#hopefully your Wednesday is going well!

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anothology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist | cw: oral (reader receiving)

Part Ten: Permission

A/N: We're SO back!

You’ve never been so happy to work an extra day.

Johnny gets the shop to himself on Sundays for walk-ins. Usually, he mans the shop by himself but you need to record the cash income from the convention in the ledger. Sure, you could do that during your usual hours the upcoming Wednesday and catch up on sleep, but you have too much nervous energy coursing through you. If you were home you would just be stewing on your couch the hole day and probably spiral into a panic attack. At least here, with a task and Johnny yapping in your ear, you don’t have to think about the fact that you made out with your boss too much.

Fuck. You really did that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You woke up in a cold sweat, fingers brushing over your lips as you tried to decipher if it was real or dreamed. If you really kissed John, if he really held a hand on your lower back as he walked you home, if he really gave you a second, light peck before saying goodnight. The itch of his beard lingers, as well as the warmth where his hands cupped your face. It felt so good. So fucking good.

Then the context settles in. The fact that you kissed your boss makes you want to throw up - not for any dislike of it, just the fact that your job is now in limbo. Hanging in the balance until you can talk to him on Wednesday. At least you can take the next couple days to collect your thoughts - come up with a good apology that will hopefully let you keep your job and some semblance of dignity. Somehow make sense of the fact that you’ve kissed John and Kyle and surely when they find out they’ll think you’re a floosy. Loose and easy and pathetic and gross. You couldn’t quite meet your own eye in the mirror as you tried to get ready for the day.

The current, formerly “Future You” is not very happy with the now Past You. Frankly, you’d like to deck her for leaving you in this state of a permanent heart attack.

“Och, I’m about tae melt.” Johnny mutters, appearing from his room and stretching. His shirt rides up, exposing a thick happy trail that does not help you in your current spiral.

You just hum, gluing your eyes to the physical spreadsheet in front of you as you go through the sales from the convention. Numbers will clear your head. Yeah, nothing less sexy or more distracting than trying to do math with pen, paper and a TI-84 calculator.

“We should go get some ice cream.” Johnny leans over behind you, causing you to jump. Large hands settle on your shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of your head. At least Johnny is always touchy, you don’t have to read into it. You don’t think you could handle reading into it right now.

“Uh, yeah, okay.” You murmur, letting him lead you out of the office and flipping the out for lunch sign. You’ve been so lost in your head the entire day that you can’t fully pull yourself out of it - the same spiral of fears and self-degradation swirling around in your mind. A Cat 5 tornado of your own making. So stupid.

Johnny intertwines your fingers as you make your way down the street. Your hands swing lightly as you walk. Even with the heat, it doesn’t feel like too much. You’re not sure what it is - of you’re just comfortable or if Johnny just has something about him that makes touch feel perfectly natural - but it’s never overwhelming. Even when he’s hanging off you like a leech, it’s just Johnny. He doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t pry into why you’re so spaced out. He probably just thinks you’re tired. You are tired. So tired.

You don’t realize Johnny is saying something until he gently elbows your side. “Huh?”

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“Oh, uh, I can get my own-“

”My treat.” He shakes his head, batting away the hand pulling your wallet out of your back pocket. You have no choice but to give in to him - there isn’t any point in arguing with Johnny.

“Thanks for suggesting this.” You murmur, as you sit at one of the wooden, outdoor tables in front of the shop a couple blocks down from the tattoo parlor. The tables are covered in the shade of trees and an awning, luckily, keeping the sun from beating down on you. It doesn’t stop your ice cream from melting nearly faster than you can eat it, but you don’t have the heart to complain after Johnny took you out and bought it for you.

“Aye. Seemed like ye needed some cheerin’ up. Never seen ye so sullen.” Johnny comments, casually stuffing a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. His eyes are sympathetic, though.

“Oh.” You thought you’d been doing alright at hiding it - came into the shop with a jokes and everything this morning. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much Johnny actually notices between all his volume and energy.

“Gonnae tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Might help.”

You shake your head. “I- I’m- I can’t.”

“Okay.” He smiles gently, giving you a once over. His eyes are so sharp. The others do it too - take your body language in piece by piece. It doesn’t burn like when Johnny does it, though. His gaze is consuming, even when soft.

He seems to let you off the hook, though. It’s impossible to know how much he does or doesn’t know - how much any of them know. It puts you on edge, the inability to ask. After all, to ask is to admit. If you admit to it, you might lose it all. Fuck why did you kiss John? Kyle you can explain away - just a fun little bet. You’re close in age, he’s pretty, you’re together a lot, you get along. Nothing to it - even if it feels like there was. Even if it feels like every time you’re near him you’re going to melt and the air gets too thick and all you want is to pull him to the back room one more time.

John… John you can’t justify like that. He’s your boss. He’s over a decade older than you. Easily. He’s been so good to you but that’s not an excuse - it’s not right. You’re jeopardizing his place in his community. You’re jeopardizing your job. The best job you’ve ever had. The best friends you’ve ever had.

You can feel Johnny glancing at you as you walk, your eyes square on the ground and fists clenched anxiously. The heat outside only makes your head spin faster. Your cheeks feel feverishly hot. The ice cream almost curdles in your gut. Everything is too loud, too hot, too heavy.

You glance up at the clock. The day’s almost over - there probably won’t be more than one or two people that file in at most. You’ve finished with your work, currently just cross hatching on a sticky note in an attempt to calm your frayed nerves. It hasn’t worked. You need a distraction. A real, proper distraction.

“Johnny.” You snap, standing in the door way to his workroom.

“Hm?” He looks up, thick brows raised.

“I want a piercing.”

He cocks his head, taking you in from head to toe. “Aye?”

“If you have time.”

“I’ve always got time fer ye.” He grins.

You almost roll your eyes, but you’re too raw at the edges to really care about his usual flirting. There’s too much weighing on your mind - too much real anxiety knotting itself around your synapses and crushing them in it’s hold. The pain will help. It’ll ground you - sharpen your senses. You can focus on taking care of it for the next couple days between sleeping the days away until Wednesday. Until you can get this shit over with.

The only answer is to quit, right?

That’s your only option.

“What d’ye want?” Johnny asks.

You shrug. “What’d you think?”

He taps his chin, eyes slowly making their way over your body. You wonder if he can see how tense you are - body so locked up your joints ache and your jaw throbs. It’s a wonder your teeth are still there with how much you’ve been grinding them.

“How about a navel?”

“Okay.” You agree too quickly, flopping back on the pairing table. You focus in on a water mark on the ceiling above while Johnny digs through his tool cabinet, laying everything neatly on a small rolling tray.

Johnny stops above you. You don’t even turn your head to look, fists clenching and unclenching.

You’ll have to quit.

That’s your only choice. No reference calls, no contact. Will Simon hate you? Will they all? Will they talk about why you up and left? Will they show up at your apartment to demand an answer? No. You don’t mean that much - only a blip on the timeline of their shop. The corners of your eyes burn.

Johnny’s fingers skate over your soft middle, barely touching as he passes over the button of your jeans. He pauses, glancing down at you. “Bonnie?”

“Yeah?” You reply a little too harshly.

Johnny leans over you, hands on either side of your head, blue eyes burning through your skull. He blocks out the light above. “Yer doin’ this because ye want to, yeah? Not to punish yerself?”

You shrink into the table, hackles raising. It really is so easy to forget that Johnny is an observant bastard. Loud, brash, but he still sees everything. Like how he learned your coffee order by heart without you ever even saying it to him or having it written on the cup. He absorbs things, files it away, keeps it close to his chest and hides it behind his blunt, brash daily manners. You’ll miss him.

“I- yeah, I’m fine.” You wince internally at the shake in your voice.

“Y’know, we all love ye.” Johnny murmurs.

You huff, eyes darting anywhere to get away from his. Laying on the table suddenly feels slightly trapping. You can’t get your gaze fully away from where he stands over you - so close as his thick arms cage you in. “Guess so.”

“An’ there’s nothin’ tae feel guilty or bad about.”

Your eyes snap to his face, wide and worried. Does he know? Was he told? Do you ask? If you ask, you’ll be admitting to it. If you ask, then he will know for sure. If you ask, you might ruin it all. “I don’t-“

“Ye do.” He cuts you off. “An’ ye have permission, even if ye dinnae need it. It’s okay. Ye havennae done anythin’ wrong.”

You stare, mouth opening and closing lamely. Johnny. Straight forward, loud mouth, unsubtle Johnny. Fuck, you love him for it. Doesn’t dance around what he means. Doesn’t avoid what needs to be said - from his end, at least.

“Did- did you talk to-?” You stutter, struggling between needing to know and fear to admit the truth so blatantly. Even if he obviously knows something.

“Not really. Not my business.” Johnny shrugs casually.

Not his business. So they persue separately, you think. That makes sense. Probably. It’s probably wrong to make assumptions about the dynamic, about the implication that they have some sort of free for all. Then again, you don’t really know anything about their interpersonal workings much. They live together, they’re touchy. The dynamic is a mystery to you - only adding to the piles of confusion.

“Yer thinkin’ tae hard about it.” He pokes the furrow between your brows.

Oh. Is that it? You’re overthinking? No, adults talk about these things. You don’t understand the interpersonal workings here at all. Are they together? Do they just do this? Pull girls in and push them around until they get tired? That feels too cruel for them. They’ve taken such good care of you…

“I still… want to talk.” You murmur, cheeks warm.

His face softens, a light smile tugging at his lips. “An’ ye will. Kyle’s been damn near loosin’ it with ye avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him!” You snap far too defensively.

“Sure ye aren’t.” Johnny shrugs, as if to tell you he knows that’s bull. Not his business, though, he said. “Just… donnae be so scared of us, aye? We’ve got yer back.”

Your shoulders drop, sore from being tensed for the entire day. “Okay.”

“Still want tae get peirced?”

You nod, chest far less tight. As though you finally let go of a breath you had been holding the entire day. “Sure, why not.”

Your shoulders slump as Johnny makes his way through the usual song and dance - showing you the freshly cleaned tools and marking the spot for the needle. Somehow the world seems… quieter. As if all the chatter in your mind had been just as deafening to your physical ears. It’s tiring. That same sting behind your eyes that you get after a long night out. Your defenses are down, and your body is finally at rest.

“Ow!” You gasp, lifting your head to meet Johnny’s impish grin with a glare. “A little warning next time!”

“Tha’s what happens when ye donnae listen.” He teases, slipping the jewelry through. “She’s cute.”

You snort. “She better be. Y’know I should tell John on you for improper conduct.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Aye, ye an’ Price know plenty about improper conduct.”

There’s no malice in the comment, or in the grin he settles on you. For once, you don’t freeze up. Don’t send yourself into a panic spiral over what he knows or thinks or feels. Johnny made himself clear. Instead you land a light smack against his arm and huff in embarrassment.

“Stand f’me.” Johnny murmurs after cleaning the piercing, a heat in his eyes that you can’t quite gauge the source of.

You do as you’re told, slipping off the table. You have to hook a finger into the waistband of your jeans to keep them up, cheeks hot as you realize how much is actually exposed with the fully undone fly. You glance up at a far too pleased Johnny. Didn’t even say a word, the mischievous bastard.

He drops to his knees in front of you. Your brows shoot damn near into the sky. Johnny mumbles something about making sure the piercing is sitting right. You roll with it, knowing he’s probably just saying whatever to get you to keep your pants undone a little longer. Your breath quickens as a large, warm hand flattens itself over your soft belly, unabashedly groping. Not that you mind, really, even if it does make your face so hot it might melt.

Your heart almost breaks out of your rib cage when he places a small kiss next to the piercing. His hand lowers, resting beside yours on the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” Johnny murmurs, big blue eyes blinking up at you.

You have permission.

You don’t need permission.

You have it, though.

“Yeah.” You gasp, shivering at the cold air on your skin as Johnny pulls your pants halfway down your thighs.

“Pretty, pretty lass.” He murmurs, nipping at the softness of your belly and down to your thigh. “Look at ye.”

“Flatterer.” You scoff, attempting to let the tension melt off your shoulders with the usual snide remarks you slide each others way.

“M’just honest…” Johnny mumbles absently, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear. “Ye always walkin’ around in somethin’ this skintie?”

For a moment, your brows knit in confusion. That is until he pulls back and snaps the string of your thong against your hip. Your face somehow gets even hotter and you grumble out a poor excuse of, “S’laundry day…”

Your hips twitch as he traces between your lips through the cloth. So uncharacteristically slow and methodical for Johnny as he feels you, like he’s trying to memorize it. A shamefully harsh jolt runs up your spine as he presses just slightly into your clit.

“Sensitive little thing.” Johnny grins up at you. You swear the devil has a less delinquent grin.

“It’s been a while.” You shrug, aiming once again for casual and missing by a mile.

His grin only grows, eyes bright and hungry. “Let’s get these off.”

You shimmy your hips a bit to help him get both your underwear and jeans completely down. A wave of shyness overtakes you as it settles in that you’re utterly exposed to Johnny, your friend and coworker, in the middle of your workplace just as the sun has begun to edge down close to the horizon. It’s almost too much, and you almost yank your pants back on with a stammered, fake excuse, but Johnny soothes his hands up your thighs, gaze locked onto your pussy like it’s the only thing that exists and yeah… you want that.

You have permission.

“There she is.” He cups you gently, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit just hard enough to make you gasp.

Before you can say or do anything his hand retracts and Johnny settles you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen from him. It looks wrong, almost, on that face that’s supposed to have a permanent ear to ear grin.

“If ye want tae stop, I need ye tae tell me now.”

“No.” The word leaves you before you can even register the thought - desperate and breathy.

It earns a low chuckle. The only warning you get before Johnny licks a long stripe up between your lips, letting his tongue rest on your clit for just a moment before repeating the motion as though he’s not just eating you out but truly trying to truly get a taste for you. To memorize you as he drinks you in.

“Should let me give you a Christina…” He murmurs, pulling back to look at you.

“Ah, wha-“

“Look so pretty on this fat little cunt.” Johnny gives you a light smack for good measure, grinning at the visible jolt that travels up your spine before diving back in. He hooks a leg over his shoulder, leaving you balancing on your tip toes with your hands flat on the table behind you. It’s precarious and with absolutely no room to escape the attention he’s lavishing on you. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves. The way he devours. A man utterly starved.

“Fuck-“ you gasp as his tongue piercing catches your clit. Rough hands knead at the softness of your thighs and hips, urging you to press into him, to take as much as he’s giving.

“Tha’s it, ride m’face…” Your fingers lock into his mohawk and Johnny’s slurred words become the most pornographic moan you think you’ve ever heard. He practically goes limp - body relaxed and pliant while you grind down onto his tongue.

You tilt your head forward, risking looking down only to meet those big blue eyes staring up at you with all the intensity of the sun. A shaky moan passes your lips and his eyes flutter.

“J-Johnny-” The whine of his name only spurs him on - has him pressing his tongue so deep inside you and drinking you in full.

If he has any complaints about the way your heel digs between his shoulder blades as you unconsciously pull him closer, he doesn’t make it known. His nails rake over your ass, biting and stinging in contrast to everything else. It’s so much. Heat continues to pool at the base of your spine - babbling words, please and moans spill messily from your lips.

Your climax catches you off guard as Johnny sucks harshly at your clit; lighting your body aflame with only his mouth. Every muscle inside you tenses and the sounds you let out can only be described as strangled whines.

You have to yank a little at Johnny’s hair to get him to stop when the overstimulation reaches just the wrong side of too much; he’s well and truly lost in the moment. It fuels your ego to dangerous heights - the idea that this gorgeous man became that intoxicated just from your pussy.

There isn’t even time to say anything before Johnny is standing and connecting his lips with yours. You taste yourself on his tongue, his lips - somehow this is the first time you’ve found that pleasant. With heavy breaths you watch him wipe around his mouth his his palm, only to exaggeratedly lick and clean what’s left off his hand. Fucking sinful.

“Nasty man.” You sigh, too blissed out to be truly critical. Johnny winks and you roll your eyes.

“S’about quittin’ time.” He says, tilting his head to look up at you through thick lashes. “Should get ye home.”

You frown, still trying to come back to earth as you glance down. “Don’t- do you want-?”

He looks you over, your mouth goes dry as his hand drops from your hip to adjust himself. The implications of the outline through his thick denim has your head reeling and your breath quickening. Johnny chuckles at you, surely seeing it written plain across your face. You might as well start drooling and panting like a dog.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck to nip at your skin. “Another time. Want tae savor ye.”

You shiver, unable to stop the smile that quirks up the corners of your lips. You have permission. You don’t need it, but you have it.

A/N: Sorry if this is a little rough, I'm getting back into the swing of things. It's finally time for things to get fun, tho ;)

Also please give some love to this AMAZING fanart from @eurydicescurse

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

you, as the promising journalism student of NCUT, were more than willing to join the school magazine when you got offered. to your disappointment, the only section they let you have is the anonymous confessions one - which is mostly really, really boring. i mean, who even posts any cool confessions nowadays ? especially in a damn college magazine ? they only offered you the job no one else wanted.

on the other hand, mark, a business student, was never more annoyed with the choice of his major. sure, business is cool and hopefully it’ll earn him money, but it’s not something he could really get into. he always wanted to do music. but after long considering, he chose business instead, to make sure he gets a real job in the future. and he doubts that choice was correct more and more every day.

once the school band announces they’re looking for a new guitarist, he’s absolutely ready to apply until he reads the ‘music students only’ part. pissed off, he starts typing a message to the gc, but it ends up going to a different number - and you finally get to help some poor random stranger who confessed with something interesting.

business major! mark x fem journalism major! reader

GENRE — fluff, comedy, humor, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, non-idol au, college au

WARNINGS — a little bit of cursing, probably kys/kms jokes, mark is really unlucky and awkward, reader as a journalism student loves gossiping a LOT and she’ll get into everyone’s business to do her job properly, a lot of teasing, includes mlm, features other idols (aespa, enhypen…)

STATUS — ongoing

UPDATES — every monday, wednesday and saturday

TAGLIST — open (reply or send an ask)

PLAYLIST — solo - frank ocean, ivy - frank ocean, highway to heaven - nct 127, pink matter - frank ocean, infrunami - steve lacy, attracted to you - pinkpantheress, leave the door open - bruno mars, only if - steve lacy, i like me better - lauv, 200 - mark, fireflies - nct dream, up to you - prettymuch+nct dream, it’s yours - nct dream

A/N — my first smau ever :) but i’m so excited ! hopefully it goes well 🙏🏻

profiles 1 || profiles 2

band introduction

Y/N’s magazine account

1) accidental confessions

2) don’t do anything stupid

3) y/n’s hit tweet

4) we are the most mysterious bitches in this cafeteria

5) they know what you did

6) you found me thanks to my private twitter ?

7) two baddies with connections

8) one at a time gentlemen

9) show them who’s the king

10) a little stalking never hurt anyone

11) we aren’t homophobic !

12) surrounded by opps

13) we’re locked in baby

14) she has a hand kink

15) hope they play charli xcx

16) party in the city where the heat is on

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (II)

2nd instalment (I - II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

Though this soulmate thing had caused Sirius a bit of grief so far, he was feeling rather chuffed about it today. He was currently sitting with you in the library; you were currently doing research for your Herbology project, and he was pretending to work on his Transfiguration essay.

It was an odd sight, he was sure; Sirius Black found in the library working quietly without being involved in some sort of mischief. It was no secret he didn’t exactly take his school work seriously, but that was only because he didn’t have to; classes came easily to him and getting good grades didn’t require any extra work on his part.

But…

But, he had a pretty little thing sitting across from him, that was certifiably his, and she was spending time in the library, which meant he was, too. 

It was a precarious arrangement, but Sirius found he didn’t much mind when the unpleasantness wasn’t around. 

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness was insistent on following him around.

“Junior.” He growled lowly as a figure sidled up behind you and cast a shadow over your shared table.

“Black.” Barty sneered before turning a saccharine smile in your direction. “Hello, sweet darling angel.” He cooed, earning him a scoff from Sirius.

“Hello, Barty… what are you doing here?”

Barty laughed as if you’d made a particularly funny joke. “I’m here to spend time with my best girl, of course!” 

“Like hell you are!” Sirius barked, earning him indignant shushes from the other students around him.

“Barty… you agreed to this.” You tried placating.

“Agreed to share you with Black?” Barty squawked. “I’d sooner start wearing red and gold unironically.”

“Junior, this schedule was your idea. I get the library study time on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. You get the library study time on Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. It’s Tuesday; get lost.” Sirius lamented.

“But I don’t want to!” Barty pouted particularly petulantly, even stomping his foot for good measure. 

“Well, you can take it up with management.” Sirius taunted.

“You just sodding said yourself that this was my plan; I am the management!” Barty countered. 

Sirius mustered his most Noble and Ancient menacing glare from countless Black ancestors. The Slytherin boy had no problem reciprocating it, and it wasn’t until you intervened that the boys broke the silent war being waged between them.

“Barty, I…I think you should go see what Pandora is up to? And…maybe we can sit together at dinner?” You offered hopefully. Sirius was simultaneously grateful you were trying to rid them of the unpleasantness and also terribly jealous that Barty was going to share a meal with you.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll go get Pandora to help me organize a romantic meal for us tonight.” Barty beamed excitedly.

“Please. How romantic can a meal in the Great Hall be?” Sirius sneered, albeit slightly worried that Barty may in fact succeed.

“You mind your fuckin’ business, Black. Salazar’s balls you’re a pest.” 

“I’m the pest!?” Sirius exclaimed, but you were quick to place a conciliatory hand on Barty’s forearm.

“Please, Barty?”

Barty looked down at you with a pained expression that Sirius could understand all too well.

You were impossible to say no to.

Barty looked between you and Sirius a few times before groaning exasperatedly. 

“Fine.” He relented, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and stalking off.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief as you turned back towards the table with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh!” Sirius heard, causing him to let his head fall with a thump to the table before him. “I almost forgot.”

And Sirius lifted his head from the table to watch as Barty pulled at the collar of your uniform shirt to expose part of your neck and began sucking a bruise into your skin.

Sirius spit out a shocked guffaw as he watched Barty pull back, admire his work, press a chaste kiss to it and replace your collar to its proper place before leaving the library for good. 

“What…” Sirius started as he turned his attention from the door he’d been keeping an eye on to ensure that menace didn’t return to continue tormenting him back to you, just as you were embarrassedly rubbing at your neck. “...in the buggering fuck was that?”

“That’s just Barty.” You replied timidly. 

Sirius let out another scoff, eyes still glued to your neck. “Are you okay?”

You chuckled at that and offered Sirius a smile that was equal parts apologetic and equal parts teasing. “I’m pretty sure that’s his way of showing…affection? Or possibly marking his territory; he’s done it before when Diggory spent a, quote, ‘unreasonable amount of time complimenting my potion’.” 

Sirius relaxed a little at that. He supposed if you were comfortable with it, he wouldn’t push it. And though Sirius clearly had better impulse control than your other soulmate, he couldn’t deny how much he was tempted to do the same.

“Alright then.” Sirius relented, allowing you to return to your research.

“I hope you know you’ve just opened up the need to schedule meals now though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You groaned, plopping your head down into your textbook.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Too Sweet

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Drabble

Summary: You and Wednesday were simply night and day, contrasting personalities preventing any chance of pursuit

Warning(s): No dialogue, pining!Wednesday, & no pronouns but the word 'goddess' is used once

Notes: Based off of 'Too Sweet' by the lovely Andrew Hozier, this song feels wenclair coded - hopefully I get the energy to edit them to it one day. This is my first time writing for Wednesday, so constructive criticism is more than welcome, and much appreciated! 🙏 (as it always is)

Wednesday despised you. She loathed every fiber of your being, every word you spoke, every path you chose. Yet no matter how deep her hatred for you ran, it was all out of pure spite.

You were close friends with Enid, so inevitably that meant you and Wednesday often found yourselves in the same atmosphere. Sometimes you and Enid would have sleepovers and it did not take long for Wednesday to discover you were an early bird opposed to her late night writing sessions. 

You always looked so peaceful while resting. How do you sleep so well? Wednesday wondered. What do you dream about? It’s silly and utterly ridiculous, she knows. But her mind can’t help but stray when it comes to you. You have shown your own concern when it comes to the Addams’ erratic sleep schedule, if you could even classify it as one. You have always said to others—including Wednesday—to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. 

You wake up to watch the sunrise;  it was repulsing how rottenly pure that is. You were drunk on life, a poet—but far from Wednesday’s brand. You had a bright perspective; it was naive, yet wholesome. Your poetry revolves around the optimistic, steadfast side of life—while Wednesday’s consists of more realistic themes such as death, betrayal, and eternal heartbreak. It was a drastic contrast.

Wednesday could never bear such a naive way of life, so she simply doesn’t understand how you do. It was such a frustrating thought, the way you went about. Don’t you just want to wake up dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? You lived such a reserved life in her eyes; treating your mouth as if it's heaven’s gate, your body like it’s the TSA. 

She wasn’t oblivious to the glances you spared her; it was an internal battle refusing to meet them. But there were consequences. Wednesday has seen horrific things, things she believes would force a person like you into abandoning their wide-eyed outlook on life; she refuses to be the one who corrupts you. She wishes she could go along, don’t get her wrong. You were a goddess on earth, inside and out; bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. Tooth rotting was what you were, but Wednesday did always deem herself a masochist. 

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe she’ll wait. But until that day, she’d rather take her whiskey neat, raw as the honey in your tea, and coffee black as the ink you use to craft your sugar coated poems. Your sweetness was too overwhelming for her to carry, the looks you gave her alone were laced in your perfection. 

Everything pointed to the evident conclusion; you’re too sweet for her.

-----------

A/N: I feel eh abt this one, but I need to experiment with Wednesday more if I wanna get used to writing for her

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[just-zy]

Lost a letter (I)

pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem Reader!

summary: You have a hard time trying to swoon Wednesday, but having her roommate be your friend? It doesn't always end well.. Maybe..

A/N: hello! been awhile, hasn't it? here's a little something, I've been having writers block for so freaking long, I have this pending Vada fic rotting in my drafts cuz ion kno how to finish it 😭, but I'll find the time to finish it sooner.. eventually.. Anyways! Hopefully you guys enjoy this for the meantime. (Werewolf Reader!)

Warnings!: cursing, I don't know, my writing, lemme know if I have a bunch that needs to be put on warning!

part 2 || Masterlist

It was a random Tuesday afternoon, nothing too serious. Well for Wednesday Addams, it wasn't. Considering it was her writing time, she had no care of her surroundings, no care for the world at the moment, no care at all. Unlike you, you were sprawling, whining, and succumbing into the sheets of your mattress as if it was eating you alive. Enid being with you in your room, wasn't much of a help to your problem.

"Enid! You can't just tell her that I wanna take her out on a date! That's Wednesday Addams, that'd be a total turn off for her.." I fuss with her about that fact. She knows I'm right.

Enid looks at me like I was some kind of stray, "But isn't that what you wanna do? Wednesday likes straightforward people more." The blonde shrugs with a smile. A smug one. "I wouldn't even dare say a word to her, Sinclair." I grumbled in the sheets I was in, gosh I was so done with being in love.

"You know, you have a chance with her. She likes you." I heard shuffling and thought nothing of it, I scoffed at the thought.

Feeling the bottom of my bed dip, I peaked out of the covers and saw Enid smiling at me with a raised brow. "You do know I bite, right?"

She rolls her eyes at me and begins shaking my covered foot. "Why not make a letter? Get your feelings out before asking her on a date! Seems good, no?", looking at me with such hope. I had no heart to say no.

★

"Who... can tell me, how plants convert light energy into chemical energy?"

I wasn't much of a botany student, I didn't like botany, but I do have knowledge about this class. It didn't come off as hard for me as I thought it was. So, I raised my right hand, I did expect a few to try and answer as well, although it was just us three. Wednesday, Bianca, and Me.

"Oh! Yes! Y/N, can you tell me how?"

"Uh– well, through the process of photosynthesis. Photosynthesis is a critical process that sustains plant life and provides the foundation for the energy supply of nearly all living organisms on Earth.."

As I finished my answer, I heard a few whispers. I wasn't much of a talker, much more looked like I was a student in Nevermore considering I was a loner, so it was understandable. And, uncomfortable.

"Thank you for that, Miss Y/L/N."

Though, I couldn't help but avert my attention to my peripheral vision, Wednesday's desk was just right next to me. She was looking at me.

It might've caused me to shudder, just a bit.

★

"Botany class was something.." I said, chewing on the food I was eating.

Enid sat in front of me as we ate dinner. We were currently in the Quad, she insisted I tell her how I felt about what happened at Thornhills class earlier, even though she was present in the class.

"She was looking at you! I saw that!" She presses and starts eyeing me up and down. "Enid. You were asleep, how could you have seen that?" Chuckling at the thought of Enid just peaking at us and pretending to be asleep.

"I- uh- I felt it! I just know it. Honestly, you don't take my conclusions seriously!" She huffs and starts to chomp on her food so aggressively.

"But in all seriousness.. How's the letter going?" She leans to me a little closer, whispering as if what we talked about was something illegal.

"I– I don't know. I mean, I finished it last night, what about it?" I asked skeptically, I didn't exactly like where this question was headed.

"Give it to her!"

"Are you crazy?! You said nothing about giving it to her–!" I shrieked and felt my cheeks get warmer. I knew this girl was trouble. "But it is for her, right?.." She began straightening herself up,

"Enid. Sinclair. I swear to God you won't be able to see the light of day tomorrow if you satisfy that want of yours–"

"I'm sorry! She needs to know!"

She bolted out of her seat right before me!

Being both werewolves had its perks, we were faster, and stronger, compared to mortal strength.

But that doesn't change the fact that Enid's a werewolf as well! Idiot! Run faster!

"Sinclair!"

I didn't care how loud I was, I needed to get to my dorm first before she could. I was able to catch up to her on the hallways, thanks to the adrenaline, though it didn't help that she was a tad closer to getting inside before me.

My dorm was in sight, I pumped my legs faster and grabbed the back of her vest and she slipped to her bum. "Goddamnit Y/N! That hurt!" She stays in place and looks at me so hard I could feel my face grimacing.

I turned away from her and before I could run up to my room first, I felt her seize the opportunity by grabbing onto my left foot, making me fall forward and my face flat onto the wooden floor.

"Oh, fuck! I'm sorry!"

She apologizes and leaves me here? How sweet. I knew I lost, I couldn't move my body considering the painful aching on my face. I whined and winced at the pain.

She had a spare key, which was unfortunate. Although I didn't have a roommate, it was pretty lonely sometimes. Sometimes.

I heard shuffling, lots of shuffling. Does she not see the letter that was unluckily displayed on my desk.

Quietly but quickly standing up, I didn't even care how I felt my uniform started wrinkling. I went inside and saw her standing in the middle of the room, eyeing me menacingly. "Where is it, Y/L/N."

I thought about either telling her where it was or if I'd find it for myself... I fled to my desk where my letter was. Where the letter was supposed to be. Where it's placed. Which wasn't there.

"It's not here."

"I thought we've established that already.." I glanced at her, seeing her arms crossed.

"No– It's supposed to be here! I made sure I kept it here."

Oh no.

...

I've looked everywhere and decided to finally give up and wait until tomorrow. I'm sprawled onto my sheets thinking and recalling where I had last placed that damn letter, I didn't know where it could've went or how it could've been taken. Even Enid was worried about its whereabouts, I let out every emotion I felt for Wednesday on that individual letter. What would happen if someone took it and shared it publicly? I had my initials on that letter, and as well as Wednesday's!

Fuck my life. I should have never made that stupid letter.

I felt my eyelids drop slowly, maybe, tomorrow I'd finally grasp and tear that shit apart.

I'll find it before it finds Wednesday Addams.

★

A/N: bumbumbummm wadya think? I've decided to make this a series 🙀 I guess only a two parts series kinda thing... (I lost motivation and wanted to give u guys something before I lose my mind completely.)

[wandaslovey]

Hey, just wanted to say love all ur mommy Wanda content and can’t help but reread them all the time.

I was just wondering if u would wright something along the lines of reader injuring her leg some how, like a sprained ankle, and is having trouble walking on it but is to stubborn to rest up and not walk on it. Hence mommy Wanda having to take manners into her own hands, however u wish to interpret that.

Possibly with praise sprinkled in plz

If not it’s all good :) 

Her Stubborn Girl

a/n: hi nonnie!! thanks for the request! hopefully this (sorta) lengthy drabble is the sort of thing you were looking for :))

a/n: i wrote this in 45 minutes so please forgive all spelling/grammar errors thaaanks🫶🏻🫶🏻

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

you fumble with your keys, almost dropping them twice as you all but wrestle with them to stick it through the lock. you were tired physically and mentally. you had three in-person college courses every wednesday, and now being 4 weeks into the semester, you were seriously regretting your decision to be an “over-achiever.” your ankle hurt like a bitch. it was still healing from a sprain, but you hated walking around with those stupid crutches. you’d be damned if you drew more attention to yourself any more than your wrapped ankle already gave away. you finally enter your shared home with your girlfriend, wanda. you saw that her car was parked in the driveway, so she must have decided to work from home today. you huff, tossing your keys on the little table beside the door, carefully chucking your shoes off. you hear wanda’s feet padding against the hard wood floors to the kitchen. you mentally curse yourself as you know she’s going to immediately notice that you walked to your classes today with no crutches. you had hoped you’d have time to go and grab them from where you left them last but, no such luck.

“hi sweetheart, welcome h—“ wanda pauses as she rounds the corner, taking in your appearance and the lack of what should be the accompanying crutches. you offer her a weak smile and turn to get a water from the fridge, not in the mood for her to berate you for your carelessness.

“Y/N! did you seriously go to your classes today without your crutches??” she walks up to you from behind, her arm swiftly wrapping around your back to pull you carefully to the table. you sigh, running your fingers through your hair. you knew how sensitive she was when it came to your health and well-being. “yes. my ankle is almost healed,” you say to placate her, though you know putting so much weight on it today surely didn’t do you any favors. you could feel a throbbing sensation shooting up your leg, even though you were now sitting down. wanda takes the seat next to you, gently lifting your hurt ankle and settling it in her lap. “almost healed my ass…oh honey, look at it! it’s all swollen!” her fingers gently caress the area over her careful wrapping job. “you— stay right here.” she says, her tone chiding. she gently sets your leg to rest on the chair as she gets up to retrieve an ice pack.

she comes and sits back down, resettling your foot in her lap and gently placing the ice pack around your now extra swollen ankle. you suddenly feel a little bit guilty, knowing that you hurting yourself hurts her just as much—maybe even more sometimes. you didn’t mean to upset her. your shoulders slump forward, an apologetic look on your face as she looks at you with nothing but sternness. “i don’t take kindly to you not taking care of yourself Y/N. you know that.” your posture falls, the guilt weighing even heavier on yourself as her words affirm your suspicion. “i’m sorry, mommy.” you use her honorific, hoping it would help in smoothing her over.

your apology seems to fly in one ear and out the other as the firm expression remains plastered on her face. “you’re not going to put any more weight on this ankle of yours for the rest of the day. do you hear me?” you look down. avoiding her gaze as you nod your agreement. she grasps onto your chin with her thumb and first finger, lifting your head back up to look at her. “words. i need to hear you say it.” her grip on your chin is firm and you find that your previous defiant attitude when you first came home had all but vanished into thin air. “i won’t put any more weight on my ankle for the rest of the day,” you say quietly, your lip slightly pouty and your eyes wide, full of sincere apology. “good girl,” she nods, releasing her hold on your chin. she takes pity on you, knowing that she had scolded you enough already.

you sit in comfortable silence for several moments, her still holding the ice pack to your ankle. “how about we watch a movie together before i finish up my work for the day? then i can make us some dinner and you can tell me all you learned in your classes today.” you smile, quickly agreeing with her suggestion.

you move to stand, but she grips onto your foot to keep it there, giving you a warning look. “sorry..” you quickly readjust into your seat, remembering your recent promise to not walk on your bad ankle the rest of the day. she stands up, settling your leg back over the chair. “where did you leave your crutches?” she asks, looking around the room for them. you whine, not wanting to see or use those stupid things ever again. “don’t make me use those. i hate those things. they just make it more difficult to move around and they hurt my armpits..” you complain, your voice sounding petulant like a stubborn child.

she rolls her eyes at your tone, a small affectionate smile tugging at her lips before she suddenly reaches down and pulls you up into her arms. you make a small noise of surprise, but she makes no moves to put you down, instead carrying you to the couch that’s in front of the tv. she settles you onto the cushions, lifting both your legs so your feet were resting in her lap.

she lets you choose the movie and you put one on that you’ve both seen many times together. throughout the movie she’ll glance over at you, smiling kindly whenever your eyes meet hers. somewhere towards the end of the movie, her hands begin massaging your uninjured foot but you find the sensations felt more tickle-y than anything else. you squirm slightly in your seat, your foot twitching in her gently grasp. her lips curve into a knowing smile as she takes notice of your fidgeting.

“does that tickle, detka?” as she asks, she lightly scratches her fingernails over the arch of your foot. you press your lips together, unwilling to give her the reaction she was looking for.

“no,” you say stubbornly, barely glancing in her direction as you opt to keep staring at the screen ahead.

“oh, so you don’t mind if i do this then?” her fingers then move up your foot, tickling the sensitive little spaces in between your toes. you try to jerk and pull your foot back but she was quicker than you—using her other hand to firmly hold your ankle in place. a low whine and a stream of reluctant giggles bubble past your lips as her fingers scratch at your toes. “what’re you laughing at, huh? i thought you said this didn’t tickle…” she teases, keeping up her playful assault on your poor foot for a few more moments before stopping.

she leans closer to you, kissing you sweetly as she gives your foot a soft squeeze. she looks at you, love and adoration evident in her gaze. you melt under her affectionate look, feeling that warm fuzziness seep into your skin and brain.

“Y/N, i don’t ever want to see you without those crutches until the doctor gives you the all clear. if i do see that, you won’t like what i’ll have in store for you.” she turns more stern again for a moment, making sure she gets her point across. you decide to tease her a bit, her little tickle attack making you feel a little giddy still.

“like what? you’ll spank me?” you smirk slightly, knowing that that particular punishment isn’t normally so bad.

“oh no.. no, no. i know you enjoy your spankings far too much, my darling. i was thinking more along the lines of writing me 500 lines stating ‘i will take care of myself and obey my mommy.’”

she mimics your expression, also smirking as she knows you and how much you hate writing lines. you groan and her smirk stretches into a victorious smile.

“how about i throw in a sweetener? if you be the good little girl i know you can be, i’ll let you choose your reward once the doctor clears you.” her offer instantly makes you perk up, your eyes lighting up as several ideas instantly pop into your head.

“really??” you ask excitedly, almost bouncing in your place on the couch. she chuckles, nodding her head. “really, really.”

[ivetried27nameswhataboutthis1]

Enid: My girlfriend is just more attentive than yours.

Yoko: What makes you think that?

Enid: It’s the fact that I’m going on a moonlight picnic tonight with Wednesday and your girlfriend is going for a swim with her friends while you’re all alone like a loser.

Yoko: Oh, get fucked, honestly.

Enid: Hopefully.

Yoko: Ew, Enid, no.

Enid: Nah, I’m going for ‘Oh, Enid, yes’

Yoko: I’m leaving.

Enid: Well, you’re certainly not coming tonight.

Yoko: STOP TALKING TO ME!

[jazzyoranges]

hey. i really like the fic about shapeshitfing!reader x wednesday. i was wondering if u could do thing and reader being absolute besties and playful with each other which makes wednesday annoyed and sorta jealous.

Best friends

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.4k

A/n: lowk shapeshifter!r is so fun to write, thanks for all the requests about her :) hopefully you like reading about her a lot because honestly i’m a little obsessed with this universe

Warnings(?): wednesday being wednesday, ooc wednesday, mentions of knives and blood

“Why are you adamant on annoying me.” Wednesday opens her door to you, whose rapidly knocking stops when the look on Wednesday’s face doesn’t give much room for explanation. But you love being defiant so you don’t really care

“Thing and I planned to go on a date today!”

The Addams looks behind her to see the appendage with the tiniest little crocheted messenger bag that was worn on his wrist like a bracelet. You can see Wednesday’s forehead wrinkle when Thing saunters over to your feet for you to put him on your shoulder, just as you’ve seen Wednesday do countless times before

“I asked Thing if he had any rings to wear and he said no, so naturally I’m going to treat him on a day out” The appendage taps excitedly on your shoulder, poking at your face to signal he wants to go

“And when did you plan this?”

“After we played tag, you wanna come with us?” You ask with a turn of your head

“Shopping isn’t my strongest suit. I’d only slow you two down.”

“We’ll be off doing hot girl things. I promise I’ll have him home before curfew, Miss Addams” You treat Wednesday like she’s a disapproving mother, when in reality she looks unfazed and honestly a little annoyed. You and Thing wave goodbye, leaving Wednesday with her own thoughts as her roommate is doing god knows what with her friends

Time alone could be good for Wednesday. She’s been around people far more than she preferred. With maybe an hour on her hands before someone interrupts her, Wednesday sits at her desk to write

Her fingers drum against her desk, a habit she picked up from Thing. The appendage you were taking out on a date. For gods sake, he was a hand! You asked a singular appendage out on a date. Not even a full human. A fucking hand. A hand that didn’t have a voice, yet you were still infatuated with him nonetheless

And maybe Wednesday is smart enough to recognize she’s feeling a little peeved over a hand. Maybe Wednesday is smart enough to know Thing does have a voice; a sassy one at that. Maybe Wednesday is coping with the fact you wanted to take Thing out more than someone you actively sought out and saw every day

And maybe you’re the reason why Wednesday had to buy a slightly bigger trash can for the more recent mistakes she’s been making during her writing time

You were a disease. You forced your way into everyone’s life, but somehow you always came out with more friends and acquaintances than you started with. It was annoying how unforgivably social you were.

Your dumb smile with your pearly white teeth. Wednesday’s tapping on her desk got a little faster

Your need to include everyone whether you knew them or not. It was why you were on a date with Thing in the first place

Your everlasting hunger to be around someone. Wednesday knew you didn’t like to be alone

Your voice that Wednesday knew so well.

…

Fuck.

“Hey, Wens!” Enid makes her presence known with a sing-song tone while placing her jacket on the coat hanger near the door

“Where’s Thing? It’s quiet in here” The blonde immediately notices

“He’s on a date,” There’s a small pause after Wednesday talks “with (Y/n).”

“(Y/n) took Thing on a date?”

“Correct.”

“How’s your writing going?” Enid peers over Wednesday’s shoulder to look at her once again, full trash can. Enid notices that happens a lot when you’re on Wednesday’s mind for some reason. The Addams glares at Enid when she makes another mistake, crumbling up the piece of paper while maintaining eye contact with her roommate

“Great.”

A beat of silence.

“…did you seriously get cucked by a hand?”

“Repeat such degenerate nonsense and I’ll be forced to make sure you never will.”

“I dunno, you’re looking a little jealous over there” Wednesday doesn’t have to turn around to hear the wolfish grin in Enid’s voice

“The urge to push a knife through your skull is an insatiable hunger that cannot be fed by anything that isn’t your blood.”

//-//

“Do you like this one? See look, the dragon is the ring!” You place the ring on Thing’s middle finger. The appendage shows his approval with another few taps

“Yes, it makes you look tough. You want another one?” He nods. Well, at least makes it look like he’s nodding. You grab a silver ring from the display, putting it on his thumb

“Will Enid like the rings?” Thing signs

“Everyone will love them, especially Enid. You running out on lotion?”

“Nope! How can I repay you?”

You pretend to think for a second

“If you delete Enid’s blackmail on me off of all her devices I’ll take you out again, free of charge” The employee at the front is probably wondering why your back is turned to her while you’re whispering into your hands

Thing holds a thumbs-up and you take the two rings off his fingers and put them on the check out counter along with a few other little trinkets you liked and stuff for your friends

A pink and white bracelet with charms you knew Enid would find cute, scale earrings that twinkled in the sun that Bianca would look stunning in, a bee pin that was too perfect for Eugene, and a black snake that curled into itself as ring for Wednesday

You only assumed Thing gave you a blank stare when the cashier said your price was a bit more than a hundred fifty dollars. Your mom would definitely chastise you for your spending issues, but that was a problem for another day. Your current problem was that you had to get Thing home by curfew like you promised

//-//

Thing might not want to take up your invitation on another date anytime soon.

Currently you’re turned into a bird with the appendage hanging on for dear life on your back as you carry the bag of items you bought in your beak. Thing pleaded you just run on the ground like any normal animal, but you promised you’d get him home by curfew. Running would’ve taken too long and your ass would get tired

So instead, you went for the skies without Thing’s approval

He might hate you now, honestly. In your defense, it was too late when he told you he had a fear of falling when you were above tree height

You asked if he wanted to sit in the bill of a pelican instead and you felt him pluck one of your feathers. Lucky for you both, Wednesday and Enid’s room wasn’t too far away

When you land on the balcony of their dorm, Thing hops off your back and apologizes for your now lost feather. You also apologize for not planning correctly and having him on your back with little to no safety

Enid looks a little confused when Thing starts to hug the bird that landed on her balcony, but she eventually figures out it’s you. The blonde looks away for a second and you’re already a cat desperately knocking against their circle window to be let in

You walk in like you own the place, and Wednesday checks the clock if you actually got Thing home by curfew

“With minutes left to spare, too.” Wednesday says. You smile proudly

You jump up onto Enid’s bed, bag still in mouth. You push it over so it’s parallel to the bed, digging your head in until you find what you need. The pink and white bracelet with charms you got from Jericho. Enid makes sure to ruffle your fur so much it starts to stick out until she pats it down. Thing makes sure to tell Enid all about his day

Grabbing your bag, you make your way towards Wednesday, who’s reading a book with a dark cover on her bed

You look through the bag again, but this time with the aforementioned snake ring in your mouth. You keep your tongue away from the ring as much as possible to stop you from getting your saliva on it

Of course you thought about your friends while on a date.

Wednesday reaches out her hand, taking the ring from your mouth. She places it on her left ring finger and it seems to be a snug fit. There’s a wordless thank you in Wednesday’s eyes when she uses the same hand to scratch under your chin, making you purr

The happy expression on your face and the way you lean into her touch makes Wednesday’s heart melt the tiniest bit.

You crawl into Wednesday’s lap as she reads her book. Every now and again you can feel the now cold ring against your skin, sending shivers down your spine

You end up spending the night with Wednesday’s lips against the back of your ear and her hand on your stomach. It wasn’t your fault you were a cuddly cat.

[poisonlove]

Beauty and the Beast | w.a

Pairing: wednesday addams x reader

Words: 15k

Warning: reader unsure about her appearance

I felt lonely, so lonely.

But I couldn't risk anyone being scared by my appearance, I couldn't risk receiving mockery and laughter for what I hide beneath the mask. I had to protect myself and others from the horrible monster that I am.

Not even Eugenie, one of my few friends, knew my true face, and I don't think he'll find out anytime soon. Enid tried a couple of times, but after my umpteenth No she gave up, which I'm grateful for.

Why did it have to happen to me? Why do I have to feel scrutinized because of the mask I wear? Damn it, there are vampires, mermaids, and even people without mouths, and yet I'm the only strange one in Nevermore?

"Y/n, have you heard that a new student has arrived?" Eugenie smiles with all thirty-two teeth as he walks beside me, his eyes gleaming with happiness at the news. "Is it really important?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip amused by his reaction.

"An extra girl is always welcome," he sighs dreamily. "Maybe she'll even like bees, don't you think?" He asks hopefully.

I tilt my head to the side and watch Eugenie smile widely, hope in his eyes. "I…" I start, feeling a  pressure in my chest from his enthusiasm, "I guess so?" I say, chuckling timidly, not wanting to spoil my friend's good mood.

"I mean, I adore you, really," Eugenie says, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "but having one more girl in our group would be cool!" He says, analyzing me carefully.

"It's just the two of us… We're not even a trio, and you're talking about a group?" I roll my eyes at his comment, and Eugenie gives me a friendly elbow on the side.

"There's no use rolling your eyes, you know I can see you, right? I mean… besides your mouth, and the other thing that can be seen under the mask," he says sing-song, looking at my mask reluctantly.

"And anyway! We're three!" The boy pouts adorably.

"Really?" I ask in surprise, and Eugenie nods. "Enid," he says, smiling in love at the mention of the blonde werewolf.

I open my mouth ready to retort, but I just ended up sighing loudly.

"Y/n," I turn towards the sound of the voice and see Enid gesturing for me to come closer to her. I raise an eyebrow with confusion and look at Eugenie shrugging indifferently. "Go on, I'll go check on my bees," he says, giving me a pat on the shoulder and walking towards his target, humming a tune.

I approach Enid, who smiles excitedly. "Hi Enid, everything okay?" I ask with a small smile on my lips.

"Y/n! I finally found you!" Enid exclaims, "I have some great news to tell you. You see, the new student is named Wednesday Addams and she'll be my new roommate!"

I feel a knot in my stomach at the thought of facing a new acquaintance, but I try to remain calm. "Wednesday Addams?" I repeat, trying to hide the anxiety that begins to creep up inside me.

"Exactly!" Enid confirms enthusiastically, "It would be fantastic if you two could become friends. I know you're a bit reserved, but I'm sure you'll get along well together!" The blonde smiled widely, her blue eyes looking at me attentively.

I try to mask my discomfort in front of Enid's enthusiasm, but inside, I feel a growing sense of unease. It's not fear, it's just a deep reluctance to interact with new people, especially when I have to hide my true identity behind a mask.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" I ask uncertainly, the memory of Yoko staring at me strangely still vivid in my mind, sending shivers down my spine. I look at Enid curiously, seeking reassurance.

"With Yoko, it was just a small mishap," Enid replies, laughing nervously, able to read what I was thinking during my silence. "It's not your fault if you're so different."

"Right," I mumble to myself, still troubled by the memory of the episode with Yoko.

"I think it'll be different," continues Enid, placing her hand on my arm and starting to walk towards our dorms, "Wednesday has a… special character. You might like her," she adds with a broad smile.

"Are you telling me she's strange?" I ask, feeling offended by her description. Enid looks at me sideways, trying to reassure me.

"No, I didn't mean that," Enid clarifies, "just that she's also shy, and I think you two could get along," she concludes, smiling happily.

"But do we have to go now?" I ask with a worried tone, feeling the need to mentally prepare for the impending meeting. "Of course! I talked about you when she arrived, I think she's writing now," Enid babbles thoughtfully.

"She's writing?" I ask incredulously, a small smile threatening to spread across my lips. The thought of someone actually writing seems surreal to me.

"You see? You haven't even met yet and you already have something in common," Enid says, smiling kindly and looking at me with eyes overflowing with happiness.

As we head towards Ophelia Hall, nervousness grows inside me and my hands start to sweat. My heart beats faster and faster as the moment of meeting Wednesday approaches. I don't know what to expect, and the uncertainty makes me even more agitated.

Enid opens the door and my eyes immediately fall on the room divided in half by a black ribbon, separating two opposite worlds. Enid's side, bright and colorful, contrasts sharply with the darkness of the opposite side.

"The room is… Different," I say timidly, blinking in disbelief.

"Yeah, I was mad the first time too," Enid says with a reluctant sigh, evidently annoyed by the division of the room.

"Wednesday! I want to introduce you to someone," Enid announces, turning her gaze to her roommate on the other side of the ribbon.

Wednesday, focused on the typewriter, emits a small grunt before turning towards us with a rigid and impenetrable posture.

Her dark hair is braided into two impeccable braids that fall on her shoulders with precision and order. Her face is pale, almost ethereal, but her eyes are intense, deep, and penetrating. Her posture is rigid, but she exudes a silent confidence, as if she is aware of her inner power. The air around her seems filled with mystery and fascination, and even though her gaze is cold and distant, there is something about her that attracts and fascinates. It's as if she's enveloped in an aura of darkness, yet at the same time of strength and determination.

Her black eyes scan my figure, and I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks with embarrassment. Thank goodness Wednesday can't see it. I breathe deeply, relieved.

"What is she?" Wednesday asks with sharp curiosity, analyzing me with her gaze.

"Wednesday! You need to be more polite," Enid scolds her, but Wednesday ignores her with indifference.

My heart begins to beat faster as Wednesday approaches me, nervousness growing with each step she takes. Her presence, even silent, seems to envelop me in an atmosphere of mystery and tension, making me feel as if I'm under her scrutinizing gaze.

"You're not a vampire, a werewolf… not even a mermaid…" she mutters softly, her eyes scrutinizing mine intensely.

Her gaze is piercing, full of determination and fascination. "What are you?" she repeats, her voice neutral but curiosity palpable in the air.

I feel cornered, a knot forming in my throat, tightening.

Spontaneously, Wednesday reaches out and places her hands on my face, the tips of her fingers delicately touching my mask.

"Don't," I say in a low but sharp voice, trying to dissuade her.

Wednesday tilts her head slightly, ignoring my request, and brushes her fingers against the mask, exploring its texture with curiosity. Her hand wraps around my mask, and the contact sends shivers down my spine.

My breath becomes irregular as Wednesday continues to examine my mask with care, as if she wants to unveil the secret hidden beneath it. The touch of her fingers on my skin makes me feel vulnerable, exposed to her penetrating gaze.

"Please, stop," I whisper again, trying to control the agitation in my voice.

Wednesday doesn't seem at all disturbed by my request, continuing to explore the mask with an almost scientific curiosity. Her impassive face betrays no emotion, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I feel increasingly exposed in front of her.

"Wednesday, stop," says Enid firmly but gently, approaching us. "Y/n has her reasons for wearing that mask, and it's not right for you to force her to reveal it if she doesn't want to."

Wednesday turns to Enid, her cold and distant gaze piercing through her. "I'm not forcing anything," she replies calmly, "I'm just trying to understand."

Enid stands between me and Wednesday, shielding me with her body. "I understand, Wednesday, but there are better ways to get the answers you seek," she retorts, trying to defuse the situation.

I feel relieved by Enid's support, but at the same time anxious about how the situation will unfold.

After a moment of tense silence, Wednesday turns her back and walks away, heading towards the desk with measured steps. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I sink into a nearby chair.

"What an embarrassing moment," I say with a nervous smile, trying to break the ice.

Enid approaches and places a hand on my shoulder with an expression of solidarity. "Don't worry, Y/n. Wednesday can be a bit… intense at times," she comments with a half-smile.

"You said it," I reply with a small smile, grateful for Enid's support.

On the other side of the room, the incessant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter continues unabated, creating a constant background to our conversation. Her silent presence seems to have added a new dimension to the room, making it even more charged with mystery and tension.

"What do you say we go for a walk outside?" Enid suggests, trying to distract my mind from tumultuous thoughts.

"That sounds like a good idea," I respond with a grateful smile, happy to escape from that tense atmosphere. We rise and leave the room, leaving behind the constant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter.

She seems like an interesting girl I thought to myself

but she really doesn't give up

(…)

Weeks have passed since that first tense encounter with Wednesday, yet her obsession with uncovering what lay beneath my mask showed no signs of abating. Occasionally, during classes or in moments of break, I catch her staring at me with her piercing gaze, as if she wanted to pierce through the fabric of my mask and read my deepest thoughts.

Wednesday doesn't give up easily. She made various attempts: sending anonymous messages, appearing out of nowhere at the most unexpected times, sending Things, and even trying to remove my mask with a sudden gesture. Her questions become more frequent and casual, as if she wanted to uncover my secret through the most mundane conversation.

Flashback

During a break between classes, while I was sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, I felt a presence approaching. I looked up and saw Wednesday with her mysterious and aloof demeanor.

"May I sit here?" she asked calmly, indicating the seat across from me.

"Of course, go ahead," I replied, surprised by her sudden company.

Wednesday sat down with a fluid and silent movement, and for a moment we simply looked at each other, without saying a word. Then, without a smile or a greeting nod, she said, "How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you," I replied, trying to hide my surprise at finding her there.

That brief conversation remained imprinted in my mind for days, like an unsolved riddle. Yet, despite her seemingly insatiable interest in my mask, Wednesday did not seem at all frightened or disgusted by me. She was just… curious.

Flashback end

But then, without any warning, Wednesday stops altogether circling around me. She no longer approaches me with her questions or scrutinizing looks. I was left to wonder:

was I boring? Rude? Was I just being paranoid?

"It seems like she's gotten tired of you," Enid jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe she's finally realized that beneath that mask, it's just you, and nothing so terrifying."

Enid's joke made me smile, but it didn't completely dissipate the tension that had built up inside me. I was nervous about the various conjectures swirling in my head, and I literally asked myself too many questions that had no answer.

"Thank goodness you found something to laugh about," I remarked, trying to conceal my mood.

Enid looked at me with a sympathetic expression. "You know, Y/n, I think you're reading too much into things. Maybe Wednesday has just found something else to focus on, or maybe she's decided she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable."

I wanted to believe Enid's words, but doubt continued to nag at me. "Maybe you're right," I replied, trying to convince myself.

"I promise that if there's anything to worry about, I'll let you know," Enid said sincerely, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I felt somewhat relieved by her promise, but I knew that until I had answers to my questions, my mind would continue to race incessantly. It was frustrating not knowing what was going through Wednesday's mind, but I had to find a way to stop tormenting myself with suppositions and hypotheses.

That afternoon, I found myself in Enid's room, determined to clear things up with Wednesday. The tension in the air was palpable as I tried to gather the courage to confront the situation.

"Wednesday, can I talk to you?" I asked, trying to stay calm despite my pounding heart.

The girl looked up from the book she was reading and glanced at me with detachment. "Sure," she replied simply, showing no sign of interest. Her eyes returned to the pages of the book she was reading.

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?" I asked, feeling my voice tremble slightly with emotion.

Wednesday didn't even look up from her book. "I can't be friends with a girl who doesn't show her face," she said coldly, as if it were obvious.

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You can't really think like that," I replied, trying to control my growing frustration. "I'm not just my mask, Wednesday. There's much more beneath it."

Wednesday remained impassive, and her indifference deeply hurt me. "You don't even listen to me," I whispered, feeling my heart breaking.

The girl didn't respond, continuing to read as if I were invisible. Frustration and anger welled up inside me, but in the end, I gave up.

With a sigh, I realized I had to accept the situation for what it was. "Maybe you're right," I admitted softly. "But you can't judge without knowing the truth." Wednesday looked up from her book, looking at me with a certain curiosity. "And what would the truth be?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"The truth… I'm afraid," I replied, feeling a lump in my throat as my hands trembled slightly. With determination, I placed them on the mask, ready to reveal what I had hidden for so long.

Damn feelings I developed for you, persistent Goth I thought bitterly.

Wednesday watched carefully, her black eyes scrutinizing my face with intense curiosity. My heart pounded in my chest, silently praying that she would accept what she was about to see.

With a deep breath, I slowly removed the mask, revealing my true face. Behind it, a hideous scar extended from my eyebrow to my cheek, thankfully sparing my eye. It was a wound I had carried for years, a witness to a painful past that I had never shared with anyone.

Wednesday remained still, her eyes fixed on my scar. Her expression was inscrutable, but I could see surprise in her eyes.

The scar was large and deep, and I couldn't help but feel vulnerable as Wednesday examined it. But there was no more room to hide the truth, and I had to accept her judgment, whatever it may be.

Wednesday closed the book and approached me slowly, her gaze still fixed on the scar adorning my face. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and shyness, as if she were unsure of what to do or say.

"Can I touch it?" she asked in a barely audible voice, and I nodded weakly, feeling my cheeks flush at her question.

With cautious movements, Wednesday came even closer, her fingers delicately touching my scarred skin. A shiver ran down my spine at the contact, but it wasn't disgust or fear. It was a feeling of calm and acceptance, as if that gesture meant something deeper than just physical contact.

I looked at her face as she examined the scar. Her eyes were full of empathy and understanding, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. It was as if I had finally found someone who truly understood me, without judging or condemning.

It was hard to believe that all this had happened because I had fallen in love with her. But now, looking at her up close like this, I realized that maybe it was worth risking my heart for someone who made me feel so alive and accepted.

"How did you get it?" Wednesday asked timidly, slightly clenching her jaw as she continued to observe the scar on my face.

My voice trembled slightly. "It was done by my father," I confessed, feeling the lump in my throat tighten. "He was drunk and one night he lost control."

My voice broke slightly as I remembered those painful moments, the fear and despair I had felt. But I knew I had to share the truth with Wednesday, even if it hurt to revisit those memories.

Wednesday gently caressed my cheek, the touch of her fingers on my scarred skin sending a slight shiver down my spine. "Why did you keep it hidden?" she asked with curiosity, her gaze still full of compassion.

"It's horrible…" I replied softly, feeling the weight of my words. "When everyone looked at me strangely or laughed, I decided to cover it up."

Wednesday's finger brushed against the scar on my eyebrow and a shiver ran down my spine. It was as if that simple gesture was breaking down the barriers I had built around me for years.

"It makes you strong," said Wednesday, tilting her head to the side as she looked at me intently. "And you're… Beautiful all the same."

Her words struck me deeply, and I felt my cheeks blush slightly at her unexpected compliment. It was hard to believe that someone could find beauty in that ugly scar, but with Wednesday beside me, I began to see myself with different eyes.

"Thank you," I replied sincerely, my heart filled with gratitude for her kindness. It was a moment of intimacy and sharing that I would never forget.

"Does Enid know?" Wednesday asked with curiosity, and I shook my head.

"No," I replied, feeling a shiver of nervousness run through my body.

"Are you afraid of her reaction?" she asked timidly, and I nodded slowly.

"If she says something, I'll kill her," said Wednesday with a serious tone, and I couldn't help but smile, feeling for the first time confident and beautiful for myself.

And beautiful for Wednesday.

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[prazinos]

Could you possibly make an Ajax smut where his team lost the poe cup and the readers team won it and he just kinda takes his anger out on/punishes the reader because maybe she was kinda mean during it and he has his jester makeup on during it? Ignore this if you want, btw love your writing :D

Okay Anon, I got a bit carried away but yk hopefully you like this <3

Poe Cup

This can be read as a bit of a part two to Love At First..Sight? But also as a stand-alone

Summary ~ You used your telekinetic abilities to win the Poe Cup and Ajax isn’t too happy about it

WARNINGS ! ~ SMUT MINORS DNI | Oral {F} | Fingering | Overstimulation | PiV |

You and Wednesday finally got to the flags and grabbed she grabbed it before you both sprinted back towards the boats.

You saw your boyfriend and Xavier not too far in front of you and a cruel idea popped into your head.

Now, anything goes during the Poe cup but that doesn’t mean you didn’t feel slightly guilty at what you were going to do.

Using your telekinetic abilities you dragged Ajax and Xavier into the air. They looked down to see you and Wednesday. As you ran past them you blew Ajax a kiss which he just glared at you.

‘Shit!’ Xavier shouted

You dropped the boys and climbed into the boat. Quickly paddling to get to the finish line.

You all crossed the finish line cheering you bent over slightly, attempting to catch your breath and looking up to see your boyfriend in his jester costume. You couldn’t deny he looked good in it. But you stopped yourself from jumping his bones right then and there

You were in Bianca and Enid’s room as Wednesday and Enid were in yours ‘celebrating’.

‘I cannot believe you guys punctured our boat!’ Bianca groaned

‘I’m sorry but it was a little funny’ you giggled and she threw a pillow at you.

You changed out of your costume and wiped off the makeup. It was Enid’s idea to be dressed as cats and you had to admit you did look hot in the costume.

Shrugging on your pyjama shorts and singlet you sat on Bianca’s bed and stuck your hand out so she could paint them.

After a while of watching Gilmore Girls with Bianca and arguing over who should have ended up with Rory, your phone buzzed.

Ajax <3

Come to my dorm, it’s an emergency

‘Shit’ you said grabbing your costume and shoes from the floor.

‘Everything okay?’ Bianca asked

‘No, I think Ajax is in trouble. He said it’s an emergency’ you said

‘Oh yeah, emergency’ Bianca said chuckling.

You rolled your eyes before shutting the door behind you, speed walking to Ajax’s dorm.

You used the key he gave you and walked in to see Ajax. Completely fine. And still in his costume. What?

‘What the hell Ajax you said it was an emergency! And why are you still in your costume?’ You scolded.

You were pinned to the door by Ajax and you looked up at him. His snakes hissing at you

‘That shit you pulled during the cup and you thought you’d get away with it?’ He asked voice deep and stern.

You clenched your thighs together, attempting to get any friction before he shoved them open with his hand.

‘No, you don’t get to do that’ he said.

Ajax picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you hated how lean he looked compared to his strength.

You were thrown onto his bed before he grabbed your legs and dragged them to the end of the bed. You felt your clit aching in want. Any friction anything at all.

He grabbed your shorts and dragged them down your legs along with your underwear. And you rubbed your thighs together again before he slapped your right one. Telling you to stop.

You looked up at him, taking in his entire frame. Jesus Christ , his shirt was gone but he still had the makeup on as well as pants, snakes out, dark look in his eye. To say you were dripping would be an understatement.

He spread your thighs with his hands and leaned down looking at your dripping cunt. You whined, he was so close but he wasn’t giving you anything.

‘God you’re so impatient’ he mumbled.

Seeing as this was your first time with Ajax it was insane that this was the same nervous man who had confessed to you in your room only a month ago.

He rubbed some of the jester makeup from his mouth.

He leaned in, licking an experimental lick up your cunt before diving in completely.

You’d moaned out, nobody had ever done this to you before. Sure you’d had boyfriends and had sex but none of them actually went down on you. All complaining that it tasted weird or it was too slimy.

But Ajax was moaning into you clearly loving the taste. You looked down at him whimpering when you saw he was looking right back at you. You bucked your hips and he gripped them holding you down in place allowing him to do whatever he pleased.

He inserts two fingers into your entrance before curling them while sucking on your clit.

You feel your legs start to shake, your so close to the edge

And he stops.

You look down at him to see him smirking, rubbing circles into your thigh.

‘What the fuck Ajax’

‘I’m not letting you get off that easy’ he says chuckling darkly before he continues ‘now I’m gonna get some food, I’m starving’

He gets off you and stands up walking to the door.

You smirk to yourself before reaching a hand down to your clit, rubbing it, moaning quietly,

You watch through hooded lids as Ajax snaps to turn around before taking long fast strides towards you. Grabbing your hand and snatching it from your clit.

‘The fuck do you think you’re doing?’ He asks, clearly furious

‘Making myself cum, idiot’ you snap back.

He glares at you before smiling. That can’t be good. He tears off your singlet and I mean literally. He leans back down to your cunt, he shoves two fingers back inside you curling them immediately.

Your back arches as you moan loudly. He moves his head to lick at your cunt once more. He’s ruthless with his tongue, he’s incredible but ruthless.

He sucks on your clit and your legs begin to shake again, you swear that if he pulls away again you’d kill him.

You’re gripping the sheets below you as you feel yourself tip off the edge.

Letting out moans and whimpers of Ajax’s name you come back down from the orgasm that had washed over you.

He doesn’t let up though, continuing to lick, and finger your pussy. You attempt to push him away by pushing at his forehead.

You’re too sensitive, and he’s still not letting up.

You soon feel your second orgasm wash over you as your legs feel like jelly.

And he still, does. Not. Let. Up.

It feels like you’re on the brink of pleasure and pain. Tears are streaming down your face as your juices cover his.

The sounds of it are disgusting but they just get you closer to the edge. You feel like you’re going to explode if he continues like this.

You’re a panting mess as you feel the same explosion of pleasure wash over you again.

You look down at him again and the look in his eyes tells you he’s still not stopping

‘Ajax, please, shit, please stop, it hurts’

And you weren’t lying, your clit aching, this time not in desperation but in overstimulation.

He finally raises his head removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

‘Come on panemorfi, one more, one more on my cock this time’

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the nickname and you nod weakly

‘Words panemorfi’

‘Yes, I can..I can do one more..I um, birth control ’ you say, your voice raspy, although your English was a bit broken he understood what you meant.

Somehow, with little strength you had, sat up and motioned for him to lay down. He did as you ‘said’ and lied down on the bed. You got on top of him, admiring how pretty he looked before aligning his hard cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on it, moaning at how he stretched you open even after being fingered.

Ajax groaned at the feeling of your tight walls, admiring your body as you bounced on top of him, he couldn’t take his eyes off your bouncing breasts.

Gripping your hips starting to thrust into you, you let out a high pitched moan throwing your head back. Your orgasm approaching quickly.

Ajax’s moans slowly dissolved into whimpering loudly. Indicating he was getting close.

Your legs were burning, but you were so so close.

‘Fuck, Y/N gonna come, shit gonna-‘ Ajax cut himself off with a loud moan, spilling into you, triggering your own orgasm. Letting a whimper out.

After a while of just catching your breath, you got off of Ajax, reaching over to his bedside table grabbing the tissues.

You cleaned yourself and Ajax up before lying down next to him.

‘Sorry for putting you in the air’

‘I guess it’s okay’ he chuckled. You slapped his chest lightly laughing with him.

Laying in peace for a while you suddenly remembered

‘Shit!’ You yelled standing up to grab your clothes, going to Ajax’s closet grabbing a pair of his boxers you put them on and then your pyjamas. Wiping the smeared jester makeup off your face

‘What? What are you doing?’ Ajax asked

‘We’re meant to be hanging out with everybody’ you said throwing some clothes at Ajax and rubbing the makeup off his face.

‘By the way, wear this makeup more often’ you said making him smirk.

You got to your dorm with Ajax trailing behind you opening it to see everybody watching Hereditary.

Everybody turned around to face the two of you.

‘So’ Xavier said pausing to take a sip of his drink ‘snake pubes?’ He asked

You rolled your eyes as Bianca, Xavier and Enid laughed.

A/N ~ I really do hope this was okay {hopefully it is}

Let me know if you liked this by liking, Reblogging, or commenting

Panemorfi ~ Gorgeous {Greek}

By my loves <3

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

thanks for all the tags for sunday and tuesday! <3

started yet another wip 🙈 I was watching oth and heard one line and got inspired lol so here's some bucktommy morning cuddles, and istg this one will be short and fluffy and hopefully done soon 🤞 haha

___

“Where are you going?” Tommy mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed, a small frown creasing his forehead. Buck chuckles quietly and can’t resist leaving another kiss on Tommy’s lips. It’s honestly adorable how his big, strong, hot firefighter boyfriend, who’s always so cool and collected, can get so grumpy in the morning without cuddles. He’s sure no one would believe him if he told them, but he likes that – he’s the only person who gets Tommy like this, who knows him like this. The thought makes his heart race and stomach flip, feeling as excited as at the very beginning of their relationship.

“Well, I was gonna go make you breakfast and then wake you up.” Buck says, fingers running through Tommy’s tangled curls. “You can go back to sleep, baby, and I’ll be right back.” he whispers, one of his hands starts drawing mindless shapes on Tommy’s back.

“Mm, no.” Tommy just responds, burying his face in Buck’s neck.

“You don’t want breakfast in bed?”

“I want you in bed.” Tommy says stubbornly, punctuated by a soft kiss to Buck’s neck and his arm around Buck’s waist tightening.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @loveyouanyway @neverevan

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Two

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, lots of yearning, derrick disappoints us, javier flirts...kinda, law school stuff that i'm researching as i go so bare with me actual lawyers and law students, mentions of a crime/DV (used as an example), reader wears skirts (for the sake of future smut)

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

After a long night of imagining Dr. Peña’s stern eyes peering into yours from between your thighs, it was time to face him yet again. With his Criminal Law class Monday through Wednesday, and his Intro to Forensics lab Wednesday through Friday, it seemed you’d have to learn to get used to his dizzying effect on you or else you’d never get a full night of sleep. It didn’t help that both Nina and Alondra had guests over last night, their explicit noises forcing you into sleeping with headphones on. 

Ears aching and eyes tired, you carried on with your day as usual. New lectures in Advanced Forensics and Criminal Profiling in the morning, and Dr. Peña’s class in the afternoon. Derrick followed you around in between classes, eager to prove himself to you by buying your latte and carrying your bag—even when you insisted you were fully capable of doing both on your own. 

You weren’t sure what had gotten into him over the summer while he was away with his family in the Hamptons—a luxury you could only imagine as you spent your summer working as an underpaid secretary for a law firm. Perhaps it had to do with his older brother’s engagement and recent promotion to an attending physician that compelled him to be so pushy when it came to you. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in getting married this young, not when you still had so much to prove. 

“Hopefully there’s a seat in the back today,” he said, opening the door to the lecture hall for you. While he may have a good reason for not wanting to be the center of Dr. Peña’s attention again, there was a decent sized part of you that adored his attention—even if it meant a scolding. Maybe especially if it meant that. 

“Yeah,” you lied, swallowing down your nerves as you stepped into a much more crowded room than yesterday. You scanned the room, now full of hopeful women and men who must have heard about Dr. Peña’s looks and transferred out of their old classes to get a glimpse of the man. Only five seats remained, four of them scattered around the auditorium and one in the front row. 

“Shit,” Derrick swore, scanning the room. “Guess we have to split up.”

You fought away the smirk threatening to spread across your face and frowned. “Sucks. Well, I’m gonna be in the front.”

“So he can pick on you?” Derrick asked, raising a brow. “There’s a seat near the back, take that one.”

“I’m fine,” you assured, giving him a glare to admonish whatever control he thought he had over what you chose to do. He scoffed, watching you as you made your way down the steps of the hall to the front row where you found a seat beside a girl you were friendly with during undergrad, Mayte. “Is this seat open?”

“Yeah,” she chirped with a smile, moving her bag from the seat to let you sit down. “Crazy how full this class is. I don’t feel like it was this packed yesterday.”

“It wasn’t,” you chuckled, unpacking your notebook and pen. 

Striding in in a red button down and almost skin tight black slacks that you couldn’t help but notice bulged out at the zipper, the reason for all the new transfers became clear. The hush that fell over the room was telling, a silence that filled you with so much jealousy you thought you might be sick. 

“Afternoon,” he greeted, setting his back down in his chair. After pulling out a stack of papers, he gave the room a quick once over, his shock written in the lift of his brows. “Full house today.”

The room filled with flirty laughter, your eyes rolling in response. Heading over to Mayte who sat at the start of the row, Dr. Peña handed her the stack of papers, his eyes flickering towards yours as he spoke, “Take one, pass it down.”

You looked away, the window now seeming far more interesting than it had a second ago. 

“Today’s lecture will be on the fundamental elements of crime,” he said, reaching his podium. Hearing your name called, you shrank a bit in your seat. Still, that thrill of earning his attention raced through your veins, daring you to meet his eyes. “Can you tell the class what these elements are?” 

You nodded, flipping to the page in your notebook you’d filled out the night before while studying. “The fundamental elements of a crime are actus reus, mens rea, and causation.” 

The corner of his mouth tilted upwards as he gave you a nod, his eyes hesitantly shifting from yours to the row behind you. “Mr. Velasquez, define actus reus for me.”

“Actus reus refers to the act of committing a crime, either knowingly or unknowingly,” he said. 

“Very good,” Dr. Peña commended. “Simply put, actus reus—which is Latin for guilty act—refers to the ‘what’ in a crime. These criminal actions must be considered voluntary and done during a lucid state to constitute a crime. For example, a sober man comes home from a hard day at work and assaults his wife. This act was done both in a conscious state and by his own volition. Now, if the wife were to be in a state of survival and had no other choice than to respond to the assault with an extreme measure, this is an entirely different story and does not meet the qualifications for actus reus.” 

“Murder is murder, isn’t it?” Derrick asked from somewhere in the middle row, causing you to roll your eyes. Did he really not understand the difference between murder and self defense this far into the law program?

“Murder is murder, and survival is survival, Mr. Crawley,” Dr. Peña explained, crossing his arms over his shoulders. “Do you disagree with this logic?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he said, matching Dr. Peña’s arrogance without possessing any of the charm. “There are ways to defend yourself without killing someone?”

“Do you think these victims have the time to strategize when they have a gun pressed to their temple? If there’s a blade to their throat?” he challenged. “They do what they have to do to survive. It’s not our place as lawyers to judge them, it’s our job to uphold the law.”

“Laws that are written with double standards,” Derrick scoffed, earning a shush that sounded an awful lot like Nina. 

“Perhaps if you make it to the end of the program you can change things,” Dr. Peña smirked, glancing at you before turning back to your friend who was looking an awful lot like a stranger these days. “But I’m not so certain that’ll be the case for you, Mr. Crawley.”

After the scene that was class, you met up with Alondra at the library, both of you determined to avoid the noise that came along with Derrick having his male friends over at the apartment. Beyond the obnoxious volume they all spoke at, you hated the way they watched you, whispering amongst themselves about how jealous they were that Derrick got to live with three beautiful girls—nevermind the fact that none of you wanted anything to do with him in that sense. 

“What are you doing your paper on for Arman’s class?” Alondra asked as she typed on her laptop. 

“Not sure yet,” you said, taking a bite out of the banana you’d hoped would fuel you until dinner. “Maybe capital punishment.”

“That’s good,” she commended. “I was thinking of analyzing the process of trying someone with psychological disorders.”

“Still interested in criminal psych?” 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve done the psychology route instead, but there was no way I was going to convince my parents to fund that.”

“Why not?” you frowned. 

“They don’t think mental illness is a real thing, which is funny considering they both exhibit traits of bipolar disorder and narcissism,” she laughed, hiding her trauma behind a thin veil of humor like she always did. Not that you minded it. The whole expressing your feelings thing never really came that easily to you. “Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you something.”

“Oh, no,” you winced. 

“So rumor has it that you and Derrick have a little date on Friday?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I just want to get it over and done with so he’ll drop the whole thing. I mean, four years into being friends and I never felt a thing for him. Does he really think that changed overnight?”

“Knowing him, probably,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I heard from a very credible source—“

“Sabina,” you guessed. 

“Maybe,” she blushed. “Anyways, she told me that on the first night back, Derrick hooked up with an undergrad and caught a case of the clap.”

“Shut up,” you gasped. “Chlamydia? At his grown age?”

“I know,” she laughed. “So, just be careful if you decide to—“

“Believe me, I had no intentions of fucking him before and I sure as hell have none now,” you assured, cringing at the thought. 

“Interesting conversation for a library, isn’t it?” Dr. Peña’s warm timbre sent a chill up your spine as he stood behind your chair, Alondra’s eyes wide and cheeks flushed. 

“We were just…gossiping,” she offered, shrugging the embarrassment off. “Women, am I right?” 

“Two very bright women who’d be far better off studying,” he challenged. 

You refused to turn around, his leather and vetiver scent combined with his proximity already too much for your system of self restraint to handle. Instead, you flipped the page of your textbook in strained silence. 

“I actually was hoping to speak to you about tomorrow’s lab,” he continued, now speaking directly to you. 

“8 p.m., got it,” you said, your tone clipped with frustration at your dirty mind. 

“It was actually in reference to your…clothing,” he returned, causing Alondra to raise a brow as she pretended to resume her typing. Turning in your seat, you peered up at him with furrowed brows. 

“What about my clothing?” you inquired. 

“You seem to wear a lot of dresses and skirts,” he noted, though he looked as if it was torture to even have this conversation. “I just wanted to remind you that appropriate PPE is required for all labs, which means—“

“Pants. Understood,” you said, turning back to your book. 

“Good,” he managed, almost sounding as if he’d lost his voice with how strained his tone was. “I’ll leave the two of you to your gossiping and studying, then.”

Alondra watched as he walked past your table, his hands tucked into his pocket as if he owned the place. 

“Hot,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I’m pretty gay, but that tension…” 

“There’s no tension, he’s just a dick,” you snapped, feeling your cheeks heat as you replayed the interaction over and over in your head. 

He really paid that much attention to you? So much so that he felt compelled to remind you of lab etiquette you learned back in high school? 

The delusional part of your mind swooned while the logical part recoiled. 

“Please show up in a mini skirt,” she begged, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Snorting at herself, she proceeded to mimic his deep voice, “I thought I told you no mini skirts.” 

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. 

“Yes, I’ve been such a naughty girl, Professor.”

“Would you look at that. Seems like it’s time for me to get the fuck out of here,” you said, closing your book and shoving it into your bag. 

“Don’t be like that, I’m just trying to paint an image,” she teased, laughing as you hustled to get your things packed. 

“Sorry, I’ve got a date with my bed,” you snarked, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“How convenient,” she smirked, tapping her pen against her chin. “I give you a brand new fantasy and now you’re off to bed.”

“Someone’s moans kept me up all night so I’m exhausted,” you retorted, laughing at the way she kept staring you with that knowing look of hers. “Fuck off.”

“Love you more,” she called as you turned and walked away. 

After another night of restless sleep and inappropriate fantasies of Dr. Peña’s hands sliding up your skirt, it was time for yet another day of this back and forth. You’d expected Derrick to keep his distance after his humiliating interaction during CrimLaw, perhaps brood about like he usually did when things didn’t go his way, but it was business as usual today. He followed you around like a lost dog, talking your ear off about his upcoming project for his mock trial in his Criminal Procedures class as you wandered off in your mind to a reality where he hadn’t changed into this hyper masculine man you didn’t recognize. 

“I’m excited,” he beamed, rubbing his hands together. “First time to prove myself in a courtroom.”

“An artificial court room,” you clarified, earning a scowl. “Hey, I have to get to Peña’s lab.”

“We’re, uh, still good for Friday, right?” he asked, catching your elbow as you moved to walk away. 

“If you want,” you shrugged, looking down at where he still gripped your arm. “I should get going.”

He nodded, letting your arm go. “I’ll see you at home.” 

After managing to ditch Derrick, you assumed your walk to Dr. Peña’s lecture hall would give you a moment of respite, but of course fate had different plans. 

You didn’t even recognize him until he was already approaching with a cocky grin and his arms held out wide. Micah, the man who’d ruined your entire undergrad experience with all of his back and forth bullshit. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust over his new mullet and pitiful mustache he likely spent all summer growing. 

“Hey,” he chimed your name, creating an absurd desire inside you to change it just so you’d never have to hear it on his lips again. You feigned confusion, as if you could ever forget those green eyes that still haunted every dream. “Shit, you don’t recognize me.” He laughed. “It’s Micah.”

“Oh. Hey.” Your greeting was as strained as your smile. 

“You’re looking good,” he praised, admiring you from top to bottom. You cringed at his appraisal, at his ignorance over the entire situation. “How’s, uh, how’s law school?”

“Fine,” you replied, clipped and cold. 

“Why’re you acting like that?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Oh, the amount of money you’d pay for the chance to slap that arrogant smirk right off his face. “You still holding onto all that old shit?”

“Four years of emotional abuse will do that,” you replied. “Anyways, I have to be somewhere.”

“C’mon, all your friends forgave me for that shit. Why can’t you?” 

Maybe today would be the day you finally lost your shit on him and ended up in jail. Though, that would mean missing Dr. Peña’s lab and you certainly couldn’t miss out on the chance to ogle him. 

“They forgave you because they weren’t the ones you fucked over,” you explained, choosing to be mature even when it ached. “So I get to decide when I want to forgive you. Not the other way around. And just as a good rule of thumb, I don’t plan on forgiving you anytime soon.”

“So what, we just avoid each other?” he frowned, daring to act as though he was hurt. 

“That’s the goal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, won’t be long now until you flunk out since I’m not around to write your essays anymore.”

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, signaling your cue to walk the fuck away before you did something that would end up with you in a jail cell. “And you wonder why I cheated!”

Shaking your head to clear out all the memories of nights spent sobbing on the floor or in Nina’s bed because yours reminded you of him too much, you marched off towards the lecture hall with five minutes to spare. Thankfully unlike your Criminal Law lecture, you didn’t have to worry about finding a seat given the fact that you’d be sitting at the front of class in a desk designated to the TA. 

You passed rows of undergrads whispering and laughing amongst themselves, all of them blissfully unaware of the storm heading their way. As you reached the front of the class, Dr. Peña walked in with the same frown of disapproval he wore on the first day of your lecture. 

“Evening,” he greeted, silencing the room with one simple word. He shot you a glance, doing a double take as he noticed you were still unpacking your bag and getting settled. 

“You’re late,” he scolded in a whisper as he walked over to your desk, the cinnamon on his breath invading your senses. 

“I’m five minutes early,” you challenged as you opened your notebook and jotted down the date, well aware of the sea of freshman and sophomore eyes trained on the two of you. 

“I need you here at seven-thirty,” he ordered. “I had to prep by myself.”

“I apologize,” you sighed, half due to your run in with Micah and half due to the ever present exhaustion of trying to keep your fantasies of your demanding professor at bay. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

“That would be appreciated,” he snarked, shaking his head as he wandered back to the center podium with a clearing of his throat. “Welcome to Intro to Forensics. I’m Dr. Peña, you’ll refer to me as such this semester—not dude, not bro, and certainly no nicknames. I’m not your friend, I’m here to teach you. Understood?”

God, he was a dick. A beautiful, wound up dick that you couldn’t stop thinking about. 

“This is your TA for the semester,” he introduced you by name, and something about the way it sounded on his lips caused your breath to hitch. “She’ll be here to help during labs as well as tutoring on her own time. If you have questions about the material or assignments, I suggest you speak with her first. You’ll find her tutoring hours on the syllabus.”

You frowned a bit as you thought about the whole tutoring part of being a professor’s assistant. Spending your weeknights at the library helping out undergrads sounded like pure torture at this point in your life, but at least the extra cash would go a long way towards covering your bills. 

“Today we’ll be covering DNA fingerprinting,” he said, pulling up a slideshow presentation. “Can anyone tell me how exactly this process works?”

A pretty freshman shot her hand up before he’d even finished speaking, curdling your stomach with jealousy you knew you had no right to feel. “Yes, Miss…?”

“You can just call me Jess,” she smiled, tucking a piece of her caramel brown hair behind her ears. 

“No. What’s your last name?” he sighed.  

“Jacobs,” she sputtered, her cheeks turning a shade of red. “DNA fingerprinting uses nucleotide sequences in DNA to determine who the fingerprints belong to.”

“Very good,” he nodded. “And what are nucleotides?”

“I…um, I don’t know,” she admitted, that sparkling smile now long gone as she stared down at her book. 

“Figured,” he chided, skipping to the next slide. “Your knowledge doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t explain it.”

Watching him talk down to a student shouldn’t have stirred you the way that it did. In fact, if he’d been any other man talking to a woman that way, you’d have detested him. But there was something about Dr. Peña that poisoned your mind in his favor, a very annoying thing you now had to add to your list of shit to sort out upstairs. 

After a relatively silent lab where the students had to match DNA samples to their rightful owner, it was nearing ten o’clock, the pitch black sky outside beckoning you to hurry the fuck up and get to bed. Of course, nature was forgetting your very demanding professor who seemed dead set on wearing you out in all the wrong ways. 

“You take half, I’ll take half,” he suggested, splitting the stack of worksheets in two and handing you your share as you sat in his private office that was adjoined to the lecture hall. “Should be finished quickly enough.”

“Is there any way I can just do these at home?” you asked, your eyelids growing heavier with each blink. 

He studied you for a beat, those brown eyes traversing every single feature, every inch from head to toe as if he was searching for something. “If you’d prefer.”

“I’m just really tired,” you admitted, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “Don’t want to accidentally fall asleep in your office.”

“That would be inconvenient,” he chuckled, and god, what a sound. “Grade them wherever you’d like, just make sure you drop them off tomorrow morning.”

Nodding, you grabbed your bag and carefully tucked the papers inside. 

“Tomorrow morning,” you echoed.

“I look forward to it,” he smiled, a fleeting thing that disappeared the moment you turned to look at him. “Have a good night.” 

You took in a slow inhale and offered him a more lasting smile. “You too, Professor.”

“And don’t worry about the PPE tomorrow,” he added, stopping you as you moved to leave the room. Raising your brow at him, he looked entirely unphased, his eyes once again combing you over before he seemed to realize himself. “No lab, just a lecture.”

“Right,” you said, biting your lip. “I’ll be sure to wear my shortest skirt.” 

Did you really just say that? Out loud? 

Dr. Peña cracked a smile and shook his head, turning back to his desktop. “I wouldn’t want you to cause a scene.”

“I’m not sure the sight of me in a skirt is scene worthy.”

He tilted his head to the side in consideration, his eyes still locked on his screen. 

“I’d beg to differ,” he said, wearing that taunting fucking smirk as he typed. “Anyways, be safe getting home.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled—at him, at yourself, at everything. “Night, Dr. Peña.”

“Good night,” he smiled. 

And just like that, you discovered a way to taunt him the way he taunted you by just existing. 

[simonsezsewart]

☀️Triangled☀️

Trigun Stampede X Tangled

Vashwood Tangled AU Comic

(Pages 1-5)

Omg It’s finally here!!! ;0;

I’ve been working on this for over a week now and I finally have the first five pages done!!

Apologies for the inconsistent art style and quality, I’m still figuring out what I’m doing lol; also I originally made the first 3 pages in black and white like a traditional manga (hence the specific page ratio) but realized half way through that all the lines, dots, and high contrast were triggering my migraines… whoops… ;v;

At least it gives me a chance to practice my coloring skills. (Lord knows I need it. The purple dress and the orange sand keep wanting to clash so much oof ;v;)

As for the story, I figured simply combining the two story lines of Tristamp and Tangled would make it feel a little bit boring/predictable, which is why I’ve decided to mix and match things, as well as add my own original spin to the story, hopefully to keep y’all engaged/entertained! ^^;

My goal atm is to update with at least one new page every Wednesday (for WooWoo Wednesday, obviously), but potentially more, idk yet. I might also consider posting the comic to AO3 if y’all are interested. This is all pretty experimental for me, so I’m figuring stuff out as I go lol.

Lastly, a big thank you to those of you who have left such nice comments in reblog tags! Your kindness and supportiveness mean the world to me!! :)

[quinnysnursery]

Can you do a little!matt x fem!cg!reader? 🩵🩵

[🩹] stressful week recovery | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : little!matt sturniolo x cg!fem!reader

summary : after a stressful week, matt's girlfriend knows just what her little one needs !

warning/extra tid-bits : Matt and his CG are in a romantic relationship outside of being a little and caregiver but this still does not make age regression sexual, y/n used (sorry guys its inevitable sometimes😿)

word count : 2,423

divider credit : MEEE c: i made it using canva guys!!

a/n : save me monkey jellycat i saw at the store today....save me... (sorry for any typos ! i'm just a girl !)

Friday, 8:10 pm.

Matt let out a loud sigh as he finally let his head hit his pillows, his entire body relaxing into the plush mattress. Closing his eyes and letting out yet another exhausted breath, Matt recounted the week he'd endured.

On Monday, Chris woke him up screaming they were missing footage and Nick needed it to wrap up the video. Tuesday, he was supposed to drive Chris to a dentist appointment and everything was going fine until...a simple flat tire caused Matt to make Chris late, which Chris wouldn't let go of for the remainder of the week.

Wednesday, they filmed. The familiar nickname of "Miserable Matt" returned...which sucked. Matt wasn't miserable, he wasn't even annoyed by his brothers at first. He was just overstimulated, the leather seats of the car too uncomfortable, the car too hot but the AC too loud. It was unbearable....maybe even miserable.

Thursday started out good. He ran a few errands with Nick and Chris, who still insisted that Matt intentionally made him late for his dentist appointment. That didn't matter though, because he was just joking....hopefully. Thursday was going so well in fact, that he decided he would take some instagram photos with the help of Chris.

Well, apparently Chris thought it would be so funny to intentionally make each photo blurry to some degree. "If I can be late to a dentist appointment, you can survive with one less photo on your feed." He teased as Matt held back frustrated tears the entire way back.

Today, Friday, was probably the easiest of all. He spent the entire day attempting to de-stress. He had to film yet another video, but this one was easier as Chris seemed to finally let the damn dentist grudge go. That's what led him to now, laying on his bed with a blaring headache as the stress of the week caught up to him. The yelling from Monday, the week-long teasing…the blurry photos.

Everything just felt too loud. Too loud, or too bright. Too big.

Shit.

Everything felt too big. Matt felt small, little.

Groaning, Matt evaluated his options. His brothers knew mildly of his regression, but there was no way in hell he was going to ask them for help. Not now.

He didn’t even necessarily want to bother his girlfriend/caregiver right now but this regression was coming on strong and there was no way Matt would be able to handle it on his own. 

As if on cue, the familiar sound of your text tone went off on his nightstand. Quickly sitting up and scrambling for his phone, Matt read your message through teary eyes.

‘mommy🤍: hey hun!! were we still on for that movie marathon? x’

Shit. In the hell-spiral that had been this week Matt completely forgot he agreed to a movie marathon with you. Chewing his lip anxiously, Matt typed out a response.

‘matty💙 : really sorry, i don't think i can. had a really bad week, i don't know if i can drive over :(’

It took less than a moment for a reply to come back.

‘mommy🤍: be ready in 20, bring your littlespace bag’

A smile managed to form on the brunette's face. Matt took a few more moments to calm himself down, the familiar fuzzy feeling beginning to become even more prominent on his mind.

“Not yet.” He thought to himself as he stood up carefully, grabbing the bag out from his closet. He took in front of his open closet for a few moments before deciding to change into a looser fitting t-shirt and sweats.

Matt sat back down on the edge of his bed, checking his phone once more even though he knew you'd be at least another 10 minutes.

Friday, 9:00 pm.

‘mommy🤍: in the driveway, need me to come get you baby?'

‘matty💙 : i can do it'

‘matty💙 : not little yet.'

Matt began trudging downstairs with his backpack cast over his shoulder, he was just gonna slip out the front door and avoid having to explain to his brothers why he was going to spend the weekend at his girlfriend's hous-

"Matt!" Chris called, peeking his head over the couch. God dammit. Matt turned on his heels, flashing a fake smile to both his brothers. "Where are you heading off too in the night?" Nick joked, "Kid looks like batman." Chris added with a laugh.

"Mysterious Matt." Both Nick and Chris agreed before bursting into laughter. Matt had to remind himself to take deep breaths to avoid crying once again. His brothers were just joking around with him, he was just sensitive.

He wanted to just slip out the front door, hurry across the driveway, slide into your car and let you take charge. He just wanted to regress.

“Uhm…(Y/N)’s picking me up.” Matt swallowed, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "I'm staying the weekend." He added, reaching for the doorknob.

"Okay, loverboy." Nick said, Matt rolled his eyes at the old joke. The middle triplet stood awkwardly for a moment, the silence being interrupted by Matt's phone going off.

‘mommy🤍: everything okay?'

Smiling at the message, Matt bid his brothers a goodbye before shutting the door closed behind him. Matt smiled, the fuzzy feeling weighing down on his brain even more as he opened the passenger side door.

"Hey baby!" You smiled, "Look who I brought!" You reached behind you. You took a moment before pulling out Matt's beloved pug stuffed animal he'd left behind a few weeks ago, Mr.Wrinkleton.

A smile instantly formed on Matt's face as he quickly buckled his seatbelt, placing his backpack in front of him. "Mr.Wrinkleton!" The boy beamed, no longer feeling the need to fight off the obvious signs he was regressing.

Ruffling his hair, you put the car in park and began the drive to your home.

For the most part, Matt was silent. Only occasionally whispering something to Mr.Wrinkleton or pointing at something on the side of the road.

"Do you want mama to make you something? Or do you want something else?" You asked, turning down the soft indie music that was playing through the car speakers. Matt paused for a moment, thinking to himself.

"....grilled 'eese?" The brunette asked, looking over at you. "P'ease mama?" The puppy-dog eyes were now in full-effect. You smiled, glancing over at your boy, "Does Mr.Wrinkleton want a grilled cheese too?" You asked, "He can't have grilled 'eese! He's a pug!" The boy giggled.

Friday, 9:40 pm.

"One grilled cheese for Matt." You hummed, placing the plastic bear-shaped plate down on your kitchen island.

"No crust!" Matt beamed as he noticed you'd sliced the edges of the sandwich off. You nodded, wrinkling up your nose with a smile. "I cut it off, just for you." You tapped his nose playfully. "Do you think Mr.Wrinkleton would want the crust?" You asked, revealing a small blue bowl of bread crust from behind you.

Matt giggled and nodded enthusiastically, "Mhm!!".

Smiling, you place the plush dog in front of the blue bowl. "Eat your food angel, bedtime soon." You said, brushing his hair away from his face.

While Matt ate his grilled cheese, you silently snuck the pieces of bread from Mr.Wrinkleton's bowl into your mouth. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable quiet.

"Chris was bein' mean..." Matt mumbled, leaning into your arm. You quickly took your hand away from Mr.Wrinkleton's bowl as you turned your attention to your little.

"Really? What was he saying sweetheart?" You asked, snaking your arm around his lower torso and pulling him closer.

"Kept sayin' I made him late to th-the dentist on purpose..." Matt mumbled, his feelings quite obviously still hurt from Chris' comments.

"Oh honey..." You cooed as you felt Matt's tears trickle down his face and begin to dampen your shirt sleeve.

"A-And I didn't mean too! M' had to change the tire all by m'self!" Matt cried, abandoning his mostly-eaten sandwich to reach for your grasp.

Standing up, you gently led Matt to the couch allowing the two of you to collapse onto the cushions. Matt instantly scrambled onto your lap, curling into you.

"Shhh, I'm here. Just let it out." You soothed, wrapping your arms around your little, playing with the back of his hair. Matt cried, whimpering out a few more words about "blurry photos 'n lost footage".

You made a mental note to ask Matt about those things when he was no longer regressed.

"Mama's here....I've got you." You reassure, kissing the top of the brunette's head before he buried his head into the crook of your neck.

The two of you stayed like that for an hour. Matt unleashing the stress of his week through tears and you whispering reassuring words into his ear as you played with his hair.

Eventually though, Matt's tears turned to sniffles and sniffles turned to hiccups, which eventually turned to snores.

You carefully slid out from under him, taking a couch pillow from behind you and placing it under his head. You quietly went to your room, snatching the softest blanket you owned off your bed before returning to the living room and throwing it over your baby boy.

"Shhh, just relax baby." You soothed as Matt stirred in his sleep. Quickly, you grabbed Mr.Wrinkleton from the kitchen counter and his pacifier from his backpack.

Crouching in front of Matt, you softly tucked the pug stuffed animal under his arm before bringing the paci to his lips. Matt's eyes were still filled with sleep as they cracked open, "It's your paci, baby." You explained, a sleepy smile appeared on Matt's face before he accepted the pacifier, snuggling further into his covers.

You let out a content sigh once you were sure he was asleep once again, the gentle sounds of breathing and suckling noise from Matt's paci filling the room.

Saturday, 2:30 am.

"Mommy?" Matt called, peeking into your dark room. You awoke from your sleep, quickly turning to face the door and clicking a light on.

"What's going on angel? Something wrong?" You ask, rubbing your sleep-ridden eyes. Matt shook his head before sheepishly looking down at his feet.

You smiled, realizing what Matt was too nervous to ask. "C'mon," You called, opening up your blanket. Matt let out a small squeal, before climbing into bed and snuggling into your frame.

You let your boy get comfortable before beginning to play with his hair, both of you enjoying the safety of each other's presence. Just as you were about to let sleep take over once again, you heard a small murmur come from a half-asleep Matt.

"M' love you mama."