#on the other hand. whos that goth girl i need her and only her to live thanks

[tru-daddy]

dawg he fucking teleported behind them they are NOT jumping his ass

[celiastjamesoscar]

To Be Alone

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Being alone was something special to Wednesday, but being alone with you was sacred. And she refused to share you with anyone else, even if that meant owning up to her feelings

A/N: this is part 1 of a series. If you would like to be included in the Taglist for it, let me know!

Warnings: slight friends with benefits, jealous Wednesday, snarky Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

My Masterlist

The sound of obnoxiously loud music rang throughout the room as the students of Nevermore danced in sporadic movements, and none matched the rhythm of the music. Crowds were never a fan of Wednesday’s, but she would put up with the brightest colors and loudest thumping of music to get a glimpse of you.

It was out of character for Wednesday to want anything romantic in her life, let alone with someone like you.

To put it nicely, you were just like Wednesday, a snarky asshole whose mouth sometimes got you in trouble. But you were also more friendly than Wednesday could ever be; you cared for others deeply, while Wednesday barely superficially cared for them. But when your warm, soft lips met Wednesday’s cold, stiff ones in the darkness of the woods on the coldest of winter nights, Wednesday felt her heart reach a warmth it had never known.

Your relationship with the Addams girl was a weird one, and you never expected her to be someone who would enjoy a friends-with-benefits situation. But when Wednesday called you at an ungodly hour and asked, no, told you that you were going to be her romantic partner for dinner with her family, you didn’t refuse her.

Wednesday prepped you on the car ride to dinner and told you everything you would need to say; you and Wednesday met through fencing class and soon became friends after Wednesday bested you in a duel. That information was vital to the story, according to Wednesday. You two only started to date after a romantic walk through the local graveyard, and you shared a kiss on the tombstone of the late Marilyn Thornhill.

The dinner was a peaceful one, with all things considered. You won the approval of Gomez Addams, and you seemed even to impress Grandmama. Morticia adored you, but she saw right through her daughter’s scheme of forcing you into a fake relationship with her. Of course, she would never tell Wednesday that she knew her daughter was lying to her about her relationship. Still, Morticia enjoyed watching her daughter pretend to understand the beauty and pain that is love. And Morticia knew that after enough time, Wednesday would slowly start to realize she had feelings for you.

After that dinner, you kissed Wednesday’s lips for the first time, entirely by accident. You had leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but your sudden movement had startled the shorter girl, causing her to turn her head quickly, and when she did, her lips brushed yours. Instead of pulling back, Wednesday leaned deeper into the kiss and soon gripped your neck, trying to pull you impossibly closer as her lips connected with yours. She soon became addicted to them, and she refused to let anyone else taste them, and she soon started up an agreement with you; no feelings were involved, just late-night stolen kisses and moonlit strolls through the woods. But now, as she watched you talk with other women who weren’t her, she felt her chest tighten with anger.

“Wednesday, what are you doing?” Enid asked as she suddenly appeared beside the girl, startling Wednesday out of her thoughts. Enid had a suspicion of the goth girl’s interest in you, even though Wednesday refused to acknowledge it.

“Staring at Y/N with my autistic eyes,” Wednesday deadpanned, and the ravenette’s statement took aback Enid. “Um, okayyy,” Enid awkwardly replied as she gently placed her hands on Wednesday’s shoulders, slowly turning the girl, “I don’t know what to do with that information, but let’s go over here, where you can’t stare at Y/N.”

Truth be told, you weren’t doing anything to provoke jealousy in anyone, especially Wednesday. But the Addams loathed seeing you smile while talking to Yoko. Jealousy was a feeling she knew all too well, and it only happened with you. And for that, she would potentially murder you in your sleep tonight. It would be a clean murder, nearly no blood at all, but it put a frown on Wednesday’s lips; she wanted your murder to be a gory one, one that would bless her dreams of haunting images of you for the rest of her days, but the thought of drawing out your murder made Wednesday feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time: sadness.

“No,” Wednesday stated as she shook off Enid’s grip and continued watching you talk to the vampire. It was a dull dance, and you were only here to socialize and to make Wednesday jealous, which was working.

“Why are you so keen on watching Y/N talk to Yoko? They are roommates, like you and I,” Enid cheerfully replied, hoping to help ease the tension in Wednesday’s shoulders, but it only seemed to worsen. “Enid, three-fourths of this institution thinks that you and I are together romantically,” was all Wednesday said, and Enid picked up the hint.

“Point taken. So then, why don’t you go over there and talk to her? Like a normal person would do instead of staring at her like a creep,” Enid suggested, but judging by the glare her roommate gave her in return, she assumed that Wednesday hated the suggestion. “Well, if you’re going to be a loser whose only way of flirting is staring at Y/N until she notices you, then I don’t think you will have any luck at pulling her. But I wish you the best,” Enid stated as she quickly looked at you before returning her attention to Wednesday. She gave the goth a small hug-which Wednesday did not return-before skipping off to go God knows where.

It was as if Enid’s presence was stopping you from feeling Wednesday’s uncomfortable glaring, and as soon as the werewolf was gone, your eyes automatically found Wednesday’s dark ones.

You politely excused yourself from Yoko before walking over to Wednesday with a smug smile on your lips. Wednesday hated that smile on you, not because it looked terrible; it was quite the opposite. That smirk did something to her; it stirred something profound inside her, and she hated the beast you awoke in her.

“My lady,” you husked in a raspy voice as you took Wednesday’s hand in your own and bowed while placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. “What were you two talking about?” Wednesday asked, wasting no time in finding out if she was going to murder Yoko as well.

“Relax, my dove. We were just talking about ‘The Haunting of Hill House,’ nothing to worry about,” you replied softly as you stood up straight and gently caressed the more petite girl’s hand.

Wednesday scoffed at the pet name and tried to pull her hand out of your grip, but it only caused her to draw you closer. “You miss me that much?” You asked with a smirk as you placed Wednesday’s hand on your chest, and instead of pulling away, the more petite girl slowly ran her hand up your chest and stopped as she took your necklace between her polished black fingers.

It was a gift from Wednesday, of all people, and you wore it with pride like it was your last name. You never took it off, and in a way, it acted like a collar; no matter how far you strayed from Wednesday, people would look at it and automatically know who you belonged to.

The necklace itself was a golden chain that ended with a small circle. The circle had gold-colored beads with small, black dots in the middle. And in the center of that circle was a golden ‘W’ with a line attached to it, holding the W in place.

“You still wear it,” Wednesday stated as she flipped the W between her fingers, gently caressing it with her thumb.

“‘If you ever take this off, I will rain hellfire down on you and your family until the end of the earth. I will haunt you in this life and the next; you will never be able to get rid of the image of me standing over your lifeless body if you were ever to remove this necklace.’ Those were your exact words,” you recalled with a smirk as you watched Wednesday play with the necklace. “But hey, at least you think of us together in the next life.”

“No,” she simply stated, and you were going to argue back, but she pulled you down to her level by the necklace, “If you ever tell anyone I have plans with you in the next life, I will skin you alive and feed your remains to Fester.”

The laugh you gave Wednesday in response angered her beyond belief, but the sound of it infested her stomach with spiders, and if she wasn’t careful, she might even admit to caring about you. “Jokes on you, Uncle Fester is my best friend. We are basically inseparable,” you remarked as you stood back up, and Wednesday let go of the necklace.

“I hate that you are his favorite person,” Wednesday mumbled under her breath and then cleared her throat as she remembered why she needed to talk to you, “I will be needing your assistance this weekend.”

“And why’s that?” You asked with a smirk. You knew it was parent’s weekend, and Wednesday needed to keep up the act of you two being together; you just wanted to hear her admit it. “My parents are coming this weekend; you must be there to prove to them that I am capable of feeling emotions other than intense anger and homicidal thoughts,” Wednesday deadpanned as the loud music slowly turned into a softer one, a waltzing song.

You didn’t recognize the beautiful melody, but you stuck out your hand toward the smaller girl. “Can I have this dance?” You asked with a soft smile, and if it were under any other circumstance, Wednesday would have said yes. “No,” she dryly replied while slapping your hand away, “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t know it was a question,” you stated.

“It’s not; I just like allowing you to think that you have a say in what you get to do.”

“You are a woman after my own heart, Wednesday Addams,” you joked, and Wednesday scoffed at you. “In your wildest dreams,” the goth girl stated as she walked away from you, but you followed her.

“So what will this weekend trip entail? Do I need to start flushing my teeth and putting on chapstick?” You questioned while following the smaller girl out of the ballroom. “Why do you not already floss your teeth?” Wednesday asked with an eyebrow hitched, clearly displaying her irritation that you don’t floss regularly.

“Ummm, because it’s pointless? I brush my teeth twice daily. Isn’t that enough?” You retorted with a curious look. “One day, you are going to wake up in the middle of the night, and all of your teeth will have fallen out of your brainless head. When that happens, I shall make a necklace out of them and force you to wear it as a remembrance of our conversation about flossing,” Wednesday stated as she walked toward her room. She had a weird way of showing affection toward you.

When Wednesday reached her dorm, she opened the door and tried to close it on you, but you caught it in just enough time and stepped into her room. You shut the door as you followed the ravenette toward her desk. “Okay, but seriously Wednesday. What do you want me to do when Mr. and Mrs. Addams arrive?” You questioned with a serious expression, and when Wednesday looked up at you, she missed your usual playful demeanor.

“Be normal. You’ve been around them before; why do you still ask me how you should act around them?” Wednesday questioned as she loaded paper into her typewriter. “Um, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I hate lying to people! And your mom is hot, so that also makes me nervous,” you responded with a little bit of defensiveness. But for an unknown reason, Wednesday felt her heart slowly break at mentioning your attraction to her mother.

“Do not remind me of your infuriating attraction to my mother,” Wednesday deadpanned as she began typing, “And we aren’t lying to them, so you don’t need to worry.”

A small scoff left your lips at her comment, but then a mischievous smile overtook your lips as you found a loophole. Carefully, you leaned an elbow on Wednesday’s desk and smirked at the ravenette, who seemed ignorant of the mistake she made.

“So, we aren’t lying to them, correct?” You asked in a calm voice as your eyes examined Wednesday’s face. “Why are you making me repeat myself? You are correct; we are not lying to them. Now, will you please leave me so I can work?” The Addams coldly remarked as she shook the feeling of spiders in her stomach at your proximity. No matter how many stolen kisses you two shared, you always made her nervous and gitty, which was a feeling she both loathed and cherished all the same.

“By that logic, we aren’t lying about our fake relationship? So that means we are actually, in fact, dating?” You asked with that same smirk, and Wednesday knew she had fucked up when she looked into your eyes and only saw hope that didn’t match your playful smirk. “We are not in a romantic relationship at all. We are just two acquaintances who engage in romantic activities from time to time. Now leave,” Wednesday stated as she grew increasingly annoyed with you.

You gave the smaller girl a pathetic sigh as you pushed yourself off the desk and slowly sauntered away from her desk, but before you could get too far, Wednesday grabbed your wrist. When you turned to face her, Wednesday reached up and tightly gripped your uniform tie as she brought your lips down to hers, and you both sighed into the kiss.

It had been too long since you both found comfort in each other’s lips, and Wednesday had started to crave their delicate touch and sweet taste. And, of course, by ‘too long,’ that meant nearly a day. The kiss itself was a chaste one that displayed all of the love and affection Wednesday had for you that she could never verbally say.

Only when oxygen became a problem did you pull away from those heavenly lips. With a small huff, the ravenette rested her forehead against yours as her free hand came up and slowly stroked your jaw.

“I want to rip out your mandible and add it to my bone collection,” was what Wednesday mumbled against your lips, but the words that traveled through your ears were, ‘You mean so much to me that I want to have a piece of you with me forever,’ and you were happy with that translation.

“You have such a way with words, you know that? You really know how to make a girl feel special,” you mumbled against her lips before placing a final kiss on them and turning to leave.

“Where are you going?” Wednesday asked as she returned to reality when she didn’t feel your lips anymore and saw you walking toward the door to leave.

“You told me to leave, so that’s what I’m doing,” you replied before a slight smirk overtook your face, “Why, do you miss me already?”

“No. Just be ready by tomorrow morning so we can eat breakfast with them,” Wednesday stated as she continued her work, ignoring the feeling in her stomach at the thought of you leaving for the night. Most of the time, when her parents visited, you would stay the night in her dorm to further push the agenda that you two were a couple. Definitely not because Wednesday found it hard to sleep without you at night.

“Goodnight, Wednesday. I hope your dreams are just as evil as you are,” you joked as you opened the door, and Wednesday huffed in response as you left the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Wednesday hadn’t been working on her novel. She had been writing out all the things you make her feel, and when you had wished nightmares upon her, the final sentence that had made its one onto the page was the thing that shattered her heart the most: ‘Gods should fear the love I have for you.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @elduster @silentwolfsstuff @baddiebbarbietngz @maskthedwarf @aroaceanxietylemon

[nemesyaaa]

a house in nebraska ! rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary ; you were the reason he won't come home but you still call home. this story is based on the song of ethel cain.

warnings : it's angst. fully angst. it's about toxic relationship. so violence, arguing and fighting, sick behavior, daddy and mommy issues, the urge of love and being loved, mentions of drugs, the feeling of being misunderstood and unsteady. home is used as a metaphor of relationship. it's about inner rage too. slight of smut but very little. both rafe and reader being fucked up. southern goth/small town coded.

author's note : it's my first time writing angst so be easy one me please ! as i said, it's based on " a house in nebraska" by ethel cain (because she's my favorite artist and my muse.) and a lot of her songs make me think of rafe, but i also take inspo of her others songs like crush, strangers, and hard times. also a hint of bet on losing dogs by mitski.

i dont know how many words are in this works, but i think around 3k ? it's a one-shot ! BETTER TO READ IT WHILE LISTENING TO A SAD SONG. (a house in nebraska (live version)or anything else)

you lived in the nebraska with rafe, he was your man and you were his girl. it was a small town that allowed you to be just him and you against the world, to be safe from the rest. but the ugly truth was that your house had become a raging mess. the mattresses had become dirty, the silence too comfortable, the night too long, the emptiness too deep, the love too absent and the violence too present. everyone was angry here, even demons and the silence.

rafe was a storm, and every time you tried to calm it, you became further worse. no, you weren't becoming like him, you were becoming him, the mirror of his emotions, full of rage and inexpressible feelings. like a bomb, you needed it to come out, to scream and explode. like a bomb, you needed to hurt, and destroy everything in your way.

you had built this house together, when he still worked with his hands, oh god, how much you loved those big and strong hands, the dirt and bruises on his skin. the softness of his palms when he touched you, the pulsating veins engraved. they were made to love you, to caging you. they were always rushed with blood and wounds because of his work, but despite how dirty they were when he came home, they were always pure and clean on your body. but you also were so in love with his messy sweaty hair, caressing by the wind. he was tall and handsome, the kind of man who worked all day, and drunk at night, some whiskey or bourbon. but never missed to please the needs of his girl.

when he smoked his red marlboros on the porch, you were sitting on his lap like a sleepy girl to take a nap on his heavy arms that managed to hug your body. when he took a sip of his cold beer, while you had nothing to do but being his own pretty girl. when he allowed you to bathe him, cleaning the mess and the sweat. when you used to learn him how to play some classic music on the old piano, and he was just turned on by the way you used so damn well your fingers, and making you sit on the board, and fuck you right there, even if the windows were wide open.

at this time, you would have die for him.

when he still listened to what you said, when he still answered your calls and did not make you sick by his silence, when you laughed every time he came home . but now you were starting to hate the fact that he was coming.

how did the man who was supposed to make you so happy manage to break you so easily? but you weren't an angel either, oh far from it, you had neither wings nor halo on your head, you didn't even have god in your heart. you made him, like all men, your enemy.

it was four in the morning, it was still dark, you were waiting in the living room.

the tv wasn't on. rafe had broken it during an argument. that wasn’t the only thing he shattered, you had to be the hardest thing he does. not even with his fists, with just the force of his words, the way they were murderous, the way they had the force to tear your heart open and crushed it into pieces.

most people would say that this man was not the type to cry, that a man doesn't cry, but rafe cried. and you had seen him a couple of times, and the first time you saw him burst into tears, you knew straight away that it was the real him. that behind all this hatred, this anger, there was a hurted little boy. and who grew up with an open wound, a wound impossible to heal, even with all the love in the world.

rafe was the kind of man who screamed, who cried, who bled, a fallen angel who had lost god along the way, who had been ignored, but mostly, never heard.

when he opened the door to the house, you hated the strong smell of alcohol, but also of blood. you never asked him for anything, the only thing you wanted was for him to come home on time for dinner, to go to bed with you. but no one, absolutely, no one tamed a dog like him. and you rathered not bet on losing dogs.

“where were you ?? ” you had already started shouting due to lack of patience, getting up from the chair to confront him.

you had seen him sigh, making that bored face, like you had no reason to be upset, that face that made all women become even worse.

“if you had the same energy to scream when we fuck, we would have a fantastic sex life.”

“seriously, rafe? you want to play the asshole, right now ? ”

“ it will suit your bitch behavior, so why not ?”

you slapped him very hard in the face. what obviously rafe didn't find this very amusing, he crushed you in the wall, pinned your hands above your head.

“ don't you dare slapping me again. you want to be mean, sweetheart ? i can be meaner. let's see....oh this is the necklace that your mom offered to you before leaving ? how sweet. maybe, i can sell it for a good price. ”

“ rafe. don't. ”

he shushed you, by putting his other hand on your mouth. “ you're not allowed to talk right now. you had your turn for, now, it's my fucking turn. and i will do whatever the fuck i want ! it's my house, my rules. ”

he unhooked the necklace, as you tried to break away from his grip but he closed his fingers tighter against your wrists.

“I'm going to kill you, no matter what you do, i'm going to kill you. ”

“murder me” he said with a louder voice. “i’m asking you to murder me! it’s probably the only good thing you’ll have done well in your life. you know even if i die tonight, i will die yours. even if you kill me, i will always be here.”

he released you, and you exploded. “you have exceeded the limits, rafe! ”

” since when are there boundaries between us, sugar? we're freaks, remember? ”

you threw away the first object you found, it was an empty coffee cup. you threw it at his face. but he had dodged it with a sick smile. your jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury, you were out of control. you were what he wanted you to be every time he came home late

” oh you can do better than that baby. i'm sure i taught you how to shoot better than this when i showed you how to kill? do you remember? ”

“ this, this fucking attitude, rafe is why everybody leaves you ! ”

“ yes. and do i fucking care, y/n ? do i fucking care ? i grew up in a family where nobody loved me, nobody reached after me, nobody looked after me, nobody dared to pay attention to me and you tell me i have to care about everyone leaving me ? no, it's not fucking fair ! so do you understand ? i don't care. if you want to leave, you know better than me that the door is open because you're the only one to be stucking in front, waiting like a fucking dog that i come come. ”

“ fine. i leave ! ”

you took the keys of the car, even if rafe hated that you drove, especially at midnight. but you were too upset, too mad.

your man wasn't done with you. he stood in front of the car you were driving.

“if you think i'm afraid of killing you, when you were the one who taught me how to do that, you're wrong. ”

" yes ? then show me how well i did my job. kill me. ”

“ rafe, i’m not kidding. ”

“ perfect, we are both serious then. ”

you moved the car forward, pressing the pedal with your feet. you hitted him with the car. it was strong but not violent either.

you got out of the car quickly to check on him. but he was smiling, a little blood on his face.

“are you sick!? ”

“ i raised you well, i fear. now, lick this face. i can see in your eyes how pretty you find me covered with blood, so please yourself, lick it all. ”

“ wait, i will find some tis….”

“ no, with your tongue. clean my whole face with your tongue. don't waste anything. i want to be able to kiss you right after, and recognize the taste of my blood all over your mouth. you want to be sick ? make me feel sick too. ”

maybe you were too young to realize that some loves could be bad. but this relationship was toxic. you had both destroyed each other, and it was complicated when you saw this world, this universe only through your union. you felt like you had lost a lot, like you had lost everything, like you had failed. maybe, you were the failure, and rafe, the problem. but also, maybe, he was the failure and you, the problem.

and you hated not knowing what was going on in rafe's head, you hated that no one on this earth could figure it out, and that even rafe himself didn't know it. he was crazy, he was sick but that wasn't all, it couldn't be just that.

you gave up the fight, going to the bathroom to take a bath. you needed some peace because the house didn't feel like a home anymore.

sometimes wheezie would call you to see if you were okay, she had grown up, and you lied to her all the time. because it hurt so much to be two in a relationship, but not feel like you were a part of it anymore. and the worst part of it all was that you could kill yourself for just one minute of affection, just one second of happiness, just one moment in the past when everything was okay. where rafe was still the sweet little boy you knew. but the stories were not meant to have a happy ending.

it was hard this feeling, this lack when he still lived with you in this terrible house. but one day you'll be the reason he won't come home again. but you would always call home. you promised yourself. because it would always be yours.

rafe had joined you in the bathtub. and you could tell by his red and empty eyes, his blank stare that he had been crying. he cried and he was not the drugs, he was you, only you.

and you didn't mention it. you didn't say anything. you preferred to stay smart and not start another fight.

“the walls could break down with so much screams. ” you said, laughing slightly.

“maybe we should sell the house. ”

“i like this house. i feel at home here. i have nowhere to go. ” you lied for the two first, but not for the last.

and it was true. you had built everything, paved everything here. you had remade a world. you couldn't leave, you couldn't leave anything. and above all, you were too tired to leave.

it would be a lie to say that you didn't had sex in the bathtub, that you didn't feel his tears on your shoulder, that you didn't feel his thrusts get harder each time a sob broke out his empty eyes, that you didn't feel how much he was breaking every time you took pleasure. because, it was hard for him to seeing you being happy. because it was so hard to take care of you. because it was so hard to feel loved and being loved. you were both too young, too stupid, too sick for love.

and rafe wanted to make you happy without sex, without all this selfish sex. no, he wanted to make you happy by some casual things. but sometimes, you pissed him off so bad to the point, he wanted to leave. but how can a man who hoped to be loved can leave the woman who promised to cherish him ? it was too tired, too angry, and too unsteady to leave. you broke him too. and it was sad for him, because you were the only one he was not scared to tell it hurts.

but at six in the morning you were fighting again as if it were a ritual, a need, a desire to destroy each other, as if sometimes love needed to be violent and destructive to work. actually, for freaks like you, surely.

“why did you throw my fucking drugs down the toilet?! ”

“because you don’t need that!” ”

“you don’t know what i need, you barely know what i want! you had no fucking right to do that. ”

“ don't be a crybaby ! ”

“ repeat. i dare you to repeat. ”

“crybaby! you're a fucking crybaby, rafe! your new personality changes nothing about the boy you were and will always be! what, you don't like the truth ? bad for you, i'm about to tell you what everyone doesn't want to tell you. because i'm not scared at all of you ! you're a fucking crybaby ! ”

“ but you're still here, you're still fucking here. because you know what ? i'm maybe a crybaby, but i'm a river worth wading. and this is why, you're standing in front of me with all this confidence. you wanted a broken man, you wanted someone to fix ? then come on baby, i'm here, i'm watching you, i'm listening, i'm literally at your feets, fix me ! fix the little boy you wanted, make him better. ”

“ rafe…”

“no, i'm asking you now who do you think you are? do you think that because you have this attitude, it doesn't make you a little girl who needs her daddy? because damn, yes, you need him. but i fear daddy was the only one who didn't need you because guess what ? he left. and you make all the men leave around you ! but the difference between us is that you care. when i fucking dont care.”

“ you're sick, a sick asshole. and don't touch me ! ” you pushed him away, but he came back, his hand on your throat. “ but you're the sick one who loves me, remember that ?” he answered.

“ but do you think i still love you ? ” you said with a smirk, taking pleasure to see his widen eyes. “ i'm asking you right now, do you think i still love you, and if one day, someone will like you like i do ? it would be so hard for you to find happiness after me, i can promise you this. you will fight a lot. because ? can you see ? can you see i can breathe without you, i can live without you ? but you, can you do this ? yes, you can fight, you can scream and shout but what else ? ”

“ it doesn't hurt, y/n. it doesn't hurt. and you can't break me, as you can't fix me. ”

“ then why are you crying, big boy ? why are those tears for, if not for me ? ”

“ i built a home for you, i did everything for you. ”

“ and then what ? ”

“ don't make me regret it, y/n. don't make me regret the only good thing i've made well in my life, just don't make me regret...this. you don't understand. why did every house i'm in never felt like home ? ”

“ you destroy everything, rafe. but me too, i guess. the difference is that you have an excuse, a reason for being like that. your dad fucked up with you. and i hate him for that. if he had loved you correctly, you would have known and learned how to love people, how to be attached to them. but you don't know any of that, you don't know what it is to love, and to be loved. everything i do for you, you could call it love, even when i'm mean. but it's false, love is tender, it's beautiful. but you know, i think i'm sick because i also like the way you love me, this violence, this rage, this impulsiveness, it drives me crazy but it makes me alive. so, do you think you could do it again? ”

“ why you didn't leave, why you never leave ? ”

“ because it's our house. we're stuck in forever. this is our house in nebraska, our only heaven. now be a good boy and cry a little for me, i think i'm going away a little...” you said, taking him in your arms, your hand placed on his back, and your hand pressed to his cheek. “don’t worry, i cry a lot too. all the time, even when you make me happy. ” you shushed him, bursted in tears in the hug.

you kissed him on the corner of his lips, your mouth meeting his tears, before he joined you in this kiss, you felt his sad and salty tongue against yours, his hands came squeeze your waist.

but now in the present, you were alone. the house still existed but it was just you.

you weren't sleeping anymore, because you kept hoping that he would come home, you were hoping that he would come home late at night.

but you were alone in a dirty and cold mattress. and you prayed for him hoping he was okay. the phone was broken but you were hoping to hear it ring, the door was open and you were waiting for a sign.

nothing was right, everything was wrong. you just wanted to say to rafe that he had you, that he had a house, and his home missed him, like nobody ever does in his life.

you didn't realize that you had been lying all this time, and that you were silently dying. but at least you died, only his.

[pearlessance]

Fishnets & Old Fashioned's

Summary - Tommy Miller wants a big titty goth gf and isn't above begging on his knees to get one.

Pairing - Tommy Miller/goth!bartender!Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, begging, dom/sub undertones, switch!Tommy and switch!Reader, tongue piercings, nipple play, dirty talk, semi-public, hair pulling, vaginal fingering, kneeling, body worship

[crossposted on AO3]

There are very few things in the world better than a nice, strong drink after a long day at work. In fact, it tended to be Tommy Miller’s favorite part of the night. That—and chatting up the prettiest girls in his favorite bar.

Tommy and Joel would often go together after a particularly rough day in the unforgiving Texas heat, and the best bar in town was the best for no reason other than the bartender. Frank was a mean, old bastard—but Christ could he mix a perfect Old Fashioned. It was exactly what Tommy craved after a day like today, where everything went wrong and nothing went right and his calloused hands were marked up with cuts and splinters.

Except Frank, apparently, wasn’t working today. And you stand in his place behind the rickety mahogany bar. A small slip of a girl, nearly half Frank’s size but somehow no less intimidating. In fact, Tommy finds himself even more intimidated by you, with your dyed hair and ripped fishnets beneath a tight, black tank top that sports the white skull of the Misfits logo.

He sits at the bar beside Joel, but his eyes never leave you. Your fingernails are painted black, thumbs sticking through the netting over your hands, and Tommy thinks you look terrifying and captivating and lethal and beautiful all at once. It’s rare to see girls like this in the deep south—girls who embody the shadows as a fashion accessory, girls who look like they may sprout horns or claws at any given moment, girls with siren eyes and fatal lips and switchblade curves.

Tommy Miller will be the first to admit that you scare him. Tommy Miller will also be the first to admit that yeah—he’d definitely let you eat his soul.

You’re mixing a cosmopolitan for some uppity lady at the other end of the bar, and he watches your nimble fingers as you place the lime garnish and slide the glass to the customer. You give her a pretty smile, and Tommy admires the crimson stain on your lips and wonders if it’s possible to seduce a succubus.

When you walk over to them, he can’t help but attempt to immediately create rapport. He doesn’t know the Misfits well but has heard their new song on the radio once. He leans in and asks, “You gotta name, vampire girl?”

You don’t laugh, but it doesn’t deter Tommy in the slightest. You brace your hands against the bar and say, “Depends on who’s askin.’”

“No one special,” he says with a casual shrug. “Just the man of your dreams.”

The cutest snort leaves your nose, and it feels like a win. “Let me guess,” you say, pointing a finger at Tommy. “Old Fashioned. And for you…” For a moment, you narrow your eyes at Joel. “Either Jack and Coke or Johnny Walker on the rocks.”

It’s like witchcraft, he thinks. Because you’re completely right and Tommy’s only ever known Joel to order a Jack and Coke—and suddenly he’s fumbling, trying desperately to turn your attention away from his brother. “How did you do that?”

“Experience,” you say. “You need a double? You look like you need a double.”

He does—but Tommy isn’t sure whether to take your words as an insult or not. He finds that he doesn’t really care either way, because you're looking at him now and he’s grinning like a madman and desire creeps up his spine as you lean over and fill a glass with ice. Tommy’s always been an ass man, swore up and down once he always would be—but holy fuck, he feels himself changing. “A double would be great, darlin’. Maybe I can get a little something on the side, too,” he says with a playful wink.

“Jesus,” Joel huffs.

You set to work on mixing their drinks—Joel’s first, and then Tommy’s. When you set his on the bar, there are two glasses—one that looks like his normal Old Fashioned, and a shot glass filled with a clear liquid. “A little something on the side,” you tell him. “You guess what it is and I won’t charge you for it. Guess wrong and it goes on your tab.”

His first instinct is to say it’s vodka—it’s still like water, completely crystalline. But when he tries to pick it up to smell it, you put a black-painted finger up.

“Nope. That’s cheating.”

“It could be anything,” he argues. “What if it’s gin and I guess vodka?”

The corners of your pretty mouth turn up into a smirk. “Is that your guess? Vodka?”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, no—uhm…,” he stutters. Tommy has no goddamn idea and knows he’ll never be able to guess correctly, but you seem to be enjoying his struggle, so he flounders a bit longer than necessary.

But then you raise the stakes.

You lean forward, layered silver necklaces glittering in front of your god-blessed cleavage, and he has to try not to stare too long. He definitely stares—but not enough to be weird about it. “Guess correctly and I’ll give you my number, casanova.”

It feels a little like gambling. Tommy knows he has a way with women, knows a flash of his dimples and a little southern charm goes a long way around here. But something tells him it’s just not gonna work with you, and he wants you so badly that he’s willing to make himself look like a fool if that’s what it takes. “How long ‘til the offer expires?”

With a glance at an imaginary watch, you say, “I’m here until two. After that…who’s to say?”

Tommy sits there and watches you walk away, watches you give that pretty smile to another man who orders a shot of tequila.

When he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned, he wonders what the fuck is in it because it’s the best goddamn drink he’s ever had. Better than anything Frank has ever made him, better than any he’s gotten at that fancy bar in Houston he went to a year ago—smokey and bitter and strong and delicious.

Joel calls him stupid, says he’s insane for even looking at a girl like you, mentions how much younger you are and how you’re likely just entertaining him for tips. Tommy orders another drink anyway and promises to get a cab home when Joel insists he’s ready to leave.

The crowd dies down the longer the night stretches on, and you keep placing drinks in front of him moments after he finishes the one in his hands. Once, when you have your back turned, Tommy dips the tip of his index finger into the shot glass.

But before he can bring it to his lips, you’re suddenly standing right in front of him. Your hand flits across the bar and encloses around his wrist. You click your tongue and his gaze is transfixed on the flash of metal in your mouth. “Cheaters don’t get prizes,” you tell him.

Tommy watches dazedly as you bring his finger to your lips. “Cheating? I would never do something…” he loses his train of thought, because you suck the tip of his finger into your mouth, cleaning up the clear liquid, and he can feel the metal barbell pierced through your tongue. It sends a jolt of electricity dancing along his spine and he wonders how it would feel against other parts of him. When you pull away slowly, Tommy clears his throat and blinks a few times before he can resume his sentence. “…I’d never do something like that,” he finishes.

Two in the morning approaches way too fast, and while it may seem a little strange that he’s sitting here all alone for so long, pondering over this clear liquid, he finds that he loves watching you move. You’ve got some kind of dark magic about you, he thinks. Men throw themselves at you, some even more so than Tommy, but you never give them half a chance. He watches as you turn those siren eyes on them and take the words right out of their mouths, watches as you state clearly and silently that while their attempts interest you, none of them ever hold you.

He thinks about the phrase god is a woman, but wonders if the devil is, too.

After the last call, Tommy remains the last person in the bar. You graciously allow him to keep seated even as you clean the sticky bar top and turn the chairs upside down and lay them on the tables. You emerge from the back room a little after two-thirty with a black backpack shaped like a bat and a ruby leather jacket. “Last chance, casanova,” you say. “Got a guess yet?”

Tommy licks his lips. “I need a hint.”

“No hints. Time’s up. Guess.”

There’s the faintest smile on your face, and Tommy hopes that even if he guesses wrong you’ll take pity on him and give him something. He gives it his best shot; “Tequila?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you lift the shot glass to your mouth and swallow half of it. You slide it to him, and even though Tommy is more of a dark liquor person, he drinks the remaining liquid and cringes at the taste. “Should’ve followed your gut instinct,” you say.

Tommy hates vodka. Even more so now than he did the morning after prom. Still, he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, come on, darlin’,” he says. “I guessed it once. That’s gotta count for something.”

Through a soft laugh, you ask, “Why are you so determined? It’s just a game.”

Because he’s spent the last three and a half hours fantasizing about what a great lay you would be. Because he knows deep in his bones that you’d do some shit that’d make a man fall in love. Because he wants to unravel your pretty mystery and drink in that hypnotic poison. Because yes—it’s just a game, but Tommy Miller is no fucking loser. “I like to win.”

You let him walk you out, even let him walk you to your car at the back of the dark lot. Don’t you know how dangerous a situation this could be? All alone with him, beneath the cover of night…he isn’t a bad man, but something tells him you wouldn’t mind it even if he was. You say goodnight, and Tommy calls a cab and fights the urge to return to the bar the following night.

He waits until the weekend, like a normal person, despite the fact that he thinks of nothing but dyed hair and silver necklaces and fishnets and tongue piercings until then. He doesn’t carpool with Joel to work Friday morning, because he has every intention of staying at the bar and playing his hand until the early morning hours again.

But before he arrives, Tommy decides to turn his charm up a little. He stops at a local florist on the way and spends probably too much time deciding on which ones you’d like best. He settles on a half dozen roses whose color reminds him of that crimson stain on your lips but stops short at the checkout. Behind the counter, a bouquet of the very same roses is set in a half-empty vase—except the petals are dark and wilted. Tommy knows immediately that those are the ones he needs.

The florist raises her eyebrows in concern when he asks specifically for the dead ones, and Tommy promises he’ll pay full price for them if that’s what it takes.

He walks out of there with a bouquet of dead roses and sits on the same stool at the bar as last week. You’re serving someone across the room, a tray of margaritas in your hand. Tommy admires your long legs, thinks fishnets look even better on your thick thighs than beneath that one Misfits top. Your leather boots shine beneath the low lighting, and he has the sick desire to be crushed beneath them. When you finish serving the group of girls in the booth and turn back to the bar, his heart races in his chest.

You make him nervous, Tommy realizes. He wants to please you, wants you to like his gift, wants you to give him that pretty smile you always give everyone else. But when you set the tray behind the counter you don’t even look up at him before you start mixing another drink. Tommy thinks about how that makes him feel, how dissatisfied he is without your attention. But then you slide an Old Fashioned over the bar and give him something even better. “You miss me or something, casanova?”

Tommy hands you the dead roses and nods. “Like hell, vampire girl. You gonna let me take you out or what?”

You inhale the sickly sweet scent of the flowers, and when you look up at him through those dark lashes all the blood in Tommy’s head rushes straight to his dick. “You don’t wanna go out with a girl like me,” you say.

He folds his arms over one another and leans across the bar. “And why’s that?”

You laugh like God, Tommy thinks. And for a second he’s lost in the sound, the cluster of clinking glass and murmured voices fading into the background of his mind. But then you give him the sweetest, most innocent smile and say, “Because I’ll break your heart.”

“So?” The question is paired with a shrug, and it comes out of his mouth before he can stop it. But Tommy, once again, is more than willing to look like a fool to have you if only for a night. “C’mon, sweetheart. Give an old man a chance. I swear I’ll make it good for you.”

“Would you now?”

He nods once. “The best date you’ll ever have.”

“You don’t even know what I like to do outside of here,” you say. It’s a reasonable concern, and a true one. But he wants to know.

You snort and shake your head when he suggests playfully, “Picnic in the cemetery?”

“Right next to dear old grandma?”

“Be the first woman I ever bring home to meet the family, baby.”

Another man at the end of the bar snaps his fingers in the air to get your attention and Tommy suddenly feels like fighting. He doesn’t, though—and reminds himself when you giggle at someone else’s joke that you’re just working, just doing your job.

Friday’s are slower than Saturdays, it seems, and by midnight the only people left in the bar are you, Tommy, and a guy in a booth half passed out. You emerge from behind the bar with your backpack slung over your shoulder.

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute. Keep me company?”

It’s the most exciting thing he’s heard all night. Tommy jumps to his feet, the bar stool scraping noisily against the sticky floor. He lifts the partition up for you to walk through. “Ladies first.”

The midnight air is cool against his skin, and he notices as he leans against the siding of the bar that you smell like cherries. Cherries with poisoned pits. You pull a little metal box from your backpack, and Tommy watches you pull out a joint, place it between your lips, and light it. He watches you inhale deeply, watches you lick your lips, watches that metal barbell in your mouth like it’ll grant him his salvation.

Tommy can’t help himself. His words spill out of his mouth. “You are so pretty,” he says.

You laugh lightheartedly and turn those siren eyes on him again and he’s weak in the knees. He takes the joint when you offer it. Tommy hasn’t smoked weed since he was twenty-one, but the taste is nice, somehow earthy and fruity at the same time, and your eyes are searing him to the bone. “Thanks,” you say softly. “You’re pretty too.”

He chuckles and passes it back to you. “Well ain't you a peach,” he says. “If I’m so pretty why don’t you let me take you out?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before you answer. And for a split second, Tommy thinks you might actually give in to him. But then you ask, “Have you ever been with a girl like me, casanova?”

No, he hasn’t, and maybe that’s a part of the appeal. All he knows is that he wants to slip his fingers underneath your black tank top and fill up his hands with your softness. He flashes you an award-winning smile and answers, “First time for everything.”

A soft snort leaves your nose. “So, no, then,” you say, the smallest bit of disappointment laced through your tone. You take another long drag from the joint and smoke swirls around your pretty hair. “Probably couldn’t even handle it.”

His mouth falls open in mock astonishment. “And how do you figure that?”

“Call it intuition,” you say. “Or experience.” Tommy takes the joint from between your fingers and his lungs ache as he inhales. Your eyes stay there, right on his mouth, even as he slowly exhales and licks his lips.

It’s right then, as he watches your siren eyes darken, that he knows he’s made a dent in that black heart of yours. Or at the very least, he knows he’s making progress. The thought excites him so much he can’t hold back his smile. “You ain’t ever experienced me though, darlin',” he says.

“You’re persistent,” you say. “I’ll give you that.”

The weed is going straight to his head, creating an airiness in his limbs. Tommy asks playfully, “What’s it gonna take to convince you? A fancy date? Maybe dinner and a movie? Maybe we’ll take a day trip to San Antonio and visit that old school gothic cathedral they have down there. You ever seen it?”

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “It sounds cool though. I’d probably like it.”

Tommy nudges you with his elbow. “Name the time and place and I’ll take you, vampire girl.”

“That wasn’t a yes,” you tease.

He hangs his head between his shoulders and quickly decides he’s not above a little groveling. “Come on,” he says. “Just one chance. What’s it gonna take? Name your price, baby. Want me to pick up some roadkill and set up a taxidermy date?” You let out a pretty laugh, and it feels like such a victory that he keeps going. “How about I build you a haunted house? A personal one all for you—I work in construction, you know. I could make it real nice. Ghost hunting? There’s an abandoned building just up the road, looks creepy as shit.”

You’re smiling so hard the apples of your cheeks are flushed the sweetest shade of pink. “That old apartment building? You wanna find the ghost of the maintenance man?”

Tommy shrugs. “Hey, if that’s what you wanna do, I’ll grab my wrenches for a summoning circle. Go all out for you,” he says. You shake your head, and he continues. “I mean, anything you want, I’ll do it. Sell my soul? Tell me where to sign. I gotta pen in my back pocket. You wanna drink my blood?” He pats the side of his neck, right above his jugular vein. You let out another laugh, and it brings so much joy to him that Tommy can’t help but laugh with you. “I’m all yours. Swear it. You want me to beg on my knees?”

“Now there’s an idea,” you say through your giggles.

And he knows it’s a joke, knows you’re not serious, and maybe it’s the weed making him feel so carefree and blithe but he fucking does it. In the front of the bar, where anyone could pull in and see him, Tommy Miller drops to his knees in front of you and places his warm, calloused hands on the back of your fishnet covered thighs. Your skin is so soft, he thinks, and he has to fight against the urge to lean forward and bite the supple flesh. Instead, he looks up at you through his lashes, noting the way your laughter stops and your breath stutters. And because his inhibition has been shattered by his need for you, he says lowly, “Is this what you want, sweetheart? You want me to beg for it?”

He watches your tongue dart out to wet your lips and swallows the low groan at the back of his throat. “Maybe,” you say, breathless.

Tommy leans forward, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a wet kiss to the soft flesh of your thigh. He can’t resist his smile when he feels goosebumps break out across your skin, and so he does it again. This time his lips are much greedier, much closer to the inside of your thighs, and he daringly decides to taste you. He can feel the rough edges of your fishnets across the flat of his tongue and wonders how he’s gone thirty years of his life without ever dating a goth girl, wonders how he’ll ever go back. He wonders how the fuck you’re so magnetic, how just existing this close to you makes his cock throb in his jeans.

His mouth nears the edge of your black denim shorts. Tommy expects you to stop him, expects you to laugh or shove him away. But you don’t. You instead slide pointy, black painted fingernails through the thick curls of his hair. Your touch is gentle, and lazy — such a contradiction to his desperate movements.

“Let me take you out,” he says. “I can make you feel so good, sweetheart.” And to prove his point, he does the one thing he’s wanted to this whole time; Tommy Miller softly bites the inside of your thigh, delighting in your sharp inhale. He kisses the sting away, tasting you again, taking your scent deep into his lungs. He wants to devour you, he thinks. He wants you to devour him. “Please,” he pleads, sliding his hands upwards to rest on the decadent curve of your ass.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling at the dark curls lightly. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” you say. There’s a too-long pause, and Tommy’s grinning like a hopeful idiot, and then you tilt your head and whisper, “No.”

He lets out an exasperated breath and presses his forehead against your abdomen. He can feel his cheeks warm from embarrassment, but then he looks up at you again and the mischievous glint in your pretty eyes makes the chagrin worth it. “Goddamn, girl,” he says. “You are mean.”

There’s no argument to be had from you, but your siren eyes stay fixed on him even as he stands from his knees and Tommy swears that dark desire still lingers in them. Especially when he straightens to his full height, towering over you, and places both palms against the brick wall of the bar. He cages you in, and you’re trapped, and more than ever before Tommy thinks he sees that demeanor falter. “Just a little bit,” you reply.

“Wanna know somethin’?” He leans his head down, presses a kiss into your hair, and says, “I can take it.”

You take your crimson stained lip between your teeth, biting so hard the matte color smudges the smallest bit. Tommy knows he’s getting to you, he can see it. But you still resist him and say with a shake of your head, “Break’s over.”

He lingers at the bar until close and asks one more time as he walks you to your car if you’ll go out with him. Still, you say no again and as he’s laying in bed that night, Tommy Miller decides to cut his losses. He still wants you — Christ he wants you, but he’s not willing to beg anymore. He’d done all he could do, and he doesn’t want to make your workday miserable. He doesn’t want to be one of those guys.

Still, when he comes back for a drink with Joel after work on Tuesday, he can’t hide his disappointment when he sees Frank standing behind the counter. They talk about you, though, when Joel tells Frank that Tommy ‘has it real bad for that scary chick.’

They go to a different bar that weekend instead of their usual. Tommy still has fun though, and chats up a pretty blonde girl who’s real nice to him. He doesn’t have to beg her on her knees, and it’s a nice change of pace. She even kisses him and moans into his mouth when he grabs a handful of her ass.

Except she’s got glossy pink lips, and her legs are bare beneath her white, pleated skirt, and Tommy wants the feel of fishnets in his hands. He wants the softness of your body, wants the warmth and the curves and the fucking chase. He wants to work for it.

She offers, but Tommy doesn’t go home with her. Instead, he sleeps alone in his bed. And the next night after work, he goes to see his very favorite bartender.

He walks in alone—Joel’s at home, helping Sarah with some art project—and it’s still early in the evening, but the bar is packed full of people. Tommy catches a glimpse of those fishnets that haunt his every thought, and watches you bend over to pick up straw wrappers from one of the booths. His usual seat at the bar is taken by some college kid, so Tommy sits at the very end.

Immediately, he can tell your nerves are shot. It must be overwhelming, he thinks, to be the only person working on a night like tonight. So when you walk past him, smelling of poisoned cherries, he snakes a hand out and wraps his fingers delicately around your wrist. You startle at first, but your whole body deflates when you see him. “Oh, thank God,” you say. “Come help me.”

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He stands to his feet and lets you tug him back to a room with a padlock on it. While your fidgety fingers work in the code, he asks, “What’s the occasion?”

“Beginning of summer break,” you answer with a sigh. “And word got out about our new buy one get one deal on specialty drinks. It’s been busy all day.” The lock clicks and the door swings open. You flip the light switch and point to one of the three kegs beneath the shelves of sealed liquor bottles. “I can’t lift it,” you say. “And the one out there is empty.”

With a curt nod, he lifts the keg easily — it’s not any heavier than the steel beams he’s been carrying around at work. But he still sees the way your shoulders sag in relief, and tries his damndest to keep his eyes away from your low cut top. It’s a failed attempt, but Tommy thinks it’s gotta count for something. “Where d’you want it?”

The corners of your mouth turn up just slightly, and he can hear the innuendo on the tip of your tongue, but you never say it out loud. You just tilt your head, and Tommy follows you behind the bar to help you replace the empty keg. When he lifts up the partition to let himself through, you stop him with a hand around his bicep. “You’re staying a while, aren’t you?”

It hadn’t been the plan, truthfully. Tommy had just wanted one of those perfect Old Fashioned’s and to resign himself for the night. But your eyes are wide, and your dyed hair is pulled into a disheveled pointy tail, and the fishnets underneath your shorts have sequins on them, and you’re just too goddamn pretty. So he touches the tip of your nose and says, “Anything for you, vampire girl.”

Your answering smile is worth sitting in all this chaotic energy, Tommy thinks. It reaches those bright eyes made up with all that black and silver eyeshadow. “I’ll buy your drinks,” you say. “As payment.”

He nods, even though he pulls up the calculator on his phone to keep track of his drinks tonight and decides to put the cash into the tip jar the moment you’re not looking. Tommy settles into his stool and watches you flit around the room, watches you take orders and make fancy drinks and uncap beers. It’s so busy, but you’re juggling it all impeccably and he finds it admirable.

Somehow, even with the mass of people, you never fail to place another drink in front of him the moment he finishes one. You thank him way too many times, explain that having him here just in case is comforting, and Tommy’s glad to hear it. He keeps his comments and those dirty thoughts to himself, even though they push behind his teeth, sitting on the tip of his tongue. He and his whiskey and orange peel are perfectly content to sit in the corner and eye fuck the bartender, thank you very much.

He has to replace the keg one more time, it’s that busy, but he doesn’t mind it at all. Especially when you bend over to pick up a case of some hoppy IPA before he can grab the keg. There’s next to no room in the closet, and your ass is less than a hand’s width away from his jeans, and he has to close his fucking eyes. He wants to ogle you, goddamn does he want to—but Tommy Miller knows himself. Knows that if he starts looking, he’ll want to touch, and if he starts touching, he’ll want to fuck.

So he clenches his eyes shut tight and follows your orders. The night dies down slowly, and when you make the last call and start taking dishes to the back room, Tommy wipes the peanut shell dust from his fingers and holds his hand out to you.

At first, you stare at it, confused. And then when he points to the white rag in your hands you shake your head and say, “No. That’s like, illegal, isn’t it? Working for free?”

“It’s hardly free, darlin’. Give it here.” He reaches for it again and nearly loses his train of thought when you bite your bottom lip in contemplation.

But then you nod, and hand him the cotton towel, and watch him for just a moment as he turns and starts wiping down the empty tables. He creates a pile of watered down, half empty glasses on the bar, saving you an extra trip, and turns the chairs upside down when he’s finished. Everyone slowly filters out, and when you emerge from the back again the bar is empty save for Tommy and all your tables are bussed and clean.

He’s sitting at the bar, finishing his last drink, and your shoulders sag in relief that the night has finally, finally come to a close. He sits in silence as you count out the register and take the extra cash to the back room. When you start counting out your tips, you split it and push half to Tommy. “Here,” you say. “For all your help. I made more than I planned for, anyway.”

“I didn’t earn those,” he says, pushing it back toward you. “Keep it.” And he means it—he truly, truly does. Tommy would like to think he’d do it for just anyone, which is partially true. That southern charm is deeply rooted in him. But you’re…you, and apart from the fact that he wants to fuck your brains out, Tommy Miller also just straight up likes you. You’re funny, and kind hearted when you’re not putting on that mean-girl front. He can tell you’re good. And it makes him feel good, helping when he can.

But despite all that, he’s still Tommy fucking Miller. And he does, very much, want to fuck you. So he crosses his arms across the bar, leans in close and whispers, “You can repay me another way.”

A cute little snort leaves your nose, and you laugh and shake your head, but you don’t reject him. “Oh, yeah? And how’s that?”

“Guess,” he prods.

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Tommy can see the outline of that silver barbell pushing against the inside of your cheek. “A date?”

His mouth pops open in mock astonishment. “Oh, my my! I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” You’re laughing, and Tommy’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, and he wonders when the last time was when he felt excited about a date. A date with no promise of sex, just a simple, clean date. He takes your hands in his and presses a kiss to each of your knuckles. “Yes, of course I’ll go on a date with you, vampire girl.”

Your giggles die down, and the silence is comfortable but..heavy. He can tell something’s weighing on you, and he wants nothing more than to grant you ease.

“What is it, baby?”

Those pretty eyes of yours flicker down to his hands, calloused and rough and huge around yours. “Seriously,” you finally say. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “No big deal,” he says. “Really. Should be a crime to not help a pretty girl in need.”

The corners of your lips turn up into a smirk, and he can see that you’re fighting it, but the joy is so plain on your face. You pull your hands from his and say, “Let me grab my bag. You can walk me to my car.”

Tommy nods once. “Yes ma’am.” He waits patiently for you to grab your things, and after you guys leave and you lock the door he tosses his arm around your shoulders. “You don’t work on Tuesday’s or somethin’?”

You stop in front of your car—black, and shiny, and he can see through the windshield that you have a glittering bat-shaped air freshener hung around the mirror. “You stalking me now, casanova?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just missed you is all,” he confesses. And it’s the truth, the god damn truth, and it’s so fucking weird for him to miss a girl he barely knows but here he is doing it anyway. It makes no sense that he’s had more fun watching you work than he did kissing that blonde girl last weekend. Tommy takes his arm from around your shoulder and gently takes your chin between his fingers instead, forcing you to look up at him. He notices the way your breath hitches, the way your pretty eyes are swallowed up by something dark. “That a crime?”

It’s a stark contrast, how different you look right now. All innocent and starry eyed and not at all mean. You look sweet, Tommy thinks. And he wonders if you taste that way, too. His mouth waters at the thought, and he runs his tongue along his teeth. “No,” you breathe, gaze following the movement. “N-no, just…”

“Just what? Hm?”

Your cheeks burn, and Tommy loves the pinkness against your skin, and he knows you have nothing to say. He knows you’re getting nervous. Eventually you exhale and say, “I don’t…know.”

Tommy likes that he makes you nervous. He likes you like this, all trembling fingers and honeyed eyes and sugary lips. But even more than that, he likes it when you look up at him through your lashes and softly, so fucking softly it’s barely audible, say, “You can kiss me if you want.”

He doesn’t waste a fucking second. He goes easy, at first. He presses his lips to yours firmly and discovers he’s right in his assumption of your saccharine. You taste a little like cherries and a little like moonlight and a little more like home. It reminds him of hot Texas nights under the stars, and being a little too drunk, and he kisses you deeper. Allows his tongue to swipe over your bottom lip, and you reward him with the sexiest little sound.

Your lips part for him, and Tommy is nothing if not a man starved for you, and so he drinks you in. That metal in your mouth feels even better against his tongue than he’d ever imagined. You’re so soft and his hands are on your hips and he can’t stop himself from squeezing the supple flesh, from pulling you closer, from pulling back for a wretched breath of air. “Goddamn, baby,” he grumbles, grinning from ear to ear, and then your mouth is on his neck, and his morals are somewhere on the floor.

Because he wants to do this right. For once in his life, Tommy Miller wants to take a girl out. He wants to do it real classy, too—wants to get to know you, wants to take you out to a nice dinner and tell you how beautiful you look in your fishnets, wants to take you to some uppity museum in San Antonio and show you fancy paintings and that gothic cathedral that made your eyes glitter when he mentioned it.

But your mouth is so hot, and your hands are tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck, clawing at him for reprieve. His heart is beating so fast. He swears it almost stops when the words tumble out of his mouth because he really, really does not want to ruin this. He sounds desperate because he is. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” you quip. He can feel you smile against his neck, and Tommy’s head falls back in frustration. You know that’s not what he means, but you don’t say no, and so he decides to show you.

Tommy hooks his arms around your thighs, grinning at the little gasp you make, the way you cling to him with all your might. He lays you back against the hood of your car and wraps his hand around your neck, and kisses you like he’ll never get another chance to.

And this time, you let out more than a whine. You’re moaning into his mouth, breathing fast, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling him in. It takes him by surprise, and Tommy laughs softly.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“No,” you immediately say, defiant. “I just know what I want.”

His heart hammers behind his ribcage. He wants to keep hearing your voice, wants to ingrain the sound of it into his skin like a tattoo. “Tell me, baby.”

The low flickering of street lights illuminates your face just enough for him to see the deep, dark flush of your cheeks. So dark it nearly matches that crimson color on your lips.

When he realizes what’s happening, Tommy shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “Don’t go all shy on me now, vampire girl. After all that talk?” He clicks his tongue and leans in close. His breath is warm against the shell of your ear. “Now, I know you can use the word no. I know you’re real good at it, too. You gonna say it now, baby?”

Despite the way his cock throbs in his jeans, pressed against your thigh, Tommy hopes you know he’s not one of those guys. He won’t do anything you don’t want him to do. He won’t even make you feel guilty for saying no, if that’s what you choose.

And when you open your mouth to speak, he half expects some smart remark to come out. Something like in your dreams or you wish. But your words are breathy and your siren eyes are wide as you whisper, “Touch me.”

His fingers curl around your neck—not squeezing, though. Tommy’s real gentle with you. “I am touching you,” he parrots.

And then you fucking beg. Literally, beg, and Tommy Miller feels like a teenage boy about to cum in his fucking pants at nothing but the word, “Please,” in your mouth.

He inhales a shaky breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. This isn’t about him, he thinks. This is about you. It’s about showing you just how much he likes you, about proving himself a man worthy enough to touch you. And Tommy’s not sure if he is, not yet anyway, but he knows he can make you feel good.

The metal of your silver necklaces are cool against his palm. He moves his hand down your sternum slowly, over the curve of your breast, and stops just below the end of your cropped shirt. It’s black, of course, and modified—cut to shreds, really, only covering the most intimate parts of you. The fabric is soft and billowy and a size too large. He’s thankful for the extra room, though, because it makes it a little too easy to slip his hand beneath the curled edge and shove it over your breasts.

Your bra is black too, made of silky lace. Tommy takes one of your breasts in his hand, and it spills out between his fingers, and he silently confesses to himself that, yeah—he’s definitely not an ass man anymore. He leans down and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the flesh, and he can feel your nipple harden through the sheer lace. He hooks his thumbs beneath the band around your ribcage and pushes that up too, to join your top.

And bared to him, you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. And he tells you as much. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmurs against your skin. Tommy holds both of your tits in his hands now, and slides his thumb over one nipple while he surges forward and takes the other into his mouth.

A shudder leaves you, and your hands fist themselves in his hair. He can feel your heartbeat against his fingertips, pace picking up when he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak. And when he bites down gently, you let out a gasp and push your hips up against his.

You don’t utter a word, but Tommy thinks suddenly he has you all figured out.

He kisses a trail to your other breast, spreading his spit lingering on the first with the pad of his thumb. He’s rougher this time, sucking harder, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fingernails scratching at his scalp. “You’re so…”

The words go unfinished, because he presses a hand to the seam of your shorts and all the breath seems to leave your lungs. All the thoughts seem to leave your brain, even—and Tommy thinks you look real fucking cute right now. “So what, baby? Hm?”

You’re shivering, wiggling your hips to generate some kind of friction, but Tommy doesn’t give it.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Use those words of yours. I know you can.”

“Surprising,” you admit. But he takes it as a good kind of surprise because you're pretty putty in his hands.

Tommy undoes the button of your denim shorts. He hooks one arm around your hips and jerks you down the hood of your car. “This what you want, pretty girl? Don’t want me to ask for it. You want me to take it. S’that it?”

You don’t answer, but he knows. He knows. Tommy unzips your shorts real slow. And he’s a little surprised to see that beneath all that black exterior, you’ve got baby pink panties on. Not crimson, not seductress red—pink. And they’re the sweetest things he’s ever seen. He trails his fingers along the edge and watches you squirm. “Please,” you say, begging again. Begging for him. “Touch me. I need you t-to, right now. Please.”

He slips his hand beneath your shorts, beneath your fishnet stockings and the pink cotton. And what he finds surprises him. “Aw,” he cooes, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “Guess you really do need me, huh? You’re so wet, baby.” He runs the tip of his middle finger through your slit, exploring you, memorizing, gathering your slick and bringing it upwards. When he circles your clit, he laughs at the way your back arches off the hood of the car.

“Oh, fuck—yes,” you tell him. “Right there.”

Tommy presses harder, begins to move his fingertip faster. “Here, baby?”

You’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut. “Yes, fuck, yes yes—mmh.”

He closes his mouth around your nipple again, using his free hand to keep your legs spread as far apart as possible. When he snakes his finger down and presses it into your sweet pussy, it takes a significant amount of strength to keep your legs open. You fight him, and your moans echo in the empty parking lot. Tommy is only vaguely aware of the passing cars on the freeway, and finds himself thankful you parked in the back of the open space. “Feels good, hm?”

“So fucking—mm—so fucking good,” you say. The praise is enough to convince him to slide another finger in, and it’s met with a pretty moan of approval.

His cock has never been this hard, Tommy thinks. It’s pressed against your thigh still, and every one of your little movements makes it worse. It makes him near delirious. He wants to bury himself inside of you but knows to save it for later. When he knows more about you, when he knows what it looks like when you cum. He’s got his fingers hooked upwards, caressing that sweet, soft spot, and his pace is unforgiving. He wishes your shorts weren’t in the way, but he does what he can with the clearance you’ve granted him. “Dirty little thing,” he says. “Wanna be touched so bad you spread your legs out in the open.”

Your nails are sharp, leaving indentations at the back of his neck. It only spurs him on more, that little bit of agony. “Don’t stop,” you tell him. “Don’t stop, please—yes—oh God.”

Tommy presses his thumb against your clit, sliding it through your dripping pussy with each rough thrust of his fingers. He can feel you squeezing around them, sucking him in even deeper. “There you go, baby,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet.”

When your legs start to tremble, Tommy keeps his pace steady. He wants to tip you over that edge, wants to see the way you look when he makes you feel this fucking good. He leans back, breath coming fast, and admires how absolutely fucked out your look. Mouth hanging open, moaning his name, brows knitted together in concentration. Your hands bury themselves in his flannel, desperate for a tether to keep you grounded. Tommy grins, hand on your thigh leaving to instead wrap around your neck.

“Such a pretty girl,” he says through his smile. “You look so good when you fuckin’ behave, sweetheart.”

Your back arches off the hood of the car and your knuckles turn white in his shirt. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, I know. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers—yeah, just like that.” Wetness flood between your legs, filling his palm, and it’s so fucking hot that Tommy moans in response. “Yeah, there you go,” he says, cock throbbing in his jeans. “Good girl, such a good fuckin girl, baby.”

It’s even better than he imagined; you look ethereal. He traces the arch of your body with his hand around your neck, moving it down the slope between your breasts, between your ribs, down to your hips. You fit so perfectly in his hands he starts to wonder if you were tailor-made for them.

When your fingers loosen and fall away from his flannel and your breaths begin to slow, only then does he slip his fingers out of you. He caresses your pusy in his hand, chuckling darkly when he slides over your clit and you let out a sharp gasp, thighs clamping closed around his hips at the sensitivity. When he finally pulls his hand from your denim shorts, his fingers come away glossy and covered in your slick.

Tommy locks eyes with you, raises his hand to his mouth and moans as the heady taste blossoms across his tongue. “Mmm. Better than bourbon,” he says through a low laugh. He licks his fingers clean, and you watch with rapt attention.

He takes a step back, adjusts himself, and holds his hand out for you to take. You let him pull you upwards, off the hood of the car, and he can feel your siren eyes on him as he pulls your bra and t-shirt back into place and buttons your jeans. Your legs are still shaking the smallest bit, and it feels like a victory. “Uhm…thanks. Again,” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Turn around,” he orders. He’s a little surprised with how quickly you obey, as if any defiance that once existed within you had been snuffed out the moment he existed within you. Tommy watches your shoulders shake with anticipation, but all he does is pull your cell phone from your back pocket.

He calls himself, saves your phone number under 🦇🖤Vampire Girl🖤🦇, and tucks the device back into your pocket.

“Tuesday at ten,” he says, gathering your hair in one hand and laying it over your shoulder. He leans down, lips less than an inch from your throat. “Let me know where to pick you up.”

You nod softly. “Uhm, I—uh…yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

Tommy kisses your jaw and leaves without another word, feeling like a goddamn king.

[PART TWO]

[masterlist]

[unforgettwble-sumii]

DATE NIGHT — W. A

( Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader 📖 )

⭐ A lovely date night with Wednesday.

⭐ Warnings ‼️: not proofread! mentions the grim reaper, if I miss any more please do tell me ♡

⭐ Word count: 1.8k

a/n: My brain was itching for some Wednesday and soft!R fluff ☹️

—

"How does this look, Thing?" The infamous goth spoke to her companion, Thing, who was currently on her desk helping her pick out an outfit for your date night. The hand signed, saying that she was being too extra. Wednesday scoffed. That was very out of character for the appendage to say. But he was right. She didn't need to dress up that extravagantly, as it was just a lovely date night through the park. A pair of black jeans and a black hoodie will do.

Wednesday rummaged through her closet once more to look for her beloved hoodie that had both of your scents merged in it. She switched her clothes one last time, looked at the mirror, then at Thing; who finally gave her a sign of approval. She nodded and grabbed her backpack, which was full of items you both loved: snacks, a book, a pair of earphones, etc. She turned to the table where Thing was, grabbing the precious flower she grown herself just for you.

As she was about to open the door, you knocked; causing Wednesday's heart to skip a beat. With a soft inhale, she opened the door to see you with a soft smile. You greeted her with a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Mi sol, how are you?" She had asked, exiting the room and closing the door behind her carefully as to not draw attention or cause disruptions to any of the other students who were currently in deep slumber. "I'm more than fine, Wednesday. Especially now that I'm here with you." You giggled, skipping down the stairs of the Academy happily and without care. "How about you?" You returned the question, glancing at the goth who followed behind you.

"I'm doing well. I had grown this myself for you." You abruptly stopped, eager to know what Wednesday was talking about. You hummed, turning to look at her. She had a flower in one hand. She brought her hand up to give the flower to you. You carefully took the flower from her hand and admired it; entranced by it's beauty. "It's gorgeous, I love it!" You almost fully screamed in enthusiasm. "I'm glad you adore it. Even if I'm not one to enjoy these type of plants, I'm glad you find joy in them." She took the back of your hand and placed a chaste kiss on the finger where you had worn the ring she had given you.

It was a simple black ring with her initials on it. She wore the same one, except engraved on it were your initials.

Both making your way out of the school gates, you once again skipped your way to the park. It was a cold and breezy night, and a jacket would do you so much justice. Unfortunately, because you were so excited; you had forgotten to bring your jacket. You slightly shivered, not enjoying the cold. Wednesday took notice and took off her own hoodie for you to wear.

A small yet heartwarming gesture that made your heart warm and soft. You thanked her and happily put it on, twirling to show off that you were wearing her hoodie. "What about you, baby? Aren't you going to get cold?" Your voice now lacing with concerned as you walked closer to your lover.

"As long as you're not freezing to death, I'll be fine." She sighed, walking over to a bench and looking up at you. You followed suit; sitting beside her and leaning your head on her shoulder. You let a puff of breath out, contented with the current event you were in right now.

"Wen, you should def learn how to text." You say, breaking the silence. Wednesday glanced at you, clearly confused. "Why would I need to learn how to text when I can talk to you perfectly fine? Besides, I don't want to succumb to the horrible effects technology has on teens these days." You playfully rolled your eyes. Wednesday could be such a mom at times.

"Well, yes—but what if we're not near each other? Plus, I've been meaning to add you to our girls only gc" You stated, looking at her slightly; thinking wether to plant a kiss on her cheek or to peck her on the lips. "I think that would be unnecessary. I see no proper use for such thing."

Wednesday sighed, even though she had no clue why you were so attached to a piece of technology, she tried her best to understand it. Grabbing her phone from her backpack she put it on her lap, staring at it. This made you gasp in excitement; an idea popped up on your head. Wednesday wondered what could have been going on in that mind of yours yet didn't ask about it. Instead waited on for you to dictate your idea.

"Let's take a selfie!!"

Oh dear. The young Addams was not a fond of 'selfies', infact, she hated them with a passion. But, you had changed her perspective on life for the better, so she had thought that maybe a small selfie wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

You unlocked her phone; surprised that it didn't have a passcode. Opened the camera app and held up her phone so that both of you would fit in the frame. "Smileee!!" You giggled. Wednesday wanted to rip her eyes out, but, for your sake; she followed what you had asked her to do. Scooting closer she placed her left hand on your right shoulder and tried to muster up a small smile. With a simple click, she felt her world stop. Instead of her looking at the camera, her gaze trailed over to your face instead.

'Click.'

You giggled excitedly, not noticing Wednesday's gaze on you. You clicked the icon beside the button in order to view the photo. Your heart suddenly skipped a beat once your eyes examined the picture. Pure joy and love erupted from your heart as you tried to find the right words to say. You looked at Wednesday, who was already gazing at you.

Her harsh eyes filled with softness she didn't know she had. She was admiring you, something that the young Addams did in secret or when it was just the two of you. You cupped her cheek with your hand, leaning in closer; glancing at her lips then back on her dark eyes. She leaned in, signing for you to continue. With a smile, you closed the remaining gap between the two of you. Suddenly, the night wasn't as cold; the warmth of both of your bodies radiated the air, creating a soft and perfect atmosphere.

You broke off the kiss after a few minutes, then fell into a giggle fit which made the young Addams sigh. Yes, you were a handful at times, yet that never stopped her heart from beating for you. If you asked her, she would rip her own heart out and feed it to the kettle of vultures that flew freely outside her home.

She loved you dearly. That you for sure knew. When it comes to love language, Wednesday's is definitely acts of service. She would do anything for you, she could climb the tallest mountain to obtain a special flower in order to show you just how much you mean to her. When it comes to you, Wednesday never hesitates to risk her life to make sure that you're happy.

Soon after, you both decided that it was a great time to eat the snacks you both had brought.

Throughout the night, you both shared your thoughts and other random things that needed to be let out of your mind. Everything was calm and absolutely perfect. Every once in a while, one or the other would let out a chuckle. However, there was this one story that caused you to have a laughing fit and, laughing while eating certainly wasn't a bright idea. You started to choke on the sandwich that you were munching on, causing Wednesday to violently and aggressively pat your back.

Somehow that experience made the night even better, even if the grim reaper was around the corner to take your life. But you know that Wednesday would always be there to save you if he happened to stop by.

Even if you wanted to stay much longer, Wednesday noted that it was getting late and that both of you had classes tomorrow.

You sighed, sad that this night was coming to an end. However, another idea had popped up in your head that positively affected your mood.

"Come back to my dorm with me? Please?"

You begged Wednesday to sleep over at your dorm. After much consideration, Wednesday complied. Earning a kiss on the lips from you.

When you arrived at your dorm, you opened the door for both of you. The smile on your face was so evident that you resembled a child in a candy store. "I'm going to go change and brush my teeth, okay?" You told Wednesday as you made your way to your drawers to pick out a pajama set. Then, your eyes landed on a black pair of pajamas that had another set to match with it. This sparked another idea in your head. You quickly went to the bathroom to brush your teeth so your idea can be in motion.

You clasped your hands happily as you looked at yourself at the mirror, Wednesday right beside you. Wearing the black pj's that matched yours except you were wearing shorts instead of pajama pants. "Don't we look adorable?" You asked, admiring yourself. "While I wouldn't describe myself as 'adorable', you certainly look dashing, Cara Mia."

You set a soft and tender kiss on her nose, before replying, "You remind me of the moon, my dear. So perfect."

"I love you, Wednesday." You slightly giggled. How many times have you giggled and kissed Wednesday this night? You don't know. But one thing you new though was, both of you were getting tired and needed some sleep, especially Wednesday. You have learned after awhile of dating her, that once she got tired she gets a tad more affectionate. While yes, it was adorable, you wanted to go to bed more than anything.

"My darling girl, you are everything to me. You bring me joy that the world is incapable of giving me. You bring light to my dark world. I love you, Cara Mia." Wednesday replied, kissing your knuckles just as she did awhile ago.

You belly flopped onto your bed, then moved to make space for Wednesday. You made grabby hands at her before she made her way beside you. You found yourself moving closer to lay on top of her. Your head rested on her chest, listening to her heartbeat that soon lulled you to sleep.

"Mi amor, you may not hear me but, you mean so much to me. I may struggle tell you, but I can and will show you." Wednesday mumbled before she herself fell asleep.

Little did she know that you heard her, and it brought a soft smile to your face.

— ⭐ ©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal, modify, or translate.

I love u elmo

[danzaloreley]

Indée Fixe

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x harpy!Reader

Summary: A moment to shut down Xavier’s ass. And a moment to calm down Wednesday.

Jealousy is not a word for Wednesday or Y/N. There was an undeniable trust between them that others were a bit envious of. No matter how many flirted neither would bother with said person. Many found it unfair that the goth could so easily reach out and caress the feathers that shone with the ray of sunlight. As if they ever had a right to.

Wednesday subconsciously traced the inside of the wing while they read on one of the benches of the quad. Her back as always straight maintaining her posture as the harpy was fully facing her. Head on the dark girl’s shoulder as a soft rumble of different chitters and purrs emanated from her chest. The hand stopped suddenly and she held it forward with a black feather between her fingers.

“It was already loose, don’t worry.” the harpy said as she saw Wednesday inspecting. A smile growing as she saw the girl hold it to her lips.

“Would you mind if I turned it into my quill, cara mia?”

“Not at all.”

Their quiet time interrupted by one tall boy, Thorpe. He stood infront of them and cleared his throat. “We gotta work on the project.”

Both sent a sneer his way, Wednesday and him had been paired for an assignment it was true. That didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying for them. Xavier had been grinding on Y/N’s gears, finding a way to always show up and interrupt time with her girlfriend.

While spending time with him wasn’t what the girl wanted she was always responsible to make sure to finish her work. They had gone to do their work, but not before you made a display of kissing her full lips. Just to rub it in, it was always fun.

“You definitely spend a lot of time with Y/N.” Wednesday had suffered through the ours of their assignment did he really need to keep conversation after. “It should be expected. Even before she became my lover we spent quite some time together.”

“Didn’t think you would be a sappy kind of person when dating.” His voice had a bit annoyance dripping off. “Not a subject I have to discuss. What I do or don’t is none of anyone’s concern.” Her jaw tightened, he had been throwing little comments here and there since the Rave’N.

“Just saying. You don’t seem to have time for your friends.” he pressed. “On the contrary, my schedule has not been derailed. I still have time to be dragged to Enid’s persistent outings, as well as meetings with Eugene.”

“Even then Y/N joins a lot on those. What—”Wednesday turned with a glare, patience running very low. “She has joined from the moment we met. If you’re trying to say something just get on with it as I am tired of you’re incessant whining.”

“You met her some months ago and for whatever reason you became obsessed with her. You had no time to hang out or even talk. I mean shit even when we went together to the dance you paid attention to her. And then suddenly you’re dating, you trusted her so quick, did you learn nothing from getting with Tyler.”

There was a moment of silence as the raven haired girl contemplated many violent scenarios in her mind. Her gaze fierce as she stepped forward. “From the very beginning I had been quite clear that going to the dance was repayment for last year nothing more. I have plenty of time for my friends, just not to coddle your feelings. Perhaps if you weren’t blinded by your unwarranted jealousy and skewed idea of how I should be you’d actually be more bearable to be near by. She has never demanded my attetion, I’ve given it freely.”

The only thing I will give you is that you are right, in that the boys who pursued me last year were quite a disappointment.”

The loud knock that reverberated on your door scared the hell out of you. Concentrated on meticulously expanding the wing of the ulysses butterfly accidentally tearing from it’s thorax. “Shit.”

Opening the door in came a furious Wednesday Addams. She walked right in without saying a word and just stood there fuming. Closing the door you stayed there. Neither of you moved or said anything. It was best not to push her when she was like this, letting her process her anger.

“Xavier seems to have issues with our relationship.” If you rolled your eyes any harder you might see your own damn brain. “Of course he does. Me telling him to have some dignity didn’t work. Probably cause there’s none left.”

You could tell she wanted to go and wreak havoc. The petty arguments were getting old and fast. Walking towards her you offered your hand out and she took it gently, even if she was feeling far from gentle. You guided her hand to your lips kissing each knuckle and her fingetips. She got closer to you, her body flush to yours. It wasn’t a hug, she didn’t want to feel caged but still wanted to be pressed up against you.

“I have some bugs that I was working on. Do you want to pin or tear the ones that are disposable?” She definitely felt like poking holes in something and she curtly nodded against you.

You sat down on the chair in your work station and guided her to your lap. She immediately started pinning the butterfly through the thorax, pin after pin riddling it. Her shoulders slowly becoming less tense as she abused the poor carcass and your soft lips hovered over her neck and thumbs rubbed small circles on her waist.

“Set a boundary, mi vida. If Xavier pestering you drives you to anger every time, it’s better to not interact with him for a while. Tell him that if he can’t behave maturely that you’ll cut him off. Like a tumor, a benign one people can live with. But if it becomes malignant then it’s time to go.”

Wednesday kept on putting pin after pin while she thought over your words. A reasonable ending to the conflict, sure. Not what she had in mind, she did not feel like being reasonable. “I was thinking of burning his shed. With him in it.”

You laughed and squeezed her. “Yeah, that is gonna put you behind bars. I prefer you here.”

The dark haired girl’s lips quirked. She definitely preferred to be here with you. But she was certain together you could remove any trace of evidence.

She’ll hold off only to try your idea first.

[purpurussy]

the version of dan and phil playing the sims which exists only in my head is so good I wish you guys could see this

my headcanon is that dalien and cassandra are besties and cassandra is very protective of him because he reminds her of her gay little brother (alexander goth is gay in every one of my saves and I recently saw a reddit thread where everyone was saying they hc him as homophobic which sent me because that is NOT my fruity little alexander 💀💀💀 anyway) and dalien prom-posed to her purely because he wanted to ask nicholas, but he was scared of asking a boy to the prom, so he asked her to be his beard essentially. but she rejected him because she's gay too (pro tip you can make literally all of your sims gay and the police can't stop you) plus that's basically her little brother 😭 so he had a breakdown after that and then he came out to her (she's the first person he came out to) and she encouraged him to ask his crush and she said she'll throw hands if anyone is mean to them 🥰 (side note she has actually kinda known for a while. and she has been one of the NPCs who randomly starts a fight in the school corridor before because someone said daliens hair looked gay or some shit so she tried to kill them lmfao)

now she is not a big fan of nicholas because she gets the vibe that dalien is more into him than the other way round and he's too preppy and he annoys her so she's always kinda side eyeing him. but she also loves 3rd wheeling their dates so she can be daliens guard dog/twink handler/#1 fujo because she supports him even though his bf is annoying. and she will be there to let dalien cry on her shoulder and also she'll key nicholas's car and put a stink bomb in his locker when the relationship inevitably crashes and burns <3

that is MY CASSANDRA GOTH now the constant bullying and slander needs to STOP .... she never did anything wrong by rejecting dalien they are both GAY and also best friends. dan and phil release her from this ridiculous love triangle prison please free my girl. she is not a woman scorned/spurned lover or whatever archetype. she IS a mean goth lesbian who is actually very sweet but only if you appeal to her emotionally curious nature. also this is not what polyamory is 💀

thank you for reading my thesis telling 2 youtubers who play the sims for a check how they should do their job 😁

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

Modern College Student/Gf Mikasa Ackerman Headcanons

Armin Version: Here Eren Version: Here

scary goth girl that everyone is too scared to talk to but secretly crushes on

psychology major bc I think she had a tough childhood and wants to better understand trauma / help others

somwhere in the middle between Armin and Erin when it comes to academics

like I don't think she is as intense about grades as Armin is, but I also don't think she's as laidback about school as Eren

moderately studies throughout the week, but it's just basic note taking and chapter reading, i don't think she's afraid to miss a few classes though if she feels like it

only really crams and does all-nighters right before an exam if she thinks she needs it

i think she wears men cologne and deodorant and it fits her soo well, idk how to describe it but she smells powerful but comforting at the same time?

maybe like woodsy with strong notes of vanilla and cashmere

loves a black cold brew: no creamer, foam or sugar like she's so intense that way

i think she's that one cool girl who always walks into class like a few minutes late with a hot resting bitch face, AirPods in and a cold brew in hand

tall girl and I think her height is prob her fave feature about herself, like I can see her wearing more heeled boots or platforms to exaggerate it

wears lots of black and hardly any makeup besides some light eyeliner most days

doesn't talk alot unless she fr knows you, i think most people would just hear her say "here" for attendenace and that's it

doesn't go to parties unless she has to

I think think she'll only go to watch eren and armin. she knows eren loves to go overboard and armin will most likely get distracted so she takes it upon herself to be the sober one watching everyone's drinks

def a girls girl like if she sees another female in an uncomfortable situation shes jumping in, no questions asked

i can see her working out with eren so in my mind shes ripped too and yeah...most guys don't fuck with her

has a cute lil skincare routine, only has like a three step process tho since I think she has naturally good skin

she secretly loves facemasks tho and doing her nails with armin as rewards for studying lol

I think out of the main three mikasa would have the most instagram followers, which is so funny bc she doesn't know why she's so popular?

I just think her aesthetic and vibe is very cool, if her account is set to public she would quickly get a lil following

lots of secret admires with this one, men and woman alike

I can see her being BI or Pan too so like that's very conveient

other than armin and eren, I think Mikasa would be besties with Yimir and Sasha

i can see them going to concerts together, shopping, late night drives, getting food (at sasha's demand lol) like i think they'd be a chill lil trio

views eren and armin as brother figures btw, gets grossed out when people ask if shes dating them

obviously a very protective friend

the type of freind whose like "what's their name" when you tell her you're seeing someone new and within an hour Mikasa will have an entire report on where they went to school, all their exes, hobbies, pets, address, ect.

I can see her getting a masters tbh, I def think armin would talk her into it so I think they would be grad school buddies while eren finishes his BA (he'll lag behind them a year or two since he changed his major so much anyway)

Loves cats and I think she'd have one or two if armin and eren are cool with it

I think she would have a few tatooes and piercings, but very subtle ones she can hide since I think as a psychologist she'd want to be taken seriously

music taste is kinda stuck in middle school tbh, still loves my chemical romance with a passion

I don't think she'd smoke weed or drink

^^ not that she has anything against it but i think she just hates the feeling of not being in complete control of herself so she stays away from things like that

never gets sick? it's actually medically fascinating

Overall she's that one quiet girl in class who looks scary but is a sweethear and everyon'es dying to be friends with

As your GF

omg I think she'd be the best significant other tbh

I think you would meet her in a meet-cute way since it's always the people who you least expect to be cheesy

I think maybe like you accidentally tripped and made her spill her coffee in class. you look up an see this tall, ripped, emo looking chick and you rush to apologise and give her your drink in hopes she doesn't flip

shes like "...ok." and takes it. but then the next class she randomly sits next to you and passes you a drink and is like ... "i hope i got your order right?"

the dork memorized your drink akjglalg

after that she kinda keeps sitting next to you and attempts small talk, so you realize she's actually v sweet and exchange socials

which is great bc I think mikasa is way better at flirting over text than in person and you'd quickly understand that she likes you

First date would probably be a show, i think she'd take you to a local band she likes and would get a quick bite after it

I think for second date she'd like you to choose what you guys do and then third she chooses, you guys switch bc she's all about that equal effort

once you agree to be her s/o she'd gonna be so annoying on social media like she's def gonna loose some followers as she only posts you now

type of partner to notice the smallest changes in you right away

you give her a peck and shes like "why aren't you wearing your usual lip balm? do you not like strawberries anymore?"

in bed she's a dom, is that even a queston?

I think she's actually a brat tamer, in my head rn she gets a lil smirk when you act up and i think she just mentally notes what to punish you for later

mikasa views sex toys as allies not enemies, and yeah i think she has an impressive collection so buckle tf up

okay so she's kinda yandere (tbh i think most ppl from the aot universe are but esp mikasa) I think shes very protective and a touch paranoid?

like i think her past is kinda messed up and I can see her mind running wild with ideas if not reassured

so you can just oversleep for a bit and you'll wake up to mikasa practically breaking into your apartment to make sure you're okay bc you suddenly went silent on her

some trust issues too, would def be really upset if you didn't give her the passcode to your phone

doesn't like your friends or anyone else you talk to tbh, she just doesn't think anyone else has your back like she does and will always remind you

i also know her manipulation skill is cray being a psych major, I don't think she's as good as Armin but ik she can weaponize some therapy speak and make you feel a lil stupid (only does it for your own good she says)

doesn't get jealous but does get even

I can see the little shit putting thumbtacks in pockets or laxitives in drinks if someone dares flirt with you, she can be so evil sometimes i just know it

she isn't even scared of the aftermath bc she knows eren and armin have her back so she wants the smoke tbh

the type of partner to death stare someone from behind your back but when you turn around she's suddenly all :)

would love matching tattoos with you if you're down

think she'll be the quickest to bring up marriage too, porbably only a few months of dating and she's like "so when we get married-" and you're like "!?"

big spoon gf, you can be bigger than her and she don't gaf she's still holding you not the other way around

Overall a really sweet girlfriend who just wants to protect you and keep you all to herself

Can be a lil crazy at times, but she means well I swear !!!

Nicknames for you: love, my other half, wifey/hubbie

Songs that fit the vibe: The Perfect Girl by Mareux, Breezeblocks by Alt-J, Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

"You're such a strange girl, the way you look like you do."

"She's morphine, queen of my vaccine, my love, my love, love..."

"Girl you really got a hold on me, so this isn't just puppy love"

(She's so hot omg I love her, i developed a lil crush writing this! Anyway srry the moodboard didn't include couple stuff, girlfriend aesthetics are way harder to find than bf aesthetics and the ones I did find looked nothing like her :( tell me if you guys like this series, totally open to doing more characters! not even just from aot, i also kinda wanna do demon slayer or hxh, also love jjk and chainsaw man but I didn't read those mangas yet so I may not be the best at it!!)

[chaosclimber]

shop assistant

Emily kept the smile firmly fixed in place as she watched the man in front of her vacillate. Engagement rings were always a long sales pitch, but at least this one seemed to know his partner’s taste. She only wished he would take her concerns about budget seriously–but then, that was fairly standard for the men she’d helped thus far. As if feeling her patient stare, the tall, pale goth glanced up from the displays and at her. 

God, his eyes were gorgeous. Whoever he was shopping for was a lucky girl. 

“You need not hover over me. I will be some time making this decision–it has to be exactly right.” 

Wow. Someone certainly talked like a period drama. Emily dialed her Customer Service Smile up another notch. “Alright, well, I won’t be far if you need me. Please, don’t hesitate to ask.” With that, she gracefully departed for the main sales counter, where Eric was wrapping up a sale with a perky blonde.

“Hey, Em, is your guy who I think he is?”

Emily rolled her eyes. Eric was constantly thinking people here were celebrities. It never actually panned out to be true, but it didn’t stop him from speculating. She honestly couldn't care less, though. As far as she was concerned, celebrities were just people. There was no need to make a fuss over them–and she wouldn’t, even if this turned out to be whoever Eric was thinking of. “Probably not, but tell me who you think it is anyway. I know it’ll eat at you if you don’t say it.”

“I think that’s one of the Aeturnus family. They’re like...Vanderbilt rich. Old money. Hell, I think if you go far enough back, they’ve got some royal blood from some European country or other…”

“Well, that would explain why he just waved me off when I asked about the budget.” She shrugged. She wasn’t sure she believed it, but there was something just a little off about Tall, Pale, and Gorgeous. And there always seemed to be something with that level of wealth. She would count herself lucky he still treated sales people with respect. She shrugged it off, gossipping with Eric about the tech store across the street–rumor had it the owner was trying to romance one of their employees and not being particularly subtle about it. The employee was into it, but literally everyone else around them was not. 

It was a half-hour later that the man approached her. “There is one which will do nicely with a bit of customization.” He must have seen her open her mouth to talk about the budget once more, because he held up a hand. “Money is no object, I promise.”

“Alright. Let’s see what we can do.” They walked back to the display case, and he pointed out one of the thicker wedding bands marketed towards men. The one he chose was lovely, with a deep red wood polished to a shine. The outside was rose gold–and that, it seemed, was the problem.

“The rose gold does not quite suit my partner’s taste. Perhaps white gold could be arranged.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“Of course. Are there any other alterations you’d like to make?”

“I…” The hesitation seemed…out of character. Whatever the request was, it was clearly the emotional heart of the matter. Emily silently vowed to see it through, no matter what. “...I would like  an engraving on the inside.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve written it out.” He pulled a folded paper out of his pocket. On it was a delicate script, in Latin. Amor Aeturnus Est. Love is eternal. 

“Would you prefer a regular cursive script, or shall we replicate your handwriting?”

There was a blink, the only outward sign of his surprise. “You can do that?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then, by all means, please.”

“Very well, Mr…” She prompted. Was she fishing for Eric’s sake? Maybe. But she would never hear the end of it if she didn’t at least ask the name. He smiled–only barely, but that was a contrast to his previously neutral expression. “Aeturnus…for now. We shall be hyphenating.”

The rest of the transaction ran smoothly. As soon as Mr. Aeturnus left, Eric all but bounced over to Emily’s station. “How did it go? What is he like?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “He’s normal, Eric. He’s just a guy, buying a ring for his partner.” Even as she spoke, there was a soft smile on her face. She hoped that Mr. Aeturnus’s partner liked the ring–there was a lot of heart that went into choosing it.

As if reading her thoughts, Eric kept on badgering her. “Was it a good ring? Please tell me he picked a good ring, I can’t stand it when rich people have no taste…”

“It will be once his customization is done.”

“Awesome~”

@domaystic All the prompt fills are cross posted to AO3

[eddywoww]

Okay but tempted to write a Christmas fic

Steve gets his first big job during college and unfortunately it’s a temporary gig. Robin gets him the rec and Steve deeply regrets it from the get go.

Because yeah, he has to wear stupid striped tights and a green tunic and a humiliating hat. He has to be one of Santa’s elves.

He doesn’t love it but it pays alright, even if it’s just seasonal. The kids are mostly okay (bar the ones who are not okay at all) and Santa himself is an alright guy. The only problem with being home and being in the Most Populated place on earth (ie the mall) is that Steve keeps seeing people he knows. And then he sees his ex.

It’s fine. It’s whatever. Except it totally isn’t and he’s just gotten off his shift, so as soon as she calls his name, he ducks right out of the way and goes flying past her. Nope, absolutely not. He’s not shooting the shit with a girl who stomped methodically on his entire heart like it was fun.

So what does he do? He runs into the nearest open store and hides. Like a coward. He darts right into the changing room and shuts the door and he doesn’t care if he causes a scene because what the fuck? Could she not see the literal panic in his eyes?

Steve tries to wait it out and starts to get anxious thinking someone will come knocking eventually. And they do.

“Uh, you can come out now,” A voice says just behind the door. A male voice. “I think the girl following you is gone. Which, hey. That’s the first time I’ve seen THAT happen. You good? You on the run? You need an alibi-“

Steve can’t take anymore yapping, his face burning already, so he throws the door open and nearly hits the dude on the other side. Who is like- he’s weird, that’s what. He’s lanky and kind of goth. Long hair, tattoos, black clothes. Maybe some eyeliner, Steve isn’t sure.

He’s hard to not look at.

And then he does the most ridiculous thing.

His surprised expression quickly morphs into something flirty. He lifts one hand and touches the doorframe like a jackass, eyes trailing over Steve. A move Steve has literally used on girls before. And then there’s Steve. Who is still in the dumb outfit, of course. It’s never felt more cumbersome than in this moment.

“I guess Santa brought my gift early.”

Steve blanks out so hard that the guy immediately starts apologizing. Which isn’t entirely necessary, just-

“I’m straight.”

And then the guy just looks at Steve. Gives him another once over and shrugs.

“You wanna get lunch with me tomorrow? In the food court?”

He has no reason to say yes. So explain why he actually does say yes. Explain why he does it and he has a good time with a hot topic employee (also a college student) named Eddie.

Cue Elf Steve’s Big Gay Adventure

[goshdangronpa]

Where to begin in sharing my thoughts on Class of '09: The Flip Side ...

Well, how about the positives? Everything I've seen is so negative, and trust me, I have thoughts. But I enjoyed quite a lot of it, and I wanna do my part to balance out the discourse. So, here's a list.

Jecka makes for an interesting protagonist compared to Nicole. She's far more emotional - I swear, she breaks down crying in every route, which is genuinely disconcerting. She's also way less savvy. I'm not fond of how overwhelmingly negative these endings are (more on that in another post), but it at least makes sense. Nicole gets the upper hand in several endings from the previous two games because she's usually cunning enough to avoid potential problems, manipulate her way out of them, and/or get people in serious trouble. Jecka may be a bit of a bitch (and I love her for it!), but as she says in one ending, she kinda needs Nicole. Putting her in the protag role isn't just subbing her in for Nicole. Flip Side explores how things would go for someone with slightly more conscience and way less guile.

Jecka's so goddamn gay, oh my god. Wanting to look for a "goth work girlfriend" at Hot Topic. "I can afford holes, Imma buy me some hoes!" Kissing Ari! She says she only did the latter for attention, but girl ... girl. Someday she'll ask someone "Doesn't every girl think about sleeping with their gal pals?" and be shocked when that someone says no. (Tbh when I heard that one route would explore a previous game's route from Jecka's perspective, and when I saw the CG of the jeckari kiss on Tumblr, I created an entire plotline in my head that didn't come to fruition. Pity - it'd at least make for a good fanfic.)

"It's been seven seconds." The scenes based on this bit are some of the funniest in the whole series ("Why don't you magically gather some friends?"). Like something straight out of South Park. If the Co09 anime Kickstarter had reached the stretch goal of a full 25-minute episode, would this have been the script? I've heard people say that Flip Side doesn't feel like Class of '09, or that the dialogue isn't as good in this one, but this part, among others, works for me. "Can anyone do the math?" "... I thought this was health."

I'm a lifelong FYE patron who will drive 40-odd minutes to visit the only remaining store in my entire region. So for me especially, the entire FYE storyline was a ride. It reminded me of American Dad, where every episode turns something mundane into an elaborate conspiracy or wild adventure into its secret underbelly. It's awesome from beginning to ... well, not the end, but it's mostly awesome. And we get to hang out with Kelly! That's neat!

This is apparently my hottest take: the "foot whore" routes are not that bad. For starters, they're not presented in a way that fetishizes Jecka herself. You never see her feet, or see what she does with them. Yall can still find the suggestion of it gross if you want, but comparisons to Quentin Tarantino seem unwarranted! More importantly, the foot services enable the writers to explore topics of sex work while keeping the game light on actual sexual activity. It's rare to see such subject matter broached in a thing like this, yet we get to see how circumstances can pull desperate people into selling their bodies, and how swiftly and easily they can have their boundaries violated and their safety compromised by the customers they depend on. The increasing disruption of normal conversations by the text notifications of Jeffery's donations is a genuinely despairing plot device. Both endings are troubling for different reasons (again, that's for another post), but the game's got something to say in a way that, to me, is fairly mature yet distinctly Class of '09. (Credit to my partner for this observation, I'm so grateful I could play this with them.)

... Uh ... the music sting from the opening monologue bumps ... It sounds more Class of '17 than Class of '09, but it's still cool ...

Okay so I can't think of more, at least not right now. (EDIT: How did I forget the Hatman? That was cute!) Flip Side may be the most flawed game in the series, but it's still pretty good. At the very least, I don't think it's the shitshow other people are making it out to be ... though there is a smell. I'll go deeper on the negatives in other posts.

[lovergirly]

mornings with wednesday

i wrote this while super drunk so please bear with me. i love y’all so much i hope you enjoy 💕

dating wednesday addams was a crazy experience. she didn’t quite know how to express emotions, but she tried for you. she held the door open, kissed your knuckles, allowed you to pick on her without killing you, etc. your favorite part, however, was mornings with your lovely, goth girlfriend. it was currently 5 am and you could feel wednesday trying to get out of your grasp.

“wednesday stop-“

“no. it’s 5, i need to get up. you should too.” you can see her braided hair was slightly messy and she didn’t have any makeup on. she looked beautiful.

“can we please cuddle for another five minutes?”

“why must you always ask this? you know i say no every time so just let me get up.” she sees your face turn a little sour so she sighs and leans in to give you a kiss. she finally gets up and leaves for the bathroom to take a shower. you stare at the door for a couple seconds before starting to close your eyes again, only to hear wednesday yell, “don’t go back to sleep,” through the door. you never understood how she knew you that well. so well she could tell your every move, even when she couldn’t see you. you disregarded her words anyway, and took a nap until she got out of the bathroom.

“i thought i gave you explicit instructions.” you simple smile at her and she deadpans back at you.

“i’m tired what can i say my love?”

“you can say nothing and get out of bed.”

“whatever.” you say while finally getting out of bed. you get dressed in your uniform while wednesday changes into the same uniform but all black. just looking at her made you fall even deeper in love. she always looked so composed. even when it’s 5:45 am and her hair is down and… wait. her hair is down. it was longer than you expected, very wavy. she looked absolutely elegant, but you knew she’d braid her hair again. it’s never not braided after all. why not make the morning just a tad bit romantic.

“wednesday?” you asked while conjuring up the sweetest voice you could find.

“yes mi amor?”

“can i braid your hair… please?”

wednesday paused. she never let anyone touch her hair. it was her thing. she always needed to look composed, it didn’t matter who she was with. as long as she was composed she’d be fine. she can’t act nervous right now because it makes her lose control of her body. and when she loses control of her body she loses control of her words. “you want to- what?… umm why may i… ask?”

“because i love you and i want to make you feel beautiful. and if doing your hair will do that then i must braid your hair.” you shrug. deep down your real reason was to be close to wednesday. you loved her. her shampoo, her hair, her face. not only that but her personality, her charisma, her style. you loved the girl in front of you with everything you could. and in return she loved you. she sat in front of you as you started dividing her hair and getting to work. she was nervous (though she’d rather swim through a pool of her own blood than admit that). she loved your gentle touches and how you can make her feel like a precious doll. now wednesday hated feeling weak, but with you she didn’t feel that way. she instead felt loved. every smile you sent her way was true love. every time you reached for her hand when you were nervous was true love. every time you apologize for pulling her hair a little too hard was true love. you both were so in love with each other and neither of you were scared to admit it. “oh mi amor, you did such a good job on my hair.” the goth praises while giving you a kiss of the nose.

“of course i did! i tried my hardest. now it’s 6:15 we need to get breakfast.”

“of course after you my love.” she says while opening the door for you and giving a false bow to show how chivalrous she is.

————————————————————————

i hope you guess enjoyed !! like i said i’m very drunk rn so i’ll probably delete this tomorrow morning or something. leave me more requests i’ll get back to them asap!!

[see-arcane]

The most screwed up thing about this particular "sexual liberation via undead serial killer" cliche is that in this case main female character literally dies in the process of such "liberation". Which remake now clearly tries to frame not as her own heroic actions of bravery and kindness and unselfishness, but as her fullfilling some of her deathwish and dark desires for vampire and whatever and as something which is now good for her (!), hey look people she's actually happy now. Barf.

The hell of it is that, on the one hand, this kind of framework really can work well in the horror genre. All the most alarming and/or deplorable themes of a narrative are welcome under that umbrella. Horror needs no moral, no happy ending, no healthy relationships. I see all that and it delights me. If I were to take some fragments of Eggers' interview answers at face value, I could really get behind the concept of these characters as he's painting them.

A leading lady who even as she Knows what she's doing is Wrong, throws herself at it anyway.

I could get behind the Conqueror Undone by Fixation.

The Plotting Zealot who Sacrifices Others for the Greater Good.

Even the Sole Innocent Standing/Technical Final Girl being the grieving husband who wanted to protect a loved one even when he knew she did not want him, arriving too late to see she'd chosen mutual destruction with her problematic undead crush rather than staying to live as the good wife she knew she could never be.

On the surface? This is all really good classic gothic fucked up shit. I might even do cartwheels if this was an original film in the veins of The Witch or The Lighthouse, both of which are A+ depictions of corruption arcs steeped in the supernatural. This is Bobby Egg's jam!

The poison comes in when, once again, we see just whose names and plot Eggers has stapled onto these figures. It really is a Dracula adaptation in all but title, because he's following in the exact same bullshit footsteps as his predecessors. These characters are not his. For as closely cloned as they are from Bram Stoker's cast and story, Orlok, Ellen, Thomas and the rest are F.W. Murnau's creations, born in his original Nosferatu.

Werner Herzog could recognize that (even if he got weird about the Dracula cast renaming for ??reasons??) and kept the foundation of the story and characters intact even as he built on top of them. Herzog didn't hollow out the cast and stuff his OCs into their skins to play out his fanficified 2 goth 4 U versions of them. The Count's tragedy buried in his compulsions, the proactive nature and power of the female lead, the miserable tragic result of her husband's unchecked contamination leading to the blow of oh god, we did everything right and the nightmare will continue anyway...that's all from potential that Murnau left in his film and Herzog ran with it.

Eggers' version of Nosferatu is, by contrast, shaping up to be a more elaborate version of Francis' wet dream, just without all the fancy costumes and reincarnation BS. No, it's not Count Chadracula Gary Oldman, but Orlok is still the Dark and Powerful Other Man who the Girl One reeeally wants due to her Secret Gothdark Nature and Long Distance Horniness which meek and mincing little Jonathan Thomas simply cannot satisfy..!

Like. Bobby. You know how to make an original story. You do. This, here, is clearly your story. It has Black Phillip's hoof prints all over it. It has the Lighthouse's cosmic toxic radiance. Every hint and line and trailer so far is painting it all in your very recognizable colors. And I would be so ready to love it like I have your others.

If only I didn't know you had to wring the neck of one of my other favorite stories to empty out its carcass and graft the hide on to your 'reinvention' that is in every way just a goth-grimier cousin to Coppola's take. Fittingly, it's not unlike what Murnau did to Stoker's work. 'I want to do that too, but slightly to the left.' Well, you're doing it. One hundred percent.

And it makes me so deeply, sadly disappointed.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

Left Alone

Wednesday x Kitsune!Reader

Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five|Part Six|Part Seven

The darkness of Crackstone Crypt was the only thing keeping your friends from seeing your rolling eyes. The six of you were crammed behind the founder's resting place, hiding and waiting to surprise a certain goth.

"She's not gonna be surprised," you repeated for the n-teenth time. "We all know Wednesday hates birthday parties."

Xavier just sighs, annoyed with you. "You can leave anytime. We're just doing what friends do."

Before you can retort, the door to the crypt creaks open. While you thought it would be fun to ruin the surprise, dealing with the school elites being annoyed at you seemed more than it was worth.

Wednesday was a perceptive person. She could feel that something was off. It wasn't until she heard a cough did she know where the source was. It was quiet for only a moment before a threat from the goth triggered the surprise chorus of the birthday song.

You were the only one not singing. This was awkward enough.

"I should've known you were behind this." Wednesday glares at Thing. "What part of 'no party under penalty of death' did you not understand?"

You raised your hand. "For the record, I tried to convince them to not do this."

"And yet, you are still here."

"Hard to say no to free cake."

"And I think my cake design is pretty inspired," Xavier said. The cake was almost black with a reaper upon it holding a pink balloon.

"The balloon was my little touch." Enid seemed so proud of her addition. "Why don't you make a wish?"

The birthday girl just turns away from the group. In doing so, her eyes land on a phrase carved in the wall.

"This... This is Latin." She leans close to read it. You step forward from the group, intrigued. "Fire will rain... When I rise."

Enid looks on with confusion. "That's not really a wish..."

"Wait, that first part," you start. "It was burnt on the lawn at the end of Parents' Weekend." Wednesday nods in reply. "It can't be a coincidence..."

Ajax mourns the fact that the cake will remain uneaten. It draws everyone's attention as Wednesday runs her hand across the carved phrase. The vision hits and it throws her head back, making her fall back. Everyone gasps except you, who managed to be quick enough to catch her before the goth's head hit the stone.

Chatter erupts as your friends ask what was wrong. Your hand just goes up to silence them.

"Don't worry about it. It's something that happens." You pull Wednesday towards your body and lift her up. "I'll take her back to the dorms. You guys can enjoy the cake."

Xavier steps forward. "I can help. Lemme carry her."

"I got it, man." You weren't about to let him carry her. You knew Wednesday would rather gouge her eyes out. "Neither of us wanted to be here anyway."

With that, you exit the crypt and hope that Wednesday won't be out for too long.

Sneaking up to Ophelia Hall and into Enid's and Wednesday's dorm room was harder than it needed to be. You had to dodge other sneaking students and Ms. Thornhill. If only you had illusion powers but alas, not yet.

You did make your way up without getting noticed, at least. But, as soon as you laid Wednesday down on her bed, she woke up.

"Oh, well. At least we got outta there." You pulled a chair up as Wednesday sat up on the bed. "What was it this time?"

Dark eyes stare at you. You knew that the chance of the goth answering was slim, but you were curious. The debate could be seen in her eyes before her mouth opens.

"I saw Goody again," she began, to your surprise. "There's somewhere I have to go to find more clues, but I'm not sure where."

"Any idea of where to start?"

"There was a gate. I'll have to sketch it out and see if anyone knows of it."

"It's something at least," you state. "Was that it?"

There was a pause before Wednesday nods. She didn't need to give you every detail. With a nod, you stood up and placed the chair back where it belonged.

"Now that you're awake, I'll let you be. Hopefully the rest of your birthday isn't too annoying." You let out a chuckle. "But, while I'm here, this is for you."

You take out a box from your pocket. Wednesday hadn't noticed it despite it sticking halfway out of the pocket. She takes it cautiously before revealing a dagger within the confines of the box. Unsheathing it, Wednesday inspects the blade.

It was a spear point dagger, perfect for stabbing. The blade itself was sharp, taking no effort to draw blood from her thumb when she tested it.

"An excellent blade. A fine addition to my collection." You preen at the rare praise. "Tell anyone and I will stab you with it."

You raise your hands in surrender. "No one will know. There's enough of my blood on that anyway."

Wednesday tilts her head ever so slightly in question. "Elaborate."

"I made that blade myself. Folded bone steel quenched in my own blood," you explain. "It took me almost a year. I was making it for fun, but I figured it would be a decent gift for you, so... Yeah."

It was a personal project. It was a different way to give a part of yourself away, but you were glad that it was to Wednesday. The goth seemed to realize this and sheathed the blade carefully.

"... Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I'll see you around."

With a salute, you leave with your heart pounding. It feels like you just got that much closer to your crush.

-----+++++-----

"Guys! Get out! It's here!"

Tyler screams from the lower floor of the Gates' Mansion as the monster attacks him. Enid and Wednesday try to escape, only to be intercepted by the beast.

"The dumbwaiter! Go!"

The two scurry into the small space and shut the door, creating a barrier between them and the monster.

"What do we do, Wednesday?" Enid was scared out of her wits. "How are we gonna get outta here?" Her whines would've annoyed the goth if they weren't in such a hazardous situation.

Wednesday looks all around until her eyes land on her wrist. At the bracelet that held your favor. She takes it off just as the creature slashes at the door and holds it tight, putting all her energy into it.

The sound of whirling flames draws the attention of the beast as you appear behind it, confused.

"Wednesday? Where ar- HOLY SHIT!" Immediately you fall into a defensive stance. "Wednesday!? Are you okay!?"

"Distract it while Enid and I escape!"

"How am I supposed to- WHOA!" You barely dodge a strike from the monster. With a growl, you let your power flow through you. Claws and fangs elongate as your vulpine features begin to appear. You crouch low as your twin tails furl out behind you.

"I guess we're dancing."

While the beast was large and strong, you were deft and agile. Each swing of its claws were dodged and met with three strikes of your own. It didn't do too much, but it was enough to keep it distracted. At least until the screams of the girls drew both of your attention as the dumbwaiter barrels down its chute.

"Wednesday! Enid!"

The monster immediately moves towards the basement where the girls no doubt would've landed. You chase after it, managing to tackle it hard enough down the basement stairs. A quick glance saw Enid trying to escape and Wednesday looking at the shelves.

"What are you doing!?" You hear Enid yell.

"These are the body parts from the monster's victims."

You use all of your weight to slam into the creature before it gets to Wednesday.

"Get outta here!" You yell before getting smacked into the wall. Your distraction served as an opportunity for the monster.

A groan escapes your lips as the monster stalks towards the escaping girls. With pain shooting through your whole body, you launch yourself at the monster, sinking your claws into its back. A loud roar echoes throughout the basement as the beast reaches back, clawing at you then throwing you across the room before running away.

The only thing keeping you conscious was adrenaline and concern for your friends. That changed when you saw taillights leaving as soon as you managed to crawl out of the house. You let out a ragged scoff.

"They left me..."

Your body starts to shift fully into your fox form, knowing you would heal quicker that way. You were too weak to head back to Nevermore, but you could at least find a burrow to recover at. But the feeling of betrayal will sting for longer.

"She left me..."

-Tag List: @screechcat

[embodyingchaos]

Hi! Since you are writing for Finn could you please write about the gaga episode including the reader and they help him with his red outfit or the rocky horror episode? Thank you!

❥ hi sweetheart! MY FIRST GLEE REQUEST AAAAA im so excited, i hope you like this! (so sorry this is so late!)

theatricality rewritten pairing: finn hudson x gn!reader genre: platonic, fluff, sorta angst(?) warnings: finn being sortaaa homophobic, mention of the f slur, finn being a jerk, this is like so bad im so sorry word count: 1.9k

the halls of mckinley were filled with students roaming around, conversing with one another while someone was just trying to put their books back into their locker. y/n swore as the books inside their locker fell out and plopped onto the floor, “how the hell does this even happen, i put them sideways for god’s sake.” they whispered to themselves, bending down to grab them before rearranging their positions. as they were putting their books back in, finn hudson had approached them.

“hey, y/n.” they looked up, “oh, hey finn. what’s up?” y/n asked as they closed their locker, “so many things are up. so many damn things.” he exasperatedly said, leaning his back on the wall. 

finn and y/n had been friends ever since pre-school, they used to be best friends but some things change. they both reconnected when they joined the glee club around the same time. “what is it now? rachel? quinn? puck?” “kurt.” y/n whistled lowly, “that’s a new one.” they started to walk down the hallway to head to the glee club. “what about him?” “well, my mom made us move in with him and his dad, and now- now, i’ve got to share a room with him! like the dude’s fine and all, sure, but i need my privacy and he kinda makes me feel, i don’t know, uncomfortable?” finn rambled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as his flannel brushed to the side.

y/n only chuckled, “why on earth does he make you uncomfortable?” their question makes finn fidget a bit, “he just… i’m so sure he likes me. it’s obvious. sharing a room with him is like sharing a room with a girl that likes me.” y/n gave him a weird look, “okay, i’ll pretend you didn’t just compare kurt to a girl and that you think he likes you-” “i’m not thinking it! he does!” they sighed, “right. look, if it bothers you that much, sleep in the living room. it isn’t that complicated, finn.” finn huffed and nodded as they entered the choir room.

he sat beside tina, who was looking a little off today and that’s when it clicked. “you aren’t wearing your usual goth look, t. what happened?” y/n asked her as they sat beside finn, “figgins thinks she’s a vampire and said if she wore goth any time soon, she’d get suspended.” mercedes explained, “what.” y/n deadpanned, in disbelief that their principal actually believes vampires are real.

“it’s so weird.” “this so isn’t you.” artie and finn commented, “i feel like an asian branch davidian.” tina expressed woefully, will frowned at her state. “tina, are there any other looks you can try?” mr. schuester’s question started a plenty of suggestions. “biker chick?” “cowgirl?” “hood rat.” “computer programmer!” “cross-country skier.” “catholic schoolgirl?” “a happy-meal, no onions… or a chicken.” everyone looked at brittany with concern before tina had enough of their ideas.

“look, i appreciate it, guys, but it just isn’t me. i know who i am, and i’m not allowed to show it. it’s like communism.” she begrudgingly comments before rachel stomped into the room, fervent as always.

“guys, we have a serious problem. you know, i’ve been doing some deep background on vocal adrenaline-” “isn’t that against the rules?” artie asked her, “no, not at all- or, probably. whatever!” schue shook his head at her answer, but rachel didn’t really seem to care. “anyway, what i figured out, i rooted through the dumpsters behind the carmel auditorium and i found 18 empty boxes of christmas lights.” tina’s eyes widened, “oh, no.” “which led me to joelle fabrics. i asked them about red chantilly lace and they were sold out!” rachel exclaimed and now the girls and kurt looked entirely worried. “oh, sweet jesus.” “oh, my.” mercedes and him commented, a few of the guys looked confused.

mr. schuester looked at rachel, “what?” “they’re doing gaga.” kurt explained while mercedes and rachel expressed how screwed they were. “we should have guessed it. they’re going full out theatricality. they know it’s the easiest way to beat us. damn them!” y/n took a deep breath in, they were definitely screwed.

“what’s up with this gaga dude? he just dresses weird, right? like bowie?” puck’s question made rachel scoff, “lady gaga is a woman! she’s only the biggest pop act to come along in decades! she’s boundary-pushing! the most theatrical performer of our generation, and she changes her looks faster than britt changes sexual partners.” “that’s true.” she agreed as kurt went on a rant about how amazing lady gaga is.

“it makes sense that vocal adrenaline would pay homage. it’s a brilliant move. she’s a perfect fit for them.” artie muttered, “now, hold on a second.” schue spoke up, “we might be able to kill two birds with one stone here. we can help tina find a new look and find a competitive number for regionals.” tina smiled as y/n held her hand encouragingly.

“this week, your assignment: gaga.” a round of whispers filled the room as the girls and kurt began to plot, rachel announced the ideas were coming to her, needing a pen and paper before mr. schuester pointed at his office. the boys, however, didn’t look too happy about it. y/n was pretty neutral on the topic. 

after the glee meeting, both finn and y/n walked side-by-side in the hallway as they headed to class. they turned to finn, “you look excited about gaga.” they commented sarcastically but finn didn’t catch that. “what? i’m not-” “i know. i was being sarcastic, you big doof.” y/n smiled, “come on, it isn’t so bad. lady gaga’s got some catchy hits, like just dance.” finn tilted his head, “of course, you don’t know that song. why did i even mention it?” they muttered to themselves, looking around the hallway with a bored expression.

finn let out an annoyed grunt, “why are we always doing the things the girls wanna do?” he wondered out loud, y/n pressed their lips into a firm line. “well, if that’s how you feel, then why don’t you express it to mr. schue? i’m sure he’ll understand your point of view. sometimes.” the tall boy nodded, slowly smiling. “maybe i will.” he simply said before turning back around to head to mr. schuester’s office. “aaand there he goes.” y/n quietly commented, continuing their journey to history class.

gaga week had gone extremely well, other than karofsky and azimio picking on tina and kurt, and rachel finding out that vocal adrenaline’s coach was her mom. finn had also convinced mr. schue to allow the boys to do a song by the band kiss instead of lady gaga.

y/n was getting text spams and long rants every five minutes from finn about how much of a hassle it was to live with kurt, it was honestly starting to get on their nerves. they didn’t care about it much until they got a text from the quarterback saying he had called kurt a slur when he was blinded by rage. 

finn drove to their house and was immediately met with an upset face. “i cannot believe you called him that!” they yelled as finn fell onto their bed with his hands on his face, “i know, dude. i feel really bad about it, too.” he groaned in frustration, mad at himself for being such a jerk.

“i wanna make it up to him, but i just don’t know how.” finn muttered, staring up at their bedroom’s ceiling. y/n fiddled with their oversized t-shirt before their eyes lingered on a specific costume that was hung on their closet door; their gaga costume. y/n smirked, “i have an idea.” they slyly turned towards their best friend who raised his head up with a questionable look on his face.

with that, they spent the entire night fashioning up a theatricality costume for the boy as a way to show his support for kurt and that he was different from the other guys on the football team who would judge and scrutinise everything the glee club did.

the next day, since it was the end of the week, everyone had decided to go to school in their costumes. y/n didn’t mind but it was a bit uncomfortable to get to and from class in white latex tights.

“woah! guys, why are you all in your theatricality costumes?” mr. schue asked as he walked into the choir room, “it’s the end of the week. we were kind of hoping to learn what the lesson of the assignment was.” artie told him, “well, um, you guys have had some great numbers this week but i’m not sure that i know either.” he confessed and the rest of the club chuckled with him before a voice spoke up.

“i do.” tina walked into the room in her usual goth attire, “goth tina! you’re back!” y/n exclaimed, beaming at her. the girl smiled at their enthusiasm, “i refuse to dress like somebody i’m not to be somebody i’m not, and i learned it’s good to be a little theatrical.” she said before taking a bow as everyone applauded. “there she is! she’s back!” mr. schue encouragingly announced, patting her on the back.

artie looked around amidst all the cheering, realising that two people were missing. “wait, where’s kurt? and where’s finn?” his question made everyone look around, before the revelation hit y/n. “guys, we need to go find them. now.” the entire club ventured out together through the hallways to find the two guys, which they did.

“oh my god.” “what is finn wearing?” santana stated and quinn asked, in shock. “he wanted to make up for something he did to kurt so i helped him with his gaga costume.” y/n explained, “problem was that we could only use this old shower curtain i found in my attic.” they added, snickering at the sight of their friend wearing a red, rubber-looking dress. they walked towards them as they noticed karofsky and azimio were once again bullying them. “‘cause i’m pretty sure we can take the both of you.” “yeah, but can you take all of us?” puck quipped as they backed finn up.

“okay. okay, i get it. i took biology. you know what, karofsky? we done disturbed the freak hive! the worker freaks is trying to protect the queen freak.” azimio mocked, “next time, we’ll bring some friends, too.” karofsky threatened before the two jocks walked away from the group.

rachel took off her shades, “i’m tired of everyone calling us freaks.” she complained, “well, look at us. we are freaks.” mercedes joked as everyone laughed along. finn smiled at this, “but we’re all freaks together, and we shouldn’t have to hide it.” he told them before sudden clapping attracted their attention. 

“nice job, finn. think you just figured out what the lesson was, kinda makes me wish i’d planned it.” mr. schue joked, “but mercedes is right, you do all look incredibly insane.” y/n smiled and turned to finn, high-fiving one another. “told you my plan would work.” they whispered to him as he rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah. you’re always right, i get it.” y/n only punched him lightly on his shoulder as they all began to walk back to the choir room.

[pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land]

burrito

summary: 🌯

You could hear a faint knocking of your dorm's timber door. It had somehow awoken you from your no-longer-peaceful slumber, as you ruffled your scraggy hair while glancing over at your roommates empty bed.

"Coome in," you dragged your voice, though you swore it was a whisper as your throat was coarse from the lack of hydration. Your fazed mind tried to think of an individual who cared enough to pay you a visit, let alone do it in the late hours of the academy.

The door swiped open; you could barely recognise the person through her loosely tied braids. You squinted at the silhouette, only for them to stare back at you with a pair of familiar eyes. A sigh of relief came from your mouth.

"Jesus, Wednesday. Don't scare me like that," You spouted, curling back into a furball of exhaustion.

"Why are you complaining? At least I knocked," Wednesday replied with no change of emotion, watching your hand slowly gesture to your forehead.

"Shit, fevers back," you grunted, frustrated. At this point, you were too fatigued to even ask why Wednesday was standing right beside you.

You tried to get off of your cozy bed, but you just couldn't do so. You felt like you would combust out of embarrassment if you still couldn't heave your ass off the bed.

"Stay. I'll go get the wet towel," Wednesday ordered out of the blue, leaving you in utter awe. The once cold and dark Wednesday was finally a sweetheart? Good thing Enid helped her manifest a heart of gold.

When Wednesday came back with the amenities, you had already (pretended to) dozed off. Carefully, she wrung the towel and gently placed it on your scorching forehead. The refreshing sensation of the coldness on your skin had the corner of your lips slightly curl up in happiness, which was fortunately left unnoticed by the raven.

Wednesday dampened the other towel around your colorless limbs, and you swore she muttered what seemed like a chant under her breath.

This feeling of being taken cared by the most unexpected person to do it had you taken aback. But to be honest, it was enjoyable seeing a different side of her that was never exposed to anyone before.

"Did you come here just to take care of me?" you turned your head weakly; your brown eyes locking with hers.

"You had missing multiple classes. And even if you hadn't, you looked as though you might as well be dead," Wednesday coldly sputtered those words with no remorse. "So I decided to check on you on my own, since your roommate kept her mouth shut when I tried to question her about it,"

Knowing that Wednesday acted on her own accord, a crooked smile beamed on your pale face.

"But why?" You couldn't help but ask out of curiosity. Knowing her, you had never seen Wednesday do something soft for anyone, let alone for you - she barely had conversations with you ever since you attended this academy.

"Why what?" Wednesday answered dryly, wrenching the towel again before squeezing your warm fingers with it.

"Why go out of your ways... just to take care of someone you barely even know?" You were fully awake at this point; if it meant getting closer to this infamous goth girl, you were more than intrigued.

"Enough. Just go back to sleep. I don't want your roommate to catch me here," Wednesday completely avoided your question, taking the moist towel from your forehead to fetch some more cold water from the bathroom.

You had carefully picked and matched words to form this once-in-a-lifetime question. Your heart was thrumming in adrenaline as the heat spooked up to your fingertips.

"Do you... like me, Addams?" You gulped, praying so desperately to avoid your downfall of your heart getting macheted by Wednesday.

You could hear the ravenette seethe in some sort of frustration.

"Just go to sleep."

She wouldn't show it, but you knew she was blushing based on how she was avoiding your gaze constantly after you said that. You giggled silently, lying on your side, feeling butterflies in your stomach. She didn't need to express it, but she was growing soft towards you minute by minute.

Perhaps if you weren't this bold, this wouldn't have happened.

"Just one last favour, Wednesday," Bases on your calculations, you came to a conclusion that she would accept this request.

"What?" She was like a tired mom taking care of a hyperactive toddler, and she loathed it so much.

"Can you wrap me in a burrito?" You played with your fingers, awaiting her response.

With no response coming from her, she walked towards your bed, a murderous intent boiling in her veins. She tugged at the hems of your blanket vigorously, and you gladly rolled over as she flipped it over you.

Warmth enveloped your body as you smiled snugly into the sheets, knowing that a soft spot for you had bloomed in Wednesday's black heart.

🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯🌯