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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 9 days ago

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Elixir - pt.ii

wednesday addams x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: Wednesday’s sudden affectionate behavior has you feeling all sorts of conflicted… You need to find a way to reverse this elixir, and fast!

word count: 4.4k

————

Wednesday looks at you expectingly awaiting a response. Her dark eyes look at you in a way that feels...different.

"Wednesday, what was that?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm while gesturing to the empty glass bottle.

For the first time since you've known the girl, she hesitates. "It was... nothing," she replies, though her voice lacks its usual certainty.

During this entire exchange, you notice that Enid is unusually quiet, not her typical inquisitive self, and you find it strange since this situation especially should call upon those traits of hers.

Almost like she read your mind, Enid speaks, "Wednesday, why did you drink from that bottle?"

But Wednesday isn't listening. Instead, she steps closer to you, her gaze inviting and seductive. "You know," she begins, her voice unusually soft, "there's something about you that I find... compelling."

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mixing with a hint of fear. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"

"I mean," she continues, her tone almost... tender? "I've always appreciated your spirit, your defiance. There's a fire in you that's hard to ignore."

You blink, utterly bewildered. Your eyes widen as realization starts to hit, "Enid, I think that bottle wasn't just any potion. It could be a love potion!" You whisper the last part.

"Oh my god a love potion?!" you exclaim, letting the words you spoke settle in. You take a step back as Wednesday moves even closer, her eyes still locked onto yours.

"Wednesday, snap out of it!" you say, your voice a mix of panic and desperation.

But Wednesday just smiles, an expression so out of place on her usually stoic face that it sends chills down your spine. "Why would I want to snap out of it? Being close to you feels... right."

Wednesday steps even closer leaving little to no room between you two. She grips the knot of your tie while maintaining eye contact with you, and slowly wraps your tie around the fist of her other hand. Just as she was about to tug on your tie, Enid quickly steps in, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Wednesday's reach. "Come on, we need to figure out how to reverse this, now."

You nod, your mind racing. You both run out of the dorm room and bolt to the East Wing library knowing that it will be empty. The vampires think they're too elite to hold their book club in any place other than the grand library and that worked in your favour for once.

You and Enid frantically catch your breath as you collapse onto the couches in the library.

"You okay?" Enid asks, "You're quite red."

"I-I just, that was so out of character for Wednesday, did you hear the things she was saying to me?" You say flustered, gripping the knot of your tie, the very spot Wednesday was holding a moment ago. Loosening your tie, you cover your face with both your hands and groan into them.

Enid laughs, "Hmm are you blushing Y/n/n?"

"Absolutely not," you feel your face burn up even more and refuse to take your hands away from your red cheeks until you've cooled down a little.

"Okay we need to find that book with the potion recipes. It has to be here somewhere." Enid nods and jumps up into action, heading towards the dusty bookshelves trying to find anything that could help.

Meanwhile you go to another bookshelf, hoping it would give you faster results. "So we think it's a love potion right?" You yell across the library to Enid.

"Uhh yeah," Enid mutters while flipping through books.

Minutes pass and it's dead quiet in the library. "Found it!" You pull a thick, ancient book from the shelf, the cover worn and faded, with the title Elixirs. "Let's see... love potions, love potions... ahh, here it is!"

As Enid walks toward you, she can't help but notice your blushing cheeks, the way you're fiddling with the edge of your tie, and the panicked state you're in. It's a stark contrast to your usual composed self, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

You start reading aloud, "The Amore Certo, commonly referred to as the Love Potion, is a potent and rare elixir known for its ability to intensify and bring forth feelings of love and affection in the drinker."

Enid nods confirming that this matches what Wednesday seems to be experiencing.

"Upon consumption, the potion works by subjecting the drinker with a deep sense of affection towards the first person they set eyes on. This connection feels natural and all-consuming. The drinker's heart will race, their thoughts will be consumed by the object of their affection, and they will feel a powerful urge to be near them, showering them with adoration and devotion."

As you read, your heart begins to pound. The words resonate with what you've seen in Wednesday, the way her eyes linger on you, the subtle but undeniable pull between you two. A part of you wants to rush back to the dorm, just to see if reality aligns with what you're reading. Only to confirm if this is truly the potion affecting her, of course... no other reason.

"Does it say anything about an antidote?" Enid says getting impatient, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"The only known antidote to the Amore Certo is the Elixir of Clarity, which must be administered within three days of consumption to fully negate the effects. However, it is said that true love cannot be entirely undone, and a trace of the potion's magic may remain in the heart of the drinker, even after the effects have worn off. Blah blah blah, and look here's a list of ingredients to make the Clarity Elixir." You point to the long list of ingredients while looking at Enid.

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, "Okay I'm glad we're getting somewhere. I say we call it a night today, and we'll spend tomorrow making the Clarity Elixir and getting Wednesday back to normal."

"Wait why can't we just start now?"

"Y/n how in the world are you going to get Solar Sun Whiskers at 2 a.m in the morning?" Your friend crosses her arms with a laugh.

With that you and Enid walk back to her dorm room, so you can grab your bag and she can keep an eye on Wednesday for the night. You two decided it was probably for the best if you didn't spend the night sleeping over.

Enid pushes the door open to see Wednesday intently watching the movie that you two had put in earlier. You look to the tv to see the credits now rolling.

She watched the movie to completion...

"Y/n!" She exclaims finally noticing you and Enid at the door. You freeze as the excitement when seeing you catches you off guard. A very large part of you can't help but secretly enjoy the way her eyes light up when she sees you.

"Wednesday, hey," you respond nervously. "We were uhm, just grabbing my bag."

She stands up from the bed, and walks towards you with a light smile tugging at her lips. "You left before we could finish our evening together. I took the liberty of finishing the film. But we can always start another one if you'd like? Or perhaps we can discuss the film and what we enjoyed about it? If I remember correctly you've seen this one before right?"

It's hard to hear the girl with the sound of your thumping heart. God she's so adorable right now. Watching the girl before you fiddle with her fingers because she's nervous around you, has made you nervous yourself. Discuss the film? That's such a Wednesday expression of love you smile to yourself. You're intrigued that this love potion has shown you what a love sick Wednesday would do and not just make her do the generic romantic things.

Wait what are you thinking. Did you just think Wednesday was adorable? You scold yourself mentally. None of this is real Y/n, this isn't Wednesday, she doesn't actually love you. This is the girl that released spiders in your room to prove a point.

"...in the film he learned a language for the girl he loved. Would you like that Y/n/n? Enid mentioned that you were studying Greek—I could learn it for you if that's what your heart desires.

You ignore the pang in your chest reminding yourself that none of this is real.

Enid looks over to you and sees you struggling, she can understand why, and steps in to break the tension. "Actually, Wens, we were thinking of calling it a night. It's late, and Y/n/n needs to get some rest. We'll hang out more tomorrow, okay?"

The thought of Enid having to console Wednesday over spending time with you feels surreal, but then again, you are friends with a werewolf—anything is possible.

Wednesday's expression falters for a millisecond, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before she masks it with her usual stoic look. "If that's what Y/n wants," she says her tone soft.

Grabbing your bag, you make your way out the door, but something makes you pause, "Goodnight Wednesday," you smile softly, not entirely sure why you felt compelled to do so.

She steps forward, the same intensity in her eyes you've seen for the past couple hours, "Goodnight Y/n."

————

That night you couldn't sleep at all. You were alone in your dorm room twisting and turning disturbed with the events of the day. Not necessarily with Wednesday's actions, but with how they make you feel. Realizing it's in yours and Wednesday's best interest to get some sleep, you finally close your eyes thinking about how in the world you were going to get Solar Sun Whiskers tomorrow.

The next morning began like any other. After getting dressed, you texted Enid, who agreed to meet you outside your dorm. As you gathered your things, a commotion outside your door grew louder, making you roll your eyes in frustration. Why couldn't people be more considerate at 7 a.m.?

Curious about the noise, you opened your door to find dozens of curious eyes staring back at you. Glancing down, you noticed a bouquet lying at your doorstep. Quickly, you scooped it up and retreated back into your room, eager to escape the prying gazes.

You carefully place the bouquet onto your bed and just stared at it. You realize very quickly that the people outside weren't buzzing because they thought you had a secret admirer, but because of the unique arrangement you received.

The bouquet in front of you seemed to be fresh black roses intertwined with small, gleaming knives and arrows, all meticulously wrapped in a blood-red bow.

That's when you notice a small index card stabbed by one of the arrows, with writing on it. Picking it up carefully you begin to read: "Good morning, Mia Cara. I hope you appreciate the flowers. I've included some weapons for your protection, given the recent attacks at the academy. Stay safe."

"Mia Cara?" You repeat back to yourself in a whisper.

"Yeahh," you hear a tired voice drawl behind you. You jump at Enid's voice startled by her appearance. Seems like she let herself in. "She heard me call you Y/n/n yesterday and decided she needed a nickname for you too. After three hours of intense discussion, she finally settled on 'Mia Cara.' Said it was perfect," the werewolf yawns.

A warm blush creeps up your cheeks as you imagine Wednesday sitting there, stubbornly insisting on the perfect name for you. It's both baffling and oddly touching. You shake your head, trying to dismiss the fluttering in your chest. "I can't believe she did that," you murmur, more to yourself than to Enid. You clear your throat, "Come on let's go get those ingredients."

And so you and Enid spend the next four hours, grabbing the ingredients for the Clarity Elixir, some more challenging to obtain than others. After defeating the sun goddess in an intense game of checkers, you've obtained the Solar Whiskers, the final piece needed to brew the reversal potion.

"How are you so good at this?" You ask as you intently watch Enid concoct the potion back at your room.

"Webbers potion making class?" she shrugs, giving the potion one last swirl before using a funnel to pour the liquid into a glass bottle identical to the one Wednesday drank from.

Determined to act quickly, you and Enid rush back to her dorm room. According to the Elixir book, the reversal potion must be administered within three days of consuming the love potion. Time is of the essence, and you're already on day two of this fiasco.

As you approach the familiar hallway you see Xavier Thorpe on his knees pleading for his life, and of course standing in front of him is the Wednesday you're typically used to seeing with a knife in hand.

"I told you! I haven't seen her at all today. There! Look! She's right behind you!" As Wednesday turns to look at you, Xavier scrambles to his feet and runs in the opposite direction.

"Y/n," she hurries over, gently cupping your cheek as she looks you over with concern, as if checking for any injuries. "I was worried when I couldn't reach you today. I even tried contacting Enid, but had no luck," she adds, nodding towards her roommate with a hint of relief.

"Come on, let's head inside," you whisper, keeping your voice as soft as possible. Wednesday's touch has you feeling unusually flustered, and you don't want your voice to give away how affected you are.

"Did you receive my flowers?" Wednesday questions suddenly with a quirk of her head.

"Yes I did, thank you," you respond, while you take notice of Enid laughing to herself. Sometimes you forget to realize how unusual this behavior of Wednesday is, since you're too busy being flustered half the time.

Wednesday hums in satisfaction, "Were you able to see the moon last night from your dorm room?"

You raise an eyebrow, not knowing where she was going with this, "No my window doesn't face that way."

"Such a pity," she begins, glancing toward the balcony on her side of the room. "As I was out there yesterday, all I could think about was how much I longed to ravish you under the moonlight, Mia Cara." She finishes with sincerity, and her eyes even darker, not knowing that was possible.

Enid breaks out into laughter, cackling at the subject matter of Wednesday's words. Never in a million years did you think you'd hear the word 'ravish' come out of Wednesday Addams' mouth. Clearly at a loss for words, Enid takes over.

"I think we should give her the Elixir," Enid says in between laughs, "It seems like the potion's effects becomes stronger as time passes.

All you could do is nod. Enid passes over a vial of the potion to her roommate, and Wednesday takes it in her hands cautiously, looking back at you, almost as if asking is this safe?

Once again you nod, urging her to drink it. You could tell that she was confused, but in the state that Wednesday was in you could tell that she would do anything that you asked of her.

As you wait for the elixir to reverse the potion, you can't help but slightly frown. A small part of you was going to miss this Wednesday that cared so strongly for you, but you also knew that you missed the real Wednesday even more.

Twenty minutes have gone by and Wednesday has moved to sit on her bed. You alternately look at Enid and the girl. "Has it worked?"

"I don't think so," Enid says defeated, "She would've scolded us for staring by now if it did."

"The book said that the clarity elixir works immediately," you say to yourself. "Maybe it'll work gradually?"

Wednesday suddenly speaks, "That tasted horrible."

You and Enid look at each other, "maybe the potion did work," Enid whispers.

"I apologize if my comment about ravishing you under the moonlight made you uncomfortable. But please, don't feel the need to torment me by making me drink these dreadful concoctions, my love," she adds gently.

"Nope, did not work," you groan with a faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of ravishing again.

You hated the inner turmoil you were experiencing. It was confusing to have Wednesday Addams be the first girl to ever get you flowers and make you blush like you are now. It made you angry that the same girl that thrived off of making you lose control, is the same one you're worrying tremendously about.

Storming out of the room you go back to the library hoping you can figure out how to treat Wednesday fast because you didn't know how much more of this confusion you could take.

Pulling nearly every book you can find about potions out, you were now surrounded by papers and books all about the art of potion making.

"Y/n," Enid's voice gently approaches you after fifteen minutes. You don't respond, still immersed in your search for answers, though it's clear you're not making any progress.

Sensing your frustration, Enid places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on?"

You sigh, closing the book in front of you. "I don't know, Enid. I don't like seeing Wednesday like this."

"None of us do," she agrees softly. "She's acting like the polar opposite of herself. Poor thing."

"Yeah, there's that," you admit, "but what's really throwing me off is how it's affecting me. I don't hate it, Enid. I don't hate how caring she's being. In fact, it's confusing me... I wouldn't mind experiencing more of it. And that's bad. I shouldn't be getting used to this because none of it's real," you finish, voicing your thoughts for the first time.

As you start to lose hope in finding a solution, a sudden realization hits you.

That potion was originally on Enid's side of the room. She moved it to Wednesday's desk when she almost knocked it over. But why would there be a love potion in Wednesday's dorm? And why hasn't Enid seemed surprised by any of this?

"Enid, did you make that potion?"

Enid freezes, a guilty look crossing her face. "Wait... let me explain, okay?"

You turn to her, desperate for answers. "What is it?"

"Y/n, the potion wasn't a love potion. It was an enhancer. It amplifies pre-existing emotions."

You stare at her, trying to process this revelation. "So, you're saying..."

"Wednesday already had feelings for you," Enid explains gently. "The potion just brought them to the surface."

The realization hits you hard. Beneath all the arguments and tension, there was something more—something neither of you had acknowledged until now.

"But why? Why would you even make something like this?" you ask, genuinely confused and a little hurt.

"It's frustrating that my two best friends can't get along," Enid says sadly. "We learned about this potion in class, and I thought if you drank an enhancer potion, you'd better understand your issues with Wednesday. Maybe then you two could start getting along."

"Wait... hold on. The potion was meant for me?!"

"Yeah," Enid admits, lowering her head. "I thought it would help you figure things out, and maybe if you talked to me about it, I could help bridge the gap between you and Wens so we could all be happy," she finishes with a nervous smile.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of it all. "So why did you let us waste time making the clarity elixir?"

"I honestly thought it might work," Enid says defensively. "A part of me even wondered if I had messed up the potion and accidentally made a love potion instead. I had no idea Wednesday had feelings for you."

This is all too much to take in. You sigh, "Okay, so how do you reverse an enhancer potion?"

"A heartfelt conversation."

"No, seriously, Enid. How do we get Wednesday back to normal?"

"I'm serious, Y/n," Enid insists. "The whole point of an enhancer is to amplify what's already there or reveal what was hidden. A heartfelt conversation, one where you address the things that were left unsaid, will make the enhancer's effects wear off."

"Stay here please," You tell Enid, as you slowly get up and leave the library, walking towards the room where a lovesick Wednesday Addams shall be.

You didn't know what you were doing or what you were going to say, you didn't know how you felt yourself, and how you were going to get Wednesday in the state she was in, to talk about her genuine feelings for you. But you wanted this to be solved sooner rather than later. The weekend was almost over, and you can't have Wednesday making a fool of herself when the school week starts and all students are back on campus.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve and head towards Wednesday's dorm room. When you reach the door, you pause for a moment, your hand hovering just above the doorknob. What would you even say to her? How do you navigate this tangled mess of emotions and misunderstandings?

And holy shit Wednesday likes you?! You haven't even let yourself process the fact and now it's got you feeling all shy.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you twist the knob and step inside. Wednesday is sitting on her bed, flipping through a book, her expression more serene than you've ever seen. It's unnerving, in a way, seeing her so calm and... content.

She looks up as you enter, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Mia Cara," she greets you warmly, her voice sending a strange flutter through your chest. "I was wondering when you'd come back."

You force a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside you. "We need to talk, Wednesday."

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the seriousness in your tone. She sets the book aside and gives you her full attention. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

You take a seat at the edge of the bed, your heart pounding. "This whole situation... it's complicated. I know you're feeling things intensely right now, but I need to know—how much of this is really you? How much of it is the potion?"

Wednesday tilts her head, studying you with that familiar, analytical gaze. Her jaw tightens, her gaze moves to a point just beyond you, as if avoiding your eyes might make the conversation easier. "I don't see how discussing this will change anything."

Hmm so the potion doesn't necessarily make the communication aspect easier. You are slightly annoyed though, since this means that you have to take more of an emotional burden when talking about your feelings with Wednesday.

"Because it's important," you press, feeling your heart race. "I need to know what's real, Wednesday. This whole weekend, I've seen a side of you that I didn't think existed, and now that it's out there... I need to understand it. I need to understand you."

She's silent for a long moment, her face a perfect mask of indifference. But you can see the tension in her posture, the way her hands are clenched tightly at her sides. Finally, she sighs, a rare sound that tells you how much she's struggling with this.

"I've spent most of my life burying emotions," she admits, her voice low. "They complicate things, make people weak. I've always believed that. But then you came along, and for some inexplicable reason, you've managed to... disrupt that order."

You swallow, sensing that you're getting closer to the truth. "What do you mean?"

Wednesday's eyes finally meet yours, and there's a flicker of something vulnerable in them, though she quickly tries to hide it. "You irritate me," she says bluntly. "You make me feel things I'd rather not feel. And that's... problematic."

You let out a soft, almost relieved laugh. "So, I irritate you?"

"Yes," she replies, though there's a slight softening in her tone. "But not in the way you think. It's... more than that. I've tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but the potion made it impossible."

"So the potion?" you drag out in question, needing Wednesday to explicitly say what you already know.

Wednesday looks down at her hands, clearly struggling to say what she feels despite the help of the potion, but after a minute she speaks, "I didn't fabricate feelings that didn't exist. It merely amplified what was already there."

You feel your heart skip a beat at her words, the realization slowly settling in.

Wednesday's expression remains inscrutable, but there's a slight hesitation in her voice that you've never heard before. "What I'm saying, Y/n, is that my feelings for you aren't solely the result of some alchemical concoction. They were there long before."

Finally, you meet her gaze, and in that moment, you know you have to be truthful—not just for her, but for yourself.

"I- I think I like you too," You stammer, the words still being difficult to hear yourself. I guess there was always something behind those arguments we've had, you were right all along. Maybe I did want to have those banters with you," you nervously laugh.

"But I'm scared, Wednesday. This is all so new and confusing." You quickly add.

Wednesday reaches out, taking your hand in hers, she gives it a light squeeze, "You're right. And maybe this is the potion making me talk but I think we'll figure it out."

"Yeah we will," you smile lightly.

"So does this mean the potion will wear off?" Wednesday asks still holding your hand.

"Yeah, according to Enid, a heartfelt conversation was the antidote, and if that wasn't what we just had then I don't know what to tell you," you chuckle.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small smile, and you find yourself mirroring it. Your hands remain clasped together, a silent acknowledgment of the fleeting moment you both know is slipping away. The effects of the enhancer will soon fade, and Wednesday will return to her usual stoic self, guarded and reserved, her displays of affection rare and restrained.

But you're okay with that. Because it's in those quiet moments, in her subtle glances and the unspoken understanding between you, that you've come to cherish her the most. It's the Wednesday you've grown to care for, the one who doesn't need grand gestures to show how much she feels.

————

You wake up the next morning, unsure if the heartfelt conversation had the intended effect. After leaving Wednesday's room when Enid arrived, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two.

Rolling over, you reach for your phone on the nightstand. A notification from an unsaved number catches your eye. As you read the message, a small laugh escapes your lips.

"Looks like the potion wore off."

unsaved number Please tell me Enid was making up that absurd notion about me desiring to 'ravish you under the moonlight.' Such theatrics are beneath me.

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writtenbymoonflower · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I please request a poly!Marauders x reader where the reader has a secret admirer? The reader is receiving anonymous gifts and letters, making the boys anxious and jealous. If not, it's okay! Thank you, author-san!

omg i love this! thank you so much, baby, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: jealousy and possessiveness, borderline harassment and stalking, hickey

1.1k words

You groaned loudly when you opened the front door only to be greeted by yet another bouquet of flowers. You begrudgingly brought the arrangement into the house, setting it on the countertop.

"Again? That’s like the third this week, and it’s only Wednesday." Sirius said, exasperated and (almost) as annoyed as you.

"Fifth, actually." You hated that you were complaining, you knew you were technically very lucky to receive all these gifts, it was just distressing. And to be frank, getting very old.

"Christ, this person is thirsty." Sirius’ voice was strained, clearly more anxious than he was wanting to let on.

"At least it seems they don’t have much of a chance, anyone worth their salt knows that you hate roses, angel." James said, between mouthfuls of his sandwich.

"I know," You cringed. "Who should I give these to this time? Lily has enough flowers to open a shop" You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of," You reached into your work bag and pulled out two boxes. "There were chocolates at my work when I got there yesterday, and a pair of earrings on monday." You walked over to where Remus and Sirius were cuddled on the couch.

“Geez, dove. Are we gonna have to step up our game?” Remus said, voice tinged with jealousy.

"No, this person needs to step down. Or at least give me a return address or something. All the notes say is ‘from someone who appreciates you, xx.’ It’s actually kind of distressing." You handed the smaller box of earrings to Sirius, "Are these your style, honey?"

"What? You don’t want them?" He sounded surprised. Of course you didn’t! Why would you need presents from a random person when you have three boys who give you all the love you could ever need? (and in the way you like it)

"No, I would feel weird wearing them." You cringed, handing the larger box to Remus. "You can have these, I don’t even like cherry chocolate." Remus took the box like it was filled with poison, a disgusted tilt to his lips, just as Sirius dramatically dropped the jewelry box onto the coffee table.

"I don’t know whose grubby paws have been on this box." He sneered. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, looking over to James who was still in the kitchen. He had set his sandwich down and was looking like a kicked puppy. It made your heart crack.

"Jamie, what’s wrong baby? Come here." You beckoned him over. He rushed to your side, placing his hand protectively on your shoulder and gripping you tight. You looked at your other two boyfriends, Remus’ jaw was clenched tight and Srius was still looking at the box and scowling.

"I jus’ don’t like it." James said from your side, his voice was small like a child's.

"Wait, hold on," You said, "Are you all actually worried about this?"

"Define ‘worried’ lovely," Remus said, his voice an awful mix of venomous and depressed. “I don’t think any of us like knowing there’s someone out there fighting for your affections.” His eyes had an angry glint to them.

“Guys,” You said, your heart only breaking further. “You have nothing to be worried about, okay?” James’ grip tightened on you. “There is absolutely no competition here, I’m not even giving these the time of day. I don’t want anything to do with the gifts or the person sending them.”

“But you would if we weren’t in the picture.” Sirius said quietly, all too insecure for your liking. You wormed your way out of James’ grasp, resulting in a whine being pulled from his throat, to crouch in front of Sirius. You grabbed his pretty face in your hands, looking into his sad eyes.

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not impressed by these gifts.” You took a deep breath, not wanting to confess the next part and worry your boyfriends worse. “They actually kind of scare me.” You admitted, making all their eyes snap to you.

“Scared? Of what, darlin’?” James piped up.

“I just,” You cringed. “I don’t like knowing that there is someone this obsessed with me and I don’t know who they are. And that they know where I live and where I work. I mean, who knows how much they know?”

“Well now I feel like an arse.” Sirius grabbed you from the floor and hauled you onto the couch with him and Remus, wrapping himself tightly around you. “Here I was thinking this person was gonna get you away from us, not knowing they were worrying you.”

“You’re not, I promise!” You reassured. “Honestly, if there was someone doing all this for you three I would be really jealous too.” You placed a hand on two of your boyfriends’ thighs, looking over at James, who was still sulking, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “But I can assure you, even if I found out who this person was, they, and no one else, would be able to take me from you three. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. Besides, I don’t like stalkers.” You joked.

Remus pulled you closer to him, gentle but still much more aggressive than usual. Your other two boyfriends had settled, but he was still heated.

“Remmy,” You turned to face him. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” He grunted, burying his face into your neck. You wanted to shrink at the ticklish feeling but you allowed him to stay there, knowing he needed it. Remus had a jealous streak, perhaps the most of all your boyfriends. James and Sirius were more subtle in their protectiveness, but Remus started marking you all like a wolf anytime someone let their gaze linger too long. You buried your fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, trying to relax him.

“As soon as I find out who this is I will get them to stop, I promise.” You said vehemently. You looked guiltily at all your boyfriends, “I’m sorry this is happening, it isn’t fair to you all.”

“It’s not your fault, dolly.” Sirius placed his hand on your back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you aren’t asking for this.” You were about to hug him, but Remus held fast around your waist, you started to protest, but you felt Remus’ lips latch to a spot on your neck, nibbling and sucking hard enough to sting, but not hurt. The sound you let out was half giggle and half moan.

“Christ, Moons!” James barked, “You trying to brand them or something?” The three of you started giggling like children. Remus released your skin from his teeth, observing the red and purple splotch that was left in his wake.

“Gotta make sure they know what’s mine.” He said, possessively. “Don’t worry," His eyes glinted furiously at your two other boyfriends, "you two are next.”

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genderkoolaid · 15 days ago

Text

Translated with Google and edited for clarity

Transgender men in Mexico suffer the same type of violence as trans women, but they tend to remain silent and not report it due to gender stereotypes that impose the idea of strength on men, LGBT rights activists agreed on Wednesday. Davien Gómez, a transgender man originally from Guadalajara (western Mexico), told EFE that this sector faces attitudes of devaluation in society, since many of them are in a process of gender transition in which their feminine features have not completely disappeared. “Since they are perceived as women from the start, they have this idea that they will always be women. There are [transmasculine people] that do not have a phallus, but that see themselves as cisgender men, so there is not so much of a problem as long as no one knows, but if they do not [pass as cis, they think,] "how can I consider you a man if you look like a woman?” he said. The activist from the Impulso Trans organization stated that this devaluation is present not only in front of acquaintances or in work and family environments, but also when trying to establish emotional relationships in person or on dating apps focused on the LGTBIQ+ community. Impulso Trans and the Existimos Foundation conducted a survey among trans men in various states of the country, in which they found that 80.2% of the participants have experienced discrimination and violence, but 9.9% of them do not know how to identify it. In the data released within the framework of the LGTBIQ+ Pride month, it stands out that 54.9% of transmasculine people experience violence in the family, 50% at school, 33.5% at work, 38.5% on the street and 34.6% when requesting a service in public institutions. Adrián Arellano, a trans man, told EFE that sometimes violence arises because people have an idea of what it means to be a man, dictated by a heteronormative system in which only what is conceived as masculine is valid. “There are people who believe that all trans men want to have a beard and want to look 100% like a [cis] man, if we don't get to that point we continue to be treated as women,” he explained. Worse still, transgender people face verbal and physical violence because of their appearance or gender expression, attacks that extend to those who identify as non-binary, although transgender men tend not to report them, Gomez added. “It doesn't have the visibility that transfemicides have (...) there is a huge invisibility towards the trans male community and it is very strange that transmasculine people cannot say what happens to them because of this sexist idea that men have to put up with it or that nothing happens to them,” she said.

According to the survey conducted in early 2024, trans men who have experienced violence or discrimination do not file a complaint because they do not know how or where to do so (31.9%), because nothing will change (23.1%) or out of fear (19.2%). Izack Contreras, coordinator of Impulso Trans, told EFE that while it is common for trans men to remain silent out of machismo or to act tough, they also do so because they do not know how to recognize or differentiate violence. “We don't recognize violence, we don't know when I'm experiencing violence or discrimination and I don't know where to go or how to report it or what to do, in general. Add to that the fact that the justice system doesn't work, so we report it, but nothing happens,” she said. Of the survey participants, they found that in 6.6% of cases there was no change among those who dared to report, 3.8% of them were re-victimized, and in 2.2% of cases there was reparation of the damage. Based on these results, both organizations will launch a campaign to make the problems of the trans male community visible, “to make them aware of the violence they may experience, to inform them of the places to go if they are victims and to generate a culture of respect in different areas of society,” explained Contreras.

#m.#examples of transandrophobia

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jazzyoranges · 1 year ago

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

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

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

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

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

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

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

“Writers block?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

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

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

“I’d rather not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

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merakiui · 6 months ago

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angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else.

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to.

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today?

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches.

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain.

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that?

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead.

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head.

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake.

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot.

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time.

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me.

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you.

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep.

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching.

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts.

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will).

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.”

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic.

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon #tw: chikan #n/sfw #tw: stalking

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sturniolo-simp4life · 6 months ago

Text

I hope they look like you- Matt Sturniolo

Description- Matt and y/n find out something shocking about their future.

Warnings- Crying and comforting, a little suggestive during a flashback. Another short and sweet.

Y/n’s morning wasn’t exactly a great start. Her head was pounding and she felt nauseous and sick. Matt was peacefully sleeping beside her.

Suddenly, she had the urge to puke. She got up and ran to the bathroom, letting out whatever was making her feel this way.

A few seconds later, matt walked in, holding her hair like a ponytail and rubbing her back softly. “It’s okay pretty girl. Let it out.”

When she was done, she lifted her head softly, tears threatening to fall.

“You’re alright,” matt whispered to you. You grabbed your toothbrush and started brushing your teeth.

Usually you didn’t mind the taste of mint, but today it made you sick.

“Do you need anything?” matt asked. “I’m fine,” you snapped.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Your mood had been swinging like crazy today. You got mad because the TV wasn’t working, but then you started crying because you couldn’t reach a plate from a cabinet.

Matt had been worried about you, but you kept saying you were fine.

“I don’t know why but I've been craving pickles with chocolate frosting recently,” you announced to no one in particular.

Chris gave you a weird look and nick just looked confused. “Y/n you don’t even like pickles,” nick said.

“I know, but i just want to eat them for some reason,” you said with a shrug.

You got up and went to the kitchen, hoping to find pickles in the fridge. Matt was sitting on the island table.

Randomly you started crying. Matt looked up at you and got up, surprised. “Baby what wrong? Why are you crying?”

“There’s no more pickles,” you sobbed. Matt hugged you, clearly confused. You didn’t even like them, and now you were crying over them?

“Y/n are you on your period?” You sniffed and pulled out your phone, checking your cycle tracker.

Your eyes widened. You had missed your period by a whole week.

“I think it’s late by a little.” Matt didn’t think much of it. It was probably just before period symptoms.

You did not think that. Your eyes widened as it finally clicked. Where you pregnant?

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Matt and his brothers had gone out to film a Wednesday video, leaving you at home.

You decided to walk to the pharmacy that was near your house, picking up 3 pregnancy tests.

When you got back you were pretty nervous about taking the test. What if you were pregnant? What would matt say? Would he be mad? How did this even happen-

Wait. Your eyes widen as you remembered.

You were at an influencer party and passed tipsy. You went up to matt, smashing your lips on his.

“Matty I need you,” you slurred. Matt just chuckled and looked at you. “Baby you’re wayyy too drunk. And this isn’t even our house.”

“Pleaseee,” you whined. “It won’t be long I promise,” you whispered seductively into his ear. You felt him stiffen as you started kissing and sucking his neck.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you towards nick and chris, who were currently talking to some people.

“Hey y/n isn’t feeling that good. We are just gonna wait in the car until you guys are done.” Nick nodded. “we should be out in about an hour.”

Matt walked you to the car, pushing both of you into the back seat. “You look so pretty in this dress, but i think you’d look even better without it.”

He kissed you roughly, biting at your bottom lip. “Wait baby i don’t have protection with me.”

“It fine just don’t cum inside me.”

Well it’s safe to say that he didn’t remember.

Your breathing quickened as you slowly realized- you might be pregnant. Your hands shook as you opened the pregnancy test.

You nervously waited for the results, biting your nails. After a few minutes, you checked it. Positive.

You let out a shaky breath as feelings overwhelmed you. 2 left to go.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Your eyes filled with tears as you read all 3 results. You were too young to be a mother. Hell- you were only 20!

You sank to the floor and started crying. No no no no no. This can’t be happening. The bathroom door opened and matt walked inside.

“Hey baby- y/n? What’s wrong?” he sat on the floor and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“I-Im sorry matt. I swear this was never meant to happen i-” “What are you talking about?” he cut you off.

You pointed to the counter where the pregnancy tests sat. His eyes widened as he looked at them. “Im so sorry this wasn’t meant to happen.” you sobbed

He looked at you with a big grin on his face. “Im gonna be a dad!” he picked you up and hugged you, shocking you.

“Your not mad?” you asked. He looked at you. “Of course im not mad. Im so excited. You're going to be such a good mom.”

“You really think so?” you asked. He smiled and kissed you on the cheek. “I know so.”

You giggled. “I hope the baby looks like you,” you said and kissed him.

tags- l34n theyluvme-2315 tillies33ssss maya555sblog alorsxsturn blahbel668 @nyktoxs-lover strnilolo hearteyesformatt

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xxchumanixx · 7 months ago

Note

Can we get Tim and Nolan Reader like you did with Gray Reader

Daisies

Tim Bradford x Nolan!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, implied age gap, established relationship

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I hope you'll like it! I for sure do. I know it's really short, but I'm a little on edge and restless at the moment, about to get my exam results on Wednesday.

Wish me luck!

Enjoy!

"It's not what it looks like!"

Maybe that wasn't exactly the most clever thing to say, when Tim Bradford - your boyfriend - was standing in front of your father who just opened the front door, bearing daisies.

Your favorite.

There was only one problem: your father didn't know you were having a boyfriend - especially not one of his colleagues, his superior Sargeant.

"Sargeant Bradford!" your father stuttered in surprise, eyes wide, as they went from him to the daisies in his hands and back.

Your cheeks grew beet red, whilst Tim's mouth was agape, eyes as wide as your father's.

He clearly didn't expect him to be home.

"Nolan!" he gave back, desperately searching for the right words. "I didn't- I mean-" His eyes found yours, pleading for some help.

John's eyes followed Tim's, only then realizing what the hell was going on.

"It's not what it looks like?" he repeated your words, eyes widening more in utter disbelieve. "Not what it-" He cut himself off, mouth staying open.

"Are you- Do I need to have the talk? I mean-"

"What? Dad, no!" you screeched, jumping forward with your cheeks darkening in sheer embarrassment.

Tim flinched, knowing you were well informed about the things-

Shaking himself, he steadied his hand holding the daisies, as it started to hurt from holding them up all the while.

It wouldn't do him any good to think about that now - not with your father standing between you.

It went silent for a moment, your father's eyes staring a hole between your eyes, trying to make sense of this situation, all the while telling himself it's not what it looks like.

Even though it clearly was.

Even a blind one would have seen.

It was like his whole world came crushing down on him, doubting himself for not noticing you were dating someone - especially someone that was a few years older than you.

Maybe a few more.

When he suddenly moved, walking over towards the kitchen island and taking a seat on one of the barstools, you gulped.

He was quiet - never a good sign.

Looking back at Tim, your eyes found his, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to find the words to apologize.

He stuttered a few incoherent words, the daisies in his hand shaking the slightest bit.

You didn't know what to say either, not having him expected to show up at your front door this evening.

"I thought he wasn't home!" Tim whisper-yelled, eyes wide. "I thought-" he wanted to continue, but you cut him off. "Next week!" you hissed, glancing back at your father.

"I said next week!"

He was sitting with his head in his hands, shaking his head repeatedly.

Rubbing your forehead, wiping a few strands of hair out of your face, you motioned for Tim to come in, who's eyes widened even more in return.

Giving him the look, you silently told him not to argue - not now.

He obeyed with a pained sigh, stepping over the threshold, so you could close the door.

"Dad?" you called out, walking over to where he was sitting. "I wanted to tell you, really-" you cut yourself off, when his head shot up, Tim's sharply turning towards you in your peripheral.

You winced, slightly shrugging with your head tilted.

"I mean, Henry didn't tell you he's engaged, before you even met his fiance." you tried to lighten the mood, forcing out a chuckle, but he only stared at you like you were an alien.

Groaning, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Tim and I are dating." you dropped the bomb, even though he already knew. He flinched involuntarily, face contorted, even though he tried to hide it.

Failing miserably.

"Since when?" he pressed out, swallowing. "A few months?" you returned hesitantly, shrinking involuntarily.

"Maybe a bit more?"

He breathed out a chuckle, a pained and surprised one.

Closing his eyes, his head turned away from you, landing back in his hands.

Then he nodded, rubbing his eyes, before standing back up, facing you. "Okay." he spoke, biting his cheek. He nodded again, before shaking his head.

Tim stood beside you helplessly, fearing he'd worsen the situation if he just so much dared as making a sound.

Taking the daisies from his hands, you walked towards a shelf, taking a vase from it and filling it with water, before you put the daisies inside, placing them on the isle for your father to see.

"Your favorite." he muttered, fingers ghosting over the delicate petals. You nodded, smiling at him. "Yes, he gets me some every week."

"How old are you again?" he asked Tim, who's mouth opened to answer, before you interrupted him, knowing exactly where your dad was going with this.

"I'm old enough, dad."

He nodded again, swallowing.

"Oh, and I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened, fear filling them to the brim. You laughed, not having him expected to fall for it a third time.

Rolling his eyes, he huffed.

"Are you happy?" he wanted to know, tilting his head at you.

"I am."

He nodded again, as you walked towards Tim, taking his hand in yours. "And it's not just a fling. I-" You wanted to say that you loved him, but you weren't sure if it wasn't to early.

"Nolan, I assure you I won't harm your daughter in any way." Tim spoke up, taking a step towards your father. "I love her and I will do my best to treat her in the best way."

Eyes widening, you looked at him with your mouth agape.

Screw anything about it being too early.

"I love you too." you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, sending you a smile.

Your father nodded, still overwhelmed but somewhat relieved.

"And I'm not pregnant."

"I better hope you're not!"

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@dhunhdchrih @rookietrek @augustvandyne

@nachofriess @dtftheavengers

#the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #the rookie x u #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #imagine #john nolan x reader #john nolan x u #john nolan imagine

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bethanythebogwitch · 1 year ago

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So a while back I made this post

And it became very popular. While many people already knew, I did get some asking why humboldt squids are scary. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday I'm going to teach you why you should be afraid, or at least respectful, of molluscoid menace that is the humboldt squid.

(image: a humboldt squid)

Known to scientists as Dosidicus gigas and to many others as the jumbo squid, pota, jibia, and diablo rojo, the humboldt squid is the 5th largest squid in the world and the largest of the flying squids. Don't worry, it can't actually fly. They reach an average mantle length (tat's excluding the head and arms) of 1.5 meters, with some specimens reaching up to 2 meters (6.5 ft) in mantle length. The arms can reach up to another meter in length. Adults can weigh up to 50 kg (150 lbs), with females generally being larger than males. They live in the Pacific along the cost of the Americas, from the tip of South America up to California in North America. Some individuals have been known to travel farther north, up to Alaska, which is outside of their historical range. It is possible that as the ocean warms, their native range will continue to expand north.

(image: a humboldt squid releasing ink as a defense mechanism)

Humboldt squids reproduce in deep waters, and as a result we don't know much about their courtship. Males use a modified arm called the heterocotylus to transfer sperm into the female's mantle. She then lays a transparent, gelatinous egg mass that is left to float in the water column. These masses can range between 1 and 4 meters in diameter can can contain up to 4 million eggs. Hatchlings receive no parental care and most will die before adulthood. They grow extremely rapidly, likely as a self-defense against cannibalism by larger squids. Like many squid, humboldts only live for a year and die shortly after mating.

(image: a humboldt squid next to a much braver diver than I will ever be)

As with most cephalopods, the humboldt squid has cells called chromatophores that allow it to change color. Cameras attached to captured and released specimens have show two types of color-changing behavior: flashing and flickering. Flashing is when the animal changes rapidly between red and white. This is done in the presence of other squid and is likely a means of communication, possibly a form of courtship or warning to stay away. Flickering is when waves of red and white travel down the body. This is likely a form of camouflage to blend in with light flickering through the water. In addition to flashing and flickering, cameras have seen multiple forms of color changes and communication behaviors, indicating that they have a rich social life. The red color the squid turns when hunting contributes to its nickname amongst Mexican fishermen: "diablo rojo", the "red devil".

(gif: humboldts changing color)

So all that sounds pretty normal, why are they scary? Well that comes down to their feeding behavior and aggression. Humboldt squids hunt in shoals that can include thousands of members and go into feeding frenzies that can make shark feeding frenzies look like a child's tea party. They are infamous for their aggression and there are many stories of them attacking divers and fishermen. Not even they are immune to their predation, as multiple studies have found between a half and a quarter of all dissected specimens have recently fed on others of their species. Cannibalism may make up a major portion of their diet, though cannibalistic behavior seems to increase in response to stress. Their typical diet consists of fish, crustaceans, and other squids. Humboldts typically keep their two long tentacles coiled up between their arms, only for them to suddenly lash out and grab prey. These tentacles have multiple sharp hooks that have been reported to cause severe cuts in humans. Captured prey is then pulled in toward the beak and consumed. Feeding happens so fast that scientists need to us high-speed cameras to record the capture as the tentacles move so fast they prey can be caught and reeled in between frames. Eating is also fast enough that they can grab a hooked fish and skeletonize it in the time it takes a frustrated angler to pull their catch in. And if that wren't enough, they also engage in cooperative hunting, working together to catch prey. When not feeding or being hunted, they have been described as curious, though they often react to unfamiliar stimuli with aggression. Some divers have reported that humboldts will come investigate them and even act friendly, though I can't say I'd be willing to try it.

(gif: a squid attacking a camera)

(gif: hunting squid)

Numerous fishermen's tales and news stories tell of attacks on humans, but the squid do have a reason to not like us. They are fished heavily, especially off the coat of Mexico and are the most important squid for commercial fisheries. Humboldt squids make up about a third of all squid fished every year and are the most popular food squid. Squid meat is saturated with ammonium chloride, which they use for buoyancy, and must be prepared to remove the taste before eating. Not much is known about threats to conservation, though some speculate that overfishing and global warming disrupting their food supply could threaten the population. They are listed as data deficient by the IUCN. As scary as they might be, humboldt squids serve a very important ecological role in their territories, both as primary predators and as prey to sharks and toothed whales, and more research on their sustainability and conservation needs is important.

(image: a scientist attaching a crittercam to a humboldt squid)

#wet beast wednesday #marine biology #biology #zoology #animals #ecology #animal facts #humboldt squid #jumbo squid #squid #cephalopod #that last picture is adorable #he has a little vest!

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dlwritings · 16 days ago

Text

November 6, 2024 | Rafe Cameron

masterlist found here

pairing - Rafe x reader word count - 1,827 warnings - political talk, anti-T*ump rhetoric A/N - Who would've thought the shit show state of our world would inspire me to write again. I know for a lot of us everything feels really broken right now, and I know it may seem silly to some, but for me, writing feels like healing, even if it's just something like this. So here you all are. Rafe probably votes red, but here's a world where he doesn't. Also, if you're a T*umper, go ahead and unfollow me. I can't have any of that in my life. I'm so serious.

summary - The results of the 2024 election hit you pretty hard, and you end up taking your rage out on Rafe. Turns out, Rafe's hopes for the future looked a lot like yours.

You and Rafe didn’t talk about politics. You knew better than to broach the topic with him, because you weren’t naive. One glance at him and anyone could guess how he voted.

But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

The two of you had been dating for about six months, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing. It was gossip fuel for most people on the island for a few weeks -you being a pogue and Rafe being … who he was- but like most drama in Kildaire, it didn’t stay at the forefront of people’s minds for long before another thing came and stole back everyone’s attention.

And the thing on everyone’s mind right now was the election. The election that had you donned in blue on your way to the polls, a huge smile on your face as you filled in the bubble that would make history. Hope filled you in a way you were sure it never had before.

Until the next day.

Waking up and opening social media to see the results had already come in was enough to break your spirit completely. How could this have happened? How could the country have failed so many people?

Then again, how had you been so naive to believe in the possibility of any other outcome?

You shut yourself off from the world for most of the day. You went to work and gave polite smiles and nods to your coworkers as needed, but you did your best to spend the majority of your time locked in your office, alone. You didn’t dare to open social media, knowing every MAGA post from the bigots of the Figure 8 would bring tears to your eyes.

It wasn’t until you were at home on your couch that you decided to brave Instagram. Before scrolling through your feed, you added a black screen with a simple blue heart to your story and wrote the words, When we fight, we win.

You thought it was harmless. A simple story that showed your feelings without being overly dramatic. The last thing you wanted to do was act irrational by doing something crazy like storming the capitol. Because that would just be insane.

Unfortunately, the people who followed you saw it as anything but harmless. They saw it as an opening to send you the most heinous, revolting messages you had ever read. Your notifications blew up within minutes, and some of them were so borderline terrifying that you locked your phone and threw it across the room, once again leaving you in a puddle of tears.

You heard your front door open, and you cursed to yourself. In all the chaos of the news, it escaped your mind that it was Wednesday, and Rafe always brought pizza to your apartment on Wednesdays. You had once mentioned in passing that you liked a pick-me-up halfway through a week, and Rafe took it upon himself to provide you with that. Normally, it was one of your favorite parts of the week. Today, Rafe was one of the last people you wanted to see.

“Babe!” he called out upon his entrance. “I got your favorite!”

You met him in the kitchen, and by one look at your face, Rafe’s own expression dropped. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “I think you should go.”

“What?” he said, dropping the pizza on the counter and walking over to you. With each step he took toward you, you took one step back. He stopped quickly, a frown painted on his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

The words made something snap inside you, and your fists clenched at your sides. “What’s wrong?” you repeated. “What’s wrong? How about fucking everything, Rafe! Everything’s wrong, and you not seeing that is part of the problem! You are part of the problem!”

Rafe was, in a word, flabbergasted. He ran through the past 24 hours, trying to think of something he had done wrong, but he was coming up short. “Okay, I’m-” He let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m trying to understand, but you’ve got to give me something more here. What did I do?”

“You-” You let out a huff of a breath and ended up speaking through gritted teeth. “You and your stupid fucking MAGA Kook friends voted for a convicted felon to run our country! You voted for a man who wants to throw away my rights. You voted for a man who has raped a multitude of women and brags about it!”

Rafe’s eyes were wide as he held his hands up and shook his head. “Hang on-”

“No, Rafe!” you shouted, pushing him back as he tried to get closer to you again. “For the entire time we’ve dated, I’ve danced around the talk of politics, because I knew better. I knew a rich ass white guy from the south would vote for another rich ass white guy to run our country, but I guess I naively thought it wouldn’t matter. That the poor guys would get a win for fucking once this time. For once I thought the good guys would win and that a white man would have to face the consequences of his actions. But you-” You laughed bitterly. “You of all people know that privileged ass white men never ever have to face the consequences of their actions.”

You were hitting him where it hurt, and you knew it, but you were hurt. You and every woman like you had been holding in years of pain and hurt, and for you and many others, today was the day it was all going to come out.

“Baby, if you just let me-”

“Let you?” you laughed incredulously. “You and your fellow MAGA guys have clearly shown me I don’t have to let you do anything anymore.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in his face to show him all of the nasty messages you were receiving. Things like, “Your body, my choice,” “whomp whomp go make me a sandwich,” and “Guess what? Men win again” had flooded your DMs, and while you didn’t know it, Rafe was clocking every username and making a very specific list in his head.

“So maybe you can understand why I’m angry, Rafe,” you said, taking the phone back out of his hand and putting it in your pocket again. “I thought I could cancel out your vote, but I guess I forgot that meant you could cancel mine.”

“Ba-”

“I want you to leave, Rafe.”

“But I didn’t-”

“Fucking, go, Rafe!” you shouted. “Let me be angry and let me be alone!”

With a clenched jaw, Rafe gave a short nod. “Okay,” he whispered. “Fine.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but he refrained, instead turning around and heading out the door, leaving you in a mess of tears.

The next day, you called off from work. Maybe it was dramatic, but you didn’t care. You knew if one person even looked at you in a way you didn’t like, you’d lose any composure you had, and you couldn’t afford to lose your job for yelling at your boss.

You had the full intention to stay in bed all day, but the relentless knock at your door around 10AM proved that to be impossible. You felt some sense of relief, knowing it at least wouldn’t be another political petitioner.

Instead, perhaps just as unfortunately, it was Rafe.

You let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He held out his hand which had a coffee cup in it from your favorite shop. “I went to your work, but your boss said you were sick,” he said. “I bought you coffee.” You took it, but didn’t say anything -just looked at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say, Anything else? “Can we please talk?” he said.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Rafe,” you sighed. Still, you stepped aside and let him in, not wanting your neighbors to bear witness to whatever argument was about to ensue. “I know we’re different -I’ve always known that- but I don’t think I can handle being this kind of different anymore.” You plopped yourself onto the sofa, expecting Rafe to sit next to you. Instead, he crouched in front of you so he was just slightly looking up at you.

“Baby, I didn’t vote for him.”

Your lips parted slightly in shock, and you felt tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“What?” you whispered.

“Yeah, of course I didn’t vote for him,” he said. He reached up to turn around the hat he was wearing backwards to reveal a Harris-Walz cap, and you let out a noise that was a mix of a gasp and a little laugh. “I know I’ve fucked up before baby,” he said. “And in other elections, yeah, I usually vote red. But this-” He shook his head and squeezed your knees. “This is different. And I know that. And I’d be an absolute moron to think that tax cuts for me are more important than basic rights for you.”

You moved to kneel on the floor next to him and held his face in your hands before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead against his. “I was so mean to you yesterday,” you whispered. “I didn’t-”

“It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve,” he said. “I know that I am living in a world that was pretty much tailor made for me. And I know I should be in fucking prison for all the shit I’ve done, and so should he. And I know that none of what I’m saying right now changes the bullshit I’ve done, but I figured I should at least use all this fucking privilege I have and try to help people who don’t have it. Because you-” He paused to press a kiss to your lips. “-have taught me so much about being a good person. And I’m not going to vote against that.”

“I wasn’t a good person yesterday,” you mumbled.

“You were reacting to an unfortunately historic event,” he said. “You had every right to lose it. And you can keep losing it, and I will be by your side for every minute of it, okay?”

You nodded and gave him a soft smile. “Okay.”

He smiled back and nodded. “Okay.”

You and Rafe decided to spend the rest of the day together, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting in the quiet. When you suggested putting on a movie, Rafe agreed. He let you choose, no complaints, and watched as you searched for the Barbie movie. You cried at all the usual parts, sometimes a bit harder than normal, but Rafe understood.

It is literally impossible to be a woman.

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

add yourself to my TAGLIST

strike-through means Tumblr won’t let me tag you

If you want to be taken off the list (or be put on for only certain people) just message me and let me know!

ALL:

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Rafe Cameron:

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@bibliophilewednesday

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #this is so niche but I really needed it #and idk maybe someone else does too

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emilianadarling · 16 days ago

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The Pennsylvania Senate race is still too close to call.

While it's unlikely to affect the presidential race, I hope Americans are aware that the NBC decision desk (pictured above) and New York Times decision desk have not yet called the Pennsylvania Senate race between McCormick (R) and Casey (D), deeming it still too close to call. The AP called the race for McCormick on Wednesday November 7, citing a 30,000 vote margin between the candidates with an estimated 91,000 votes remaining to count -- the rationale being that there were not enough potential votes left in areas favouring Casey to make a difference.

Since then:

The number of estimated votes left to count has been updated by PA from 91,000 to at least 100,000 per a Thursday announcement from the PA Secretary of State, including provisional, military, overseas, and some Election Day votes;

McCormick has filed multiple lawsuits in an attempt to prevent or limit continue counting of provisional ballots, some of which have now by Friday been withdrawn or dismissed;

Efforts from a group called "PA Fair Elections" to challenge 4,000 mail-in ballots (mostly from overseas or military voters) have now all been withdrawn or dismissed. A number of these challenges had previously been flagged both by the media and by individual voters. (Screenshots of these challenge emails being circulated on tumblr alongside accusations of 'cheating' -- in the end these challenges were made in bad faith, but technically made and ultimately dismissed through legal means.)

This DOES NOT MEAN that the Pennsylvania Senate seat is in any way guaranteed to flip once all the remaining votes are counted. The race is extremely close -- enough so that the AP is confident standing by its call.

What it DOES mean is that the votes have not yet finished being counted, and that it is not yet truly known who will have the most votes in the end. Although McCormick has already declared victory, Casey (in my view very reasonably and wisely) has not yet conceded and is calling for all votes to be counted.

By Pennsylvania law, a recount must occur if the race is within 0.5%. It's looking likely that this will occur. While recounts rarely change the outcome unless results are truly within the main of a handful of votes, they are an important tool for ensuring confidence in the final results.

I know that people are grieving and demoralized right now, but these tight margin races are CRITICAL for determining how large the margin of victory will be for Democrats to flip the Senate in future elections. (Assuming future electing aren't subverted or dismantled somehow by a second Trump administration, but we have to hold out hope for institutional residence here.) The outcome of this and other right Senate and House races may have enormous consequences in a few years, and it would be agonizing to look back and realize that the window of opportunity to ensure a fair outcome had been squandered.

So -- what can Americans do?

Send a note to Bob Casey and his team via his campaign website in support of his efforts to ensure all votes are counted (particularly given the legal challenges from the Republican candidate and Republican-aligned groups) and decision to wait to concede until all votes are counted. The man is getting dragged in Conservative media in particular for 'refusing to concede'; add your voice to the people validating that decision as both reasonable and moral.

Keep an eye on this race as the counting (and potential recounting) proceeds, including any further legal challenges attempting to prevent or limit the counting of all ballots. Regardless of the outcome, all eligible votes MUST BE COUNTED. To do otherwise would be both subversion if democracy and an stoicism legal precedent for future elections.

Watch for other legal challenges, particularly in battleground states or right races, seeking to disqualify or prevent the counting of ballots. Look for credible sources, especially local ones. Make noise about them with cited sources if you think there is a risk they may be missed. Notify groups like Democracy Docket or the American Civil Liberties Union if you have concerns. Shared truth and shared confidence in the legitimacy of election results -- including that all eligible votes are counted -- is essential for democracy to function.

Push back on claims that the election results are fully known or finalized. With multiple House races still undecided and a few razor-thin margin Senate races with ballots remaining to be counted, those kind of statements are simply not true. And state-level race are inherently more likely to not make it onto people's radar than the presidential race if candidates try to make it so certain ballots aren't counted or contesting the results if a tight race flips.

There is only a very small window post-election to ensure things like outstanding legal challenges over whether certain ballots can be included in the count are resolved. Please stay alert and do not let that window close without doing all you can to ensure every eligible ballot is counted -- particularly in those tight, tight down-ballot races. 🙏

Note: This post should be accurate as of the end of day on Friday, November 9. Once the results of the PA Senate race are known and truly final, I will update this pay with the results.

UPDATE: As of November 22, Bob Casey (D) has now officially conceded the Pennsylvania Senate race to Dave McCormick (R).

#pennsylvania #us senate #us election #election 2024 #pa #us politics #uspol #democracy #i hasn't realized that this race still hadn't been called #or all ballots counted #and seeing the legal challenges from McCormick when i dug into it further made me Extremely Unimpressed #combined with the bad faith challenges to overseas ballots this seems to me like a coordinated/multifaceted effort to disenfranchise voters #is it 'fraud'? likely technically not #but it's certainly immoral and undemocratic #and should not be tolerated #regardless of whether it does it did not end up affecting the outcone

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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Wearing pink [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x bimbo!reader

word count: 2.7k

request: Hear me out... Spencer introducing bimbo f!reader to the squad! 😭🩷

A/N: Honestly, I had never written anything like this and I hope it is the correct idea of a bimbo. I based her on some TV characters, so (if you're a fan of this type of reader) I hope you like it!

“Baby, you're so nervous,” Spencer giggled, listening to the click of your heels from one side of the apartment to the other to check that everything was in order.

“I'm not nervous, I just want everything to look nice” you complained. Your gaze went to your boyfriend, who was wearing an elegant suit that you had bought for him last month, and you noticed that his tie was a little crooked. You immediately went in front of him and your hands acted on their own to accommodate it, as they had done so many times.

It was the first time Spencer's unit mates would see you and you wanted to make the best impression of all. You kept asking if the dishes looked good, if your skirt was smooth, if your hair was combed, if your makeup looked good. And each time he just smiled and nodded, recording how precious you were.

Honestly, the fact that the team found out about your existence was mere coincidence, the result of an unfortunate event that ended up unmasking Spencer. He had spent the night with you, since the cases had kept him too busy the last few weeks, and when he left the room, he only gave you a kiss on the forehead so as not to disturb your sleep. Although he wasn't very hungry, his body was in desperate need of coffee, so he opened your cupboard for something to take back to the office. Everything in your kitchen, which you hardly ever used, was pink, lilac, or any pastel variation of a few others, so it was a relief for him to find a single black thermos. Without paying much attention, he took it, poured the hot liquid, and then walked out.

There was no case, yet, so he sat down at his desk after waving to Morgan and Emily. He felt his phone vibrate and he thought it was a message from JJ, but he found that it was you who was contacting him.

Hey, are you leaving without saying goodbye?

He smiled inadvertently and apologized saying that you looked so pretty that he hadn't wanted to disturb your calm. I could almost imagine you blushing from your soft bed.

Okay then. Good luck today, handsome.

Love u xx

"No way! Are you a plastic girl?" Garcia yelled, from his partner's side. Spencer jumped a little when he heard her and it seemed she had caught everyone's attention.

“A what?”

"Your cup" the woman stretched out her hand to pick up said object and showed it to the rest: it had a bright pink print, with some images of a blonde girl and various objects, including a text written with something like newspaper clippings. which enunciated Burn Book.

"Where did you get that, Reid?"

"Who is she?"

“It's Regina George, from the movie Mean Girls. You don’t know her?" Prentiss muttered and at first, he immediately denied it.

“On Wednesdays we wear pink,” Garcia quoted, hoping he would have a clue, and again he showed he didn't know what they were talking about. But after taking a closer look at it, he suddenly remembered that he had looked at a poster with her somewhere in your room and it all made sense.

“When I took it, it was black”

"It's probably one of those magical cups that reveal the image with heat"

“Thermochromism?”

"I guess that's the scientific term"

"So where did you get it from? Did it just show up at your house by chance?"

"No, it was at my girlfriend's house"

At that, Emily's eyes widened, Garcia gasped loudly, and Morgan, who inconveniently just took a gulp of his coffee, almost choked on the hot liquid.

Penelope almost took the doctor by the neck to ask him why he had omitted such important information and he only shrugged his shoulders and replied that he had never commented on it because they had never asked.

It didn't take long for Garcia to yell at the missing team members what they had just found out and pretty soon JJ and Rossi were also gathered around the man to find out what was going on. To everyone's dismay, Hotch interrupted almost immediately, and they didn't manage to ask Spencer any questions. And he said it would be better if they were that curious to ask her themselves.

“Reid, I swear you don't even introduce us to that girl I'll never talk to you again” Garcia had threatened him, clearly exaggerating just to convince him.

When Spencer saw you again, he filled you in on the whole situation and asked if you were okay with hosting a unit dinner, to which you happily agreed.

"Everything looks immaculate, you don't have to worry," he assured you, taking both of your hands and leaning in to kiss you.

"But what if they don't like me?"

"What reason would they have for that, huh?" he insisted, holding your face in his hands. He really liked your lip gloss, it always tasted delicious and made your lips look flawless.

"Because they're like mega-cool detectives and I... well, I won't even know what to tell them."

"Let them ask the questions, I assure you they will be dying to know everything about you" he smiled at you, quite confident that the evening would go perfectly. It was the first time Spencer had introduced the team to a couple, so they would behave prudently. Or at least so he hoped.

The sound of the doorbell caught your attention and you practically jumped towards the door to open it for whoever was there, but not before asking your boyfriend for the thousandth time to make sure you looked good. When you opened it, you saw a blonde woman and a bald man who, from Spencer's stories, you assumed were Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan. They asked your name and you agreed, finishing verifying that it was the place with the presence of your friend behind you.

"Hello! We thought we had the wrong house” she sighed, completely nervous, and Morgan didn't even say hello because he had been stunned to see you.

You were very pretty, generally speaking, you were wearing a white skirt, a tight top, and a light baby pink sweater, plus huge heels that made you almost level with your boyfriend. You were like a model and it's not that he didn't trust his friend's flirting skills, but that you had simply exceeded his expectations of him.

You received them with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while they secretly observed the place. Hotch, Rossi, Prentiss, and JJ soon arrived, in exactly that order, and when they were all assembled, they took seats at the table. Spencer helped you serve dinner, which you had ordered from your favorite restaurant, and pretty soon all of you were eating and drinking the wine that David Rossi had brought as a gift.

Although the conversation had been pleasant during the first few minutes, it was obvious that everyone wanted to ask you questions, quite surprised to see the type of girl you were and how they never imagined that their friend would fit in with someone like that.

"So since when are you guys dating?" Emily murmured, trying to be nice, but also dying of curiosity.

"What will they be now, love? About six months?” you said, reaching out to hold his hand on the table.

“Six months, fourteen days, and seventeen hours”

"He's the mathematician here, so you can listen to him" you joked and the others laughed. The courtship time somewhat dismayed the team, because, although they didn’t blame him, they wished they had known sooner.

"And how did you two meet?"

“Oh, for my dad. Spencer went to give a conference to his police officers in New York a while ago and he asked him for a private consultation on a case that had been giving everyone a headache. When he helped him figure it out, Dad was so grateful that he invited him to dinner so he could meet our family. My parents loved him so I thought of it as a sign and we kept in touch after that."

"Now I understand why he kept looking at his phone and smiling in his spare time," Morgan muttered to embarrass him, like an older brother would, and the team laughed at the memory.

"And who is your father?" Rossi asked. Reid had never mentioned what had happened, but still you seemed familiar to the man, as if he had seen you somewhere before.

“He worked for a few years as a police chief here in Virginia, but now last year he got promoted to the commissioner or something; his name is Joseph Sanders”

You probably had no idea how important that position was to police officers, but they all exchanged glances as if you had just told them that you were the daughter of the President of the United States himself. Rossi immediately snapped his fingers as he winced, telling you that of course he knew your father and that he had seen you when you were a girl of maybe ten years old. The others only weighed in on the fact that Reid was now the commissioner's son-in-law.

“Hey and, no offense, but how did you fall in love with our boy wonder? He's always been a bit shy”

Now it was your boyfriend who was worried that they might make him uncomfortable or point out the clear difference between the two of you, but your carefree giggles put him at ease every time.

"It is enough to see that face to do it, don't you think?" you responded affectionately and the girls smiled at your response.

"Actually, she called me to invite me to have coffee after dinner with her father and although at first I thought it was hopeless I realized that she liked spending time with me and that's why I kept asking her out”

“He was so sweet. Flowers, chocolates, dinners. The whole package"

“Yes, well, it's that I did a little research on the best courtship methods and found common factors like that in most of them. It was only necessary to combine it with the right environment and make some modifications to them so that they were pleasant in front of you. Did you know that in the 19th century it was well seen that men…?”

"Reid," Derek interrupted, as a signal for him to stop rambling, and his friends smiled at the doctor's soft apology.

“Half the time I don't understand what he's saying, but I love hearing him talk,” you said sincerely. He had never taken that as an offense, because, although many people didn't understand his talks about him either, at least you always paid attention to him "I honestly don't know how a person can have a brain of that size"

“In fact, brains don’t vary in size but rather in areas of development, so it is incorrect to say that one person has a bigger brain than another. In such a case, one person has a more developed brain than the other”

The group looked at him accusingly again and he was about to feel guilty, but your lips crashing a kiss on his cheek considerably improved his mood.

After many more questions, everyone was able to realize that you and Spencer couldn't be more than complete opposites. You loved everything that Reid didn't know and he knew a lot of things that didn't matter to you. There were no books in your house, if glossy magazines counted for anything, and Spencer didn't even have a modern cell phone. Your house vibrated with pink and expensive things, while he only cared that there would be a bed to sleep in when he got home. But even with everything you looked really in love and the team wondered how that was possible.

Although you tremendously admired the man's capabilities that wasn’t the most important thing to you, but his wonderful beauty of him. He was someone who drew attention with his eccentricity, that every time he walked into a room he left a mark and someone many women wished they had, which he didn't even notice. And by becoming your boyfriend, without any explicit sense of ownership or anything, he had become all yours.

You liked holding his hand in the streets, you liked that he came to work and the clients were surprised when he kissed you, that everyone said how lucky you were to have found a man like that. Besides, he had passed one of the most important tests: he had your parents' approval, which was usually not an easy thing to come by.

And right now, it seemed that you were winning the sympathy of your boyfriend's family too, because the fact of seeing him so happy by your side was reason enough for them to like you and, therefore, also approve of you.

When it was time to eat dessert, the girls invited you to go shopping with them one day and all the compliments from the men were related to your last name, even astonished that Spencer now belonged to the spheres of high police society. They told you many things about themselves and you, with some effort, tried to take it all in.

"It was a great pleasure meeting you, you can come back here any day you like," you said to say goodbye, once the night was already quite advanced and they decided that the best thing (for the comfort of both the hosts and the guests) would be to leave.

“The pleasure was ours, Y/N”

Just like at the beginning, they kissed your cheek, and one by one they left, giving you kind words of thanks, until only you and Spencer were left.

"How was I?" you immediately asked your boyfriend, who was already looking at you out of the corner of his eye with a smile.

“Perfect”

"You think so?"

"I know it" he assured you, moving closer to you to hold you by the waist and causing your skirt to ride a little higher to the height of your butt "They loved you"

“But can you believe your friend Emily was wearing flats with that dress? It's not right and I didn't mean to be rude by mentioning it, but I died when I saw it” you started to babble, still under Spencer's grasp “And your friend Penelope has such a…quirky style. She wears colors that shouldn't mix, but somehow it looks good on her. And your boss, Aaron, shouldn't wear a suit jacket with a casual shirt. The others were relatively good, but the next time I see Jennifer I'll be sure to treat her to a moisturizer for her skin”

"And leaving that aside, did they at least make a good impression on you?" he laughed. He wasn't upset with you, it was inevitable that you would notice that kind of 'signs of bad taste' as you called them.

“Oh, they are adorable. You can tell that they love you very much, everyone speaks with admiration of you. Even your friend Derek, even though he tried to annoy you every so often."

“Yeah, I'll make him pay” he muttered under his breath, making you smile.

Carefully you reached up to reach his lips with a kiss and he sighed pathetically into your mouth as you clung to his body. Your skin was so smooth wherever he touched, as if you were a delicate piece of porcelain in his big hands.

“I hope you had a good time”

“Of course I did, sweetie. I already told you, you were perfect"

Perfect. You loved that he described you that way.

"Do you have to go home?"

"Probably. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I just thought maybe we could go to my room. I bought something new that I think you'll like” you said innocently, while you held him by the tie that you had arranged so carefully at the beginning of the evening. Upon hearing this, he wasted no time and carried you in a bridal pose, taking you there while you laughed out loud.

No one questioned Spencer when he arrived later than usual the next morning, smelling of cherry shampoo and with a suspicious purplish mark, knowing that the only one to blame for that would have to be you.

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