#On Wednesday I can start writing more again

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 7

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.9k

Note : This chapter was quite nice to write. I’ve never had siblings but I’ve had people who I thought of as siblings so I hope the work translates to the reader and Yelena. Enjoy! 

Series Masterlist

“How did You Find Me?”

Tuesday.

Eventually, it was time for you to move back to your apartment. You knew it was coming, but the knowledge didn’t make it easier. 

You had spent far more time at Bucky’s than you intended. His presence had become a comfort to the quiet confusion you occupied.

The day of the move, Bucky was there, as he had always been.

As you stood in the foreign space of your apartment, he was there— helping you rebuild the space a version of you once called home.

The two of you worked in near silence, the kind that had become comfortable. 

Every now and then, he’d ask where something should go. You wouldn’t know, so you just pointed at where you thought made the most sense.

There was something methodical about the process of unpacking and rearranging. Back at the museum, you loved cataloging, so this should have been soothing. But it wasn’t. 

As you placed your clothes back into drawers and rearranged ornamental things on the shelves, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were putting together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Bucky didn’t ask how you were, didn’t try to force a conversation you weren’t ready for. 

He just helped. 

He dusted the shelves you hadn’t touched in months. He wiped down the counters that gathered layers of dust. Every now and then, you caught him checking to make sure you were okay. 

By the time the apartment was mostly back in order, the sun had set. 

This space, once yours, felt like it belonged to a stranger. This sense of detachment was unsettling, like you were an outsider looking in.

Bucky moved towards the door, though he hadn’t opened it yet. He stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slightly torn jacket.

“It looks like it used to,” he said quietly. You glanced at him, then back at the room. You nodded, trusting that it did.

Bucky took a small step toward the door. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say goodbye, but his eyes told you he didn’t really want to go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said finally. He stood there, one foot in your apartment and the other in the hallway.

You felt a flutter of panic that made your chest tighten. The thought of him leaving— of being alone in this empty space— was unbearable. 

Before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. “Do you think… Can you stay? M-maybe for a couple weeks?”

Bucky blinked, surprised by your request. 

For a moment, you worried you’d said too much, that you’d crossed a line.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be alone yet,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

The tension in his muscles melted away as he took a slow step toward you.  

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle. “Of course.” He said, “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

Wednesday.

Exhaustion finally pulled you into a restless sleep, but you didn't find any peace. 

It was the concrete again, heavy against your body. It collapsed around you, trapping you in a suffocating darkness. The cold scrape of rubble, the crushing weight, your muffled screams—  it was too much to process. You were desperate to escape. You were struggling to breathe. 

Then, you saw a tall figure walking towards you— Bucky! 

But the walls began to close in completely before he could get to you.

Suddenly, you felt rough hands on your shoulders, shaking you firmly. The world around you started to dissolve. 

You found yourself fighting against the intrusion.

You swung in self defense, fist connecting with something solid. A sharp grunt of pain finally pulled you back into the present. 

Jolting awake, you realized you were in your bedroom. Bucky crouched next to you, clutching his jaw.

“Oh, God—Bucky! I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” you stammered, horrified.

His eyes softened relieved that you were awake, despite the slight bruise. 

He waved it off.” It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the punch surprisingly well. “I’ve had worse.”

You looked at the clock on your bedside table that read 01.00 AM. 

Had you only been asleep for two hours? 

“You were having a nightmare,” he told you.

You sat up, clutching the blankets to your chest. You couldn’t remember all the details, but terror settled in your bones anyway.

“I’m gonna stay here,” he said. His voice was calm, almost casual, almost waiting for your permission. ��Just in case.”

Maybe you should just tell him to go back to the guest room, brush it all off with a forced laugh, or apologize profusely for punching him.

But the idea of being alone again, left to wrestle with the dark corners of your mind, was unbearable. 

You managed a nod. 

He eased himself beside you. He stayed above the covers, respecting the boundary between your space and his.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Bucky simply leaned back, propping himself on one arm, his other hand close to yours but not quite touching.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head. It was too soon to put the fear into words. Bucky nodded, and you were grateful for it. He leaned back, his head resting against the headboard.

After a few moments, you let out a shaky breath.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes shut, listening to the calm, reassuring sound of his breathing. Each rise and fall of his chest became an anchor, something to focus on beyond the remnants of your nightmare. 

The bed dipped slightly as he adjusted, inching closer. His human hand laid next to yours, a quiet offer of comfort if you wanted it.

Finally, you shifted closer, curling into the warmth of his presence. His arm wrapped around you, gentle and protective.

You didn’t think you could fall asleep again, but with him there, the crushing weight in your chest began to ease.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Saturday.

You started feeling at home again. 

As your eyes drifted to the former winter soldier readjusting flowers in your vase, you started to think that  maybe home didn't mean a place. Maybe home, to you, was a person.

Each morning he made you coffee, handing you a mug without a word. He offered to help with laundry. Slowly, he started moving his things here. His clothes. His toothbrush. His shoes.

He didn’t hover, but he was always around, as if he could tell when the walls began to feel like they were closing in. Sometimes, he’d catch you staring out the window, lost in thought, and he’d nudge you gently. Other times, he’d suggest small things to keep you anchored—a walk around the block, a stop at the corner store for groceries, or a quiet evening watching old movies. 

Today, you had trailed your fingers on his jaw, looking at the spot you had punched him in your sleep several days ago. You were amazed at how the bruise that formed was no longer there. Guess it made sense— super soldier healing and all. 

If only the bruises in your mind healed that quickly.

The nightmares didn’t vanish, but they started to lose their edge. When they came, they didn’t feel quite as suffocating, partly because when you’d wake, he’d be there.

He stayed in the guest room most nights, but if you needed him, he’d be there without question, laying with you until morning.

He tried to act as if he was happy with this being casual, being platonic. 

Sure.

Sunday.

Today, you found yourselves on the couch after a long day of training. Bucky had brought over a couple of old records he’d picked up from his storage room, and you both took turns picking the next one to play. 

At one point, you caught him watching you. 

When you looked over, he didn’t look away, didn’t try to hide the way he was studying your how your eyes lingered on his. 

After a moment, Bucky’s expression grew thoughtful.

“You know, that nightmare you keep having... with the concrete ?” He paused, meeting your eyes, weighing whether he should continue. “That’s actually what happened during the mission.”

You felt your chest tighten. "What do you mean?"

“I was part of the rescue team that went in to get you out.” He took a steadying breath. “I was the one who found you underneath the rubble.”

“You… saved me,” you whispered, trying to piece everything together. “I must’ve hit my head before you got there. I think I— I’ve lost them by then..”

He nodded, “You said you see me in your dreams sometimes,” His voice softened. “I was probably the first person you saw after hitting your head.”

Oh.

Bucky had been your first new memory in four years, the first face you’d seen after the darkness. All the quiet pull you’d felt toward him suddenly made sense. 

The strange safety you felt with Bucky—finally made sense. For once, something made sense.

It’s been so fucking long since anything made sense.

Tears slid down your cheeks, slow at first, then everything spilled over. 

The sobs came hard. When your shoulders shook, Bucky pulled you into his arms without hesitation. His hand moved gently along your back as the record skipped quietly in the background. 

He didn’t say a word. He just held you, knowing how much you needed this release. 

When the tears finally eased, you managed a weak, watery laugh. “So,” you joked. “I basically imprinted on you like a little gosling.”

He chuckled. “Lucky me.”

Monday.

The museum was unusually quiet, just the soft hum of ventilation and the muffled steps of a few wandering visitors. Maybe the laugh of a couple school kids pointing at the Homo Erectus display. 

You said hi to Alex before making your way in. 

You and Yelena moved through the halls. She had suggested the museum for your post-training catch-up today, knowing how familiar this place was to you. 

As you strolled through the Ancient Greek exhibit, you pointed at a sculpture that caught your attention.

"That's Mnemosyne," you said, "The goddess of memory."

Yelena looked at the statue with a curious squint. “There’s actually one for that?”

You nodded, feeling a faint sense of purpose as you explained. “In Orphism, which is this really interesting ancient Greek tradition, they believed the newly dead would drink from the River Lethe, which would make them forget their past lives. But if you drank from the river of memory—Mnemosyne—you’d remember everything and be free from the cycle of reincarnation.”

She turned to you, giving a small, almost mischievous smile. “And here you are, teaching me about memory after you’ve lost four years of it. Irony’s got a sense of humour.”

You chuckled, though the joke stung. “Drinking from Mnemosyne’s river would be pretty useful right about now.” Your tone was light, but the longing was unmistakable.

Yelena looked back at the statue. “Maybe you’re not supposed to get those years back,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe… they’re not important.”

There was a comfort in her words, as if forgetting allowed you to live in the present. To be new. To be whoever you decided you wanted to be.

After a while, you both settled on a bench in a quieter part of the gallery. The moment felt calm, with only the gaze of painted portraits and ancient relics to overhear you. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” you started, the words slipping out quietly. “It’s about Bucky.”

Her brow lifted slightly, leaning in. “Oh?”

“He’s been staying with me.” You took a deep breath. “Sometimes he stays in my room. He’s been helping me regulate my nightmares.”

Yelena listened, her features falling as she gave you a small nod of encouragement.

"I think…” you trailed off, heart fluttering nervously, “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

Yelena’s expression stayed steady, but her eyes sharpened a bit. She nodded, but her face was unreadable.

“I’m happy for you,” she said, though there was a hint of hesitation that you didn’t catch. “You sound… at peace with him.”

Relief washed over you in waves. Yelena’s support mattered to you in ways you didn’t quite understand.

“I feel safe with him,” you admitted, a smile spreading across your face. “I don’t know how to tell him yet, but… it’s just nice to feel… something real.”

She reached across, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You deserve to feel safe.” 

Her fingers lingered hesitantly before she let go.

An edge flicked behind Yelena’s eyes, a tension you couldn’t quite place. You thought it was just worry, the way she’d been looking out for you ever since everything went blank. 

But her mind was piecing together things she knew about Bucky that you’d forgotten— that she wasn’t sure you were ready to hear.

As you shared more— about how Bucky had held you through the worst of your nightmares, how he stayed without ever asking anything in return— she listened. 

She didn’t want to shatter the peace you’d found, not when you were finally beginning to reclaim your life. 

Still, she knew there were parts of Bucky that could change everything if they came to light.

She had thought, naively, that Bucky would tell you. Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment

But the way you spoke about him made it clear he wouldn’t.

Wednesday.

Yelena found Sam in the gym, his back to her as he worked through the last of his reps. 

Sam took a seat on the bench, ready to hear her out. 

She didn’t waste any time. She said your name, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam knew Yelena was protective of you, especially now, after everything you’d been through. "Go on," he coaxed.

Yelena’s hands clenched into fists. 

"She’s falling in love with Barnes, Sam." Her voice wavered, and she looked away for a second, like the thought of you being hurt was something she couldn’t bear. "But she doesn’t know what he was like before."

Sam’s shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he started. “But I don’t think he’s just pretending to care."

“But she doesn’t know.” Yelena’s voice cracked. "She doesn’t know he’s… he’s just trying to undo the damage he caused in the first place. I can’t let her fall for someone who’s hiding her own past from her." She took a shaky breath, blinking back the tears. 

You were the first person who came as close as a sister to her since Natasha... and losing the last four years you had together had been harder on her than she'd like to admit. Losing you to grief, losing your trust? That would break Yelena.  "She deserves the whole story. She deserves a choice.”

“It’s not that simple.” Sam looked away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I saw him. In the hospital, before she woke up. He was there, holding her hand, talking to her for days as if she could hear. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let her be alone."

Bucky had faced what she couldn’t bring herself to — he’d seen you at your lowest, at the brink of death. When Yelena first heard what had happened, she had locked herself to waste away in her apartment, sinking to the floor as sobs destroyed her body. 

She couldn’t go to see you— how could she?

She couldn’t bring herself to see even a hint of bruising on you. Couldn’t bear to witness the blood pooling on your head, the cuts on your limbs.

Hearing Sam tell her what happened to you had reminded her of losing Natasha.

The fear had paralyzed her. She couldn’t bear to see you unconscious, clinging to life by a fragile thread.

She hadn’t been there then, but Bucky had.

"It doesn’t change what he’s hiding.” She murmured, barely audible. “If he really cares about her, then he should be brave enough to tell her the truth.” Her voice trembled. “If she finds out he’s only with her to make up for his mistakes, to… to fix some guilt inside him, it’ll destroy her.”

No one’s allowed to destroy her, she thought, not after everything she had been through. 

“It's not just guilt.” Sam insisted. "Every time I see them together, it doesn’t look like he’s trying to atone. I know Bucky much better than you do. It looks like he’d finally realised what he’d— that he’d… that he loves her.”

No, Yelena thought. She knew he always had feelings for you but there's no way he loves you more than I do. 

She’d been there first; she knew you better than anyone, knew the sound of your laughter and the quiet sadness you tried to hide. She had loved you, the way she’d loved Natasha—like family. You were her sister in every way but blood.

But now, watching the way you talked about Bucky, the way he seemed to carry your pain as if it were his own... 

Maybe he did love you more, in ways she couldn’t, in ways she’d never even considered. 

“He still needs to tell her the truth,” her voice was much softer now,  though no less fierce. “He owes her that much."

“Then talk to him,” Sam nodded. “Make him see what’s at stake.”

“And if he doesn’t tell her?” Yelena blinked. "I can’t watch her fall apart. Not again."

“Neither can I.” Sam’s voice strained as he packed his things into his duffel bag, "But let him try. Give him more time.”

Time.

Yelena knew better than most people that time was just a cruel joke running circles around mortals like her.

And she was getting impatient.

-to be continued…

Taglist : @hzdhrtss @irisk12 @tayyyystan @seventeen-x @lomlbuckybarnes 

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @avatarofthetimelords @bckynatt @winchestert101 @zemosprincesa 

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@jason-todd-fangirl-14 @vickie5446

[ladysomething]

The amount of lestappen content we've gotten lately is amazing!

I've reread wygig like 4 times now I love it so much

Any chance of another snippet before Wednesday????

are you ... not sick of wygig? I did not realise it had that level of re-readability. but I'm delighted that it does!!

probably no more snippets .... I think ...

oh actually!!!

I started dicking around with a random concept after seeing @hotmandrivefast's recent fan art of lestappen kissing during Max's stream, so you can have everything I've written from that so far.

ridiculous vibes as is becoming my brand when I'm not writing wygig lol.

The problem, Charles thinks, is that he and Max have been together too long. 

A secondary, equally alarming problem, is that Charles has also clearly let Max have too much sex with him. The novelty has worn off. 

He’s boring. 

And how exactly has Charles come to these conclusions? 

Because he is laid out on the bed of their hotel room, shirtless, and Max is just . . . ignoring him. For his games. 

His computer is propped up on the bed, and he’s sitting on the floor, frantically poking at his controller and shouting in dismay. 

Charles frowns at him. 

Maybe he needs to break up with Max, just for like five minutes, so that Max appreciates him more. It’s slightly drastic, maybe, but there is literally nothing wrong with the way Charles looks. Actually, he gets endless compliments on his body and face. 

He is so fuckable. 

He’s so fuckable it’s like a selling point. 

So why is staring at his loser boyfriend, pointedly not being fucked right now? 

It’s atrocious. It’s terrible. It’s a state of affairs that Charles finds, frankly, unacceptable. 

He gets up on his knees, crawling over to kneel behind Max’s computer, and then pokes his lip out into a pout. 

Max, like, barely glances up at him, gaze lingering on his bare chest for only a few seconds instead of the usual ten, and then he looks back down to his game, groaning loudly. 

“Yeah, I know,” he grunts into his microphone. “Sorry—got distracted for a second. Yeah, I know.” 

Charles frowns, which quickly turns into a pout again. He taps the top of Max’s laptop pointedly, and mouths, “Max.” 

Max flicks his eyes up to him again, then says, “Guys, once second.” 

He lifts his hands to the headset, presses whatever buttons he needs to press, then pushes the mic away from his mouth. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, not anywhere near concernedly enough for Charles. 

Charles blinks, thrown off by Max not immediately devouring him. 

“I want to cum,” he announces, deciding that a no nonsense approach will work best. 

Max stares at him, clearly perplexed, and then says, “Okay?” 

Charles huffs. There is something seriously wrong here. Maybe he should revisit the idea of breaking up with Max for a few minutes. 

“So?” Charles asks pointedly. 

“So . . . what? You don’t need my permission.” 

Max is an idiot. No, maybe Charles is an idiot, for falling in love with an idiot. 

He retreats to the bathroom to lick his wounds and stroke his humbled ego, but he doesn’t cum. 

He has way more pride than that. 

The next problem Charles encounters is that now he’s come to see the original problem, he sees it everywhere. 

He texts Max to ask him on a date on Wednesday, and Max says he’s busy, sends a love heart emoji, and then an hour later Charles gets a notification saying that a Redline stream has started. So what if he always streams on a Wednesday? Surely one time he could skip it. 

He surprises Max by coming around, bringing Max’s favourite take out for lunch and a brand new toy for the cats to keep them distracted while they have sex, but Max says he can’t hang out that day because he’s in the middle of a stream. So what if the stream is for charity? Charles is still banished to the lounge to eat and play with the cats alone. 

He shows up for their breakfast date, ready to burn the eggs and bake a doughy croissant, but Max answers the door with an apologetic look saying that he’s got to spend a few hours in the sim. And so what if the RB20 sucks and he’s trying to hold onto his Championship lead? 

Charles has needs, goddammit. Vigorous needs that involve him regularly drooling into a pillow and being fucked so good he can’t see, or fucking Max until he cries and begs to be allowed to cum. He doesn’t really care which way it goes, as long as someone’s dick is up someone’s ass. 

And they have a healthy sex life. They have a great sex life, based on the way their friends judge them for being unable to keep their hands off each other, or the times they’ve been walked in on, or the way Max had to put a firm ban on sex during race weekends when Charles had been uncomfortable in the car one too many times. 

He just wants more. He wants so much more, all the time, he wants to sleep with Max’s dick inside him and he wants to have dinner while Max is kneeling and slowly sucking his cock, he wants to have a plug left in his ass so he’s ready for Max at any time and he wants to fill Max with so much cum it leaks out of him. 

He’s ravenous, hungry, a black hole of want, and he knows none of that is reasonable but he wants it anyway. 

Begrudgingly, he settles for sex when they can manage it, but right now they could manage it a whole lot more.

[ray935sworld]

I'm so bad at editing but basically... Rosquez in 2013!

[newtness532]

6.500 words and if you add all the labels from the images and tables that has to be at least 7000 which is nearly half so if you really think about it we're basically done 🤡

[orcelito]

genuinely tho me jumping right into reading volume 9 of trimax and then volume 10 (and then most of the rest of the manga) on the night before i had a presentation at 9:30 am (that was entirely not prepared) was literally one of the most unhinged decisions ive ever made

this is what a hyperfixation does to a person

[bluublu-blub]

yan! ex husband (pt. 2)

was supposed to write something on Wednesday but i was still sick. i think i have the worst luck since june came but i am feeling a lot better now. i was almost sent to the hospital but it's a good thing, i wasn't. here is the update for you guys, sorry for the long wait.

He's crazy. 

You looked as he gripped on the divorce papers with so much ferocity that you had ever seen him. He's diligently and quickly reading the fine print as his hands shake from gripping on it. It feels as though you are watching a man descend to madness.

It made you step back away from him.

Then, the paper falls from his grip.

You took one step back further.

"I..." He started. "No... Why?" Now, he is staring at you like you had wronged him when he is the one who left you hanging for years!

"Just sign it." 

"No!" He looked at you with pleading eyes. "I can still fix this. What do I need to do? Do I need to earn more? Spend money on you? What should I do?"

You took a deep breath before looking at him with cold eyes. "Nothing."

"Nothing...?" He repeated softly.

"I don't need anything from you." You stated. "Just sign it."

"But... I..." He looked down at the paper, tears slowly filling up in his eyes. 

You gave him a little push as you bent down in front of him, giving him the pen and pushing the divorce papers in his face. "C'mon, sign this as a last token of your appreciation for me." 

Holding his shaking hand towards the paper, you gave him a smile as he stared at you through his tears. "I..."

"If you still have love left inside your heart, sign the paper."

That was the last time you ever saw him. As soon as he signed his signature, you dropped your smile and left him. Not before telling him your parting words.

"We shouldn't have wasted our time together." You didn't turn back to look at him. "Especially when you only think for yourself."

It's over.

He repeated those words in his mind again and again as he was left hanging at your shared apartment. The pen that he used to sign your divorce paper was left forgotten in the ground. He could only stare emotionless at the wall as he slowly processed what had happened to him.

It's over.

He had arrived at home from his residency. Early for change and excited to rest and spend time with you. He's eager to try your cooking after years of hospital food. 

It's over.

He could hear his own breathing.

He could still feel the tears in his face.

He could barely move.

He could remember your face for the last time.

It's over.

Time must've passed by, the window no longer emitted the light from the sun but he still remain on his place as he thought back on how could he fucked up.

He didn't cheat.

He didn't do anything wrong.

He is always there for you.

There's no reason for divorce.

It's over.

He doesn't know what day it is. But, he had managed to find strength to move and go to work because you wouldn't want a useless husband, right? 

This… this will pass. 

You will be back and everything will be okay.

It's not over yet.

He doesn't really remember what actually happened. He looked at the spot next to his side of the bed, wondering when you would be home. He shrugged, laying on his side as he hugged your pillow to make up for your lack of presence. 

(He also doesn't remember when was the last time you two had a date.)

(He also doesn't remember when it was your birthday and your anniversary.)

(He also doesn't remember what your job is.)

(He also doesn't remember your favorite music as of late.)

(He doesn't remember if you bought a new book and a new plushie.)

(He doesn't remember what your current comfort food.)

He went to sleep, not remembering a thing.

It hits him that you weren't coming back when he saw you at a cafe in a different part of the country. He was at a seminar when caught wind of you and almost called your name when he saw you with another person.

So, he watched you in the distance as he greedily tried to memorize your current appearance. 

Then, he remembered. 

Suddenly, he felt he was in your shared apartment again —on the floor, crying for you. 

He remembered that you weren't coming back to him. 

That's fine. 

He continued to observe you. The lease for your shared apartment is expiring soon, he had already bought a house for the both of you. It will not trouble him trying to talk sense to you. He won't be an absent husband —he changed, he will take care of you now. He learned his lessons.

It's time for you to go back to him, please.

He followed you when you parted ways with your little friend. He will take care of that guy later but he needs to take care of you first.

Lovingly.

He slowly and cautiously walked towards you. Appearing harmless to you with a smile and a wave.

“Hey,” he greeted you. 

He soaked up all of your attention as your eyes widened in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” You glared at him.

He put his arms up as if to show you he means no harm. “I have a seminar in this area.” 

You glared more.

“I was surprised to see you so I figured I could go and say my greetings to you.”

“Well you already did,” you snapped back at him. “Leave.”

“Let’s catch up first, darling.” He purred. “I have words to say to you.”

“Leave.”

“Don't be heartless.” He quipped. “It reminded me of the time you forced me to sign out divorce papers.”

You are always smart, aren't you? He chuckled as he watched your expression drop into nervousness while still staring at him with such intense eyes.

But, he knows you.

You wouldn't dare cause a scene in public.

“Fine. I am picking where we are going.”

He smiled even wider when you scoffed at him.

So cute.

He would not let you go now.

i wished i have managed to captured the essence of the descend to insanity and mc's personality. mc isn't a good person and neither is yan! ex for that matter but that makes them human in a way —and i wanna try and capture that feeling. in a way, mc was passive during their relationship together and yan! ex was too complacent that he could fucked up and mc would accept him either way. but, that's not how it works out for him and he's in denial for that. one could argue that they could've talk and communicate with each other —it will work out but mc needed to leave in order to grow. yan! ex just didn't get that nor does he want that.

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[poisonlove]

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

• Reader is about to leave for work. Wednesday asks her if she's forgotten anything, and Reader gives her a kiss. Wednesday turns red and opens her hand to reveal Reader's keys/wallet/etc., saying

'I meant this, but it's appreciated.' Or smt like that!

forgetting something ?

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X fem!reader

Words: 4k

Warning: fluffy

Author notes: I've received a lot of requests, I'll try to do them all!

Happy reading

"Love, what's the password for your phone?" I ask curiously as my eyes glance at the smartphone in my hand.

I found myself in Ophelia Hall in Wednesday's room with Enid, wanting to spend some time with my girlfriend. Enid was doing Things' manicure while sharing some gossip about some outcasts at school. Meanwhile, Wednesday Addams was making the most of her writing time.

Ignoring me.

The tapping of the keyboard abruptly ceases and Wednesday slowly turns towards me. Her brown eyes turn cold and dark as they meet Enid's, who visibly trembles in the face of that icy, penetrating intensity.

"Things, I'll finish later..." Enid whispers, her nervous smile betraying the fear inspired by Wednesday's gaze.

Without saying another word, Enid jumps up from her bed and hastily exits the room. The door slams behind her, resonating in the silent air as Wednesday watches her pass with an impassive expression, lips pressed in a subtle smile of satisfaction.

"How many times have I told you not to scare her?" I say with a small smile on my lips, and Wednesday looks at me without batting an eyelid.

"I didn't scare her," her voice is calm and controlled, without any hint of remorse or concern.

"You did," I sigh at her comment while absentmindedly playing with her phone.

"As you wish," Wednesday replies calmly, showing no particular emotion.

I smile shyly at her response.

"I told you not to use vulgar nicknames in front of others and you keep doing it," Wednesday justifies herself, looking at me curiously.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Vulgar?" I ask, feeling puzzled.

Wednesday nods timidly, without a hint of a smile on her lips.

I sigh loudly.

"Anyway... Could you tell me the password?" I ask again, wanting to change the subject to avoid ruining the atmosphere.

Wednesday tilts her head to the side and scrutinizes me with her gaze.

We've been together for a month, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to her quirks.

"My favorite plant" Wednesday replies in a monotone voice.

"Of course" I reply sarcastically as I type in 'Belladonna.' The phone unlocks, and I smile as I see the background: me and Wednesday embracing during the Poe Cup. The brunette had a stoic look while she look at me smile at the camera.

"Nice background," I say teasingly and Wednesday rolls her eyes at my comment.

"I know," she replies monotone.

I could see a small smile threatening to emerge at any moment.

"But don't you have any games?" I ask disappointedly, and Wednesday stares intensely at me.

"I barely use it to write to you," she justifies herself, and I nod understandably.

Wednesday and technology were two completely different things and couldn't fit in the same sentence.

"So you only have WhatsApp?" I ask curiously, looking at Wednesday.

"You're distracting me unnecessarily," Wednesday mutters annoyed by my questions. She turns her back on me and starts writing her story again.

"Thanks, Wed" I say sarcastically, and Wednesday continues to press the keys of the typewriter ignoring me.

"Why am I with her, I don't know," I mutter to myself, turning my gaze to her phone. I scroll through some pages and look at the apps.

I  choice YouTube.

"Because you love me," Wednesday replies loudly without looking at me "and anyway, I can hear you, be careful," she adds in a cold voice.

Was that a threat?

"Right" I reply aloud.

I start searching for what interests my girlfriend. Hundreds of horror stories and interviews of real murders, true photos, and thousands of hypotheses about monsters, unsolved murders, and much more.

Creepy but Wednesday's style.

"Y/n?" I raise my head from the phone and turn my attention to Wednesday who had once again interrupted her writing hour.

"Tell me, darling" I ask with a smile on my lips.

"Shouldn't you be going to work at the café?" Wednesday asks with curiosity.

My smile fades and I widen my eyes in realization: I had forgotten.

I quickly get up from the bed in a panic

"shit shit" I put on my shoes and look around the room in concern. "Where's the jacket?" I wonder, and I look around the room with worry. "You threw it on Enid's bed," Wednesday exclaims disapprovingly, and I smile hugely.

I internally thank Wednesday for her incredible memory.

I walk towards the door, but Wednesday's voice makes me stop.

"Forgetting something?" She asks seriously.

  I sigh at the unfortunate moment of being romantic. "You're right" I walk towards her and lean down towards her face to unite our lips in a sweet kiss.

As we separate, I notice that Wednesday's cheeks were completely flushed.

"You were forgetting the car keys, idiot," says Wednesday embarrassed, showing me the keys.

I had left them on her desk an hour ago when I arrived.

"Oh, thanks," I say embarrassed, and Wednesday smiles widely making my heart race a mile a minute.

"But I appreciated it" she confesses quickly and I smile back getting lost in her deep brown eyes.

Yes, definitely, now I remember why I'm with her.

[criminalamnesia]

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[watchmegetobsessed]

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar. 

And that person is music producer, Y/N. 

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved. 

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again. 

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief. 

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting. 

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing. 

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say. 

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him. 

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery. 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it. 

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what. 

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension. 

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because  he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face. 

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him. 

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack. 

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading. 

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry. 

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin. 

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him. 

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence. 

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind. 

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind. 

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout. 

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best. 

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go. 

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had. 

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people  while enjoying how under the radar he is currently. 

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her. 

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him. 

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her. 

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance. 

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him. 

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way. 

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms. 

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time. 

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already. 

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body. 

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing. 

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it. 

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle. 

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes. 

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall. 

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one. 

NEXT PART

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After Bradley finally breaks things off with his girlfriend just days before the start of a deployment, he expects a few lonely months of nobody writing to him or waiting for his return. But the fateful arrival of a package from a class of fourth graders learning about aviation changes everything.

Warnings: Fluff, language, breakup angst

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had his duffle bag open on his bed, tidy stacks of his uniform components, flight suits, and underwear lined up next to it. He had his checklist in front of him. He liked to be as organized as possible.

"Are you even listening to me? I thought we were going out to dinner."

He looked up from his partially packed toiletry bag into the annoyed eyes of Vanessa where she stood on the other side of the bed. He was seven months into this relationship, and sometimes he wondered why either of them still bothered. She knew his routine by now. She knew what his deployments were like, but she had absolutely no patience for any of it.

"Ness, I'm leaving in four days. I just need to focus on this for a few minutes so I know what I need to buy before Wednesday, and then we can go out and eat."

"It's already seven o'clock. I thought you'd have finished packing by now," she replied with a pout and a glare. "Every nice restaurant is going to have a long wait now, because I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you didn't make a reservation anywhere."

He took a deep breath and let it out before pressing his lips together. What he really wanted was to order something for delivery, cuddle on the couch, watch a movie and have the first round of hot, goodbye sex. But she'd never go for it now. Apparently he'd already fucked up for the night. 

"No, I didn't make a reservation," he said calmly, and she rolled her eyes and reached for her phone. "I really don't even feel like going out. I'll be gone for months, stuck in a tiny bunk or a loud mess hall. I'd like to stay in tonight where it's quiet. Just me and you."

But she wasn't listening at all. "Let me see if Woodmere has any tables left," she muttered. "If not there, then I can try The Landmark." She looked as beautiful as she always did, but he couldn't even stand the sight of her right now.

"Ness. I want to stay in."

She groaned and looked him in the eye. "Of course you do. You always want to stay in. You always want to decompress or read a book. That's not healthy, you know that, right? I shouldn't have to force you out of your comfort zone all the time."

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. His job was demanding, both mentally and physically. He usually preferred quiet over loud, because his own thoughts started to buzz when she dragged him out all over the place. And now she was glaring at him again. "Are you even going to miss me?" he asked softly, afraid of the answer. "You haven't said so one time since I told you about this deployment."

She heaved a deep and annoyed sigh. "You're deployed so frequently, Bradley, it's like you're the government's bitch. And if the Navy is going to insist upon eating up taxpayer money, the least they could do is pay you more."

His skin started to crawl as she went off about his��career like always, but he'd honestly had enough. He raised his voice louder and asked once again, "Are you even going to miss me?"

Vanessa scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I'm going to miss you. What kind of question is that? I'll be bored every weekend, waiting for you to get back, like usual. I almost never go out when you're deployed."

Bradley's heart started to pound in a way that made his palms sweat and his stomach turn. "Jesus, Vanessa. I asked if you're going to miss me. Not miss going out every weekend."

When she hesitated for a beat, he reached out to brace his hand on his headboard. "Yes, Bradley. I am going to miss you. Okay? Happy?"

"Fuck, no. I'm not happy Vanessa." And that was the bottom line right there. The absolute truth. And it didn't hurt to say it, rather he immediately felt better. He knew he would miss the sporadic emails and the phone calls and the dirty pictures and the reunion sex. The upcoming weeks would be harder without those things to look forward to, but at least he'd come home to his own place where he could do what he wanted instead of what he was told. He wouldn't have to listen to her negativity. "I think we need to break up."

Her eyes went wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

Bradley let go of the bed and ran his hand over his face. "You heard me, Ness. This isn't working. For either of us."

"Don't call me Ness," she snapped, immediately turning toward his bedroom door. "You're not my boyfriend anymore." She paused briefly, just long enough to say, "Fuck you," and then she was gone. 

He sat on the edge of his bed for a couple minutes, but it didn't take long to sort through his feelings. The immediate sense of calm that he felt had him convinced he'd done the right thing. There was no shared living space. There was no ring. There was no real commitment. Maybe he'd always known why that was the case. 

So he packed up his bag and made a shopping list, and when his stomach started to growl, he ordered dinner for himself from his favorite restaurant. He didn't cry, and he didn't worry about having to do anything he didn't want to do.

------------------------

The first few weeks of his deployment were great. He spent a lot of time in the air, and he flirted a bit with some of the women who approached him in the gym on the aircraft carrier. He jerked off while he thought about whomever he fucking wanted to. He didn't spend very much time reflecting on his relationship with Vanessa other than to acknowledge that it wasn't much of a relationship at all. In the moments where he thought maybe he missed her, he realized he just missed the idea of having someone who cared about him.

He was about a month in when he realized the attractive woman who always touched his arm in the gym was actually married, and he was not all about that. He was also maybe kind of getting tired of masturbating which was a depressing thought. He was bored, and he was lonely, and other than randomly hooking up with someone, he figured his best bet was finding a book or something to read. 

When he made his way to dinner, he heard everyone talking about the helicopter that had landed on deck less than an hour ago stacked full of containers of mail. There was a line of officers trailing down the hallway adjacent to the mess hall, everyone waiting patiently to pick up parcels from their loved ones. Since Bradley had basically nobody who would think to write to him, he made his way toward the food instead. 

His tray was piled high with everything he could get his hands on, and when he looked for somewhere to sit, he had to deftly avoid that stacked lieutenant who had a husband at home. He found a table off in the corner and devoured his dinner alone. When he stood to drop off his empty dishes and tray, some petty officers entered the cavernous room to drop off unclaimed mail. 

"Harper, Jonathan! Pauley, Vincent! Dixon, Jennifer! Sutter, Wesley! Bradshaw, Bradley!"

He was more than a little intrigued as he made his way up along with a handful of others, and then a white envelope and a small cardboard box were thrust into his hands. The envelope was addressed to him by name in familiar chicken scratch that made him smile. He shouldn't have counted Natasha out, especially when his birthday was in a few days. 

He tore into the envelope as he made his way back to his bunk. It contained a very short letter along with a coupon for buy one get one free steak dinners at her favorite restaurant with a post-it stuck to the back. 

This is your birthday present. Now when you take me out for my birthday when you get home, you only have to pay half as much. You're welcome.

He snorted as he unlocked his bunk door and tossed everything from Nat onto the small nightstand. And then he examined the box. It wasn't addressed to him. Not really. It was addressed to 'A Deployed US Naval Aviator' in tidy handwriting. Then he noticed the return address was from an elementary school in Mira Mesa, and his curiosity got the best of him.

Bradley sat on the edge of his bed and tore gently into the packaging to find the box was jam packed with items and overflowing with envelopes. He tipped the box, and everything went cascading out onto his narrow bed. There were a lot of snacks, and a pack of trail mix caught his eye, making his stomach growl.

"I just fed you," he muttered but ripped into the snack anyway, dumping half of it into his mouth in one go. He was eyeing the envelopes carefully, each one distinctly unique. Some had names written on them, and some had little doodles or pictures, but they definitely seemed to be from a class of kids who went to the school. He sifted through them until he found a slightly larger, more official looking envelope which once again said To: A Deployed US Naval Aviator.

He finished his snack, silently thanking the class of kids and their teacher, and then he opened the big envelope. He pulled out a typed up letter which was folded around a few photos that slid onto his lap. Then he started to read.

Dear United States Naval Aviator,

First of all, thank you for your service. Second, let us introduce ourselves. We are one of the fourth grade classes from Mira Mesa Elementary School, and we have been learning all about aviation for the last month or so. We have combined our science, math and social studies classes into one unit all about flying, and we have learned so much. We really wanted to share some of what we learned with you in the hopes that you might be able to help us learn even more!

Each student in the class has included a letter filled with information and some questions. If you have some free time and are inclined to do so, we would love to hear back from you. (No pressure!) There are plenty of thoughtful questions that my students would appreciate more information about. (Once again, only if you want to!) And I for one would love to give them the chance to show off what they learned to a professional. (I'm just a proud teacher!)

Thank you very much for indulging our curiosity thus far, and we hope to hear back from you. I'll include my email address just in case you have any questions or would prefer to reply that way. Otherwise you can send mail directly to the address for the school along with my name, and it will get to us. We hope we are about to dazzle you with our letters, and we wish you well on your deployment.

Sincerely,

The best fourth graders you will ever meet along with their teacher

Bradley was chuckling as he finished reading. Of course he would take the time to look at all of the notes from the kids and send back a response. It wasn't like he'd be tied up talking to Vanessa. This little project would keep him busy when he had nothing else to do, and besides, this was the kind of shit he would have thought was outlandishly cool when he was a fourth grader himself. 

He read and reread the name and accompanying email address at the bottom of the page. This teacher sounded charming, and he'd only read three paragraphs from her. He flipped the page over to double check that she hadn't written anything more, already wishing she had. Then he picked up the photos that had landed on his thigh and started to flip through them.

First he saw a group of kids outside in the bright San Diego sunlight, lined up and throwing paper airplanes. Then he flipped to one where some of the kids were sitting at their desks building more elaborate planes out of pieces of foam. There was another photo of the class on some sort of field trip, but it was the last photo in the stack that had him sitting up a little taller and taking a closer look.

"Damn."

The kids were all lined up once again, wearing a rainbow of colors, some making silly faces. But his eyes caught on their teacher. On you. Smiling back at him from the photo like you had an amusing secret. Like you wanted to share it with him.

"Fucking gorgeous."

----------------------

And, we're off. Oh, he thinks we are cute. Oh, he is about to be charmed even more. Thanks for pushing me out of my comfort zone a little bit with this one, and thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ big gym energy (is this my fantasy?) | fushiguro toji

wc: 2.0k

summary: who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday?

contains: gn!reader, non-curse au, college au, appearance of itafushikugi (mostly nobara), reader has a huge and lowkey delusional crush on toji, age gap

a/n: the gym toji fic! tone in this is a bit different from what i write, and it's lowkey a crack fic but i hope it's still enjoyable! listened to: big energy - latto & area codes - kaliii

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: going to the gym for yourself (and totally not for that cute guy who sometimes says hi)

“You’re going to the gym?” Nobara halts smack in the middle of the busy hallway. Groans huff behind her, the rest of your class filing out of the lecture hall. You bow your head apologetically as you pull her to the side. 

“Yes.” 

She squints, skeptical, “You.” 

You nod.

“The gym.” she says it slower this time, tilting her head down. 

You nod again. 

Nobara blinks, shifting her weight as she reaches one hand inside the pocket of her overalls. There’s a long pause, rushed footsteps amplifying the suspense, then—

“Okay, what’s the bet? How much did Maki put out? I want in.” 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you loop your arm around hers and continue walking. 

There’s good reason for her to doubt you; she knows you best after all. In your little quad, you are the least likely to be found doing any physical activity or sport whatsoever—and that’s saying a lot, considering the other fourth of your group is Megumi. But at least he walks his dogs regularly. 

“Rude,” you scoff jokingly, “there’s no bet, just testing it out because they have a free trial promo.”

It shouldn’t hurt to check it out, you think. One of your resolutions this year is to finally get started on your fitness journey, whatever form it may be. 

“You should come.” 

Nobara snorts, “Wrong person,” you both turn at a corner, “ask Itadori.”

The gym is just a few blocks away from your campus, a good 18-minute walk if you’re counting—which is also part of what makes it so appealing. The ad you’d seen for the free trial is an early bird promo to attract new customers for the gym’s new branch launch. 

And it does make the most sense to ask him; he is the sports science major after all—

“No way,” you step out on the sidewalk, “telling him is practically committing to a membership.” 

—but Yuuji is a bit too eager when it comes to things like this. No doubt he’ll be at your heel, wagging his figurative golden retriever tail at the prospect of being your certified gym buddy. It’s endearing and you know he means well, but that’s way too much pressure for someone who’s just starting out. 

She laughs, readjusting her bag, “He’d know how to use the machines though.” 

“I watched some videos…” you mumble, because Nobara has a point, but if you’re being honest, you feel just a teensy bit embarrassed at the idea of anyone else knowing about your attempts at fitness this early on, lest it fail in the end. “I can probably ask someone there…” 

“Try the most jacked up person in the gym.” 

You shove her jokingly, her laughter echoing down the road. 

. 

The first person you meet at the gym is the lady at the front desk. Her ponytail sways as she greets you, a chirpy smile welcoming you in as she holds an iPad to her chest while touring you around—at the center, the main floor plan is decked out with machines; towards the back sit the squat racks, and to your sides are the private cycling rooms and multifunctional spaces. According to her, they also offer yoga classes every 6:00 p.m. on Wednesdays. 

You’d expected a lot more people to be in here at 7:00 p.m., but you suppose it makes sense others would prefer to spend their Friday nights elsewhere. 

Looking around, you spot a middle-aged lady you swear is Megumi’s English professor; on the treadmills, a couple your age share a laugh as they try to match pace. There are some machines you’ve never even seen in your life, Youtube videos included.

You take a deep breath. You can ask for help. 

After all, the crowd feels friendly enough, not too intimidating—

—until your eyes land on him, on the benches; an absolute tank of a man doing chest presses with what you think are probably the heaviest dumbbells on the rack. 

You try not to stare, catching only a glimpse of the way his biceps flex against the tight sleeves of his black compression shirt. 

Don’t be a creep, you tell yourself, walking towards the leg press machine. You may be new here, but you’ve learned that gym etiquette isn’t so far off from acting like a civilized human being. 

Thank god you never take Nobara seriously, because you can’t even imagine the stuttering mess you’d be if you had to ask him how to work any of these god forsaken machines. 

.

It’s a good thing, then, that help comes to you without you having to say a word. 

This is number four out of five sessions in your free trial promo, and you have no idea how to get the goddamn plates out of the barbell. You pull some out from the other side and the whole barbell comes along with it. When you attempt the other side, it does the same. Then when you finally do manage to get off the plates on one side, the whole barbell drops, clanging loudly against the metal foot of the squat rack set-up. 

(Now that you think about it, maybe it isn’t such a good thing that you’ve been offered help instead of you asking. There must be a reason someone thinks you could need it.)

Someone, who is also the last person you could ever possibly want to embarrass yourself in front of.

Someone, who just so happens to be the jacked up tank of a man you’ve admittedly glanced at a few times in your past few visits here. 

“To make it easier,” he crouches beside you, laying down a smaller plate and rolling the larger ones on the barbell over it. 

He unloads them like they weigh nothing—and with his physique, it isn’t hard to believe that they probably do. His biceps look to be the size of your head, chest popping out in ways you’ve only seen on those Tiktok thirst edits; his one hand is larger than a 2.5 kilogram plate, and his forearms look like they could ch—

Mind out of the gutter, you blink away, focusing instead on the metal bar in front of you. 

God, you don’t even know this man’s name. 

“T-thanks.” you stutter, embarrassed. 

He gives you a half-smile, lips turned on one side, “Sure.” then he walks away, the tightness of his black compression shirt hugging the ridges of his back muscles. 

You gulp. 

So begins your year-long gym membership.

(And maybe, just maybe, the kind-of-meet-cute of a lifetime. Who knows, really?) 

.

“Who would have thought the rippest DILF in all of Japan would get you to go to the gym everyday,” she snorts, fingers grazing over the curved edges of the heart-shaped watermelons in the fruit aisle.

You hush her, scanning the area around you for anyone who might have overhead. 

It’s 11:00 p.m. on a Thursday, so you doubt it, but you can never be too sure.

“He’s nice, you know.” you pout. 

“Yeah, what’s his name?” Nobara gives you a look. 

You glare, touché. 

Maybe you don’t know his name. Yet. 

But he’s always offered to stack on the heavy plates for you, and will oftentimes help in unloading them too. There are times when you aren’t quite sure how to work the machines and he swoops in like the gym buff version of prince charming, teaching you proper form just so you don’t get injured. He’ll wipe down a mat for you to use some days, because—

“Stretching is important,” he never fails to mention.

He’s nice. 

And you have an insanely delusional crush on him, but you don’t care, because why else would he be giving you this much attention if he wasn’t interested in you too? 

.

You find out many things about your gym crush, most of them completely unexpected. 

One: his hair is unusually soft for someone who looks so rough. Or, well, you think it looks soft, you can’t tell for sure; you haven’t actually touched it to be able to tell. The black mop on his head falls flat over his eyes on the few days you assume are right before his next scheduled haircut. It surprises you even more when he walks in the gym with a small hair tie holding his bangs up. 

Two: he does a considerable amount of bodyweight exercises for someone his size—Calisthenics, specifically. 

You watch him pull himself up the bar, biceps and back straining against the movement. The muscles ripple across the fabric of his tee, and it’s impressive how smoothly he’s able to go up and down; as if he isn’t exerting any effort at all. Then, the push-ups and dips. He can do them all, in every variation you never even thought existed, and it’s always done with so much ease. 

It gives you reason to believe that he could be gentle, controlled. In what? Well. You know. 

Three: he likes fruity things. You expected his go-to to be straight black, maybe a chocolate protein shake on other days too. But he shows up one day with a smoothie in the shade of vibrant magenta. Dragonfruit, you assume, from all the black specks floating in it. 

This also happens to be the first time you initiate the conversation with him.  

“Your smoothie looks good,” you mumble, a little hesitant. 

God, so awkward. 

He looks up from adjusting the plate stoppers on your bar. 

A hum rumbles from his throat before he flashes you the same half-smile he always does, “Strawberry, banana, and dragonfruit.” 

You don’t really know what to say after that other than, “Cool.” 

And you mentally facepalm yourself. 

. 

In your fourth month at the gym, you learn a few more unexpected things that change everything. 

You’ve just finished freshening up and you’re on the way out when you bump into— 

“Megumi?” 

He looks up from his phone, dark strands hitting the tips of his eyelashes as he pushes back one side of his headphones. He raises an eyebrow, confused and surprised.  

“You gym?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Pink dusts his cheeks as he ducks his head, motioning for you to go first. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle, adjusting the strap of your duffel bag, “I started going here a few months ago. You?” 

He looks a little surprised by it, probably more so at the fact that you’ve kept it a secret from him for so long, but he nods, “That’s good. You did mention wanting to work on your fitness more this year.” then, he shifts, adjusting his weight before hanging his headphones by his neck. 

“I’m waiting for my dad.” 

In the past few years you’ve known Megumi, he’s never mentioned his dad. You never bothered to ask because you suspected there was a good reason he never talked about him in the first place. 

And so comes number four, and maybe the last unexpected thing you find out about your gym crush— 

“Megumi!” 

You both turn around to the voice of none other than Nobara’s proclaimed rippest DILF in Japan; the most jacked up tank of a man who also happens to be the man you’ve crushed hard on for the past four months.  

Everything is snapping into place, information forming bridges you would rather not cross right now. 

He walks up to Megumi, duffel bag slung across his chest as he reaches for your friend.

Megumi looks like he wants to wither away, embarrassed at you seeing him tucked under his dad’s arm. But all your brain can really comprehend is that Megumi, your good friend, is currently squished between the bicep and chest you’ve been staring at since your first day at the gym.

You hold your breath, the realization creeping to the forefront of your mind. There had been signs that your gym crush was a dad; apart from being built like one, he’d offhandedly mention ‘son’ a few times. You didn’t think it would be—

“Oh, you two know each other?” your gym crush tilts his head, turning to you, “you didn’t tell me your friend signed up for this gym, Megumi.” 

“I didn’t know,” Megumi grumbles, and the look on his face can rival yours, for sure. Tough competition on ‘who looks like they want to die the most right now?’. 

But he can’t win. 

Because when Megumi begrudgingly introduces your gym crush to you as his dad, you’re pretty sure you’ve buried yourself twelve feet underground. 

(It doesn’t ease the embarrassment when you learn unexpected thing number five: he’s been a trainer at the gym this entire time.)

thank you notes: to @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for encouraging me all the way!! ily ari

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[carolmunson]

the cars that go boom | (daddydom!sadist!eddie)

this fic isn't related to the title song reference at all, it's just stuck in my head. needed to get this out of my drafts so here's some ddlg themed sadist eddie that's been sitting in my draft folder for fucking ever and i'm sick of looking at it. tw: 18+ mdni ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, eddie being all over a cocky shit bag hottie who likes control but it's consensual, use of a vibrating toy. lots of allusions to other sex.

You watch him get out of the bathroom after his shower, tattoos stretched taught over softly cut muscles. You almost drool. He tried something new with you this week, an orgasm ban -- nearly a sex ban -- in fact, he didn't even want you to see his dick. And much like he always does when he finds a new way to torture you; he was feeling really pleased with himself about it.

'That's more than you deserve,' he hissed at you Monday night while you knelt obediently between his legs. He pet your hair while you watched TV and he jerked himself off, you were not allowed to turn around until he was finished. You pouted all night, and when it happened the next day you started pouting all week. But, the week was over, which meant your punishment was done. You'd spent all day getting ready, a long shower, smooth skin, body butter, his favorite perfume, everything you could do to feel perfect for him. You cleaned the trailer and made dinner, you kissed him when he got in the door to which he blushed and smiled.

'Hi beautiful,' he greeted you so gently, 'I missed you today.'

You watch him dress now, hair dripping while he tugs on a pair of grey sweatpants and a ratty cut off Iron Maiden t-shirt. You sulk a little. Those aren't normally the clothes he'd put on if he wanted to take you to bed, but you don't say anything just yet.

He goes to the kitchen table with a composition notebook and a collection of pens and markers, opening the beat up pages to what you can only assume is a new campaign, a new drawing of a map. You walk over while he mulls over it, adding new territory, scribbling in new lore. You let your hands slide over his shoulders.

"Hi baby," you say sweetly.

"Hi," he responds, focused on his notebook. Your hands slide forward, onto his chest, your face leaning down to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Whatcha doing?" you ask innocently.

"Workin' on a campaign," he responds, "We're gonna meet up on Wednesday night so I want it to be semi together."

"Okay," you nod, you run your fingers gently over his scalp, giving him a soft scratch. He keens into the touch, shoulders relaxing while he rolls his head back. You press your luck, letting your fingertip trace over the curve of his ear.

"Hey," he warns softly, "I'm tryin' to focus, sweetheart."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize, but he can't see your grin. Your fingers continue to wander, giving him a sweet shoulder massage while he reads over his story. A quiet 'thank you honey', falls from his full lips while you work out the knots. You press your luck again, trailing your finger down the line of his neck that's the most sensitive to your tongue and touch. Eddie's shoulders tense and he sits up straight, turning to you with a sour pull at his full lips.

"Do you need something?" he asks pointedly. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, "Do you need some attention?"

You nod and he grins, pulling the other kitchen chair over, "Come sit next to me then, you can help."

You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he bites his tongue at the offense, happy to get to spend some time with you like this. He gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek while you watch him work.

You barely 'help', just sitting there while he crosses things out and re-writes them. While he flips back ten pages and then forward twenty, grabbing a red pencil and putting it down for a blue pencil then picking the red back up and so on. You get restless watching him work, so you get up and grab each of you a beer. Another sugar sweet, 'thaaank you baby,' pours from him, this time deep and focused, dark and syrupy. Molasses tongue. It goes right to your thighs.

You press your luck a third time, scooting close to him, letting your hand smooth over his covered thigh and further up, skimming over his cock that was perfectly outlined in his sweats. He let's out a frustrated sigh when he takes your hand away from his crotch, gently putting it on your lap when he looks at you sternly.

"Daddy's busy, baby," his eyes look down at you, his dominance brewing under angry brows, "Why don't you go play by yourself in another room, hm?"

He turns his attention back to the campaign notebook, while you throb from being scolded. The humilation pools through you when he chastises you, eyes lingering on you while you continue to sit there. After a beat, you get up to walk to the bedroom hearing his voice as you do.

"Good girl," he teases, "Are you being a good listener?"

You look back and see his grin while he leans back in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms. His legs are spread wide under the table, cool authority flowing off of him.

"Are you?" he asks again, a smirk cracking his face as if to ask, 'Does this embarrass you?' It does, it's humiliating.

"I'm a very good listener," you respond quietly, heart dropping in your chest.

His brows raise, waiting for you to add more to the sentence. You let out an aggravated huff through your nose, crossing your arms.

"I'm a very good listener, daddy," you repeat.

"There we go," he smiles cruelly, "Go have fun, sweetheart."

'Have fun? HAVE FUN?' you think to yourself while you go to the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, 'Fine! I'll have fun without you then! See if I care!' It's not fair that you've been quite literally begging to be fucked for seven straight days, but to go straight into teasing you like this? The type of dominance that makes you feel the most -- god -- embarrassed? Degraded? You'd rather gag on fingers and have him wipe your spit on your face. You'd rather him make you lick someone's cum out of his ass, literally anything but this.

With a huff you open Eddie's top dresser drawer and grab the Hitatchi he bought you as an anniversary gift last year. Hastily, you plug it in behind the bedside table before climbing on to bed, shimmying your jeans off and tossing them to the floor.

Your legs spread, bent at the knees, turning the toy on low and slowly lowering it onto your covered core. The hum is quiet, barely a tremble in the head of the wand when it meets the lacy fabric of your panties. A soft gasp escapes you at the feeling, it had felt like years since you'd been touched there. You move the toy up and down slowly, teasing yourself, little puffs of breath escaping you as you do.

With a click, the buzz intensifies, sliding the head upward to settle softly on your clothed clit. You whimper while your hips start to move slowly against the vibrations, the whirr of the toy filling your ears while your eyes shut. You keep yourself like this for a little, enjoying the slow sensation, the mild tease. You feel it start, like the hook looping into the first car of a roller coaster train, the first tug when the attendant hits 'go'.

“Huh!” you gasp out breathy while your hips twitch. Your lower lips start to swell against the gusset of your bottoms, slick building between them. A slow start. You savor it, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Look so pretty like that, baby,” you hear his voice and gasp, tossing the toy next to you and snapping your legs shut. He smirks, a devilish chuckle bubbles from his chest, “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I said you could go play by yourself, and look at you…”

His voice raises in a lilt, while he sits on the bed. He passes you the wand and smiles, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

“Go on,” he says with a nod, “Show daddy how you were playing.” You lean back on the pillows, opening up your legs again slowly. He glances between them, eyes flitting down to your mound briefly before meeting your eyes again, he subconciously licks his lips. You keep your legs up and bent up against your chest so he has a view, puffing out a soft sigh when you click the toy on again. He looks at you with a hazy gleam in his brown eyes, nodding slowly at you to remind you of his permission. You run it up your thigh before settling it back down on the center of your slit, letting the vibrations pulse over your entire core. "Hm," you hum out softly as your brows pinch together in a tilt. "Aw, yeah?" he coos out, "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you whine, lower lip tucked tight between your teeth. Yuo swallow when he reaches his hand out, smoothing over the soft plushness of your inner thigh. He squeezes, grinning when you let out a soft grunt with a twitch of your hips.

"You've been so patient this week," he purrs, "Such a good girl. Isn't that right?"

You nod hurriedly, watching his hand slide up your thigh, his index finger tracing up the hem of your underwear. It's a smooth hand off, watching his rings gleam in the bedside lamp when it wraps around the handle, both of your hands falling flat by your head. Your palms face the ceiling, matching your eyes when he turns up the vibrations. "Isn't that right, baby doll?" he asks, adding a gentle pressure up against you. Your pussy strains against the fabric the more excited you get, back already in a soft arch while you push into the mattress. "Y-yes, sir," you manage to mutter out. "No, no, that's not who I am tonight," he admonishes, still in a soft and steady voice, almost sweet -- like you don't understand anything. He takes the toy away; making you whimper, leaning up on your elbows behind you.

"You know how to address me," he says, a serpentine confidence flashing in his face, "You're a big girl, aren't you? Or do I have to teach you?"

You let out a shrill groan, head leaning back on it's hinge while your legs kick out in frustration in front of you.

"Hmm, of course," he says, getting up off the bed to pull off his shirt and slide off his sweats. His boxer briefs hug him in tight but it's there and it's missed you more than you've missed it this week, "You act like this and you don't think I should treat you like a little girl?"

You look up at him, bitten lower lip jutting out with a sheen of spit.

"So pouty, too," he coos, crawling onto the mattress between your parted thighs. He sits up on his knees, tall over your frame splayed out on the bed. He lifts one of your legs, pressing it flush against his chest so your foot rests by his ear.

"M'not pouty," you say back while his other hand reaches over your cheek with a light back before splaying over your jaw. His thumb brushes your lower lip before pressing on the dip at the center.

"Open," he instructs, you don't even think to stop yourself. You suck his thumb slow, letting your tongue lave over the length all the while. Spit fills your mouth, wet and eager, already inching at the corners of your mouth. You might as well drool. "Very good," he purrs again from the back of his throat, "Someone learned her lesson this week."

You nod, taking his wrist to steady his hand while you take more initiative with his thumb, implying what you really want.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he says lowly, taking his thumb from your mouth. He wipes the spit on your cheek before reaching back over to the wand, keeping your legs spread and holding thight to your thigh against his front.

Your hips shimmy when he holds the toy back in place, thumb running over the power button but not pressing down.

"Hey," he says, commanding, "Look up at me."

Your gaze snaps to his in unadulterated obedience, his distaste for even having to ask evident on his face, "You know better."

"I know better," you nod while you say it, confirming his words. "You do not ever stop looking at me," he glowers down.

"I don't ever stop looking at you," you repeat back, needy for whatever he has for you next. Your hips shimmy again, you try to stifle the whine in your throat but it comes out just the same; desperate and childish. "Oh, baby, do you need help asking for what you want?" his voice lilts, "Does daddy have to guess?" "Turn it on, please," you whisper. "Please what, princess?" he asks, voice mocking with a knowing stare, leaning down so your knee hooks over his shoulder. His chest hovers at an angle over you, chain and guitar pick dangling over your lips. "Please what?" he asks again. "Please daddy," you whine, "Please turn the toy on." "Look at those manners," he grins wickedly, "My sweet girl."

He turns it on, speed setting high with the flick of his finger. It rumbles loud, thighs already twitching while runs it back and forth over your sensitive clit. "Fuck," you gasp out, eyes rolling, "Oh my god, right there." "That's not a very nice word, sweetheart," he chastises, "What do you say?"

"S-sorr-Oh! Oh my god! Oh! -- Sorry, d--shitshitshitshit-- sorrysorrysorrysorry," you nearly cry when the cord in your belly snaps, gushing into the fabric against your core. He greedily keeps your thighs apart, watching while you come undone under him. You gulp when he doesn't take the toy away, your sensitive nerves screaming at the buzz of the vibrator. Your hips writhe and jump, trying to pull away from it all the while he's shaking his head no.

"Gotta hear that apology, princess," he murmurs, "Say sorry."

"Sorry daddy, I'm sorry," you babble out, "M'sorry I'll be so good, I'll be good." He let's out a satisfied hum, clicking the wand off and placing it gingerly on the bedside table. His hand lingers for a moment to make sure it doesn't roll off and then finds it's footing back on the mattress.

"You'll be so good?"

"So good," you nod when he settles back between your thighs. He crawls forward like a cat, pressing his hips slowly up against yours. You sigh needily when you feel the drag of his erection against you, whimpering when you see it affect him the same way. "Shit, baby," he smirks, trying not to break character while he grinds against you a second time, "Fuck." "That's not a very nice word," you tease back, looking up at him through heavy lids. "Well I'm not a very nice guy, am I?" he muses, leaning in to kiss you deeply before one hand reaches down to tug at your panties. You giggle, a sound that sends him reeling when he's in this kind of mood. "You're very nice," you whisper against his lips. "Hmm, yeah?" he growls, noses brushing while he lingers above you. He offers another roll of his hips right before he gets to work on pulling your panties down slipping them off of each ankle with ease. Undressed completely below him, he admires you. He hadn't seen you like this all week, finally getting what you've been waiting for. So patient, so willing. He runs his hands from shoulders to hips, greedy fingers digging into you rough and tumble, grabbing and kneading with disregard to comfort. "Daddy," you start, getting his attention in a voice that makes him ready to serve accordingly, "Fuck me."

A smirk splits his face, it's cute when you ask so brazenly when you're busy looking at him with those sad puppy eyes. "Please, fuck me," you reiterate while he readies himself, boxer briefs peeling off to leave him bare. Your soft gasp at the release of his cock is more of an ego trip than he expected to have, never realizing how much you truly need him like this. How you can really only get off to him, how you've submitted in every way you could. "Daddy's gonna fuck you, sweetheart," he says steadily, climbing back ontop of you, pressing your thighs to your chest, "God, m'gonna fuck you real good."

He leans in for another hungry kiss, ownership laced in his lips. When he breaks away you catch his chin in your hand, an action that makes him bristle, jaw clenching at your attempt at control.

"Fuck me like I've been bad," you request in a timbre so low he nearly melts at the sound, "Fuck me how you fuck bad girls."

He's never flipped you over so fast in your life.

[letorip]

Can you do headcanons about meeting/first date with Jenna’s characters?

meetings & first dates

very funny to think about, i really did have quite good fun writing this one. thank you as always to the anon who requested, i was happy to oblige. also this isn’t what i originally planned to put out but casual [iii] should be out soon so maybe this’ll fill the void. i'm also on holiday at the moment, so that's why i'm posting at a weird hour (5 am) my ass had a plane to catch

i think i cooked on the lorraine one, would y'all want that one too

wednesday addams

you meet her in jericho, working behind the counter of the hardware store your parents own, when she stomps inside in her rain soaked boots and down a random aisle without a word at you

when she comes back with a shovel, some duct tape, a taser, and some rope, you have to awkwardly joke that it looks like she's trying to kill something

she doesn't laugh at your joke, instead staring right back at you, and you feel yourself gulp

that's your first interaction, and you don't see her again for a few days, until she comes back to buy a box of nails, and then a week later, a bucket, and a few days after that, a plunger

you won't know it until later, but she didn't actually need the nails or the bucket, she just needed an excuse to go back to the hardware store and buy some stuff so she could get up close to you

after four or five trips of her buying the most odd, random shit, she works up the courage to actually start talking to you a bit more. after a few more trips after that, you ask her what the stuff is all for, and she lets you in on the creature in the woods killing the locals, and that she claims to have seen it

for what it's worth, you believe her immediately, about rowan and the hyde and crackstone, and you listen to her theorise, leaning on the counter until someone else comes in and asks you where the plywood is, and you have to actually go do your job. wednesday stares down the intruder, trying to smite them with her eyes, but you always give her an apologetic smile before you leave

she tells you later when you're better friends and she's confessing, but she thinks of you as an odd comfort and home that she never realised she desired, and being in the hardware store and having you smile at her gave her a single fluttering of that warmth

eventually she brings you on her investigations and her cold, dead heart is running a million miles an hour the entire time, but you have to hide how close you are to wednesday from your father, because of his passionate dislike of outcasts

wednesday comes to your back window and chucks rocks at the glass to get your attention, romeo and juliet style, so that you can sneak out

when you actually ask her out, it's before you've even kissed, and wednesday wordlessly nods yes with her mouth hanging open, before she grabs the collar of your jacket and messily kisses you for the first time

your first date is to a movie, and to a horror movie, to be more specific. you take her to get food at a local diner that's open 24 hours, super late at night, and though she makes a remark about how these restaurants were unhealthy and an indicator of what's wrong with america, she thoroughly enjoys her waffle and you even manage to get her to wear one of those silly diner hates for a moment. she doesn't admit it, but she likes making you laugh

the movie is an incredibly rough experience. you despise horror movies, but wednesday is left smiling at the screen as a man is ripped to shreds in front of your eyes

that is until she realises your discomfort, and she realises you only did this because you knew she would like it. the realisation literally blows her mind, and she watches your face contort in disgust and fear, before gently reaching over and hastily grabbing your hand

she doesn't say another word, struggling to process the new emotions until you're both done with the movie and walking home. you're ranting about how gross it was and how you would be having nightmares for weeks because of it, and then she reaches up to the back of your neck and pulls you down into another fiery kiss, right as it starts to rain

tara carpenter

you've known tara for years, since you're also from woodsboro. you went to the same elementary school and she’s known of you for a long, long time since you chased her around the playground with a lizard in your hands

tara's always liked you, and you've both always had some attraction to each other and magical chemistry, but there's always been something to keep you apart

tara's involvement with amber and then chad, and then your own girlfriends, it was never the right time for you both to explore whatever electricity you could feel between you, so you didn't until you were both well into your year at blackmore

you only really get close until you take the same film class as tara. tara takes it because she's a film major and you take it because you need the credit and it's the only option of a class that takes place after 8 in the morning

you sit right next to each other and for the whole semester, you two slowly grow closer and closer, poking each other and whispering stuff while the professor prattles on

she's the de facto film buff of the group, only rivalled by mindy, and so you go to her whenever you're working on a project, because you're definitely the type to watch stupid shit, and not the high-brow film stuff the class requires

it means you end up hanging out a lot, at the library, at the coffee shop, on the couch of her apartment. you both set up the '1 for 1' rule, in which she gets to show you a movie for ever movie you get to show her

and she shows you really annoyingly good stuff, while you make her watch utter garbage. neither of you admit it, but you end up liking some of the high-brow art she pushes and she ends up having fun with the stupid movies you show her

when she makes you watch the babadook, you make her watch hot tub time machine, when she makes you watch citizen kane, you make her watch bridesmaids, and when she makes you watch la la land, you make her watch zoolander. it's a mutual exchange of interests, and you both lean against each other when you watch them on the couch or on her bed

paddington absolutely makes tara carpenter cry, there, i said it, and you show it to her and hug her when she does

things are genuinely just so easy and perfect with you, and it's so natural in a way that is unnatural for tara, but in a good way. you're unlike anyone she's ever been with, and it's refreshing and new in a way that's so exciting when you both kiss during the movie before sunrise

that's why it's so funny when your first date goes absolutely awfully

it rains on you, while you both walk to the restaurant and neither of you brought an umbrella because it wasn't projected to rain. then the sushi place you're bringing her to completely forgets your reservation and you're both waiting 30 minutes to get a table, and to top matters off, you end up being allergic to a fish you try for the first time, and need to get taken in hospital

you're not even choking really, just broken out into hives and feeling lightheaded, and tara's in the ambulance with you on the way there, and you're both talking casually, like "how was your day?"

you both get there and realise tara forgot her phone at the restaurant, and whereas anyone else would be pissed and call it a terrible date and give up, you both are fucking laughing your heads off at how cartoonishly awful the date went, even though it's a hospital, and that probably isn't the right place to be laughing in

when you're released super late that night, you both end up just wandering around new york until the late hours of the morning, just talking and occasionally holding hands. tara mentions that it reminds her of la la land, and you kiss, and what would've been a deal-breaking, awful date for anyone else just becomes something you shared with each other, and brings you even more in love

reminds me of the song ant pile by dominic fike

lorraine day

you meet lorraine as the kid of the new corn farmer in town, after your grandfather gets too old to be able to maintain his land by himself. your father has to come back and take over, due to his declining health, and you first see each other when lorraine and her daddy come to say hello and talk business for cow feed

she spots you in the back, leaning on the fence next to the field with your arms crossed and your hat pulled low, and you're just watching her and her dad talking to yours with a frown

she's set on edge by your presence, even though you're not really part of the conversation. she has to stop herself when she realises she keeps looking over at you every couple seconds, and you're still just staring at her and her father in a way that isn't exactly friendly

your dad is a generally nice guy, and he gives her your name in a passing mention and graciously accepts the pie lorraine's momma made to bring to the new partners, but it overall isn't a great first impression, and she decides right there in her daddy's truck on the ride home that she doesn't like you very much

when you're brought up again, it's by her father a week or so later. he's mentioning how helpful you are around your grandfather's farm over dinner, saying how your grandfather is blessed to have someone so good-hearted, and lorraine can’t help but remember the look of you glowering against the fence at them and doubt how true that is

she still doesn't like you, when you actually talk for the first time. RJ is bringing her home after an incredibly awkward date and gets a flat, and just as it starts to rain, guess who spots her and decides to pull over in their rusty ass pickup truck with a weird look on your face that lorraine can't help but assume is smugness

your truck bed is full of tools and supplies for your grandfather's farm and you haven't got a spare on you, but you know there's one in the shed on your farm. there's only one seat open in your truck, and even though lorraine heavily hints to RJ that she doesn't want to go, she's volunteered, as RJ doesn't want to leave his van on the side of the road, even though there's not many people who would touch the piece of junk

you snort when he insinuates that lorraine wouldn't be strong enough to fend off anyone who would take the van, and even though she's equally as miffed by RJ's assumption she's a bit annoyed by you defending her

the ride home is incredibly tense and neither of you say much until you're pulling into your yard and you say, "for the record, i highly doubt he'll be fending anyone off either." it's funny and it almost makes her laugh until she remembers she decided she didn't like you and she has to get serious again, and tells you not to talk about her boyfriend that way, and you don't say anything for the rest of the time you're helping her

she sits in the truck watching you from the wing mirror as you roll the spare out from your shed and then hoist it into the truck bed, looking sweaty and muscles tensing with effort. even though you're kind of annoying, you're tanned and you're fit, and it's something she can't help but notice whenever she goes to your farm in search of her father, who sometimes comes over to buy corn for his cattle

you both naturally start to grow into something resembling a friendship. you'll shoot the shit when you're not working, leaning on the handle of a shovel half in the ground, and lorraine will walk over and just kind of talk to you for a while. she doesn't even really realise the annoyance has melted away until it smacks her in the face that she was really wrong about you

your first date isn't actually a date until it's over. lorraine is at a lake day with her friends when one shows up with you in tow. she didn't even realise you had friends, but you're there with them and you look damn good in your swim suit, and you actually start talking a little bit about leaving the big city for your grandfather

you're all having fun, swimming around and talking, and she sees you're pretty funny when you want to be. it's kind of jarring to see just how wrong she was about you, and you both end up dancing around to your friend playing guitar and singing along

you end up being her ride home, and though there's still an underlying tension in the air, this time your truck is full of laughter and you're both actually talking. about halfway through, you accidentally let it slip that you asked your friend if lorraine was going to be there, and though the tips of your ears are red and you're apologising, lorraine can't help but reach right over and kiss you, and suddenly everything feels right in the world

cairo sweet

you meet her on the first day of creative writing, as the new student at your school, and mr. miller's seating chart places you directly next to her. she stares at you a bit, as if unimpressed by your existence, and you stare right back at her, equally as unimpressed

though you're new, you quickly skyrocket to incredible academic success, and cairo is enraged to find that with the transfer of credits, you're now really the valedictorian, sweeping it from underneath her feet at the very end of her senior year

with that, she absolutely despises you and everything you stand for

you have to trade papers for peer grading and while you calmly grade it at first, when you see that yours is covered in marks and cairo is being absolutely brutal beyond belief, nitpicking every little punctuation mark and symbol she can, you get a bit annoyed and start doing the exact same thing to her

it's a giant game of one-upping the other, and you guys repeatedly mess with each other like a chess match of fucking each other over. neither of you will admit you find the other annoyingly magnetic and captivating, you instead resort to messing with each other's standings

you both are duking it out over each little test grade, as cairo desperately tries to regain her spot at number one and you attempt to fend her off and keep your place. she'll brag about her perfect score on the calculus exam, and then you'll clap back with your extra credit. you absolutely dominate her in maths and sciences but she has you beat in creative writing and histories

winnie is greatly amused by the whole ordeal, and keeps insisting to cairo that you both should get it over with and fuck already but she scoffs and claims to resent the implication. doesn't mean she hasn't thought about it, though

her involvement with mr. miller is something she's only doing to maintain her spot as mr. miller's favourite student. cairo has the writing skill to back it up and is incredibly gifted with the pen, but you ooze a certain charisma that makes the teachers around you all giant fans, and she would be lying if she didn't say she was worried you would pull mr. miller's recommendation letter with it, and steal it right out from under her. it's entirely possible for a teacher to write more than one recommendation letter, she just wants the satisfaction of being the first one to get it

when you're partnered up on a group writing project that needs to be done in pairs, cairo sees it as the perfect opportunity to gather intel on you. another thing she hates is how mysterious you are, and how not many people actually know that much about you, other than how pleasant you are

she insists it has to happen at your house, and though you try to argue, she insists it has to be the case. it surprises her, when she puts your address into her phone and she sees it's a small one bedroom apartment in a bad part of town, without air conditioning and with terrible plumbing, and that your father works three jobs to support you

she doesn't know what she expected, but that's definitely not it, with your ability to dress and intelligence. suddenly her arch nemesis gains a third dimension, and she understands just how hard you work

though you're guarded at first, you both actually slowly discover that you don't exactly mind the other that much. you still want to keep your spot and she desperately wants it for her own, but you say something silly and it makes her laugh- really laugh- for what feels like the first time in a long time

you work together on the project more and more, and suddenly she's enjoying your company and wanting you around. she's definitely a little bit disgusted by that at first, but it's something she can't deny

she asks you on your first date to a poetry reading on a saturday, and you're a bit confused since the group project is already over, but you decide to go anyways and you have a great time. you say something profound after one of the poems, and cairo's eyes just drop to your lips in a weird amazement

she's dragging you to the bathroom immediately before the next poem can even start, and i don't think i have to say what happens next, but it's messy and there's lipstick everywhere

your father snorts when you get home that night, and there's dark red lipstick smudged all over your lips and a bit down your neck, and you roll your eyes at him with a smile

[wendsky]

I just wanted to start off with saying how much I love your writing !! you do such a great job with showing what's happening and I'm never confused on what's happening or who's talking (I have the second issue often lol) anyways if you do requests I do have one !! Y/N transfers to Nevermore because of bullies and at some point comes in some sort of physical contact with Wednesday where she gets a vision of you being bullied. Wednesday becomes kinda protective over you the way she is with Eugene and Pugsley, but Y/N's relationship with Wednesday developes into something more. sorry for such a long message and again loving what you're doing !!

thank you for your kind words and of course!

protected

wednesday addams x !witch!fem!reader

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The swirling shadows of Nevermore Academy were a far cry from your previous school, where you had endured the relentless torment of bullies. You had hoped that the new environment would be a sanctuary, a place where you could finally breathe and be yourself. But the anxiety that gripped your chest told you that change didn’t come without its challenges.

As you walked through the stone archways of the academy, you took in the gothic architecture that surrounded you—towering spires, iron chandeliers, and dark wood accents. The students that roamed the halls were unlike any you’d encountered before, with their eclectic styles and unapologetic personalities. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. But that flicker quickly dimmed when you heard the whispers.

“Look at her,” one girl sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “Another weirdo trying to fit in.”

You kept your head down, trying to ignore the cruel laughter that followed you as you made your way to your first class. You had thought you left the bullying behind, but the stares and whispered comments followed you like a shadow.

The first week passed in a blur of classes and isolation. You kept to yourself, determined not to give anyone a reason to target you further. That resolve was put to the test during lunch one day. As you sat at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, trying to enjoy your meal in peace, you felt a sharp shove from behind.

“Oops! Didn’t see you there, loser!” a girl with vibrant purple hair sneered as she walked past, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself. The laughter from her group echoed in your ears as they made their way to the main table, where the more popular students gathered.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks, and you tried to clean yourself up with a napkin, your hands trembling. You hated feeling weak, hated that they still had power over you. Just as you thought you’d disappear into the floor, a shadow fell over you.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Did you spill your drink? Or are you just that clumsy?” The voice was low and smooth, tinged with an unsettling calmness that sent a chill down your spine. You looked up to see Wednesday Addams standing there, her expression unreadable.

You blinked, startled by her sudden presence. “I—um, it was an accident,” you managed to stammer, avoiding her piercing gaze.

“Accidents happen, but that wasn’t an accident. It was intentional,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing. You couldn’t tell if she was angry or simply observing.

“I can handle it,” you replied, the instinct to defend yourself kicking in despite your embarrassment.

“Clearly,” she said dryly, and you could almost hear the sarcasm in her tone. “Are you always this brave, or is it just for show?”

“Whatever,” you muttered, your face hot. You hated that she saw you like this—weak and embarrassed.

“Don’t bother. They’re not worth your time,” she replied, her voice steady. She touched your shoulder and for a moment, went still. As if nothing happened, with a swift motion, she turned to leave, her raven-black hair swaying behind her as she walked away.

The next incident came unexpectedly. You were in the library, trying to focus on your studies when you overheard the same group of girls from lunch laughing and whispering nearby. You tried to block them out, but their words cut through the air like daggers.

“Have you seen her? She thinks she’s so special just because she’s here,” one girl said.

“Yeah, as if we need more freaks around here,” another chimed in.

You clenched your fists, your heart racing as you felt the familiar wave of panic wash over you. Why did they have to make everything so difficult? Just as you were about to storm out of the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to see Wednesday standing beside you, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “Stay,” she commanded softly, her voice laced with an urgency that surprised you.

“What?” you asked, bewildered.

“Stay. I want to see how they handle this,” she said, glancing toward the group with a predatory gaze. You hesitated but nodded, curiosity getting the better of you.

As you watched, Wednesday approached the girls, her presence commanding their attention. “Why don’t you say that to her face?” she asked, her tone calm yet filled with an underlying menace.

The girls froze, the laughter dying on their lips. They exchanged nervous glances, the bravado fading as they met Wednesday’s unwavering gaze.

“Uh, we were just joking,” one girl stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Jokes aren’t meant to hurt,” Wednesday replied, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “If you have something to say, be brave enough to say it to her.”

You felt your heart race as the girls shifted uneasily, their earlier confidence shattered under Wednesday’s intense scrutiny. They muttered something unintelligible before quickly gathering their things and leaving the library.

You turned to Wednesday, astonished. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did,” she replied, her expression softening slightly. “You shouldn’t have to tolerate their cruelty.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the days passed, you noticed a shift in Wednesday’s behavior toward you. It was subtle but undeniable. She began to appear at random moments—sitting nearby in classes, leaning against the wall while you walked to lunch, or simply observing from a distance. At first, you found it unnerving. Why was she watching you? Did she pity you, or was she just curious?

But as the bullying incidents continued, you found solace in her presence. Wednesday’s protective nature began to emerge, mirroring the way she defended her friends, like Eugene and Pugsley. It made you feel… safe. You still faced harassment, but it was less frequent, and you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find a place at Nevermore.

The third incident happened in the hallway. You were on your way to class when you overheard a group of students mocking you again. “Look at her, always alone. What a loser,” one of them laughed.

You took a deep breath, preparing to ignore them, but suddenly, a figure stepped in front of you. It was Wednesday, her dark dress billowing slightly as she stood her ground, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked, her voice low, but the intensity in her gaze was unmistakable.

The students faltered, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. “We were just—” one of them started, but Wednesday interrupted.

“Just what? Making fun of someone who’s already struggling? How brave of you,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

With that, she turned to you, her eyes softening for the first time. “Ignore them. They’re insignificant.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in her fierce protection. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time, and it made your heart swell.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, and for a moment, you thought you saw the corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitch in a ghost of a smile.

The more time you spent together, the more your feelings began to shift. There was something intoxicating about Wednesday—the way she moved, the way she spoke with such conviction and intelligence. You found yourself looking forward to her presence, her shadow becoming a constant comfort amidst the chaos of Nevermore.

One day, while working on a school project in the library, you accidentally brushed your fingers against hers while reaching for a book. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. You froze, meeting her gaze, your heart racing as you realized how close you had become.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head, the words tumbling out before you could think. “No. I’m… intrigued. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

She seemed to consider your words, her dark eyes searching yours. “I suppose I’m not.”

With a sudden confidence, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why do you protect me?”

“Because you’re worth protecting,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words hung in the air like a spell.

The moment stretched between you, filled with unspoken emotions and possibilities. You wanted to reach out, to close the distance, but the moment was fragile.

“Do you want to be friends?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

“Friends,” Wednesday repeated, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered the term. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

As the weeks turned into months, your bond with Wednesday deepened. You shared secrets in the dark corners of the library, and her dry humor slowly chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. There were moments when her fingers would brush against yours, lingering just a heartbeat longer, and you felt a thrill that was both exciting and terrifying.

But as your friendship grew, so did your feelings. You found yourself daydreaming about her—wondering what it would be like to hold her hand, to share whispered secrets late at night. You caught her watching you more often, and each time your eyes met, it felt like a silent understanding passed between you.

One afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the courtyard, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. You were sitting on a bench, reading, when Wednesday approached, her expression thoughtful.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her tone serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You looked up, meeting her intense gaze. “What is it?”

“Do you believe in destiny?” she asked, her voice almost hesitant.

You frowned, taken aback by her sudden vulnerability. “I suppose… it depends on what you mean.”

“I believe that certain people are meant to cross paths,” she continued, her dark eyes searching yours. “And I believe that you were meant to be here.”

Your heart raced as her words sank in. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, taking a deep breath, “that I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. You’re… different. You make me feel things I don’t understand.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you processed her words. “I feel the same way, Wednesday.”

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then let’s stop pretending. We can be more than friends, if you want.”

You nodded, unable to speak as you felt tears prick your eyes. In that moment, you realized how far you had come. You had gone from being a scared girl, bullied and alone, to standing here with someone who saw you for who you truly were.

And then she was there, her lips brushing against yours—a soft, tentative kiss that quickly turned into something more passionate. You melted against her, wrapping your arms around her waist as you kissed her back, your heart soaring with a mixture of joy and relief.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, Wednesday looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “This changes everything,” she said, her voice low and serious.

“Yes,” you agreed, smiling through your tears. “For the better.”

And as you stood there together, the shadows of Nevermore seemed a little less daunting, the future a little more promising. In Wednesday’s presence, you felt like you could finally be yourself, free from the burdens of the past. You were no longer alone, and that made all the difference.

[poisonlove]

Strange couple | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday addams x reader

Warning: fluffy

"Hello, beauties!" I murmur with a smile plastered on my face as I walk into Wednesday and Enid's room.

I'd had a pleasant and intense morning.

Classes had been really fun and educational, I'd enjoyed the last chocolate pudding left at breakfast, found 5 dollars on the ground, scored the highest mark in Art surpassing my friend Xavier, and literally destroyed Bianca in fencing.

Despite everything, I missed my little and adorable deadly storm. I missed seeing her pitch-black eyes staring at me intensely, her sarcastic remarks, her obsession with being extremely tidy and punctual.

I missed kissing her and teasing her.

"Hi Y/N!" says Enid, full of life. "Someone's in a good mood, huh?" she adds, raising an eyebrow.

I look at my blonde friend lying on the bed with Thing and smile even more.

"Very much," I reply, chuckling.

My eyes shift to the figure on the other side of the room. Wednesday is typing her book with concentration on the typewriter. The sound of the keys furiously giving life to her thoughts fills me with pride.

She was extremely good at what she did.

"Don't you greet your girlfriend?" I ask with a small pout, trying to catch her attention.

Wednesday barely looks up from her typewriter, her face impassive and focused. "Hello, Y/N," she says in her usual calm, deep voice.

I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"Hello? Is that all you have to say?" I ask incredulously.

Meanwhile, I see Thing walk towards me and tug at the hem of my pants. "Hello, little one," I smile sweetly at Enid and Wednesday's friend, scratching his back as a greeting.

"So?" I ask Wednesday impatiently.

"Mmmh," Wednesday murmurs, still engrossed in her work. "Hi, baby," she adds automatically, probably trying to shorten the conversation as much as possible.

Thing starts gesticulating animatedly and I watch him attentively. "I know it's her writing time, but I wanted a proper greeting," I say, rolling my eyes at his comment.

Thing gestures even more quickly.

"I'm not being childish!" I mutter, offended.

I ignore Thing and see Enid barely holding back a laugh, the magazine she was reading abandoned beside her. Her expression tells me she finds the situation quite amusing.

Wednesday finally stops, lifts her gaze, and fixes me with those black eyes I adore so much. "You know my writing time is sacred, Y/N," she says calmly.

Her eyes soften, showing a glimpse of tenderness she usually hides so well. My heart skips a beat, struck by the rare expression of affection I can see behind her impassive mask. Even though her face remains serious, there's a hidden warmth in the way she looks at me.

"But I suppose I can make an exception for you," she adds, and I feel my heart swell with joy.

I smile with satisfaction, approaching her.

"That's better," I murmur as I lean down to give her a quick kiss on the lips. "Did you miss me?"Wednesday looks at me with her typical enigmatic expression.

"Maybe," she says cryptically, then returns to her typewriter.

Enid finally bursts out laughing. "You two are so cute together," she comments, shaking her head amused. "Too cute, even by Wednesday's standards," she adds with a playful singsong as she lies back on the bed and picks up the magazine again.

I approach and wrap my arms around Addams' shoulders, resting my chin on her collarbone.

Wednesday sighs loudly, visibly annoyed.

"You know, Y/N, there are better ways to spend your time," she says in a monotone voice.I chuckle softly.

"I know, but this is my favorite."

I start to annoy her romantically. I stroke her arm and leave open-mouthed kisses on her neck, feeling her skin quiver under my lips. Wednesday tries to stay focused, but I can see that my attentions are distracting her. The rhythm of the typewriter keys briefly pauses, and I notice a typo on the page.Wednesday stops, looking at the page with an annoyed expression.

"Y/N, stop," she says, trying to sound stern, but her tone betrays slight frustration mixed with resignation.

"You stop being so adorable," I whisper, continuing to kiss her neck. I feel a slight shiver run through her body, and this makes me smile even more.

Enid, from her spot on the bed, watches us with an amused smile. "You just won't let go, will you, Y/N?" she comments, shaking her head.

"You're a real nuisance," says Wednesday, trying to mask the amusement in her voice.

"But I'm your nuisance," I respond, playing with her braids.

Wednesday finally gives in, relaxing for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you are," she murmurs, barely turning her head to look at me with an expression that, despite everything, is full of affection. I smile shyly, and Wednesday leans in to give me a small kiss on the lips.

My knees go weak.

"Now leave me alone," she says in a calm and authoritative tone, fixing the mistake she had made.

I huff, but respect her request.

I start pacing back and forth along Wednesday's desk, carefully observing the objects that decorate it.

"Don't make noise," Wednesday mutters in a whisper.

My gaze lingers on a few photos of the two of us, moments captured that tell our story together. In one, we're hugging during a walk in the woods, in another, we're laughing at a school event. Next to them, there's a family photo with Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Wednesday, all with their unmistakable stern looks.

Continuing to explore, I notice a necklace elegantly placed on the edge of the desk. I immediately recognize the pendant, a gift from Morticia to Wednesday, a symbol of protection and affection. The jewel reflects the light with a faint glow, emanating an aura of antiquity and mystery.

Finally, my attention is caught by a knife. The blade gleams in the light of the desk lamp, sharp and perfectly maintained. I can't help but reach out and trace the edge of the blade with my finger, feeling the cold metal against my skin. The knife is a piece of art, encrusted with intricate details on the handle, telling stories of tradition and danger.

"Careful," Wednesday's voice interrupts my thoughts. "That knife is extremely sharp."I turn to her with a mischievous smile.

"I know, but it's fascinating. Where's it from?"

"It was my grandmother's," Wednesday replies without taking her eyes off her work. "A family heirloom. She gave it to me when I turned thirteen."

"It's beautiful," I murmur, placing the knife back carefully.

Wednesday finally looks up from the typewriter, fixing me with slight curiosity. "Are you done exploring?"

"For now," I reply with a smirk.

Did I mention I love teasing her?

In a stealthy move, I grab the knife. Wednesday gives me a sideways glance as I toss it from one hand to the other with precision. She huffs, evidently irritated and gets up from her chair.

"Very funny, now give it back," she says, holding out her hand intensely.

I ignore her and smile even more.

Wednesday approached, determined to take the knife from my hands. I raised my arms, aware that my height gave me an advantage over her petite fury, and continued to provoke her. She pushed me, trying to grab the knife, but a misstep made us fall onto her bed.

“Hey,” I said with a sly smile as I looked at her straddling my legs.

An extremely compromising position.

Wednesday sighed heavily and brought her face closer to mine, making me smile even more. I closed my eyes, expecting a kiss, and sighed, feeling her hand on my cheek.

Our breaths mixed, the heat grew, but then everything faded like a dream.

I blinked in disbelief and saw Wednesday, with a satisfied expression, putting the knife back in its place.

"You two are a strange couple," Enid commented, amused.

“She played dirty,” I protested with a pout.

Wednesday returned to her seat at the typewriter.

“Soon you’ll learn all the tricks, Y/N Addams,” she said with icy calm.

“Aww,” exclaimed Enid with an adorable smile. Her eyes shone almost to the point of tears of joy at Wednesday’s words.

“Y/N Addams?” I asked, confused.

“Soon you will be, my dear,” Wednesday replied nonchalantly, returning to her writing.

For now, I chose not to ask further questions. However, deep down, I knew I couldn’t ignore this new turn in my life with Wednesday Addams at the center of it all.