#simon dewey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starryeyedstray · 8 days

Text

my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

#dbh connor #dbh #detroit become human #dbh gavin reed #dbh markus #dbh hank #dbh north #dbh simon #dbh alice #dbh josh #dbh kara #starryeyedstray

68 notes · View notes

danibee33 · 5 months

Text

The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 6: Promise

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

word count: 2.5k

[<<< chapter 5]

For the first time, in longer than you can remember, you don’t dread the morning sun. You watch it crest the horizon, feel its warmth radiate on your skin, bask in its dewey light- bathing you in a delightful glow.

And it feels so surreal, like you’re surely doomed to wake from this dream, like the strong arms that had held you so tightly, and the lips that kissed yours so passionately, were only figments of your imagination. Yet, when you reach out, your fingers graze over the very real, and very smooth, cold, dark surface of Simon’s helmet still sitting on your bedside table; unmoved since he had retrieved it from the balcony hours ago-

“It’s real, My Queen..” You suck in a breath at the thick rasp of Simon’s voice in your ear, earning you a sweet chuckle, the arm around your waist pulling you closer so he can bury his nose into the soft hair at the nape of your neck, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

A deep sigh parts your lips at the way he feels, how solid and hot his body is wrapped around yours, his breath sneaking beneath the collar of your nightgown,

“Tell me,” You say, wriggling yourself even further against him, “can you read minds, Ser Simon?”

Your question riles a deep and genuine laugh from him this time, though he does his best to keep it quiet, only for your ears, and hopefully none that dare to pry-

“Why?” He asks, gently tugging you to turn over, “Somethin’ up here you wouldn’t want me to know?”

Smiles pull at both your lips when he taps your temple with the pad of his finger, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something as glorious as Simon’s dimpled smirk- Gods, why would he ever hide under that helmet.. it’s a fleeting thought, but one you hope to learn the answer to eventually. Hm, eventually, when is that? How much time do you really have with him? What could possibly-

“Hey..” His calloused palm settles over your cheek, thumb tracing a soft, back and forth pattern, his eyes narrowed in concern, “What is it? I lost you..”

Such a simple question, and such a simple statement, but they feel incomprehensible. That you could have given your life to man for years, and he still knows nothing of you, thinks nothing of you- but Simon, who has only been with you for a handful of months, has somehow learned you, maybe even better than you know yourself.

You rest your palm over his hand, unsure of what to say, or where it could possibly go; his promise ringing in your ears, reverberating through your marrow and bones-

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

“If we leave.. Where will we go?”

“When we leave..” His voice is steady and hardly above a whisper, the tip of his nose grazing over yours, “We’ll go wherever you like. The coast, inland, mountains, and forests- we’ll see it all.”

“But.. Simon- the King..”

So, so sweetly, you feel him pull your head forward just enough to crush his lips against yours- effectively silencing all your relentless thoughts, even if only for this glorious moment. Because it’s so easy to be consumed in him, in his power and his gentility, his brutish strength and the way he holds you as if you were made of the most precious and rare element he knew. And once again, you feel your body giving in to him- feel the tightness gather in your belly, and the ache grow between your legs. You want him, in every way that a woman can want a man- but all too soon, he’s pulling away again, his forehead pressing against yours,

“I will deal with the King, sweet girl.” He studies you, biting harshly at his bottom lip before glancing behind you towards the sunrise, “I have to dress- your hand maid will be here soon.”

You know you should let go of him, but it feels like you only just got him- and your stubborn heart wins against the logic of your mind as you lean into him again, kissing him with a little more urgency, a fervor behind your actions that he gives into, but only for a moment. He holds you back, eyes clenched shut in a silent battle all his own,

“Little Queen, you might think me a better man than I am..” He practically groans out the words, reaching down to hitch your thigh up over his hip, pushing his pelvis forward so that his want and arousal are made quite evident to you, “But, I beg of you, not here.. Not yet.”

There’s nothing in his words or his tone that could lead you to believe he doesn’t want all the same things you do, nothing about the hard length that presses against your cunt that could possibly make you believe he isn’t holding on by the thinnest of threads, trying his damnedest to be good to you- so that you’ll never, ever think that he simply wants your body and nothing else.

“Ok, Simon..” You nod, letting him press one more kiss to your lips, one so full of pining and longing, that it threatens to steal the air from your lungs as you reluctantly relent your hold on him so that you both could sit up, a little breathless and out of sorts.

But even though you’ve parted, it doesn’t stop him from planting a few more chaste kisses over your jaw and cheekbone before tearing himself away, allowing you to watch as he moves across the room. Seeing him only in his thin base layers is enough to raise your heart rate, remembering how you helped him shed his bulky armor last night- and now, you watch ardently as he picks it up and puts it back on, piece by piece- the thick muscles of his back and shoulders rippling and flexing with every practiced movement.

And, far quicker than you like, he’s sauntering towards your side of the bed, where you’ve sat so entranced by him- seeing him once more covered by the heavy steel plates, the ones that only make him larger than life, that make his already broad frame almost unnaturally bigger, his pitch black cloak billowing behind him,

“I’ll assume my post like always,” Simon says with a low tone, taking your bare hand in his gloved one just so he can place a gentlemanly kiss to the soft, pale skin, grabbing his helmet when he lets go.

You stand, looking up at him- committing every wonderful feature and flaw to memory before it’s covered again,

“And I’ll have a raven sent to Clan MacTavish, he can help us-”

But Simon shifts on his feet, your hand still engulfed by his own, “Are you sure, My Queen?”

And you can see the way his dark brows furrow behind the helmet, he doesn’t trust Johnny, but you can understand his apprehension- he doesn’t know the Scot like you do, and if what you think is going to happen, there can be no loose ends in what’s to come.

“Yes, I’m sure. There’s not a soul that we could trust more, Simon. I promise.”

This time, it’s you who lifts his hand to your lips, kissing the black leather as if to seal your own words- something a proper queen should never do, but the warmth that spreads through you when you see his eyes widen slightly makes you want to do it again and again.

He gives you a nod, not allowing himself the chance to waste anymore time, because gods know he would never leave you if given the option- but he must. There is much to plan, much to do, too many seeds of doubt to sow in far too short a time.

Johnny’s POV——

Work. That’s what it feels like for Johnny to come home. There’s no rest for the weary, no, not at the MacTavish estate, they’d never dream of allowing such a luxury-

Buncha fuckin’ dobbers they can be.. I swear.

Yet, he greets them all the same. Giving his Da a stiff, one-armed hug, exchanging the traditional three harsh pats to the back before moving down the path towards his childhood home.

“You’ll tell us about yer visit to court, won’t ye, Johnny?”

A warm smile spreads over his face as he looks down at his youngest sister, throwing an arm lazily over her shoulder,

“Well, hi to you, too, El..” Johnny teases, ruffling her dark brown curls playfully, “I’ll give ye all the juicy gossip tomorrow- after we get some shut eye, eh?” he says, nodding at the maid as they cross the grand threshold, “And I wan’ tae hear about this new constellation ye’ve discovered, my wee little genius!”

Elsie giggles and tries to escape his hold, going on about him being a numpty- all smiles and laughter until the most senior Lord MacTavish blows out a loud scoff,

“Enough o’ that, you two. Elsie, go on, need tae talk tae yer brother.”

She shies away almost too quickly, and it makes his stomach turn, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as she gives his side one more weak squeeze before flitting off up the stairs-

“Been a long few days, Da. ‘M right ready for a bed-“

The door to the Lord’s study slams shut, cerulean eyes pinning Johnny down in an instant,

“I dinnae give two shites ‘bout how long it’s been, son. I told ya, if you were comin’ back here, ye’d better have a wife in tow.”

Johnny rolls his eyes- big mistake.

His father is a big man, and he’s never had an issue using his size against the lot of them- Johnny being the eldest, all the way down the line, and even their Ma, gods rest her soul.

Which is how he ends up with his back shoved against the closest wall,

“Mind yer fuckin’ attitude with me, boy.” He spits the words, making sure Johnny knows just how little he still in his father’s eyes, “Ye think yer someone big and important out there, huh? Think the army made ye tough, gave ye a big heid, that it? Well, dinnae forget who-“

But, see, Johnny isn’t that little boy anymore, he isn’t that frightened little teenager constantly in fear of the good Lord MacTavish’s thumb crushing him under its weight. His time in the army has treated him well, in fact. He’s bigger, taller, stronger, and faster- and too much time spent on the front lines has made his skin thick and calloused.

With a deep snarl, Johnny is quick to grab the older man by his collar and reverse their positions before he even knows what’s happening,

“Tha’s not how this works anymore, m’lord.”

If Johnny could sketch the shock and surprise in his father’s eyes, he would- hells, he might, because it’s a beautiful sight. One he thinks he’ll remember for a long, long time to come-

“And if I hear one more cross word out of yer filthy fuckin’ mouth, I’ll cut yer tongue out m’self. Is that clear?”

Matching blue eyes stay locked in a silent battle, young and old, a battle as old as times itself, father and son going head to head, a true fight for dominance.

The old lord’s lips curls in anger and disdain, his breath hot and laden with the thick scent of Scotch,

“Ah..” he coos, a chuckle bubbling from his barreled chest, “Aren’t ye a big hotshot, spent time with the little traitorous Scottish queen herself and suddenly yer invincible, that it?”

Johnny growls right back, pulling his father forward before slamming him against the solid wood even harder, “What? And yer still mad it wasn’t one of yer daughters, huh?”

The lord struggles against his hold, but turns out, the boorish old man isn’t all that strong anymore- at least not stronger than his son, which only enrages him more,

“I’m only here to settle my inheritance, ye insufferable old bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow, when ye think ye can speak to me like an equal-“

Johnny lowers his tone to something heavier, his voice dripping with malice, “and there will be none of this, ye won’t put yer hands on me, and I willnae put mine on you. Aye?”

A long silence stretches across the space between them, a heated pause, one that threatens to explode on a hair trigger- and maybe, it’s not actually that long, maybe it’s really only a few seconds, glaring daggers into his own father’s eyes before the old man gives a hateful, “Aye.”, in return.

And if Johnny just so happens to shove the self-righteous old cunt into the wall one more time for good measure, well- that’s between him and the gods he chooses to answer to. But, fuck all if it didn’t feel good to do it.

——

When he finally gets to his room, it’s a disparaging sight- dusty and stale, not a thing changed since he left years ago. And he wishes so badly to feel peace, to feel warmth and love in the place that he should feel all those things and more- in the place he did feel all those things when Ma was still alive.

Yet, it’s just sad and cold now, just how it was when he left. But, a smile does tug at his lips when he unlatches the case Sunny had sent home with him, packed to the brim with treats and fine fabrics and leathers. Some for him and each of his sisters, and an abundance of spares that would last them for a long while-

“Yer too good to us, Grianach..” he mumbles, popping a delightful, citrusy sweet in his mouth as he continues to unpack.

And it takes a while, but eventually he pulls a lone envelope from under a primly wrapped hunting vest, one of the finest he’s ever laid his hands on- the dark brown leather soft as butter in his fingers as he lays it to the side with care.

The bone white paper is thick and stiff, royal stationary that he knows well from letters and messages he’s gotten from her before; the edge sealed with a deep green wax crest- the king’s crest. It brings a disgusted grimace to his face, thinking of the last days with her, the terrible, mottled bruises on her skin- it makes him ill to his stomach to remember.

But, with a deep sigh, he gently pulls the seal apart- recognizing her handwriting right away- though, the farther he reads, the more his guts twist and wrench, the harder his heart beats and the less air it feels like he can suck into his seizing lungs-

No.. no, no, no. This isn’t right, it can’t be- not you, not my Sunny. How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me how much pain you were in-

My dearest Johnny,

I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. And, I pray for your understanding in what I feel I must do, not only for myself, but more importantly, for you. Though.. I do not think you will see it that way, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Johnny. You’ve been my best friend since my first memories, never letting me forget that you’re one month and one day older than me, or that you learned to ride a horse first- remember sneaking out to the stables? I thought Mother would kill us both when you brought me back home covered in scrapes and muck. Oh, I miss the simplicity of those days, I miss it so much it hurts. That life I had for just a moment, where I was free and untethered- or well, I thought I was. And, I suppose, perception is what really matters, isn’t it?

That is what I’ve been taught my whole life, afterall, perception is key. That I must be at my best, presented in a pretty, pretty package- pleasing to the eye and well groomed enough so that the masses may never know the chaos that lies beneath the silks and jewels.

Well, my sweet Johnny, no more. I won’t do it, I will not be scruffed by the neck any longer, I will not live as a possession, an item, an object that only exists to be pretty and used. I am more than that, and I pray.. I pray you forgive me, I pray you are not disappointed, I pray that you remember me only as I was, and not what I have become. Remember me covered in scrapes and muck with a broad smile on my face and joy in my heart. That is the real me, not this fallacy that everyone thinks they know.

I have a trusted courier at the ready, the few earthly possessions I own that mean anything to me are to be delivered to the estate. They are yours. We always shared everything anyway, no need in changing that now. Be well, cousin.

All my love, your Sunny.

[chapter 7>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt

#call of duty #but make it medieval #medieval au #knight!ghost #queen!reader #simon ghost riley #cod fandom #cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #lord mactavish #are you kidding me #also on ao3 #simon riley x reader #maybe a throuple?#slow burn #eventual smut #i promise #it’s coming #🫢🫢🫢

75 notes · View notes

onwednesdayswewrite · 2 years

Text

all signs point to you chapter 1

Summary: All Wednesday wanted to do was go to the library to get a book, is that such a hard ask? She sure didn’t plan on falling in love.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x deaf!Reader

Warnings: threats of bodily harm from Wednesday

Word Count: 1.8k

Hey y’all! I’m not actual deaf or HOH but I've done a lot research and spoken to my partner’s best friend but may not gotten everything right so please let me know!

all signs point to you masterlist

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

When Wednesday Addams stepped into the dusty Jericho Public Library that Saturday morning, she had one thing on her mind: Helter Skelter: The True Stories of the Manson Murders By Vincent Bugliosi. Thunder rolled outside, and it seemed to ignite something within the young Addams girl. As her ebony braids dripped water onto her uniform, she remembered Enid making a fuss about the coming storm on the way into town, but frankly, Wednesday thought it was turning into a beautiful day.

If it weren’t for the tell-tale squeak of her platform shoes against the linoleum floor, onlookers would have thought Wednesday was floating under her Nevermore skirt with how she seemed to glide as she moved. She felt their glares harden when they realized a Nevermore student had ventured into this part of town. Others would have faltered under the judgment of their gaze, however, Wednesday rolled her shoulders and stalked on. She wouldn’t let some insignificant normies ruin her perfect day with her perfect book.

“Good morning,” the older librarian called out from behind the large oak desk. Her sickly sweet smile made bile rise in Wednesday’s throat, she couldn’t stand anyone that excited before she was caffeinated. Wednesday had already stopped herself from committing a crime once this morning, a second would be far too much. Part of her was thankful that she had sent Enid to the Weathervane to prevent blood from spilling over excessive headphone volume, although a quad over ice was a tempting thought.

Wednesday didn’t let the thought bother her for too long, all she had to do was get this book, and then she could get her quad. The library wasn’t a very large one, and if Wednesday were to comment on it, she might say that it had something to do with the intelligence level of the town. Wednesday knew she couldn’t say much though for Nevermore had committed literary atrocity by not having the book themselves. Wednesday knew the Dewey decimal system like the back of Thing’s hand and it didn’t take her long to track it. 364.1523. The numbers seemed to shine out to her. True crime, perfect.

For the Thrill of It: Leopold, Loeb, and the Murder That Shocked Chicago by Simon Baatz

The Burning of Bridget Cleary by Angela Bourke

An empty space.

Outrage: The Five Reasons Why O.J. Simpson Got Away With Murder by Vincent Bugliosi

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

“How curious,” Wednesday whispered to herself at the sight of the missing book, though she heard Thing shift around in her backpack, trying to be nosy. For a brief moment, Wednesday was almost impressed, maybe there was some hope that someone else in this town had good taste and was at least somewhat competent. However, it didn’t last long for the realization to set in and Wednesday’s blood turned cold. Heads would roll today.

Wednesday Addams was a perpetual creature of habit, and the slight change had her reeling. This was NOT part of the plan. Wednesday’s eyes started darting around to see if maybe some imbecile had placed it in the wrong spot.

Just when Wednesday felt the stone in her stomach getting heavier and heavier, her eyes caught something that piqued her interest. Helter Skelter’s bright red writing against the pitch-black background stuck out of the top of a blue and purple tie-dye backpack. A normie girl. Hardly a worthy adversary, this would be easy.

By now, Thing had wiggled free from his prison. His freshly manicured nails (courtesy of his bff, Enid) tapped on Wednesday's shoulder to grab her attention, his fingers moving about randomly. “No, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet,” Wednesday barked at the hand on her shoulder, resisting every urge in her body to swat him off. The way Wednesday saw it she had two options, either confront you, or tuck her tail between her legs and return Nevermore without her book. The latter simply just wasn’t going to happen.

When Wednesday approached, you were mostly concealed by a huge stack of books up over your head at the edge of the desk. Your head ducked down, reading the book beneath your fingertips.

The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

Ted Bundy was another commendable choice. Wednesday couldn’t help but have some respect for you. She observed for a moment longer, hoping you would feel the black cloud looming over you, but you didn’t stir one bit. She made an attempt to clear her throat to get your attention, but still nothing. Were you really going to make her ask?

“Can I borrow your book?” Wednesday’s voice broke through the otherwise silent atmosphere of the library. Wednesday was half expecting you to turn and make a scene about Thing on her shoulder but instead, the only response she got was you flipping the page in your book. Clearly, you have read enough of your books to know what happens when you face the wrong person. Did you not know who she was? What she was capable of?

Thing scurried down the length of her arm and hopped down onto the book on the top of the tall stack next to you.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory by Caitlin Doughty

His fingers pushed the book to the edge of the stack, and it tumbled down onto the ground, hitting with a loud bang. others in the library jumped and sent glares in Wednesday's direction, but all she could focus on was you. Wednesday felt her stomach harden again and her chest began to feel tight. You hadn’t even flinched.

Her jaw clenched as she snatched the fallen book off of the floor. If you weren’t even going to acknowledge her, then she was going to steal your book and that wasn’t the only thing she was going to do. You would pay for this.

Wednesday threw herself down into the chair diagonal from you, her hands clenching and then splaying out. She needed to relax, or she would never be able to think clearly.

She wanted nothing more than to grab you by the hair and drag you into the bathroom to drown you in the toilet, but that seemed too easy.

A pool of piranhas was a viable option. Maybe this time she will succeed.

“Howdy R-woah Wednesday what’s wrong” Enid stopped dead in her tracks at the site of her roommate. Fingers gripping onto the table so hard they were turning blue and Thing defensively standing on her shoulder.

“Planning a homicide” Wednesday deadpanned, her eyes never leaving the sight of you still flipping through the pages of the book.

Enid paid no mind to Wednesday’s comment as this wasn’t unusual for her. Instead, she placed the plastic Weathervane to-go cup in front of Wednesday, her other arm, reaching across the table to wave up and down softly just in your peripheral vision. You’ve lifted your head and smiled at her, seemingly completely unaware of everything that just happened.

Enid greeted you with a motion of her hands, and you seemed to respond, understanding. Wednesday must’ve let her confusion known to her roommate, and Wednesday watched as a realization crossed Enid's face about her previous comment. Enid’s pastel nails turned to claws as she clenched her fists.

“Wednesday, Y/N is deaf” Enid scolded through gritted teeth. Wednesday had heard this tone of voice before and Enid only used it when Wednesday was truly in trouble. Wednesday felt what she only imagined to be shame run through her body as she watched your eyes track Enid’s lips trying to figure out what she had said. Wednesday could’ve sworn she heard a low growl come from Enid’s throat as she narrowed her eyes and shot Wednesday one last painful glare, and turned to continue her conversation with you.

Despite Enid’s reprimanding, Wednesday still wanted nothing more than the book she came for. Wednesday again couldn’t help but commend you for your lack of reaction to Thing scampering down her arm and onto the table. Instead, you smiled and waved. Thing’s phalanges moved about wildly in a way Wednesday thought communicated her need for the book.

Your head cocked to the side and you chuckled. What had she done now? No matter how hard she tried to hide it, Wednesday felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. She never liked this feeling and did her best to shake it off.

You held up one finger and told your backpack across the table. You pulled the small zipper bag out causing Helter Skelter to slip across the desk a little, just out of Wednesday's reach. From the small pouch, you pulled out two cochlear implants.

“What I think Wednesday was trying to ask is can she borrow your book?” Enid finally communicated once your processors and magnets were in place.

“Absolutely” a small broke through on your face, as your hands signed out of habit “ it’s nice to meet you Wednesday, I’m Y/N” your hand reached out for her, but she remained deadly still. Enid was prompt in delivering a sharp kick to Wednesday’s shin, and that was enough to kick her into action.

Her hand reached out to yours and Wednesday felt a spark of electricity. Not one like when Uncle Fester pranked her, but this one was something different. This kind made her head feel foggy, and she felt something strange in her stomach, not hard as she felt before, but almost like something was moving and crawling around in there, and she couldn’t think straight. She almost missed you sliding the book to her.

“Have you read it before? It’s a really good read. Did you know after he died, Manson wanted his body displayed in the glass case, but his fiancé never followed through with his wishes?” Wednesday observed as your eyes seemed to come alive, and an excited smile found its way onto your face that almost made Wednesday forget to grab the book. Wednesday made a mental note to remember that in the future, serial killers made you happy.

Wednesday felt another feeling start to stir in the bottom of her stomach, this one different than the ones she had felt before. One she had only felt uttered between her parents. Wednesday waited with bated breath for the usual nausea to rise in her throat, but it never came. However, for one quick moment, Wednesday thought she felt her cold, dead heart give a soft beat in her chest.

Suddenly the idea of a piranha-filled vat sounded appealing again. She would hang you upside down and let their sharp teeth nibble on your arms. Maybe then you would tell her why you made her feel that horrible feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Why does she feel so drawn to you. Why her mind felt cloudy when you smiled, and more importantly why she couldn’t wait to feel it again.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #all signs point to you au

810 notes · View notes