze as he takes a sip. His eyes reach up to meet your own.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. It was my night anyway, and now you’ve cooked and even put the damn plate in front of me,” he huffs.

“You don’t need to thank me, love” you respond, leaning down to kiss him again before taking the seat next to him with the glass of wine you’d poured to sip while you sat with him. You reach for his left hand where it rests on the table, and gently squeeze. He wraps his fingers around yours before you can retreat. Your fingers remain intertwined for the duration of the meal.

The two of you discussed the highlights of your respective days - roses and thorns, both too sleepy to bother with buds. When Joel finishes, you grab his plate to wash, but he takes it from you.

“No way are you washing my dishes too, honey. You’ve done enough already tonight,” he tries to insist. You’re not having it.

“Will you just let me take care of you, dummy? You’re bone tired, I can see it in those beautiful brown eyes. Here. How about this?” you rinse the plate and utensils, shove them quickly in the dishwasher, close it emphatically, and raise your empty hands.

He rolls his eyes, but relents with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he responds smiling, a bit bashful from the care and compliment.

“Good. Now c’mon, bedtime.” you say, taking his hand in yours once again and leading him to the bedroom.

“Whatever you want, baby” he grins, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help bellow a hearty laugh at that one.

“Jesus, like you could keep your eyes open, Miller,” you respond, as you pull the covers back and lead him onto the bed next to you. You settle back against the headboard and open your arms up, beckoning him into your lap. He shuffles closer and leans into your embrace.

“It was-“ he pauses, only to finish through a yawn “- worth a shot.” You chuckle quietly as he rests his head in your lap, eyes instantly slipping closed.

You turn on the tv, keeping the volume low. It’s only a little after 9, so still early for you to fall asleep. You would read, but you’d rather turn off the light, hoping the dimness in the room helps him get some good rest.

You lay one hand on his back and the other in his hair, both softly rubbing in comforting circles, and you feel him melt further into you. A familiar warmth fills your chest at the sight of him there, resting peacefully in your lap. You lean down and press one last kiss to his head before whispering to him.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

“G’night, darlin’” he rumbles, muffled into your lap. You smile, one hand still on his back as the other reaches up, flicking off the lamp, before returning it to his hair. Your fingers gently massage his scalp, and within minutes, you hear his soft snores.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[talesofesther]

I told the moon about you

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds herself enchanted by the black wolf who always watches her play the cello in the dead of night.

A/N: This was written for a request sent by @roleplayfandom and I combined it with an idea of mine that I've had for a while, hope you don't mind and can still enjoy it. Arguably one of the most important stories I've written, because this oc has been my baby for so long, and I'm so happy to finally have the opportunity to include her in one of my stories; just hope I was able to do her justice with this. <3

Word count: 6,4k (sorry)

Masterlist

There was a drizzle in the air, the wind carried it around easily; tiny droplets of rain landed on the strings of Wednesday's cello that shook with each note she played.

Past the thin rain and clouds, the brightness of the full moon was nothing but a faded blur, casting a silver glow over the Addams girl and serving as the only witness to her spectacle.

The strong melody traveled with the wind same as the rain did, reaching the deepest parts of Nevermore and undoubtedly waking up a few students from their slumber. It only served as incentive — Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

When she released the strings, a soft sigh was let out as well. She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

With uncanny delicacy, Wednesday lowered her cello, closing the case with a soft click.

The rain looked like it was starting to pick up, bigger droplets started to kiss Wednesday's cheeks, making their way down to her chin. The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

Wednesday walked up to the railings, her hands leaning against the wet concrete there. Save for the howling wind, it was strangely quiet.

But there was something different with today. Wednesday could feel it. She could feel the weight of a mysterious presence nearby.

As expected, her instincts never failed. It was dark, pitch black, the shape of trees blending together with one another in the distance.

But in the middle of the darkness, a pair of caramel eyes were spotted. They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky. It was just sitting there, on the grass of the gardens outside. Its golden eyes fixed intently all the way up to the balcony where Wednesday was standing.

The Addams girl expressed no reaction other than angling her chin up with furrowed brows, a dare; and the wolf understood, because it slowly stood up, its ears resting back against its head before it trotted out of sight and into the woods.

Wednesday remained under the rain until she could feel the wetness of it seeping into her clothes. Her hands held onto the railings tightly.

Turns out the moon wasn't the only witness tonight.

—

Those same golden eyes followed Wednesday in her dreams, and she woke up frustrated for not knowing who they belonged to.

Was it just a wild animal passing by or a student braving the woods past curfew?

The thought of the wolf being a student seemed… unlikely, because it looked much different from Enid when compared to her 'wolfed out' form. The black wolf was simply that, a wolf — albeit a tad bigger. Yet Wednesday didn't discard the possibility of it being someone. Someone who was watching her.

She tried pushing the thought out of her mind during the day for the sake of her grades.

"Miss Addams?"

Wednesday snapped her head up, only to see her anatomy teacher and the whole entirety of the class with their heads turned her way, eyes expectant as they waited for something to happen.

A scowl came to Wednesday's face at the unwanted attention. She rested both hands on her table, briefly realizing that the board had three extra paragraphs of lessons written on it that weren't in her notebook yet.

"I made you a question," the teacher continued, one of her hands coming to rest on her waist, "for how long can a gorgon stone a person?"

Wednesday gulped, her lips hovering open as she searched her mind for the useless information yet came empty-handed.

The teacher was annoying, one of the least liked by the Addams girl. She was old and wore long and colorful skirts, with obnoxiously large glasses resting atop her nose.

"It depends on the gorgon," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but usually from two to four hours."

Wednesday glanced beside her to where the owner of said voice sat, and was met with a smirk being directed at her. She huffed in annoyance, visibly rolling her eyes.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace — instantly getting into Wednesday's nerves the moment you stepped foot into the school and called her 'sweetheart'.

"Very well." The teacher looked between you and Wednesday, not entirely pleased that Wednesday wasn't the one who answered but deciding to let it pass, and turned around to write on the board again.

Wednesday didn't know what your deal was, no one did. No one knew who your family was, what were your abilities, or the reason you enrolled in Nevermore; not even Enid knew, and she was the gossip queen. Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire, just by the way you scrunched your nose at the mere sight of blood; but that's about everything she knows so far.

Too smug for your own good, you leaned back on your chair. Wednesday could feel your gaze roaming up and down her body, before you said, quietly; "you're welcome-"

There was sunlight coming through the dusty windows. Wednesday could see her reflection in your glasses. "Shut up."

"Sweetheart," you finished with a grin.

The pencil that was thrown in your direction missed you only by an inch.

—

When Wednesday walked out onto the balcony of her dorm the next night, the wolf was already there.

She got a little taken aback by it, halting in her steps and gripping tighter onto the case of her cello. Wednesday immediately discarded the possibility of it being a coincidence or just a wild animal passing by. The wolf was there for her.

Those caramel eyes held a staring contest with Wednesday, and they eventually won. Satisfied, the wolf then lay down on the grass… and waited.

Long beats passed by until Wednesday finally sat down on her chair and adjusted her cello to be played. Her movements slow and calculated, all too aware of the heavy stare on her.

The moon was bright in the night sky, and Wednesday briefly glanced up at it, partly searching for some kind of reassurance but only finding that it wasn't a night of full moon.

When her gaze found the wolf again, she saw it looking up at the moon as well. The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Wolves sing for the moon, maybe that's why this one took a liking to the Addams girl.

There was hesitance on the way Wednesday's fingers hovered over the strings. Save for the occasional twitch of its tail, the wolf was unmoving on the grass, patiently watching.

Wednesday could tell the wolf to leave again, part of her knew it would obey. She didn't. She only closed her eyes, and started playing.

—

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find — some of them old, pages fragile to the touch and covered in a thick layer of dust.

The place was mostly deserted as per usual, and Wednesday saw no harm in staying. A table waited for her in the middle of the tall bookshelves, the only one hidden from sunlight.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little thrilled at the prospect of a new mystery. Things have been dull at school without an evil pilgrim trying to destroy it.

Though she was able to read in peaceful silence for all of ten minutes.

"What's with the sudden interest in furs?"

A heavy sigh left Wednesday's lips when she heard your voice. She sat straighter on her chair and chose to ignore you, pointedly turning the page of her book and focusing on it.

You hopped up on the table, sitting there cross-legged so you could face Wednesday, "you know your roommate is one, right? I bet she'd be happy to answer your questions."

See, there's a reason why Wednesday is bothered by your presence. Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. It's a feeling that's been there once before, fleetingly, much smaller than it is now. But she's no stranger to what comes with it.

"I don't remember asking for your advice," Wednesday said, still refusing to look at you, her bangs hiding her eyes from you.

"Ouch," you mumbled, leaning back on your hands, "was just trying to help."

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping. And it's not like she paid attention to the last three lines she just read in the book anyway. Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again; the dim golden light of the table lamp framed your profile and the way your hair fell over your shoulder — for a second, it reminded Wednesday of her wolf.

Her wolf. The thought jolted her back to reality and she cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as if you'd be able to read her thoughts.

"When are you gonna stop chasing after me like a lost puppy?" Wednesday didn't sound half as confident as she should for those words.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

The air felt electric, there was something enticing about the way you refused to back down sometimes. Wednesday felt the hair at the back of her neck rising with a shiver. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under already — or at least fighting for air between her and this damn table. Wednesday couldn't decide which outcome she liked best.

Wood scratched against the floor as she suddenly pulled back the chair beside hers; "sit down properly, stay quiet," without looking at you, she shoved one of the books in your direction, "we're looking for a werewolf who can transform without a full moon."

—

Nothing. There was nothing in any of the books.

Wednesday walked back to her dorm without having learned a single thing. None of the books in the school had anything remotely close to the creature she saw the past two nights. Frustration was eating at her insides because she was running out of leads to follow, a dead end steadily approaching.

She went up the stairs of Ophelia Hall in a haste, pushing the door to her room out of the way and causing a loud thump that got Enid jumping on her bed, almost throwing her cell phone to Wednesday's side of the room.

"Jesus Wednesday, what did the door do to you?" Enid grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Wednesday didn't respond, she threw her black backpack by the feet of her bed and came to stand in front of Enid. "What do you know of werewolves that can transform without a full moon?"

Slowly, a frown came to Enid's features. She turned off her phone when Wednesday kept glaring at it. "Nothing? Werewolves don't usually change without a full moon," Enid explained, confusion evident in her tone.

"And what if they did?"

"Then they're most likely not a werewolf."

Wednesday clenched her jaw in annoyance, she tugged at the tie around her neck, taking it off and messing up her hair in the process.

"Uh- my mother used to tell me about people who could shift into wolves at will, when I was younger," Enid kept going, wondering if that's what Wednesday was after.

The tie fell to her feet and Wednesday came to sit beside Enid; "tell me."

"Well, I don't know much about it, just that they're technically not werewolves. At least not like me," Enid shrugged, her colorful nails tapping her knee as she searched her brain for the stories she heard as a kid. "Oh, people used to call them hellhounds… pretty creepy if you ask me," she grimaced momentarily, "because they could change form whenever they pleased, and their… looks didn't help either, it made others scared of them. Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name back in the 1850s I think, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows," she shrugged, "maybe that's why no one has seen one for the past twenty years or so."

—

Wednesday didn't sleep that night. She kept staring at her ceiling and going over everything that Enid had told her. And the only other thought on her mind was you. It was inevitable, too fitting for it to be a coincidence.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

For a week straight, Wednesday waited for the wolf to appear every night so she could start playing her cello. And every night without fail, the wolf was there; same place, same time. It would lay down, watch her, and then leave.

—

On the tenth night, Wednesday wasn't on the balcony of her dorm. She decided to break the pattern.

There was no moon in the sky tonight, it almost looked like a storm was brewing. The air was frigid outside, the grass already coated with a thin layer of ice. Wednesday enjoyed the cold, but even she was reprimanding herself for having only one coat on.

Glancing down at her phone, Wednesday saw that it was already five minutes past the usual time the wolf showed up. She wondered if it saw the empty balcony and left. Or maybe it wasn't going to show up at all tonight. She felt strangely disappointed at the thought.

A twig snapped behind Wednesday, causing her to hastily turn around with a gasp lingering on her tongue. The trees stood tall in front of her, creating a blanket of pure darkness between them, nothing could be seen. Nothing, except a pair of golden eyes. For a moment, they looked like they were floating on nothing, intently watching the girl in front of them as if she was prey.

For several beats, Wednesday waited. And then, one paw stepped out of the woods and into the grass, causing a chill to run down her back — not from fear, at least not only fear.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Admittedly, it was bewitching.

The wolf, even on all fours, was almost as tall as Wednesday; and still, it kept its distance. If she didn't know any better, Wednesday would say it was afraid of her.

The night was suddenly calm, with not a single soul around to witness. Wednesday had come all the way down here tonight to put an end to things, discover who this wolf was and the reason behind all this… stalking?

Yet any words had died on her tongue and she found herself taking a step closer. The moment felt strangely delicate. When the wolf didn't move, she took two more steps.

Wednesday was reaching out before realizing it. The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

Wednesday didn't dare breathe, trapped in a moment that felt unreal. But her attention was soon caught by a glint of color, dangling from the wolf's neck.

The wolf backed away as soon as Wednesday tried to take a closer look, bright eyes looking at her one last time before it bolted away into the woods.

—

The next night, her wolf didn't show up. And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

A loneliness that shouldn't be there, but it was.

Wednesday found herself slipping away when the moon was highest in the sky, her bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden floor as she walked the empty hallways of Ophelia Hall. Maybe a walk out in the cold would take her mind of off foolish matters.

She walked until she eventually reached the main doors that led outside, stopping short of crossing the threshold. There was a figure sitting on the grass just ahead, cross-legged and looking up at the moon.

Wednesday would recognize you anywhere. She wondered why, for a fleeting second. "What are you doing?"

You tensed when you heard her voice. You had heard her coming, you heard the soft pattern of her steps down the stairs. You just weren't expecting her to talk. You didn't turn around to face her when you spoke; "admiring the moon."

Subconsciously, Wednesday's gaze shifted to the natural satellite in the sky, before settling back on you. She could barely make out the silhouette of your nose and cheeks, but she could tell you were smiling. Foolish. She thought to herself.

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

The Addams girl let out an indignant scoff at her own inner thought, reprimanding herself for even coming up with it. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous of a floating rock.

"What are you doing up?" You eventually asked, your voice gentle into the night.

If you turned around, you'd see Wednesday chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to chase away the mess of feelings swimming in her stomach. You'd see her take half a step toward you before deciding against it, and instead rushing back inside without giving you an answer.

But you didn't need one. Part of you already knew why she was there. It was the same for you, and it was bittersweet that you ended up meeting in the middle anyway, even if for a moment. Part of you wanted to run after her and just tell her.

—

You weren't sure why you did it.

On the first night, it was mere curiosity. You could remember the coldness of the grass beneath your paws, announcing the inevitable arrival of winter. You could remember the howling wind, causing your ears to twitch as the fur there felt sensitive to the force of it. You could remember the first drops of rain hitting your nose as you walked and how that's when you heard the first note of her song.

You followed it easily, soon finding yourself in the gardens that her balcony overlooked. And even seeing her all the way from down there, she was nothing short of entrancing. It was like you could feel her emotions through the music.

You never meant for Wednesday to see you though, even if all she'd see was a black wolf. But it happened, and yet you kept coming back, night after night; you couldn't help yourself. You started missing her. Because listening to her play felt like an escape from your unfortunate reality. It put you at ease.

But you should've known Wednesday would not settle for so little, you should've known from the moment you found her in the library, already digging up every last bit of information on anything regarding werewolves. You should've stopped then.

You didn't. Instead, you allowed her even closer, close enough to touch. On that night, part of you knew she'd already figured it all out.

—

It was a gray day outside. Fitting, you thought to yourself; as it was also your most dreaded day of the year. There was no more dodging it, you could fake sickness or an injury only so many times until it gets too obvious.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

It's tradition. That was what your father always told you. It's keeping the memory of our ancestors alive. As if they were anything worth remembering.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally. He had called you yesterday to let you know he'd be coming, as if you weren't stressing over it for a whole week already.

There was a chilly air outside, you could feel it even before walking out the doors that led to the quad; and it was right as you were making your way out, that she bumped into you. A quiet grunt left her lips at the impact, and she only didn't fall to the ground because your hands steadied her; your hold warm on her waist, keeping her body the closer she's ever been to you.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school. It just happened. Maybe it was your incredible bad luck; or those dark eyes that sometimes put the midnight sky to shame with their beauty. The teasing came with the package of your growing feelings for her, it was your natural defense mechanism whenever your heartbeat skyrocketed at the mere smell of her perfume. Though you could swear that, sometimes, you managed to get her cheeks a tad rosier than normal. It got you wondering if it was wishful thinking to consider the small possibility of her returning your affections.

"You good?" You asked, subconsciously squeezing her waist.

Wednesday stumbled back when she realized that if she leaned forward just a tad more it would result in her nose brushing yours. She blinked multiple times to focus back on you, yet the first thing her eyes found was the light pink pendant of your necklace, the very same she saw on the wolf the other night.

For someone who's always so hard to read, she let the facade slip pretty easily this time. Wednesday's features did something complicated, as if she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

"You're my wolf," the words rolled off her tongue against her volition, her wide eyes darting from your necklace to the dark sunglasses resting on top of your nose.

An awkward chuckle escaped you. You felt a lot more timid than you thought you would, "what?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw, she felt anger but wasn't sure towards what; "you're the wolf I see every night, aren't you?"

Your lips hovered yet no words came out, you took a step away from her. If it where any other time, you'd be happy to bounce arguments off of her until inevitably confirming her idea; but her timing wasn't ideal, "W-Wednesday, now is not a good time-"

"Why did you hide it-"

"What part of 'hurry up' did you not understand?" A gruff voice interrupted both you and Wednesday. You only gulped and looked down at your feet, while Wednesday turned her head to see a tall man walking towards you. He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

"I'm sorry, father," you mumbled as he dragged you away and you tried to keep up with his steps. You turned around to give Wednesday a last tight-lipped smile, "see you later, Wednesday."

—

The sun was nowhere to be seen when your father dropped you back at school again.

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

Part of you was grateful to have come back late, Nevermore's hallways were mostly empty at this hour already so you didn't have to explain your looks. It's not like you couldn't have freshened up at your family's cabin, you just didn't want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

So you hurried into the first bathroom you found, not really considering the fact it was a communal one and anyone could walk in on you.

—

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed. She had pending matters with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.

So of course she kept an eye out for when you'd return to school. She saw the car drop you off by the gates, following after you as soon as you walked inside.

When Wednesday pushed open the bathroom door, you were standing in front of the mirror, damp paper towels in your hand as you tried to clean a rather nasty cut on your cheek. Your sunglasses rested atop the sink, giving Wednesday a clear view of your eyes; they were a shade of caramel she was all too familiar with, the same ones that have been keeping her company at night.

You tensed up when you noticed her, your hand freezing midair as you were about to throw the paper into the trash can.

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably as none of you seemed to know what to do next. You were shifting on your stance, breathing unsteadily and Wednesday feared you might run away, again.

She took a single step in your direction and asked the one thing she came for; "why have you been stalking me?"

As if breaking from a trance, you looked down and away from her; allowing your hair to fall from behind your ear and hide your profile. "I wasn't stalking you."

"What would you call standing outside my window at late hours of the night only to watch me play the cello?" Wednesday raised her eyebrow pointedly.

You chuckled humourlessly, "now you make me seem like a creep." You felt small under her piercing gaze, embarrassment twirling inside your stomach. Sure, when she said it like that, it sounded weird. But you were just enjoying good music, right?

You slowly turned around to face her, your hands gripping tightly onto the sink's edge behind you. "You never told me to leave," you said quietly.

Any words Wednesday might have thought of died on her tongue. She felt uncharacteristically shy knowing that it was you who'd been witnessing her late-night lullabies. Yet she was also glad that it was you, and not someone else.

You shrugged weakly, focusing your gaze on your feet, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I heard you one night and-" you glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile, fragility still lingering on your heart and making your vision blur over. Even under the cheap artificial light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen; alabaster skin contrasting with soft dark hair, sharp eyes, and burgundy lips — she had your heart on a leash.

"And I was blown away," you continued quietly as your feelings escaped you, "it was like I could feel what you were feeling through the music, and it was so freeing… I had to come back to it."

There was a distant ache in Wednesday's lungs, because she refused to breathe. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage as she took in each of your words. No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you," you breathed.

"Why keep it a secret?" She asked then.

Her sudden gentleness startled you. You've never heard her voice so soft. "I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

It's because of the way your voice breaks at the end, that Wednesday finally looks at you. And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

And you weren't hers. Wednesday knew you weren't hers to worry about, to care for, to protect. Yet she had the annoying urge to do it all anyway.

She wordlessly closed the distance between you, the sound of her boots loud against the bathroom tiles. Taking a few paper towels, Wednesday dampened their edge under the running water of the sink. She hesitated before coming closer, it felt like crossing a line, walking down a road with no way back. Her eyes never left you as she came to stand in front of you.

Your grip on the sink's edge was bruising, knuckles white. You were so quiet, so on edge, so shaky; your eyes had a darkness around them, your lips quivering. It felt all wrong. Wednesday hated seeing you like this, without your usual light.

She raised her hand slowly, stopping short of reaching your cheek, "may I?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth rushing to your heart at the delicacy you didn't know she was capable of. A barrier had fallen between you. When you leaned against her touch, Wednesday started gently cleaning the few places still stained with blood on your skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Wednesday couldn't hold the question back anymore. A different kind of anger bubbled in her chest — one that was mixed with an unusual sense of protectiveness. "Your father?"

"Not him," you choked out, unable to look her in the eyes — not wanting to, "not directly."

Wednesday frowned at that, her eyes tried to chase after yours but you avoided her.

"He makes me do it." A tear rolled down your cheek, you bit into your lip to contain a sob, "he always makes me do it."

Wednesday would never dare call herself an empathetic person, but her chest clenched in pain to see you hurt. One of your tears fell on her thumb that rested on your cheek, and she wanted to take all the pain to herself.

"But I hate it, Wednesday," you told her fiercely, desperate for her to believe you, a new batch of tears coming to your eyes when you finally looked up at her, "I hate the killing."

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

And as you walked through the gardens together, Wednesday could feel the shift in the air. You had told her about the 'stupid tradition', how your family gets together once a year for the hunt, and how you felt dirty, disgusted at the feeling of sinking your canines into the white fur of the rabbit. Yet they still make you do it.

The door to her dorm came before yours. You stopped in front of it with her, nothing but the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling to make you company. The moment felt more intimate than it should be. Wednesday didn't look like the girl who threw pencils at you in class — there was a faint blush to her cheeks and her pupils were blown wide — she looked like someone you could love.

"Why don't you ever take it off?" Wednesday asked, shooting a brief glance at the necklace hanging from your neck.

You take the light pink pendant between your fingers, tracing the nooks and crannies in it, "it was my mom's," you said softly, "she was the only person who ever told me I didn't need to be what others said I was. That I didn't have to carry the sins of my forbearers."

Wednesday nodded softly, glancing up at you before she turned around. Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, she looked at you from over her shoulder, "if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

On what was usually the worst day of the year for you, Wednesday managed to make you go to sleep with a smile.

—

There was suddenly an unspoken thing in the air.

Wednesday went about her day as per usual, following her routine precisely. But there was something making her feel as if spiders were crawling around inside her stomach; it happened each time she walked into a room hoping to find you there, each time she'd feel you looking her way and doing a poor job of pretending otherwise, each time she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door. She felt a little silly, waiting on you like this even if you hadn't given her the slightest hint you'd be coming at all.

But she hoped you would.

It was two minutes past the usual time she'd go out to play her songs, that Wednesday heard three knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal you on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt.

"Hi," you greeted with an awkward smile.

"Hello," she bit back a smile of her own.

You followed after her when Wednesday quietly made her way outside. You felt a little out of place, up here instead of down there on the grass. But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

You figured you'd never be able to settle on watching her from a distance anymore. Not when you'd just had a taste of listening to her music so loud and clear, of watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her — she could feel it though, the weight of your gaze; it was enough.

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon. Maybe you always have been, for all of those nights you laid outside in the cold only to watch her play. She wondered for a moment if that is what love looked like.

And maybe that's the reason why, before even getting up, she decided she'd take that gamble.

"You are so amazing," you breathed out, your lips hovering as you gestured around in search of words good enough to describe your feelings.

Wednesday put her cello aside, getting up from her chair to take the few steps that separated you.

"I mean, every time that I hear you play I'm just-" you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

"I'm just in love," you told her in nothing but a whisper.

Wednesday had taken a hold of your jacket, and she halted only for a second when the word love left your lips. She didn't say it, but the way she was looking at you with the softest of eyes held a lot of love too.

The kiss she pulled you into might have been long overdue, given both of your eagerness. You were quick to grasp her waist and pull her body as close to yours as humanly possible.

Wednesday cupped your cheeks, holding you in place as her nose bumped yours and she gave a gentle nip on your lower lip.

She kept her lips on yours until her lungs screamed for air, pulling away slowly, feeling each one of your deep breaths grazing her lips. Wednesday felt your nails gently pressing against her spine, she felt you trace a path from her jaw to right below her ear where you chose to place a lingering kiss.

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A/N: This is a storyline I'm definitely willing to expand, so if you have any requests regarding Wednesday and her wolf, feel free to send them in.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[babybluebex]

i saw ur message abt angus tully requests and🙈🙈 if u feel like it i would love to read a first kiss fic, but honestly i'd read anything !!!!

as you requested... :) word count: 1k

When you first met Angus, you didn’t consider him as someone you could fall for. He was a little short-tempered, a little too sarcastic for your tastes, but he was smart— even though you didn’t go to the same school, he still came into town on Wednesday afternoons and met you at the library to tutor you in biology. Even though Angus could definitely be hard to deal with sometimes, he helped you get the grades that you needed, and you were endlessly appreciative of him. 

Your biology midterm was next week, and you and Angus should have by all means been studying, but you weren’t. You were listening to him talk about his school, the prestigious Barton Academy, and how the all-boys school wasn’t exactly conducive to finding a date. “Not that I even wanna go to winter formal,” Angus said, twirling his pencil in his fingers. “But my mom and stepdad say I should.” 

“Who’re you taking?” you asked. Your school also had a dance at the end of the semester, but you guys weren’t fancy enough to call it a “formal”. You were also in need of a date, and had briefly considered just going by yourself; you were better off on your own, anyway. 

Angus shrugged. “Not a lot of girls for me to ask,” he said. “Not that any girl would wanna go out with me anyway.” 

“Oh, whatever,” you scoffed, gently erasing your work on your paper and rewriting the answer. “You’ve gotta have girls swooning all over you.” 

Angus barked out a laugh. “You flatter me,” he grumbled. “You think girls give me the time of day? That’s really funny.” 

You lifted your eyes from your paper up to Angus’s face, and you scrunched your eyebrows. “I mean, why not?” you asked. “You kinda have that Bob Dylan thing going on; if you went to my school, you would be everybody’s favorite.” 

“Mm, but I don’t go to your school,” Angus hummed. “The guys at Barton think I’m just a pest.” 

“Well, I don’t think that,” you offered lightly. “I think you’re pretty cool.” 

“Thanks,” Angus said softly. “I think you’re… Ahem, pretty cool too.” His cheeks went red as he cleared his throat, and his eyes flicked down to your textbook to break eye contact. Suddenly, he was quiet, his face burning; you had never seen Angus be shy before. 

“Angus?” you said. He said nothing, his teeth nibbling on his bottom lip, and you reached out to him, letting your fingertips brush his chin, lifting his face to look at you. You tilted your head as you watched him squirm, but he made no effort to move your hand from his face or try to move you away. “You know what I mean… When I said you’re pretty cool, right?” 

Angus took a breath, and he nodded quietly. “I meant the same thing,” he admitted. “Only, I… I’ve never had a girlfriend before. I don’t know how to do this.” 

Your hand dropped from his face, and you took up his hand from the table, twining your fingers together with his. His skin was soft and cold, and his grip was immediate and strong. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you told him. “A real boyfriend, at least.” 

“What’s a real boyfriend?” Angus asked, leaning forward in his seat to get closer to you. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I mean, like… I’ve never had a guy get all shy around me or anything. Act like he really likes me, and isn’t just dating me to cheat off of me in history class.” 

Angus chuckled breathlessly. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me,” he said, and you smiled. “Umm… Can I… Kiss you? I’ve kinda wanted to ever since I met you…” 

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” you asked. 

“Have you?” Angus asked quickly. 

“I asked you first,” you smiled, and Angus huffed as he chuckled. 

“Um, no,” Angus coughed. “I’ve always gone to all-boys schools… Last time I had a girl I talked to regularly, I was in preschool. And that doesn’t really count, I think.” 

“Probably not,” you agreed. “I’ve kissed one other guy before. It was the boyfriend who would cheat off of me, and he kissed me sometimes, but… Never anything else.” 

“Okay, so you’re marginally more experienced than I am,” Angus said and jokingly rolled his eyes. “You can’t get mad at me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“I would never,” you told him. You both hesitated for a moment, trying to read each other’s minds, and, before you could speak first, Angus cupped your cheek with his soft palm and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to lean into his kiss, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his thin wrist, and he sank into you, letting himself relax. 

You finally broke the kiss with a big smile, and Angus chuckled, and you shifted away quickly when your teeth clacked together. “Was that good?” Angus asked, nervously pressing his lips into a thin line as his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Why’re you laughing, was it that bad?” 

“No, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you,” you chuckled, shaking your head. You watched his cheeks go pink again at the pet name, and you said, “I’m just… Happy.” 

“Good,” Angus said. His hand reached for yours, pressing his fingers between yours, and he said, “Right... What were we talking about?”

“Well, we were talking about, like, biology and stuff, for my exam next week,” you said. “But then we started talking about your winter formal and my school dance, and how we didn’t have dates.” 

“Oh, right,” Angus said. “Umm… I-I guess, maybe, if you want, I could go with you to your dance.” 

“As my date?” you asked, and Angus nodded. “I think I’d like that a lot. And maybe I can be your date to the winter formal?” 

“As long as you can deal with the stuck-up pricks at my school,” Angus grumbled, and you grinned, leaning in and kissing Angus’s cheek. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

[thedemoninme141]

She wishes

Summary: Wednesday wishes alot of things.

Warnings: Angst! ALOT OF ANGST!!! EmotionalOutOfCharacterWednesday

Wednesday hated flowers. The sight of their ugly, different colors clashing together, the overwhelming smell of life from every petal and leaf, was all so irritating to her. Even though she detested every hint of positivity in her life, she would still endure the torture of being surrounded by colorful plants, all for the sake of being with you.

Beside her, you lay quietly. You seemed more quiet than usual. But thankfully, Wednesday had learned this skill of breaking the silence from you.

"Do you remember the first time you asked me to come here?" she asked as she looked up at the stars. She asked because she didn't remember; she never cared. Every time you asked her to come to your garden, she just dismissed it as a waste of time.

She wishes she didn't.

"You wanted to show me the black roses you planted, didn't you?" Wednesday asked, trying to recall something that had never truly been important to her at that time.

"I know you planted those for me," she said as she saw your smile. Wednesday never really noticed how your eyes lit up when you smiled before. She sighed inwardly. She told you she hated flowers back then. She was so insistent, so adamant in her dislike.

She wishes she wasn't.

Wednesday turned her head to look at you while you stared up at the stars. Your eyes sparkled when you were focused, something she never really noticed before. She hadn't been attentive, hadn't been observant of the small details that made you who you were. The delicate shade of blue in your eyes, the way your expression softened when you were lost in thought—she had never cared enough to notice.

She wishes she had.

Wednesday never cared to look at your eyes when talking to you. She always talked to you while focusing her attention on her work, her mind consumed by her writing as you told her about your day. She couldn't remember what you told her... what was your favorite ice cream again?

She wishes she could.

The details you shared, the moments you wanted to connect, all slipped through her fingers like sand.

"We never really shared a kiss." she didn't understand why you were so caring about her boundaries, never really pushing too much, being there just perfectly,

You still hadn't turned your focus from the stars.

"I ruined it...after I... I was too focused on my investigation, too focused on finding the Hyde. I didn't mean those words I said that night... you know that, right?" You still didn't look at her yet. You hadn't really looked into her eyes after that night.

"I don't think of you as a burden, I don't think of you as clingy. I was just too consumed by my frustration that words slipped out of my mouth," she confessed. It was so hard for her to apologize, but she had to, or she would never be able to look into your eyes again. "I thought I was doing something important... but I neglected the most important thing that truly mattered... you."

You finally looked at her, right into her eyes. Your eyes, filled with the warmth she remembered, gazed at her, listening silently. She reached out, her fingers brushing against your hand on the grass.

"I understand now that it's not wrong to have insecurities. I know I wasn't giving you enough time. It was wrong of me to spend more time with that normie Tyler than you. I know you saw...." Wednesday hesitated because she doesn't know if she can look into your eyes now but she has to... she has to know if she has lost this, whatever this is.

"I know you saw me... that night after I said those cruel words... I know you saw me kissing Tyler at Weathervane... I don't know what I was thinking." Kissing Tyler led Wednesday to the truth that he was the Hyde, but this had cost too much... this had cost her you.

"Is that the reason you haven't tried to kiss me yet?" she had to ask.

You didn't answer, you just kept looking at her eyes, and so did she... god she could see the entire universe in your eyes.

The memories of your time together flooded her mind—how you would laugh at Wednesday's dark remarks, the way you would put your head on her shoulder during quiet moments, the way you looked at her with unconditional love. Each memory was a reminder of what she missed.

"We could've had so many more moments together now, so much time together. I know I was cold, distant, and I pushed you away, but I won't anymore. I told you I didn't need you when the truth is the exact opposite. I need you in every moment of my life. Insanity never bothered me, but I am scared that I would go insane without you beside me."

You just quietly listened without a single word...

"You always tried to make me see the beauty in things, the simple joys in life. I never listened, I was too wrapped up in my darkness. You made me feel a bit... human."

Please.. Wednesday needs to hear your voice...

"I wish I could go back, change the damage I caused. I know I can't. I just needed you to know," Wednesday never really cried, but now she could feel her eyes watering as she looked into yours. She tried to touch your hand that was lying on the grass,

"I am sorry... I wasn't there..." she said.

Finally you spoke, your voice soft and delicate, the one she missed every single moment of her life.

"I'm sorry I am not here now."

She wishes you were. Author's note: Its been almost a year since Celine died, was missing her too much yesterday, Wrote this fully by myself for her

Our other works are here.

[maybankswhore]

high infidelity — xavier thorpe.

pairings: xavier thorpe x reader , tyler galpin x reader.

summary: your relationship with tyler got rocky when he started distancing himself from you. xavier just happened to be at the right place , at the right time.

do you really wanna know where i was april 29th? do i really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You remembered that night vividly. You were wearing your favorite sundress because Tyler loved when you wore it. Your makeup had been done to perfection and you were bouncing off the walls , excited to finally spend time with Tyler. He had just been so busy lately , always leaving before it got dark , kissing the top of your head and darting away as soon as he got the chance.

You were never one to be insecure or worried about what Tyler was doing. You trusted him. You did.

Until he didn’t show at all. Your makeup was ruined by how much you cried , barely making out the letters on your phone. Tyler sending five messages in a row with some lame excuse , promising he’d make it up to you and how much he loved you.

You got up from the diner he was supposed to meet you at — the one your parents had dropped you off at expecting your boyfriend to bring you home.

You sat outside in tears somewhere that was towards the side. You cried not only because he cancelled , but because you felt as though the relationship wasn’t as strong as it used to be. He wasn’t as interested in you anymore. He never complimented you or made time for you. The two of you had been together for a year and for 5 of those months , he was acting as though you were just another customer — another friend.

“You okay?”

Your eyes glanced up and saw Xavier Thorpe. His hair pulled back in a bun showing off the features of his face well. His hands were shoved in his school jacket as he looked at you with curiosity , minimal concern , but curiosity. He knew you , how couldn’t he? You had always knew how to get the boy’s attention — even with normie Tyler Galpin on your arm.

Swallowing thickly , you wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” He commented , gesturing towards your tattered appearance.

Tearing your eyes away from him , you shrugged. “’M okay. Really.”

Silence hovered over the two of you for a minute. You didn’t bother looking back at him , assuming he’d walk away by the lack of conversation.

Your eyes shot up when he cleared his throat. “Want to come in with me? Was gonna take it to go but I think I found a reason to stay.”

you know there are many different ways to kill someone you love. the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Your relationship with Tyler was deteriorating. Fast. He spent most of his time with Wednesday and yours with Xavier. You noticed how fast he seemed to like her — how often you’d catch him looking at her when she wasn’t looking. Clear admiration and affection was on his face for her , though everytime you brought her up he’d shrug it off , lean it for a kiss and promised he loved you and nobody else.

You just didn’t feel it.

“You should just break up with him.” Xavier sighed as he rubbed your back comfortingly.

The two of you had discovered that you both had the same things in common. He loved to paint , and you loved museums. He liked action movies , and you liked popcorn. Everything the two of you were , just fit in together. You liked to talk , and Xavier loved to listen. Always.

The pit in your stomach grew darker. “I don’t know.” You mumbled and shook your head. “Maybe I just need to try harder or–or maybe if I dye my hair he’ll notice it and think I’m pretty again. . . like her.”

Xavier frowned. His hand grabbed at your face gently , turning you to look at him. “You are pretty. You always were. You don’t need to look like Wednesday , Y/N/N.” His eyes searched yours and you weren’t sure what it was. Your hand had absentmindedly found itself cupping the fingers he had around your face , your skin inviting the warmth of him to surround you gently. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.” Xavier said confidently.

Your cheeks turned red at the compliment. Sparks erupting around you as you looked at him with big eyes. “You’re just saying that you—”

“I mean it.” Xavier cut you off.

He shook his head with a sigh as he looked at you. Face fallen with little warm tears trailing along down your cheeks. He tutted , pinching your chin with his fingers while the other hand wiped them away quickly. “Pretty girls shouldn’t be crying.” Xavier said , barely above a whisper— but you heard him.

His words caused your heart to swell. And you didn’t know if it was his big , green eyes looking at you as though you really were that beautiful or the way your face felt like it had been set on fire the moment he had touched you. Though whatever it was , clouded your judgement , and before you could stop to think about the consequences , your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth pressed itself firmly against his.

The moment you kissed him , it was all over.

do you really wanna know where i was april 29th? do i really have to tell you how he brought me back to life.

“I think we need to break up.” You rushed out , glancing around the shop to see if anyone was listening. He was on break — barely realized you were there before you began pulling him out the door and towards the alley.

Your hands were shoved in your coat pockets as yoy avoided his lingering gaze. You didn’t want to look. You didn’t want to see any hurt or betrayal— you had already done enough and your heart wasn’t his anymore. It was sad , but it was reality , and you had to face the music.

“W-What? I thought. . . I mean I know it’s been weird lately but I—”

You scoffed. “You thought what , Tyler? Skipping dates. Flirting with Wednesday in front of me— I was just supposed to accept that? Act like everything was fine? Well it wasn’t! It wasn’t fine.” You didn’t mean to get so angry. But he knew this was coming. He had to have known.

“I wasn’t flirting with Wednesday.” Tyler laughed dryly. “I could say the same about you and that freak Thorpe.”

The mention of Xavier brought a crimson color bright on your cheeks. With a quickening heart beat , you simply shook your head. “You don’t get to turn this around on me Tyler.”

Tyler didn’t say anything. He just looked at you and knew. He knew.

“You. . . you’re breaking up with me for him?” He said it like a question , his voice trailing off at the end. His mind tried wrapping around where everything went wrong— how it happened. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Sure , he knew he hadn’t been the best. But he was doing it for them— for his mom. He was doing something good and you didn’t even know about it. “What? Did you fuck him?”

“Tyler!” You gasped at his accusation. The aggression in his tone made your eyebrows furrow. “You have no right to turn this around on me! Not after I tried so hard for months. Months!”

“You aren’t saying no.” Tyler scoffed.

“I kissed him.” You admitted , swallowing thickly. Tyler’s eyes dropped , his words seemingly meaningless , were actually true.

“You were. . .” Tyler put his hands on his hips as he looked away , blinking away tears. “You were with him last night then? When I tried calling you.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you love him?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

You paused and gave him a sad smile. You felt guilty for what you had done. It was wrong and you should’ve been thinking more clearly. But you couldn’t erase it. You couldn’t take it back.

All you had was forward now , and you felt like this was how it was supposed to be.

“He brought me back to life.”

[er-osion]

That’s that me espresso

pairing: Dick Grayson x gn!Reader

summary: You and a handsome stranger frequent the same coffee shop every morning before work. At some point, maybe you two won’t be needing so much caffeine to perk you up.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: none, fluff

author’s note: yes, i did make a lego batman movie reference. bite me.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

The bell rings as you open the door to your favorite coffee shop. The cute little place is on a corner just two blocks from your apartment. It’s fairly busy with the morning rush, but you don’t mind the small wait, you take it as a chance to people-watch. You’ve been coming to this place pretty much everyday before work for about a year now. The whole staff knows you and your top three orders by heart, they give you little discounts and treats every once in a while, and they write sweet little messages on your cups sometimes too.

But, admittedly, your favorite part about getting your morning drink at this corner cafe is seeing another regular. The man is gorgeous. Clearly well built with dazzling blue eyes and fluffy hair that you just want to run your fingers through. He’s always displaying a charming smile even though it’s super early in the morning, and he’s always polite to the staff even on the rare occasion they mess up his order. The two of you have only ever exchanged pleasantries, but you always end up standing close to each other while waiting for your respective drinks. You’ve learned, over time, that his name is Dick Grayson. At first, you thought that it was a joke that one of the baristas was playing on him. But after the third drink he picked up belonging to Dick, you came to the conclusion it must be a nickname he goes by. You learned his last name one morning when he came in with another guy to pick up coffee and the man called him Grayson. You’re not a creep, you’ve just noticed things over time and used the information to piece things together.

Even though you know his name, you’ve never used it when saying “hi” in the morning, because you don’t want to come off as a stalker. You’re guessing he’s picked up your name by now too, but you don’t want to assume anything. You don’t want to convince yourself you’re a larger figure in his life than you really are.

However, Dick Grayson occupied more than just the first hour of your day. For some godforsaken reason, your mind always drifts to the handsome stranger during the slow hours of your work day or during the waning hours of the evening. You desperately wished to have an actual conversation with the beautiful man. You were tired of the routine “good morning”s and “have a nice day”s. You wanted to hear more of his sing-song voice. Apparently, you’d get your wish the following week. It was a random Wednesday morning and both you and Dick were waiting for your drinks when he suddenly piped up.

“Did I overhear correctly earlier; they gave you a free croissant today?” The marble-statue-of-a-man turned to you and asked you abruptly.

Caught by surprise, you blinked up at him but recovered quickly and replied, “Oh, yeah they do that for me sometimes. The girl working the register right now is one of my favorites, she’s always so sweet.”

“Yeah, she gave me a free bagel a few weeks ago and, let’s just say; if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, she’s getting saved first.” You chuckled at his joke which earned you a big grin from the black haired man. “So, how’d you end up finding this little shop?”

“It’s a couple blocks from my apartment. I passed it on my way to work one morning and decided to check it out. Now I’m here everyday.” You explained with a shrug and then returned the question.

“The station isn’t far from here so this is where I go everyday.”

“I swear I’ve seen a coffee shop right across the street from the police station though. Why don’t you just go there?”

“It’s super crowded in the morning because that’s where everyone goes before work, so I come here —because I’ve never bean a very patient man.”

You snorted at his horrible dad joke and tried to keep a smile from growing on your face, Dick felt his chest bubble with pride at your reaction to his joke.

“I’m Richard, but everyone just calls me Dick, by the way.” The man offered with his hand extended to make a formal greeting.

You shook his hand —which was surprisingly warm and calloused— but decided to not mention the fact you already knew this, and instead made a little joke for yourself, “Well, people can be mean. But you don’t seem that bad to me.”

Dick’s eyes widened with confusion and then realization. “Oh, ha ha, I see we’ve got a class act comedian over here.”

“Well I did just come from a set at Rockefeller, so ya know…”

“That explains the constant consumption of caffeine, you gotta stay vigilant to keep the crowds chuckling.”

“Very good, detective, you’ve put all the pieces together.”

“Well I’m not the number one Blue’s Clues solver for nothing.” Dick rolled his eyes with faux annoyance and you gave a short laugh at his childish reference made even better by the police uniform he was currently wearing.

The conversation dipped, but you were desperate to keep it going since you’d finally gotten your wish, so you threw another question at him. “Does it ever get super tiring working as a cop in Blüdhaven?”

“I’m definitely thankful for coffee, let’s just say that. I will admit, fighting crime all day can wear a brother out.” Dick responded thoughtfully. He decided to leave out the “and all night” part, since you didn’t need to know he never really clocked out of crime fighting.

“Is it fun, turning on the sirens?”

“Hands down the best part of the job.”

“If I were a cop, I’d be playing those things all the time, just for fun.”

“Oh believe me, you wouldn’t be the first.” You were about to respond to Dick when one of the baristas called his name to give him his drink. Dick waltzed over to the bar and grabbed his coffee. On his way out, Dick walked past you and with a smile sweeter than sugar said, “Nice talking to you, and good luck with your next stand up routine. See ya tomorrow morning, darling.” And with that, he left you standing there feeling all fluttery.

You waited for them to finish your drink in an almost tipsy daze. You could not stop smiling and thinking about Dick. Had he seriously called you ‘darling’??! You might have just swooned. And the fact he said ‘see ya tomorrow morning’ must mean he intends to initiate another conversation, right?? Your head was spinning with hopes for a growing friendship.

Dick had walked out of the coffee shop feeling extra chipper after his little friendly banter with you, but then he remembered the fact he’d called you ‘darling’ right as he left. His cheeks instantly grew pink upon remembering and he had to stop himself from outwardly groaning. Was that too much?? Would you think he’s a creep for using a typically affectionate nickname so soon?? Dear god, had he actually just fucked up a five minute conversation?? His mind is running rampant. Of course, the first time he’s actually able to start a conversation with the cute stranger he always sees at his coffee shop he somehow finds a way to possibly fuck it up. He’s really hoping you don’t think he’s a weirdo, he just called you ‘darling’ on instinct, he hadn’t even realized what he was saying until it was half way out of his mouth it just felt so natural.

The next morning, the walk to get your tasty drink was filled with anticipation. Your feet moved with extra pep and you struggled to keep a smile off of your face. The little bell rings merrily as you walk in, and your eyes immediately find Dick standing in line a couple of people ahead of you. He turns around at the sound and you see recognition brighten his eyes before he waves joyfully at you. You wave back and take your place in line.

“How are you, this fine morning?” Dick asked suavely when the two of you had moved against a wall to wait for your drinks.

“Good good. And you?” You returned.

“Very good, now that I have such wonderful company.” You rolled your eyes to cover up butterflies his words gave you.

“Hey, yesterday evening I was watching the news’ rerun of that jewelry store robbery from the afternoon, and I could’ve sworn I saw you in the background.

Dick gave an embarrassed chuckle, “Yeah, that was probably me.”

“Can’t believe someone would rob a store like that in broad daylight, and with no masks too. What a bunch of idiots.”

“You sure seem to be knowledgeable in the fine art of robbery. I might have to take you down to the station for questioning.” Dick leaned down closer to you, as if for better observation, his voice smooth as silk.

“I swear officer, I’m a good law-abiding citizen.” You pulled your hands up as if in surrender, playing into his joke with a smirk.

“I guess we’ll see, just how good you are.” His voice had dropped an octave, and so had your stomach. He took one last look-over before returning to his natural posture. Your clever comeback died in your throat and you felt heat creep up on your face. “How was work yesterday?” He suddenly changed the subject with a much lighter, more bubbly tone of voice.

“Oh, it was fine, nothing interesting. Not like yours.” You answered honestly. You appreciated the fact he even cared enough to ask.

“Boring is good sometimes, I definitely don’t complain when I have a chill day.” He nodded his head in agreement as he spoke, his gentle blue eyes moving about the room. You missed being the recipient of their gaze.

“Yeah it was pretty chill,” Your voice dropped into a grumble, “except for the part when that bitch decided to bug me.” You crossed your arms over your chest in annoyance at just the memory of your coworker who pisses you off with a passion.

“Oh? Who’s this ‘bitch’ that gets so much of your venom?” Dick asked curiously, with a raised eyebrow. He must have super hearing.

“Just this uh coworker of mine who really pisses me off. Always finds a way to ruin a pleasant day.”

“Oh believe me, I know that one. If you need me to knock some sense into this bitch I can always take them for a drive in my car.” He assured you playfully with a light nudge.

“Oh my hero. How would I ever repay you?” You blinked up at him with doe eyes, sarcasm dripping from your words. Dick’s eyes widen for a second before his lips quirk up into a proud smirk.

You just barely hear him when he mumbles, “I could think of a few ways.” You feel your insides erupt in butterflies. You were going to say something else but a barista called Dick’s name to give him his order. You felt your heart drop at the idea that your time with him was over already. He wandered over to the counter and picked up his drink and pastry, and then to your surprise, sauntered back over to your side —closer than before, you noted. He smiled at you before extending his hand which was holding the pastry bag. You looked from the bag to him and then back to the bag, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

Dick smiled fondly and motioned for you to take the bag, “For you.” He asserted.

You blinked at him, “Seriously?” You asked incredulously. He nodded and shook the bag in front of you enticingly. You snatched the bag from his grasp and opened it up to find a cake pop. “You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I wanted to. If you really don’t want it, I’ll take it.” He responded casually, trying to cover up the fact that his heart was racing and he was desperately hoping you liked it.

“No no, I’m definitely taking it. I just don’t see the reason you’d bother getting this for me.”

“Well, I figured you deserved something as sweet as you.” Dick replied smoothly, leaning in closer to get more on eye level with you. Your breath caught in your throat. Damn him and his sexiness, it’s not fair to my poor heart. You thought quickly as you searched your mind for a comeback.

“Okay, flatterer.” You grumbled while taking the cake pop out of the bag. Dick’s grin shined brilliantly at the realization that he’d pleased you with his gift.

The barista called out your name and you rushed over to grab your drink before rushing back to Dick. The two of you then made your way to the door to head to your respective workplaces. When the two of you got out of the building, Dick suddenly stopped and started sifting through his pockets for something. You watched curiously as he pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen and began writing something on it.

When he finished, he turned to you (almost bashfully) and handed you the slip of paper. You took it and examined it, finding a number scrawled onto it in messy writing. “Here, in case you run into trouble on your way to work and need back up in blue.” He clarified, not able to meet your eyes.

You smirked at his sudden awkwardness, a big change from his previous practiced charm. You made a bit of a show of entering his number into your phone. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to bother you whenever my annoying ass coworker decides to steal my time.”

Dick smiled and laughed at your joke. “Good, I’m always happy to help such beautiful law-abiding citizens like yourself.” You chuckled at his call back. The two of you then (sadly) said your goodbyes and headed in opposite directions towards your jobs. Your heart was flying around in your chest and you felt so happy you were fighting the urge to skip the rest of your way to work. Dick couldn’t get himself to stop smiling, so much so, that his partner commented on the giant grin that was plastered on Dick’s face when he waltzed into the station. It felt like he’d just finished a workout, the way his heart was speeding rapidly in his chest. The entire walk to your work, you spent brainstorming what you should say in your first message to Dick to get a good conversation started. And the first thing you did when you got to your job was pull out your phone and shoot the beautiful blue-eyed man a text.