Safety Net

safety net

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | love language (2)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loved playing games with you. (inspired by safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign)

Warnings/Tags: toxic!tara, clueless!tara, mature language, implied sexual themes, mentions of violence and trauma.

Note: as promised THE LAST PART (woohoo😮‍💨) this was seriously a lot of fun and became a bit of a writing exercise using songs as prompts and trying to piece them together into a storyline. Thanks for all the comments, reblogs and feedback. They are so appreciated! Let me know what you guys think! <3

Word Count: 3.4k+

“You’re staring, again.”

Tara snaps her gaze back to the book on the table, ignoring her friends’ smug smiles. “Why don’t you just go up to her and apologize?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, trust me, I’ve tried.” Tara rolls her eyes. 

It’s been two weeks since that night at the party and you have been ignoring Tara. You spent the rest of spring break working at your uncle’s shop, avoiding the friend group, sans Mindy because you couldn’t exactly avoid someone you lived with. Tara attempted to give you space the following days but reached out to you in hopes that you could talk and sort out the situation. Tara doesn’t want to lose you as a friend. 

“I’m not gonna apologize for something that wasn’t my fault, Mindy. Just because she caught feelings doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. But now she’s ignoring me?” Tara scoffs, “Well, some friend she is.” 

“God Chad’s right. You two are clueless.” Mindy’s nose wrinkled.

“She knows where to find me when she’s done being stubborn.” Crossing her arms, she glances back at you. You were sitting across the quad, on a bench surrounded by your other friends; laughing and talking, unfazed by Tara’s brazen staring. 

How were you not seeing her shameless looks?

She swallowed the pitiful lump in her throat as she continues to observe your carefree nature. 

“Weren’t you begging me to tell her to call you back like a week ago?” Mindy objected causing Anika and Quinn to snicker as they listen in, not bothering to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Begging is a stretch,” She mutters weakly, picking at the corner of her book.

“Tara, why can’t you just admit that you want to be with her?” Quinn ponders, genuinely confused as to why you two are playing hopscotch around one another. Everyone could see how madly in love you two are.

It genuinely puzzled the friend group as to why it’s taking this long to get you guys to stop playing games.

They just wanted to see their friends together and happy, definitely not because of the growing bet pool. And not because it was getting increasingly expensive to wager in the bet the longer it ran because you two refused to acknowledge the clear feelings you have for each other. (It was starting to burn a sizeable hole in their wallets)

The brunette shakes her head defiantly, “We’re just hooking up.”

“You’re not acting like you guys are just hooking up.” Anika counters, “actually, you guys act more like a couple than me and Mindy sometimes.”

“No. We don’t,” She frowns.

“Yes you do and it’s gross,” The aforementioned girl interjects. “No one should be cuter than me and my girl.” She wraps an arm around Anika, leaning in to lovingly peck the girl’s cheek. 

“Y/N’s always bringing you coffee when you study with us at the library, even though her class is on the other side of campus.” Anika comments.

“She always loses on purpose when we play card games just so you can win,” Quinn adds.

“She laughs at all your lame jokes and obscure movie references – there’s no way you enjoy Suspiria as much as you say you do,” Mindy stated.

“Hey!” 

“Dude, she has a Spotify playlist titled with your name and heart beside it.” Mindy throws her hands up, feeling a bit fed up.

“Doesn’t mean anything, we share music all the time!”

“Tara, Y/N literally takes care of your plants when you complain about forgetting,” Quinn objects.

Tara’s still feeling persistent. “That’s not true.” 

Her dying plants have been on the mend these last few weeks and it’s definitely because she’s been paying more attention to them; placing the potted plants in a better area for sunlight and watering them more.

Quinn shoots her roommate a pointed look, “You were over-watering them, Tara. Y/N had to come over and change the soil. Did you even notice?”

No, Tara didn’t even notice. She was shocked at how much went over her head as her friends continue to list all the little things you do that, apparently, she’s been too blind to see. She glances back at you as you’re talking to a girl; smiling, unbothered. She recognizes her from her creative writing class – Tara didn’t know you two were close. Close enough for the girl to wrap a hand around your arm and lean into your ear something that the Carpenter can’t make out from the vast distance.

Tara’s eyes slither into tight fissures as she watches the random girl continue to make herself comfortable on you. Eventually, whatever she felt she had to whisper so close was over, but not before the girl planted a kiss on your cheek unsuspectingly. The Carpenter watches as you slightly jump from the contact, then eventually grant her a shy smile – the same smile you reserved for her. 

Tara feels an unpleasant drop in her chest because, for the first time since moving to New York, she allowed herself to finally feel everything she’s been burying.

It was suffocating, making her want to claw at her throat to get rid of the nasty sensation. Regardless of how much she swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, it only grew larger as it ached; begging to be acknowledged. Hastily, Tara stands up, gathering her things.

“Where are you going?” Her friends' questions were left unacknowledged as she footed it, not really sure where she was going; all Tara knows is that she had to get away before her friends see her break down. 

In her haste, Tara misses your concerned eyes tracking her disappearing figure.

●●●

Tara is choosing to ignore the world and her problems.

After that conversation with her friends, she ran home, plopped into her bed and hid under the covers for the remainder of the afternoon. She put on her favourite horror movies, hoping it would distract her from her thoughts of you. But her efforts proved to be fruitless. You tormented her thoughts regardless of how desperately she tried to drown them out. 

So, she sat there until bright blue skies turned navy and drove herself mad thinking about you.

Trust came sparsely for someone who was violently attacked by a deranged murderer. As much as Tara tried to push through the past and live as if nothing happened, it plagued her in her daily life. It revealed itself when a phone rang too loudly, near kitchen knives, or in dark areas – there were just certain experiences that were tainted by the memory of Ghostface. 

But then you showed up. She remembers opening the door to her apartment and there you were, standing behind Mindy with a $15 bottle of champagne and a poorly-wrapped throw blanket for the old couch to celebrate the Carpenter’s housewarming party (an attempt at some normalcy) with a shy smile and Tara was hooked. 

No matter how much she tried to distance herself, echoing sentiments that it’s a bad idea to get involved with someone so soon. But you lured her in, anyway.

It was in your tenderness that you had Tara wrapped around your finger.

Normally, the Carpenter would be annoyed with someone treating her like she was made of glass, but when it came to you; she knew it wasn’t out of pity. Your gentleness was welcomed with open arms because for once in her life, Tara finally felt like she didn’t have to be so brave all the time, at least, not when she was around you. 

She didn’t have to pretend her life was as put-together as she made it out to be. 

Because for once, someone had finally made her feel like she is worthy enough to stay for, to care for, and maybe to love. And that was terrifying because all anyone in her life had ever done is let her down and leave – Sam, her mom, her dad, Amber. So she kept you on a tight leash; taking control and leading. Never letting you close enough to see how she really feels about you. But there are cracks in the unsturdy walls she tries to put up, she’s not perfect. How can she resist you when you still willingly chased after her regardless of what she’s put you through – and how even through her harshness, you never lose your gentleness with her.

You create real balance and peace within her (not the fake one, she’s desperately fronting) and to someone who’s only known chaos and instability – that’s terrifying. So sue her, for being a little scared.

So, yes. 

Right now, Tara is ignoring everything around her because that realization is too big a burden to deal with.

She has her legs pulled up to her chest, the fuzzy blanket you gifted months ago, wrapped around her shoulders as she watches the TV from the couch; not really paying attention to the film. Her eyes begin to burn the longer she stares at the blue-lit screen causing a painful sting to her pupils. 

A terse knock on the front door startles her making her blink at the sound. 

Everyone was out for the night; Sam at therapy, Quinn at a hookup’s house and her other friends, all off doing their own thing. She wasn’t sure who could be at the door at this time. Cautiously, she stands to silently walk to the door – the pads of her naked feet connecting to the wooden floor litter goosebumps on her skin. Standing on the tips of her toes, Tara looks through the peephole.

She sees you shifting on your feet, glancing over your shoulder – looking unsure if you should even be there. 

Tara feels a pit forming in her stomach, but moves swiftly to unlock the door, opening it. 

“Hey.” She says softly, palm wrapped tight on the doorknob in an attempt to ground herself.

“Hi.” You rub a hand on the back of your neck.

“What–what are you doing here?” Tara sees you flinch, mistaking her tone for malice but you’re answering before she can correct herself.

“Mindy said you needed my help.” You drawl as if confused. 

Tara shares your confusion, brows drawing together. “I… don’t need help?”

You shake your head, clenching your jaw tight, “God dammit… I think she set us up.” 

“Oh.”

Rolling your eyes, “Yeah, oh. Look, that’s my bad, I’ll deal with her. You can go back to… doing whatever you were doing.” 

Tara sees you eye her attire glumly; an oversized shirt that covered her bare legs; assuming the worst. Her eyes immediately widened like saucers, grabbing your arm before you could leave. 

“No! That–that’s not–I’m home. Alone.” She clarifies. The word ‘alone’ taking a special raised and rushed tone. 

You scoff, pulling away from her, “good for you.”

“Can we talk?” Tara calls out, she can’t let you leave yet – despite her previous decision to ignore you and ignore her feelings. The longer you stood across from her, the more she realized just how much she’s missed you these last few weeks.

“No.” You continue to walk down the hall.

Tara grows desperate, running after you and grabbing your arm again to stop you from leaving. The concrete floors were rough on the soles of her feet. “Y/N, please.”

You turn, ready to yank your arm away from her grip but her watery eyes halt you; sympathy bubbling lowly in your chest and you curse inwardly at how easy it was for her to lure you back in. 

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? Some people are trying to get some sleep!” A voice interrupted, it was her neighbour, peeking his head a couple of doors down to yell at you two. He pops his whole body out when he sees Tara’s revealing figure, shooting her a lewd smile through his cigarette-tainted teeth,  “Oh hey, there.”

Tara feels you turn in her hold as your face drops – jaw clenching as you glare at her sleazy neighbour (who was at least in his late 40s judging by his greying hair) “Go back inside unless you wanna get fucked up and stop looking at her.” 

He stares back for a few seconds, debating if the challenge was worth his time. You move her behind you with a tug of an arm; blocking his view of her. Tara knows it's the wrong time but she couldn’t help but move closer; inhaling your familiar perfume. “Man, you’re not even worth my time.”

You wait until he shuts the door before facing her again, muttering under your breath. “Creepy motherfucker.” 

“Go back inside before anyone else comes out here begging for a show.” You tell her, lightly pushing her back to her door. But her hold on your arm tightens, “Not until you come inside and talk to me.”

You sigh, looking around the hallway in an attempt to buy yourself some time before you eventually gave in – tugging her inside the apartment.

Only once you were both inside did you pull away from her grip; Tara’s arm falling limply by her side. You look at her expectantly, “Well?”

Tara remains unmoving and silent, She curls into herself, leaning against the back of the couch just staring at you

You grow annoyed at her silence, running a hand on your face, “Tara you begged me to talk…” 

Still nothing from the Carpenter; she isn’t sure why she can’t say anything now that you’re standing in front of her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to confront you and her feelings but as you stood there, about to leave, she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t sure when she would see you again, this was the closest you’d been around her in the last few weeks. 

At this point, she was acting on pure impulse and heightened emotions.

“Unbelievable…” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob. She can feel practically feel the sharp snap in your patience as you try to leave, again.

“I don’t get you.” 

That stops you in your tracks, making you turn looking confused. 

“What?”

Tara begins to shake her head.

“I mean, I don’t get you… Like, why are you still here? Jesus, Y/N, you’ve been ignoring me but you still came here cause you thought I needed help. Even after all the petty shit I’ve been doing with those guys to fuck with you and after the party” She grabs at her hair; roughly tugging on it. “And even after all that, you still chase after me. Why!”

“Because I love you.” 

Tara inhales a sharp breath at your admission and how carelessly easily you said those words. Your brows furrowed like you looked genuinely confused by her question, it has Tara scoffing in disbelief. Unsure how you can still give her genuineness even after everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No, you don’t, you can’t. We’re just hooking up, it was just sex.” She denies, but a fog of tears is beginning to cloud her eyes. Even through the haze, she can see you approaching closer, holding a cautious hand out. 

“Maybe I am just a hook-up to you… but I didn’t just catch feelings for you. I’m not just falling in love with you, I already fell Tara. More like, I dove head-first without a life jacket,” You take the moment to chuckle dryly.

“And yeah, that wasn’t part of the plan but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself I didn’t tell you that there’s someone that wants to wake up and fall asleep beside you every day. Someone that wants to show you that maybe this time you don’t have to be so afraid to let someone in.” You shake your head, looking down for a brief moment of insecurity but you regain the passion in your eyes as you connect gazes.

“So, look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just a hookup, and if you do. I’ll leave you alone – for good.” She desperately blinked away the tears as she attempts to meet your eyes to tell you that you are just a hookup, it is just sex, she doesn’t love you too. But when she meets your eyes, she sees tenderness again and suddenly her knees are buckling under her.

Her body doesn’t meet the ground like she expects it to. Instead, you grabbed her, wrapping a firm arm around her waist as you held her weight up. She can hear distant mutterings of comfort being whispered in her ear but nothing registers as she realizes that she’s starting to sob uncontrollably. 

“Baby…need you to breathe… ‘gonna make yourself sick.” 

She couldn't hear anything around her until her face is being pressed into soft fabric; clawing at it, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. She’s having a panic attack. 

“Tara… Please, baby, you have to breathe–” You beg but Tara can’t hear you properly.

Nothing works until she feels you wrap her in a firm hug, still leaving her enough space so as to not feel suffocated. One arm around her waist, the other hand wrapped around her neck, as you rub soothing lines on her clammy skin. 

A few moments of silence pass until Tara feel the pressure in her chest ease as the ringing in her ears subsides. She gasps for air against your chest, coughing as a burning ache in her throat develops. The rubbing of lines on her neck turns into firm pats on the back as Tara continues to cough through her tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You shush her. Eventually, her coughs turn into occasional sniffles and deep breaths as you run fingers back up her hair comfortingly; giving her all patience she required.

“I’m sorry,” Tara says once she pulls her head off your chest, keeping a tight grip on your clothes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Your eyes softened as you ran the pads of your thumbs to wipe away at her tear-stained cheeks.

She shakes her head in your grip, “Yes, I do. Even now, you’re still treating me so well. I don’t deserve it.” Her voice turns into a broken whisper as she finally allows herself to be vulnerable.

“Oh Tara,” You said so tenderly, “You deserve the world, baby. You’re amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” She shakes her head, beginning to pull away from you, not wanting to hear your words and how genuinely you believed it. 

You tightened your grip around her waist, preventing her from moving. “Yes, you are, if only you can see yourself the way I see you. Oh, Tara, you don’t even realize it. You amaze me, you make me want to be a better person, that’s what you do to me, that’s what you make me feel. Not the other stuff you’re saying.”

Shaking your head, passion raging in your eyes; eye contact with the smaller girl unwavering, “The way you care for everyone around you, and how you carry yourself despite everything you’ve gone through… Baby, it’s amazing to watch you be yourself. I know, I know… After Amber, it’s hard–” That makes Tara’s eyes widen, unaware you knew about her and her late friend. 

“–to trust people but, if you just gave me a chance and spared me an ounce of trust to let yourself fall… I promise I’ll be under there waiting with a safety net.” 

Tara examines your eyes, there was no ounce of dishonesty in them. But that’s to be expected, you’ve always been genuine with her, always up-front, and calling her out on her shit – with love. It was one of the things that made her fall for you. Where everyone around her treats her like she’s a porcelain doll, letting her get away with whatever she wanted – you stopped her, but always in a way that was more so loving and protective rather than overbearing and smothering.

The thudding in her chest begs for reprieve as her heart craves to be moulded with yours. Her heart wants to know what it was like to beat in tandem with you, to finally allow herself to be caught instead of trying (and failing) to hold herself up all the time. 

As Tara’s body caves in on herself, she pulls you down by the neck, unable to hide the content sigh that leaves her lips when your mouths meet in the middle. The kiss was sweet, passionate and firm; it poured out all love that words could never capture; where the tool of language proved to be invaluable in expressing her feelings. 

“I trust you…” Tara whispers when she pulls away, unable to school the smile breaking across her lips. You giggle, making her smile wider. For once the heaviness in Tara's chest feels bearable with you in her arms. 

No other words were exchanged as you two attempted to meet again for a kiss only to bump noses and miss because you two were beaming so wide.

●●●

happy reading!

:)

everyone but her pt.22

Summary: A hidden part of your past comes back to haunt you. At least you've secured a special place in an unusual family's hearts. You would be paying off the debt for the rest of your life.

Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder (in a flashback) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

A/N: I've had a clusterfuck of a week and it's only Wednesday morning, so I'm giving y'all this 20mins early because I love y'all dearly 🫶

The sun was out, shining down and leaving a nice little burn to your skin. It was the perfect day to be running around Niagara Falls with Nicky. People were all around, the birds were out, and you were already far too full from street food. It was perfect.

“What next?” Nicky asked once you had both finished your ice creams; you had strawberry and he had vanilla.

“Hmm,” you hummed aloud, looking carefully over everything.

There were carnival games all around, those were always fun. But they cost money, so maybe not those. Go-karts would be fun, but you weren’t tall enough to drive them and Nicky was a bad driver. You could always go see the birds again, but Nicky had gotten bored. There had to be something you could both do.

Oh!

“The skywheel!” You shouted. No one could see, but your little wings flapped under your shirt.

“Really?” Nicky asked, his hand pressing gently on your back to keep your wings steady. It was comforting. “Why? You can see that view any time.”

“But you can’t,” you said. He looked down at you. “I want you to see what I see!”

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and you turned around to look at the skywheel.

It was so much fun! The birds were out, the sun was shining over the water, and the man at the bottom let you go around three times! Even Nicky had fun, pointing out people, talking about how pretty the sky was. Maybe he could appreciate the view a little better when you tried to fly without permission next time.

“Can we go to the gardens tomorrow?” You asked while you picked at the nachos Nicky had gotten. They had tomatoes on them. Yuck.

“We can,” he said. He wasn’t really paying attention to you, but that was okay because you weren’t paying attention to him either. “If you want to.”

“Are we camping again tonight?” You asked. All the tomato pieces finally rested in the corner of the paper tray and you could eat in peace.

“Yeah,” Nicky said with a sigh. “We’ll head out when you’re done eating.”

“Aren’t you still hungry?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “Finish it.”

“Here,” you said, pushing the tray a little closer to his hand, “I saved the tomatoes for you.”

He hesitated, but after looking at you for a minute he reached forward and grabbed a nacho. They were going cold, but you were just happy to share. You had noticed he hadn’t been eating as much since you had left Nevermore for the trip, and he definitely needed more food.

Besides, it was yummy, why wouldn’t he want some?

After watching the sun set over the falls, it was time to start the trip down to where you had both camped last night. It was a nice little spot down by the nature trails below the falls. You had met some nice people down there when you arrived. They had even loaned you a tent!

“Hold my hand,” Nicky said when the street lights were on and you were taking a shortcut through one of the alleys. “Don’t let go.”

“Why not?” You asked, but reached for his hand anyway. It was warm.

“Just don’t,” he said again. His head was looking all around, but you were very focused on the cotton candy the nice man at the cart had given you.

“A little late to be wandering around, don’t you think?”

Yours and Nicky’s heads turned quickly to see two men walking into the alley behind you. They were tall, even taller than daddy. They had some nice smiles on their faces. Were they taking a shortcut to the trails too?

“We’re just going home,” Nicky said. You opened your mouth to argue - you were going to the campground, not home - but he gave you a look that had you shutting your mouth again.

“All alone?” The other man asked with a tilt of his head. “Your parents let you walk alone at night?”

“We can help,” the first man said. “We know a nice place you can both stay.”

“No thank you,” Nicky said. He pulled your hand as he backed away, making you stumble over your own feet. You nearly dropped your cotton candy. “Come on.”

Nicky kept his eyes on the two men as he continued to pull you with him. You tried to walk backwards just like him, but you stepped on something and stumbled, dropping one of the rocks you had snuck into your pocket. Without questioning it, you turned around and bent down to pick it up, your wings fluttering under your shirt to help you straighten up again.

“Would you look at that,” the second man said, and Nicky froze. “We found ourselves a little Outcast.”

“Nicky is too!” You said.

“Y/N, hush-”

“-No no, let her talk,” the first man said. They were walking closer. “You like to talk, kid?”

“All the time,” you said with a smile. He was smiling too.

“What do you like to talk about?” He asked again. The second man was moving sideways. Where was he going?

“Birds,” you said without hesitation. “Oh, and rocks! Wanna see the ones I found today?”

“I'd love to see them," he continued. He took another step closer. "Why don't you come with us to our house and you can show us all the rocks."

"Ok-"

"-Don't touch us," Nicky interrupted, harshly pulling you behind him.

“Don’t get so defensive,” the second man said. You turned your head and saw him standing behind you both. “We just want to give you kids a place to sleep.”

“I thought you wanted to see my rocks,” you said with a huff. The men got closer.

“How about you just come with us,” the first man said as he reached out and grabbed your arm.

“I said don’t!” Nicky shouted.

He dropped your hand and ran head first, hitting the first man's stomach. They both hit the ground hard. You tried to go help, but a big pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back into a big body.

“You’re gonna stay here with me,” the second man said in your ear. He smelled funny.

But the moment the first man hit Nicky with his knee, you lunged forward. Those big hands pulled you back, but you just ducked down further and he let go. Then it was your turn to hit the first man. You knocked him off of Nicky and felt your knee scrape on the ground.

“You fucking brats,” the first man spit out. He pulled something out of his pocket. Nicky was still on the ground holding his stomach.

The moment you saw the knife in the first man’s hand, you turned around to run. You knew to run away from danger, Nicky had taught you that. But you didn’t get very far before you felt someone pick you up. One hand covered your mouth and you bit down hard.

He screamed and dropped you to the ground again. It hurt your feet. You tried to run again, but the man knocked you over. He turned you around, his body pressing you into the hard ground. You turned your head and saw Nicky fighting with the second man.

It didn’t look like Nicky was winning.

“Just stay still,” the first man said above you. He smelled funny too.

Fight back, a little voice in your head said.

What had you seen Nicky do before? He had gotten into fights before, what did he do? Oh! You threw your head forward, feeling the sharp ache when it connected with the first man’s nose. He grunted and pulled back a little bit, but then you felt something hit the side of your face.

Everything started ringing and the alley started spinning. You could feel him pressing into you again, and your wings started to hurt from the ground. Fight back, the little voice said again, so you did. You threw your arms and legs out everywhere, trying to hit something. But then you felt something sharp press against your neck and you stopped.

“Just kill ‘em already,” the second man called out. He sounded like he had been running for a long time.

“With pleasure,” the first man said above you.

No. You felt the knife press into your neck and the sting that followed. What did you do? What were you supposed to do? Nicky had never taught you how to fight a knife!

Knock it away, the little voice said, and grab it.

You thrashed around again, making sure to hit the hand that was holding the knife. The first man groaned again and you kicked your leg up. You don’t know what you hit, but he screamed and rolled off of you. You scrambled to your hands and knees and looked around.

There was the knife.

Your fingers touched the knife right when the first man got on you again. He tried to grab the knife too, his hand much bigger than yours. As soon as you felt your hand grab it, you turned around and swung it.

“Fuck!”

The first man pulled back really fast, holding his cheek. Something red was coming out from between his fingers. He pulled his hand back and you both looked at the blood, and your eyes went to the big cut on his cheek.

“You little bitch,” he said in a mean voice. “Come here.”

He lunged at you again, but you closed your eyes and held the knife out in front of you. Something hit the knife, pushing you back onto the ground again. You heard a gasp and opened your eyes.

The knife was sticking out of the man’s shoulder. He looked at you in shock before his mouth turned into a frown. When he tried to grab you, you pulled the knife out and stabbed him with it again, this time in his hand.

He reached forward, grabbing your wrist and pulled you back. But instead of pulling, you moved forward and he fell onto his back with you on top of him. Stab him, the little voice said; it sounded mean. Without any hesitation, you grabbed the knife with both hands and brought it down. And you did it again. And again. And again again again again again-

-Something warm splashed against your face. The man was screaming, so you closed your eyes and tried to tune him out. You hummed. But you kept bringing the knife down over and over and over and over and over and-

“-Y/N!”

Smaller hands held your wrists, stopping you from bringing the knife down. You opened your eyes again and saw Nicky looking at you. He had blood on his face and clothes and a few cuts all over. Was he okay?

“Let me have it,” Nicky said softly, and he took the knife from your hands. Your fingers felt stiff like they didn’t want to let go. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know. What had just happened anyway? You were supposed to be at the campgrounds with Nicky about now, right? Why weren’t you both down there with those nice weird people from the other night?

The man wasn’t moving underneath you.

“We have to go,” Nicky said. He was looking all over. “We need to go.”

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up to your feet. Your legs were all wobbly. Nicky grabbed your hand and started pulling you. You looked back and saw the two men laying on the ground. They were really still. Were they okay?

“We have to go,” Nicky said again as he pulled you further down the alley before you both started running-

“-Smith!”

Your head shot up from the hole you had been staring into the table. The quick movement gave you a headache and made your bruised side throb; jail had not been kind to you. Nothing could have properly prepared you for the difference between the singular Jericho cell and an actual jail down in D.C.

People here were mean.

“You’ve got another date with the detectives,” Officer Hartman called out once you still hadn’t moved.

“Better get movin’, cupcake,” your new bestest friend Erin said with a smug look that you wanted to beat off her. Again. “Hartman might scuff up that pretty face of yours.”

“What would I do without your all-encompassing wisdom,” you mumbled as you stood up, inhaling lightly as the bruises on your torso pulled.

“You sure you graduated highschool?” She asked. “Cause you’re sure actin’ stupid as hell.”

“Still smarter than you and your white trash girl group,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“Wanna say that to my face, Outcast?” Erin asked, standing abruptly to be toe-to-toe with you. In  your peripheral, you could see the rest of her gang starting to circle up.

“I thought I did,” you said. She was smaller than you, but far more aggressive. Surprisingly. “I guess your ass and face look the same, that’s my bad.”

“You little-”

“-Summers!”

Erin’s fist stayed cocked and ready as Officer Hartman casually walked up to the group, one hand resting on the baton on her belt. A shiver went down your spine at the sight of it; you certainly didn’t want to be on the other end of it again any time soon.

“Everything alright over here?” Officer Hartman asked, looking between both you and Erin.

“Just showing my little friend the ropes,” Erin said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Oh, you wanted to beat that off her too.

“You can show her later,” Officer Hartman said before turning to look at you. “Let’s get going, kid.”

“See you later, girly pop,” you said with your own smile before you blew a kiss in Erin’s direction.

You’re going to get your ass beat, the voice at the back of your head said. It was almost nice to hear; it had been a few days and you were getting worried it had disappeared. Wow, you were really attempting to make friends with the voice inside your head. Did that make you crazy?

Yes. Yes, it absolutely did.

“Assume the position,” Officer Hartman ordered once you were out of the common area.

It was a bit odd to be accustomed to the cold bite of the shackles placed around your wrists and ankles. To find a certain comfort in the way they were chained to the belt around your waist. You didn’t know what the explanation was, but it was probably something you needed therapy for.

Therapy is for pussies, the voice said. You didn’t necessarily disagree.

“You gonna behave today?” Officer Hartman asked when she started leading you to the interrogation room.

“Yes ma’am,” you said confidently.

“Good girl,” she said. “Maybe we’re finally beating that arrogance out of you.”

You didn’t say anything in reply; it was better that way. But her words made your side throb again. How bad was it now? It had been two days, surely it was looking nice and ugly at this point. But you hadn’t looked at it yet; you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not that the detectives would care, nor would anyone else you were going to come into contact with.

“Welcome back, kid,” Detective Waller said when Officer Hartman led you into the interrogation room.

“Afternoon,” you said quietly as you let Hartman unshackle you and then cuff you to the half-circle thing on the table. You didn’t know what it was called, but it was kind of fun to run the cuff chain back and forth on it-

“-Stop it,” Hartman ordered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickly sitting back in your seat to look at Detectives Waller and Pearce. You didn’t like them. Something about them wasn’t trustworthy.

“How you been?” Waller asked once Hartman left the room. He and Pearce seemed more laid back; you certainly did not.

“Fine,” you said. You refused to look up from where your hands were chained to the table.

A lot of precautions for a single 18 year old, the voice mused.

“I hear you’ve been making friends,” Pearce said, his voice always softer than Waller’s. “We can help you with that problem, you know.”

“You’ve just gotta tell us what happened,” Waller finished. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk. “We have proof, so just tell us how it went down.”

“We don’t need to know about the domestic,” Pearce said. “We have an entire room full of people who saw what happened.”

“Just tell us about Niagara,” Waller finished.

This again. They had been asking for over a week at that point. Why couldn’t they just let it go? You hadn’t even remembered it until they brought it up that first day. Maybe you had done it, sure, but how were you supposed to remember all the details?

“Quit looking at your hands,” Waller said harshly. “Look at me.”

And you did. You looked up at him and instantly felt like you were a kid again. The way they were both looking at you like a child about to get scolded. Like all the times when you would get in trouble with your mom and dad and be sent to your room to think about what you did.

It made you feel small.

“We’ve got your prints on the murder weapon,” Pearce said, attempting to take over the conversation. “Just tell us what happened and we can get you away from Erin.”

No he can’t, the voice said.

You kept your mouth shut.

“You’re making it pretty hard on yourself, kid,” Waller said. He leaned further; he was getting too close. “You know what happens when you refuse to cooperate?”

“You already arrested me,” you said. “So you clearly feel confident enough without a confession.” Waller narrowed his eyes. “Not much else you can threaten me with.”

“We can always have you transferred to a different block,” Pearce said with a tilt of his head.

“I hear Block C has a soft spot for Outcasts,” Waller continued.

Don’t listen to them.

“I’m sure you’d make a lot of new friends over there.” Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“You can be cellmates with Miss Byrne.”

Fight back.

Your ears were ringing.

“I think she’s in for killing an Outcast, isn’t she?”

Don’t let them do this.

Your heart wanted to jump out of your throat.

“Think she did. Five, if I remember right.”

“I’m sure she’s rehabilitated now though.”

“Probably wouldn’t even think twice to-”

“-Good afternoon, everyone.”

All three of you whipped your heads toward the door to see a man walking into the interrogation room. His dark hair was slicked back except for one or two strands hanging over his face, and his light goatee was, honestly, pretty fabulous. He kind of reminded you of Zorro.

What was Zorro doing in your interrogation room?

“Can we help you?” Pearce asked when it was clear Waller was still too busy glaring at the new man.

“Jair Moreno,” the man said with a big, bright smile. “I’m here to talk with my client.” He had a comfortingly deep voice, and a stunning accent. It reminded you of Mr. Addams.

“Client?” Waller asked.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” you said with a frown, finally able to voice something.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here, no?” He said. His smile turned less performative when he looked at you.

Don’t trust him.

“She never asked for a lawyer,” Waller continued. You almost wanted to laugh at how red his face was getting. He was mad.

Good.

“If you keep him around, we can’t talk to you anymore,” Pearce said with a smile that was a rather pitiful attempt at comfort. “We can’t help you.”

“I…” you looked back and forth between the detectives and your (supposed) lawyer. “I would like to talk with him.”

“It’s your funeral, kid,” Waller said with a huff, pushing his chair back harshly and shoving past Mr. Moreno.

“You have the room,” Pearce said quickly before following suit, though in a much less aggressive way. Both you and Mr. Moreno watched and waited until the door clicked shut again, and you were finally alone.

“My apologies for being so late,” he said with a friendly smile as he sat down in the seat across from you. “It took two days to find you.”

“I appreciate you coming, Mr. Moreno-”

“-Señor,” he corrected. “It’s a simple difference, but it makes the white men uncomfortable in these parts.” He winked as if he was letting you in on a little secret.

“Señor Moreno,” you said; the word didn’t sound as pretty coming from your mouth, but he smiled and nodded at you once anyway. “But I can’t afford you. And I never called you.”

“No you didn’t,” he said quickly, “a close friend informed me of the situation. Said you’re like another child to him.”

You wracked your brain to think of who could have possibly called someone for you. Everyone had seen you getting arrested at the Rave’N, so it wasn’t like you could pick from who had known. And you were close with a lot of parents. Had it been a teacher? No, probably not. It certainly wasn’t Sheriff Galpin; he liked you well enough, but you were also a major thorn in his side.

It’s a trap, the voice said. You physically shook your head to get it out. Now wasn’t the time for paranoia.

“I don’t know who would have called,” you finally said. He was being far too nice, it was starting to be a little creepy. Maybe it was the time for some paranoia.

“No?” You shook your head slowly, and his smile fell into something smaller, much more comforting. “Gomez Addams gave me a call.”

Oh.

“Well then I certainly can’t afford you,” you said immediately. Señor Moreno laughed a deep belly laugh.

“He said you would say that,” he chuckled. “That’s why I’m taking your case pro bono.”

“That’s not a smart business decision,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands and away from his gaze. His eyes reminded you of Wednesday’s; dark, like perfectly stained wood.

You’re going to owe them, the voice said. You’ll never be able to repay them. You’ll be in their debt for the rest of your life.

“But it is my decision to make,” he said. You didn’t look up from your hands but nodded absentmindedly.

You felt small again.

“Let’s go ahead and get down to business,” Señor Moreno said.

You nodded and braced yourself for whatever it was he was going to say. You hoped it wasn’t going to be all bad news. There was only so much more you could take.

“Let’s talk about the domestic first,” he said, and you nodded. “We won’t deny it happened, that would be foolish. But what was your emotional state at that moment?”

He blamed Outcasts; he blamed you. Your fist pounded into flesh and bone again and again and again and ag-

“-I don’t know,” you said with a shrug and another shake of your head to get the image of blood out of your mind.

“Were you aware of what you were doing at the time?” He probed. “Or did you only realise afterwards?”

“I…” you sighed. “I didn’t know until after.”

“And it happened impulsively?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall go with an extreme emotional disturbance defence,” he said. “I’ve used it in New York, I’m sure I can find a loophole here.”

“So it’s actually going to trial?” You asked, your shoulders sagging. You couldn’t handle a trial.

“Not necessarily,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. It was almost hypnotising. He was actually pretty handsome.

Don’t be a whore.

“Now tell me about this double homicide,” he said, looking down at notes that you hadn’t even realised he had. “They have yet to declare it either a murder or manslaughter because of your age at the time.”

“Uh, I was 9- 10,” you blinked frantically. “10, I was 10. Nicky was 14.” So young? “We walked west for a few days and had a mini vacation.” The knife flashed under the street lamps. “Two guys trapped us in an alley one night and tried to kidnap us.” You blinked hard again. “Or not, I don’t know, they just tried to get us to go with them.”

“What happened next?” Señor Moreno asked. His voice was far too soft and quiet, it was unsettling. He shouldn’t be so gentle.

“Uh, Nicky got into a fight with one of them and I got in a fight with the other,” you mused as you shook your head slowly, your eyes darting back and forth but not seeing anything. “The one I was fighting pulled a knife on me, so I knocked it out of his hand and…”

The knife came down again and again and again again again again again-

“And you fought back,” Señor Moreno finished for you.

You inhaled sharply, not realising you had been holding your breath. The room suddenly felt too cold and too enclosed. Your wings itched under the makeshift harness the jail had forced you to wear. You wanted to get out. It was too much, you wanted to leave.

“A double homicide sure, but sounds like self-defence to me,” he said. 

“Technically I only killed one,” you mused, blinking a few times to clear the haze so you could look back up at Señor Moreno.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said with a light laugh.

“Guess Nicky was right though,” you said to yourself. “I’ll always remember Niagara.”

“What did you say?” Señor Moreno’s head shot up from his notes. You frowned at him. “Where did you go?”

“Niagara Falls?” You said hesitantly.

“Which side?” He asked. He was leaning over the table to get close to you, his hands reaching out to grab your own. You let out a sigh; you had missed the touch of soft hands.

“Uhh,” you shook your head and your mouth flopped open and closed a few times. “The left side?”

“No no, which country,” he corrected quickly. “Were you on the American side, or the Canada side?”

“I don’t-”

“-What were the falls shaped like?” He asked. He was talking far too quickly, it was making your head spin.

“I…” your eyes swung left and right, over and over as you tried to remember.

“See that?” Nicky asked, pointing to the falls. You could see them perfectly from your spot on his shoulders. “What does it look like to you?”

“A waterfall,” you said with a giggle. He lightly pinched your thigh.

“What else?” He asked with his own little chuckle.

“Umm.” You tilted your head so you could think better. “It looks like a U.”

“It’s a horseshoe,” he said. “Pretty cool, right?”

“A horseshoe,” you said with a slow, dazed nod of your head. “It looked like a horseshoe.”

Señor Moreno let go of your hands - you instantly missed the warmth - and leaned back in his chair. His hands went behind his head and he smiled. He looked at you, looked into your very soul, and smiled. You frowned. What was he smiling about?

“You’re not going to trial,” he said with a chuckle.

“How do you know?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your palms were getting itchy. And sweaty.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. “We have a meeting with your parents and their lawyer.”

“I can’t see them,” you said quickly, eyes going wide. “I can’t.”

“They can’t touch you,” he replied. “If they’re smart, they won’t even talk to you.”

It didn't comfort you, not really. What would it matter if they couldn’t talk to you? They would still be there; you would have to face the people who were supposed to care for you. Love you. Who should have been on your side from the very beginning, not getting you arrested.

“You’ll come back for me tomorrow?” You asked.

“Right after we post your bail,” he said with the most genuine look you had seen since arriving at jail.

“You promise?” You asked again.

He looked at you for a moment with a tilted head and slightly furrowed brows. What was he thinking? He’s not coming back for you, the voice said. But he reached out and placed gentle hands over yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“I promise on my abuela’s grave,” he said softly. Oh so softly.

It made you feel small. But in a good way.

Just the knowledge that you were going to get out was enough to make the rest of the day go by faster. You didn’t even care that Erin and her girl gang were glaring daggers at you the whole day. The only thing on your mind was getting to get out of this fucking jail and get back to the real world again.

You ignored the fact that the real world also sucked.

And that you were not prepared to deal with the real world yet.

Because you’re a coward, the voice in your head said.

You still slept like a baby.

The next morning you took your time heading to the showers; you had picked up on the fact that everyone either showered immediately, or not at all. If you waited just a little longer, the odds of you being alone were exponentially high. It worked out perfectly, and since you weren’t too worried about being late to anything anymore, you took your time. 

Even though it was a bit cold by that time, it felt nice as it cascaded over your face. With your eyes closed, you could just focus on the sound of the water. The goal wasn’t necessarily to wash off anymore, just try to keep your heart and mind in check. You were almost there. Just a little longer.

The water shut off only a moment later, and you let out a frustrated sigh. Of course you hadn’t been keeping track of the time. But it was okay, you would be out soon and could get a hot shower later if you really wanted it. Now all you need to do was dry off and-

-something hard hit the back of your knees and you immediately fell to the ground. The vibration travelled up your palms and the crack of your knees on the tile resonated through your bones and, if nothing else, the bruises that would paint themselves on your skin would be stunning. Wednesday would appreciate the grotesque colours, that was for sure.

You pushed yourself up and looked down at your palms to see the already reddened, sensitive skin on the heels. It ached, and both of your forearms throbbed lightly with each heartbeat. That was going to be a pain in the ass to-

-something rough pulled tight against your neck and yanked you back off your knees. Your hands instantly lifted to pull against it, trying to get your fingers underneath to ease the pressure on your throat. You could feel yourself being pulled backwards across the slick floor until you came to a stop.

Pull it away, the voice ordered. You couldn’t breathe.

Erin stepped in front of you.

“Hey, girly pop,” she said with a grin as she crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Heard you’re leaving today.”

The thing around your throat pulled tighter; it made you choke.

“We couldn’t let you leave without a goodbye present,” one of the women behind you practically taunted.

“Maybe afterwards you’ll learn not to run that big mouth of yours.” Erin’s grin was malicious at best, downright demonic at worst.

They were smart. You knew they were. The moment they pulled whatever was choking you tighter and your hands tried to pull it down, Erin swung. A solid punch that left your ears ringing and the world spinning. The throb in your eye was instant. Only when you were truly dazed did they really get started.

They were smart.

The bruises on your side had already ached before this. Now they genuinely hurt. Each new blow and kick stole what little air you had left in your lungs, and you didn’t know what to do. Did you keep trying not to suffocate? Or did you try to fight back? You couldn’t do both, you were outnumbered.

Fight back, the voice said. But how could you do that when you felt something crack in your side and you couldn’t fucking breath-

“-What’s going on in here?”

It was as if a switch flipped in the room. They instantly released you, and you gasped for air like your life depended on it. You sputtered and coughed, falling forward onto your hands and knees again except this time you didn’t pay attention to the pain in the heel of your palm.

No, this time you were too busy trying not to choke on your own blood.

“Five to one doesn’t seem too fair.” Miss Ethel’s voice echoed off the tiled walls; it sounded fuzzy through the ringing in your ears.

Something red was going down the shower drain.

“We’re just wishing our little friend good luck in the big outside world,” Erin said quickly. At least that’s what you thought she said, you couldn’t actually tell.

“Get going,” Miss Ethel said. You squeezed your eyes shut when the volume of her voice sent a migraine shooting down every nerve in your body. “Now.”

And just like that, they left. Left you on the floor of the showers with a foggy brain and the taste of blood on your tongue. Stand up. No. No, you didn't want to stand up. You wanted to curl up on the cold ground and lay in a pool of your own blood until the foggiest eased and your throat was no longer on fire.

"Come on, baby, get up," Miss Ethel said in a far softer voice that had reminded you of Abuelita.

Her old worn hands held you by the shoulders and steadied you, not rushing you but there as a crutch. As you moved and stretched and stood up, she was there to support you the whole time. Only when you were back up to your feet did she look up at you with a frown.

"So you’re only good for starting fights, not finishing them?” She asked, looking you up and down to assess the damage.

She needs to shut up.

“Just caught off guard,” you mumbled. Your mouth filled again and you spit near the drain; it was a mesmerising dark red. “I can finish fights.”

“Not today though, I see,” she continued. “Decided to be a gentleman, did you?”

“I had it,” you huffed. Something in her eyes reminded you of someone. Someone who cared. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I can see that,” she said with a solemn nod. “You certainly look like someone who had it covered.”

You gonna let her talk to you like that?

“Listen, baby,” Miss Ethel said, her voice dropping a tone and sounding more like a friend. Like someone who cared. “Stop pushing people away. Soon they’ll quit trying.”

“They already did,” you mumbled, your head falling. Your eyes squeezed shut again as a hammer started pounding away at the inside of your skull.

“Then get them back,” she said. You didn’t open your eyes but could feel her hand on your still-naked shoulder. “All that rage and loneliness has to come out sometime. Don’t put your friends on the receiving end and keep your head up. Sad birds still sing.”

“You sound poetic,” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. “Not like someone who murdered her husbands.”

“Read it in a book somewhere,” she said with her charming smile that was missing a few teeth. “Even black widows have some wisdom buried deep down.”

You chuckled lightly before inhaling sharply. Something was definitely broken, probably a rib. It was sticking into your lungs and it just hurt. Every breath, every movement, it hurt. But you took a slow, deep breath and stood up straight again.

No giving up.

“Let’s get you dressed and ready to be picked up,” Miss Ethel said. “Before anyone comes looking for you.”

Miss Ethel helped clean the bit of blood off of you and tidied you up the best she could with what she had. You picked up the towel that had been wrapped around your neck only moments before. It was rough and white. The scratchiness in your throat came back.

You looked brand new by the time you put your suit back on and was escorted out of the jail. It was weird to be wearing the suit, but you supposed it was all you had. Certainly better than nothing, at least. If it wasn’t for the newly blackened eye and broken nose and bruised jaw and… well, anyway, you would have looked ready for the Rave’N.

In theory.

“Dios mío,” Señor Moreno said when he met you outside the jail, running up to you and checking over your face.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just wanna go.”

“Of course,” he said with a simple nod before withdrawing his hands. “Then let’s get going.”

He led you to the front where a car was waiting, and you hesitated. These things weren’t just dangerous anymore; now they had rightfully killed Nicky. Sure, you had been in the police van on the way down, but this was… it was different. It was smaller and more dangerous.

It was scarier.

Just get in, the voice goaded you. And against everything you had, your feet carried you until you got into the passenger seat.

You couldn’t recall the ride to wherever you were meeting everyone. Nothing about it registered in your head, almost like a blackout. The only thing you became aware of was sitting down in the chair in that big empty room and waiting for everyone else to show up.

That was pretty scary.

“Good morning, Y/N,” someone said in an accented voice, and you and Señor Moreno turned around to greet everyone.

You remembered the man. Vaguely, of course. He was a friend of your dad’s, someone he had gone to law school with. Stokes; Luke Stokes. He was older now, had more grey in his hair, a few more wrinkles. If you remembered right, he had favoured you over Nicky.

But you averted your eyes the moment you saw your parents enter the room.

“You’ve certainly grown into a stunning young adult,” Mr. Stokes said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” you said in a raspy voice; it itched your throat again. Everyone quickly sat down and you let your eyes fall to the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Stokes asked once everyone was settled. “You mentioned you were open to a plea deal?”

“Of course,” Señor Moreno said with his own smile. “A trial would be tedious for everyone, no?”

“I’m glad we agree,” Mr. Stokes said as he started shuffling some papers. It was an irritating sound; he wasn’t even looking for anything in particular, you could tell. “Let’s make this simple. Miss Smith pleads guilty and only serves 7 years.”

“I’ll make it simpler,” Señor Moreno retorted, leaning back in his seat. You felt his foot kick yours slightly. “She pleads guilty, pays her fine, and goes to anger management.”

“Absolutely not,” your dad cut in loudly. You flinched and reached your hand out on instinct; Señor Moreno grabbed it quickly under the table. “Assault and murder?”

“Marcus-”

“-No!” His voice was far too loud, only being drowned out by the racing pulse in your ears. “It’s insulting.”

“We have witnesses for the domestic and prints for the murder,” Mr. Stokes said. Your eyes were closed but you guessed he was trying to calm your dad back down. “Why would we let her off without a sentence?”

The domestic was a simple emotional disturbance,” Señor Moreno said nonchalantly. “Her brother had just died tragically, any juror would understand.”

“And the murder?”

“Just so happened to occur on Canadian soil.” He sounded cocky.

Watch their reactions, the voice said. Again, without any intention to do so, your eyes slowly opened and you looked up across the table.

Your dad was furious; his skin was darkened and there was a fire in his eyes. A dangerous fire. He was looking directly at you like he wanted to lunge across the table and strangle you where you sat. Maybe he did. Maybe he would.

I’d like to see him try, the voice growled. And for the first time in a while, you agreed.

“The United States would never extradite one of their own,” Señor Moreno continued, “let alone a small Outcast child who was defending herself from kidnappers.”

“Any jury would still convict,” Mr. Stokes said. “It’s a good deal, Moreno. Just accept it and let’s all go home.”

The room fell silent. A silence so thick you could choke on it. Everyone was looking at everyone else, watching, waiting to see who would speak first. You didn’t want to take the deal. Seven years in prison? Not even a jail, a prison? You could hold your own, but you would rather die than be subjected to that. There already was very little to live for. It would be the final straw.

Señor Moreno squeezed your hand before leaning forward on the table.

“We will have to reject this deal,” he said with a sigh. “A trial will be tedious, but well worth it.” He looked directly at your dad and you noticed the slightest smirk on his face. “I suppose the knowledge that my client is an Outcast will come to light during the trial.”

Your parents’ faces fell instantly. A laugh tried to bubble up from your throat, and you quickly coughed and cleared your throat to hide it. You bit your bottom lip hard as you looked back up to meet their eyes. For the first time, you saw something that almost made the pain worth it.

They were scared.

“I hope your clients are ready for-”

“-Hold on,” your dad interrupted. “There’s no need for that.”

“So you will accept our terms then?” Señor Moreno asked with a tilt of his head. You turned your head to hide your smile.

Gotcha.

He squeezed your hand again as your parents leaned closer to talk to Mr. Stokes. With another turn of your head, you looked at him. He had a cocky smile on his face that was reserved only for you. And truthfully, you trusted him.

“We’ll agree to your terms,” Mr. Stokes sighed, “but the battery remains on her record.”

Shit.

Señor Moreno looked at you again, waiting patiently for an answer. If a violent crime went on your record, you would never be able to move on. You would have to disclose it to jobs, everyone could look it up and find out. It would ruin your life.

But at least it was a life…

You nodded once.

“We accept,” Señor Moreno said quickly, holding his hand out for Mr. Stokes to shake it.

You hoped you hadn’t just handed your life over to something you couldn’t fix.

—---

The next few days were total chaos. Señor Moreno had allowed you to stay in his guest room before the next day of court. It was a kind gesture, truly it was, but the bed was too soft and the house was too quiet. There was no way to get any sort of sleep so you just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts consume you.

Then he took you to the doctor, letting them check you over. Two broken ribs, one fractured, a broken nose, and some deep bruising. Nothing too horrifying, you had dealt with worse. The horrifying part came when it was time to pay and Señor Moreno didn’t even let you see it. He just paid for it all himself.

“Any child of Gomez’s is a child of mine,” he said with a charming smile.

It made you feel small. And a little warm inside.

Don’t get soft, the voice said, it’ll ruin you.

The day of court was far simpler than you had thought it would be. At least it was now that you had Señor Moreno on your side. The judge accepted the plea and let you off with a simple “you’re young, don’t throw your life away.” You just mumbled a “yes sir” and left with Señor Moreno guiding you out of the courthouse.

“What now?” You asked as you pulled on the tie around your neck. It was a shame the only nice outfit you had was your suit to the Rave’N; it had quickly turned uncomfortable.

“Now you go home,” he said with a smile, still guiding you down the steps of the courthouse. Thanks to your parents’ aversion to Outcasts, there had been little to no publicity. “You’ll start your anger management once the new year starts.”

“And the fine?” You asked. 

It had been weighing on your mind since the judge had issued it; $15,000. There was no way in hell you would ever be able to pay that off. A few dozen feet away, your parents descended the courthouse steps, eyeing you for a moment before they looked elsewhere. Your hand quickly travelled to the crystal pendent the Addamses had given you; you still kept it around your neck at all times. 

“I can’t afford it.”

“It’s already taken care of.”

You stopped fidgeting with the crystal and nearly tripped over the last stair. Señor Moreno held his hand out to your arm to steady you before you could look up. Mr. and Mrs. Addams were standing near their car with Lurch still inside. Mrs. Addams had a soft smile while Mr. Addams immediately went to clap Señor Moreno on the back.

You didn’t bother trying to keep up as they started talking in Spanish. Abuelita really needed to teach you.

“How are you feeling, little bird?” Mrs. Addams asked softly as her hand reached out to brush against your cheek. You instantly leaned into the gentle touch.

Stop being vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you said even though you both clearly knew it was a lie.

“Thank you again, Jair,” Mrs. Addams said, and you turned just enough to see Mr. Addams and Señor Moreno walking closer. She still pulled you closer until her arm was around your waist.

She was being far too soft with you, it was making you nervous. But it also left you feeling cared for, maybe even loved. Fuck, when had you truly last felt loved? Mama Weems aside simply because she still had to work all the time, of course. Shit. Now you were just getting sad.

It’s pathetic.

“Of course, Tish,” Señor Moreno said with a smile. “Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“We will,” Mr. Addams said.

Everyone bid their goodbyes to Señor Moreno and watched as he walked away, leaving you with the Addamses. It made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t properly express. How much of their money had you wasted on this whole situation? How much time had you stolen from them?

“Are you ready to go home, little bird?” Mr. Addams asked. He still looked to be in good spirits.

You opened your mouth to answer but instantly felt that lump in your throat again. It was not going to cause you to cry, not now. You closed your mouth and nodded once instead, and thankfully they took that as an acceptable answer. Mrs. Addams opened the car door for you to let you in and soon the drive had started.

You couldn’t remember anything that happened on the trip, or even the ride to the Addams house itself. That alone was enough to get your heart racing once again, but you chalked it down to the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks. More than a few weeks. Fuck, how long had it been since the harvest festival? How many weeks had you missed out on?

Fuck.

You had barely gotten out of the car when you felt something crash into you, knocking you back. Your feet steadied the rest of you, but the ache in your body stretched down every nerve it could find. Small, slender arms were wrapped around your neck and, at the familiar scent of her perfume, your own arms wrapped around her waist as your eyes fell shut.

“Never again, cara mia,” Wednesday mumbled into the side of your neck. “Please.”

Oh, how could you possibly say no to that? When you could hear the rare emotion in her voice and feel something wet drop onto your skin? When her nails were digging into your suit and holding you as if you would disappear in an instant? When you could feel her pulse under your fingertips and even just the feel of her body against yours made you feel home?

She’s going to become a distraction, the voice warned. But a distraction to what? And in the end, did you even truly care? Did you care when she felt like home and comfort and warmth all at once? No. No, you didn’t care. You would let her be a distraction to the whole world if that’s what it took to keep her in your arms.

You didn’t bother with an answer, just held her tighter and inhaled deeply once again. The stress of everything started to melt away, even if only for a moment, and you just held Wednesday as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe something inside you would break, leaving not even your sanity intact if you let go.

You wouldn’t let her go again.

You would pile corpses in front of her door before the world took her from you again.

everyone but her pt.25

Summary: College is a big step in any young adult's life. The biggest concern should be tests and not sleeping past the alarm for your morning classes. But murder always seems to follow Wednesday Addams around, and this time, she isn't sure she likes it.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, murder, vague descriptions of murder Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

“Authorities have been unable to find any answers about the murder that occurred on Quaker street around midnight last night.”

The news continued to drone on the television you had helped set up in the common space of the dorm suite. Everyone was either already out of the dorm for the morning or still sleeping. You were rushing around the common space looking for your other boot to head to work, tripping over your own feet in an attempt to do everything all at once.

“Authorities have yet to announce any details about the grisly murder-”

“-shit, is that another one?” You mumbled around the toothbrush still hanging out of your mouth. Wednesday very much wished you wouldn’t do that right beside her ear.

“Third murder since school started,” Wednesday answered, her eyes still glued to the television.

“Don’t leave the dorm without your pocket mace,” you said slowly as you straightened back up and continued brushing your teeth.

“You seem to forget I am more than capable of staying safe,” she said as she turned around on the couch to look you in the eye.

“You know what? Never mind, I’m more worried about him encountering you,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You worry too much,” She said softly. You walked over to the kitchen sink and spit out the toothpaste, wiping your mouth off before walking back.

“Yes I do,” you said as you leaned down and planted a minty kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you after work.”

“Refrain from arguing with the elderly lady at the bus stop again,” Wednesday called out before you could leave.

“I’ll behave if she does,” you answered with a shit-eating grin that she was slowly coming to enjoy. At least you were smiling. “I’ll tell Tio you said hi!”

Wednesday watched the door until she heard the click of the lock sliding into place. It was something you had started doing after the first murder in town. Whether someone was in the apartment or not, you made double and triple sure that the doors were locked. If anyone was going to leave or stay home alone, they would need to double and triple check that the doors were locked at all times.

Even with that being the case, everyone heading to university had been good for you. When they had all told you they were going to the same university - one that was more than favourable for Outcasts - and they planned on taking you with them, it was like a godsend. She hated emotion, but when your eyes teared up at the new plan, it almost made her feel something.

Your Tio had come around to help get everyone settled and show you the ropes of his construction company. To get you started, he had said; claimed he wanted to expand a bit anyway. Everyone knew it was a nonsensical excuse, even you, but you took it anyway. At least it gave you something to do and helped you stay on your feet.

The only downside to all of this? Wednesday was now living with seven other people in a confined space. These people were ones she cared about - though she would never admit it out loud - but that didn’t change the fact that none of them were pleasant to be living with. At least not when a shared living space and kitchen was a requirement.

“Omg, is that another dead guy?” Enid asked in her sleepy voice.

“Yes,” Wednesday said as she turned back to look at the television. As much as she hated technology, she would admit it had its occasional use.

“Should we be worried?” Enid asked, quickly stepping into the common room to sit on the couch beside Wednesday, both of their thighs touching ever so slightly from the proximity.

“It appears they are targeting normies,” Wednesday said. “A wise decision in a town full of Outcasts.”

“So we’re safe?” Enid asked hesitantly, an underlying whine accenting her concern.

“Enid,” Wednesday said, turning to look her best friend in the eyes. “You are a 300 pound werewolf with vampires, gorgons, and sirens as your family. No one would dare even look at you wrong.”

“You promise?” She asked with furrowed brows and a pout that Divina would have described as cute. Wednesday sighed softly.

“I promise,” she said, to which Enid surged forward to force her into a hug.

“I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” Enid said before getting up from the couch and going back to her room as if she hadn’t just hugged Wednesday.

If she was turning this soft, she hoped the murderer would come for her next.

—---

“Pollito!”

You set your pencil down and looked around until you caught Tio’s eyes. Shit, you thought as a sudden fear coursed through your veins. Had you fucked up? Surely not, you were just sketching a bit, you hadn’t even started on the cabinets. Wait, maybe that was the problem, you hadn’t started the cabinets. Oh fuck, you were going to get fired.

“Can you help Mack with that custom table?” Tio asked once he was standing in front of your desk. “You have steadier hands.”

Oh.

“Sure thing,” you said with a closed-mouth smile.

“Gracias,” he said as he patted you on the back. “I’m heading out, can you lock up later?”

“Sure thing,” you said as you stood up and started walking with him. “Doing anything exciting?”

“Making the drive back home,” he said. “Abuelita is a little under the weather.”

“Since when?” You asked, pulling to a stop. “No one told me she was sick-”

“-slow down, pollito,” Tio said with a gentle smile. “It’s just a cold. Nothing some caldo de pollo can’t fix, huh?”

You didn’t like that. Not one bit. Abuelita was tough, but she was a normie and she was old. No, a cold was nothing compared to her, but what if? The thought was enough to make your mouth feel like cotton and your hands sweat profusely. Would they even tell you if she wasn’t okay?

“Hey,” Tio said softly. His hand was warm on your shoulder. “She’s too stubborn to let a cold take her out, no?”

“You promise she’s alright?” You asked hesitantly.

“I promise,” he said. “I’ll even tell her you said hello.”

“Don’t tell her that,” you grumbled as you started walking again, heading to the front with Tio. “She’ll get a big head.”

“See? You agree, she’s fine,” he laughed, his deep laugh that made your stomach flip.

“See you in a week?” You asked when you finally approached the door and could lean on the frame.

“Two at most,” he nodded. “Keep the shop safe?”

“Claro,” you said with a shrug. “Nothing gets past me.”

“Claro que no.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

“Get out,” you said with your own small smile. “It’s my shop now.”

“Stay safe!” He called out as he backed away, his hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

You waited until he was in his car and out on the street before walking back inside. It was a big deal to hold the keys to the shop, especially right now. Sure, everyone in the shop treated you well, you liked them, but you were still the youngest. And, quite frankly, you were probably the only one with a violent offense on their record, so that was both a positive and a negative.

With only a quick sweep over the shop, you made your way over to the table Mack was working at. He looked beyond concentrated even though he was simply staring at the table. His premature greys were peeking out from under his backwards cap and you almost wanted to laugh at him. Almost.

“Need help, Big Mack?” You asked after you watched him stare for another two or three minutes.

“Not from you, pollito,” he said in the most obnoxious Jersey accent. His smile gave him away though.

“Move over,” you said anyway, gently shoving him with your shoulder to get a look at what he was trying to do.

“Big shoes to fill this week,” Mack said once you both got started on the table. “Think you can handle it?”

“I think so,” you said as you sharpened the pencil to make a few more marks. “As long as you guys aren’t too hard on me.”

“Now what makes you think we would do that?” He asked with a barely concealed smile.

You just shook your head and blew the pencil shavings off the table. He was full of shit, you both knew it. Still, it eased a bit of the stress starting to close around your chest. All the guys were nice, genuinely nice, and they certainly wouldn’t leave you to flounder.

There was an easy flow throughout the shop. Every now and then you would look up, make sure no one needed help, then go back to carving out certain patterns on the legs of the table so no one questioned you. You weren’t better than anyone in the shop, you never claimed to be, but you had been tasked with keeping everything under control. It instilled a certain air of authority that, deserved or not, you hoped everyone would respect.

The morning flew by quickly, and you and Mack were making excellent progress on the table. Most of the guys were milling about trying to decide what they wanted to do for lunch, but you continued to work. It made a wonderful distraction from the thought of some budding murderer out and about in town while your girlfriend, who had a penchant for murder, was also out and about.

“You got plans for this evening?” Mack asked when you finally stood up to stretch your back.

“Might force Wednesday to watch a movie with me,” you said with a tired smile. “You?”

“It’s my little girl’s birthday today,” he said with a nod. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the table.

“Happy birthday,” you said quickly. “How old is she?”

“Just turned eight,” he said.

“Eight, huh?” You said with a slow nod. “That’s…”

You shut the bathroom door quickly to drown out the screaming from downstairs. Mean words that felt like they were crawling into your brain and making it a home. Your hands closed around your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut as your new little wings fluttered, leaving a comforting *swoosh* sound. Daddy’s mean words kept bouncing around your head.

“That’s a big birthday,” you finally said around the lump in your throat. If Mack noticed you spacing out, he didn’t bring it up. “Gonna do something nice for her?”

“Not today,” he sighed, picking up his pencil and drawing out a few more designs.

“Why not?” You asked. It was your turn to lean back against the table. “Today is the big day.”

“Don’t get paid till Friday,” he said as he shot you a quick smile.

You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. What could you say? Everyone working in the shop lived paycheck to paycheck, that was how it worked. Not because Tio didn’t pay well, but life was just expensive, especially since most of these men had families. You had grown up in the same kind of situation; life revolved around paychecks.

But it was her birthday…

With a simple “excuse me,” you walked away from the table and back to your own desk which was, thankfully, out of Mack’s view. You tapped on your phone to see that Enid had sent a message from Wednesday - who still refused to use the phone you had given her - but it was nothing serious. With a tired sigh, you plopped down into your chair and let your head fall into your hands.

You knew what Wednesday would tell you. It wasn’t your problem; you had no control over paychecks and it wasn’t your child. And she would be right, just like she usually was. But it was her birthday. Just because your eighth birthday had been fucked didn’t mean some other kid’s birthday had to be less than spectacular. Eight was a big age, after all.

Another heavy sigh left your lips as your eyes trailed to where your wallet was sitting, nice and hidden on your messy desk. Don’t do it, the voice in your head warned. Don’t be a doormat. You bit your lip and sat back in your chair, looking out into thin air.

The wallet taunted you.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the wallet and started thumbing through whatever cash you had.

How expensive would a night out be? Well, you supposed that would depend on how many people were going. Mack had… three kids? Plus his wife? So that would be five people. Okay, then you would add your last $20. How much would dessert be? If they only got it for baby girl, then that wouldn’t be too bad, you would just add another $10.

You’re pathetic, the voice said. Just for that, you pulled all the cash out of your wallet. A migraine started to build in your right temple.

“Suck my dick,” you mumbled as you tossed your now-empty wallet onto your desk and stood up, cash in hand.

Most of the shop was fairly empty now that everyone was either out at lunch or fucking around in the break room. Good, that would make it less obvious when you got back to Mack’s table. He was still marking out the designs, face so close to the table there was no way it was healthy for his eyes.

You hit his shoulder lightly with the hand that was holding the cash. He looked at you for a second before doing a double take and standing up. You just held your hand out for him. All he did was look at it with furrowed brows.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Go on home,” you said with a shrug, “and take your girl out for a birthday dinner.”

“I’m not taking your money, kid,” he said with a shake of his head. But he didn’t look away from your hand.

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it,” you said as you moved your hand closer to him. “I get paid Friday too.”

“Come on-”

“-take it and get the fuck out,” you said.

When he still didn’t take it, you exhaled harshly through your nose and grabbed his hand, shoving the cash into it before closing his fingers around the bills. You could feel him staring at you. It made your stomach turn into knots. He knows you’re pathetic.

“Thank you,” he said in a voice that was far too soft. “Your daddy raised you right.”

“No one wants charity,” daddy said as you sat in the back of the car, now without your stuffed rabbit. “No one wants your pity.”

“She didn’t have a friend,” you said.

“People will walk all over you,” daddy continued. “Never do it again.”

“Someone did,” you said with a forced smile. “Now get the fuck out of my shop.”

“I’ll give Lily an extra hug from you,” Mack said with a giant smile that showed off his crooked bottom teeth. It was a nice smile.

He patted you on the shoulder twice before practically running out of the shop, more than eager to go see Lily for her birthday. It was sweet, truly it was, that he was so excited to spend the day with his little girl. Hell, there was practically a skip in his step.

But then your own smile fell as you looked back down at the table that was very much not finished.

“Seems you’ve got yourself some overtime, pollito,” Simon said, suddenly appearing behind you.

“Shut the hell up and get back to work,” you grumbled, to which he only laughed and went back to his own project.

Your daddy raised you right, the voice in your head echoed as you grabbed the chisel and started carving out another pattern.

The migraine got worse.

It was going to be a long day.

—---

Wednesday sighed and checked the clock on the wall once again. 7:04pm. Far past time for you to be back at the dorm. It wasn’t the first time you were late for the evening, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. If you got into a genuine flow at work, sometimes you wouldn’t be home until well after midnight. Even though it left her grumpy because she had to fall asleep on her own - and she would kill anyone who discovered that fact - she understood you were proud of your work.

But there was a murderer in town now, and you were known for finding yourself in trouble whether you wanted it or not.

“If you sigh one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Bianca said with a huff.

“Just go already,” Ajax said as he grabbed his burger from the takeout bag Kent had brought home for everyone for dinner. “We’ll save dinner for you guys.”

“But don’t forget this!” Enid called out from her room.

It took only a few seconds for her to show back up with a pink mace keychain. Wednesday looked at it in disgust - not because it was mace, but because it was pink - before exhaling through her nose and taking it anyway. There was no way anyone was going to try and catch her unawares, but she appreciated everyone trying to keep each other safe. She supposed she could understand why you loved having everyone around.

Everyone bid her goodbye as she left the dorm, keys and mace in her pocket and determination on her mind. The weather was finally starting to get cold in the evenings so it was a wonderful walk. You worked just a little further than a comfortable walk away from campus, but you made the trek every day anyway. Although she had told you that if you would just take the bus, it would be a far more efficient trip to work.

You adamantly refused.

A small part at the back of Wednesday’s mind was consciously aware of the possibility of someone sneaking up on her. She was prepared, of course she was, but it was always possible. And given her… smaller than average stature, it was even probable. They would be a fool to try, but it still might happen.

Yet, as luck would have it, she walked into Tio’s shop as if she owned the place with nary a scratch. It was almost a bit disappointing that no one had tried anything; she would have enjoyed the challenge. But you didn’t need her trying to fight off rising murderers, and she supposed it was worth keeping your anger metre down.

Or so she thought until you were nowhere to be found.

“Hola, Wednesday,” Simon said as he walked over while wiping his hands off on the hand towel that was, admittedly, almost dirtier than his hands.

“Good evening,” Wednesday said, straightening her back to look up and meet his eyes. “Do you know where-”

“-pollito is in Felix’s office,” he said with a gesture of his head in the proper direction. “Make her sleep at home, no? She’s getting cranky.”

She nodded once, to which Simon smiled and lowered his head in a silent “goodbye.” While he was walking out the door, she made her way to Tio’s office where, just as directed, you were sitting behind the desk with your head in your hands. Papers were scattered around you haphazardly and it was truly a wonder how you ever managed to get any work done in such conditions.

“You’re late,” Wednesday said. She had to fight down the spiders crawling up her throat at the little jump your body made.

“No I’m not,” you retorted instantly. A beat of silence. “What time is it?”

“Precisely 7:43 in the evening,” Wednesday said as she glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Fuck,” you said even as you leaned back and raked your hands down your face. “Explains why my back hurts, I guess.”

“If you would sit properly then you-”

“-yeah yeah, it wouldn’t hurt so bad,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Thanks for the tip, mom.”

Wednesday frowned as you stood up and started stretching out your back. She was not particularly fond of you calling her “mom,” even dismissively. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn’t quite place. Why would she want to be your mother? She was very happy to be your girlfriend. What part of her made you think that way?

“You ready?” You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts. You were putting your wallet and phone into the pockets of your jeans.

She nodded and started walking out. There was no need to look back, you followed her everywhere. If she had asked, you would have followed her through hell and she knew it. The sound of your boots on the concrete immediately behind her was all the proof she needed.

It only took you a moment to lock up, triple checking everything before deeming it good enough for the night. Your hand was sweaty when you took hers but she didn’t mind. It was warm, and even though she wasn’t cold, it was comforting. Although she would never let Enid know that she was right; having a warm partner was… nice.

You both stayed fairly silent during the walk. Occasionally one of you would ask a question about the other’s day, but it was otherwise uneventful. It was a wonderful thing, Wednesday realised, to walk with you and feel comfortable in the silence. She knew the amount of talking you did directly correlated to your comfort, and to know you could happily be silent with her? Well, that had her own palms feeling clammy.

“Oh shit,” you said as you slowed down at the flashing red and blue lights around the corner.

“Another one,” Wednesday said, her eyes trailing over the newly erected crime scene tape.

There was no ambulance which indicated that either the victims were already transported, or they were now casualties. Three police cars were parked around, and there were seven officers milling around as well. She could hear the radios from the car going off and there in the distance was the body.

“Wait.” You dropped Wednesday’s hand. “Wait, that’s Mack.”

There was no chance to stop you before you were running full speed toward the scene. She had to watch as a police officer grabbed you by the arms, pulling you back and keeping you from crossing the tape. Your hands were gesturing wildly and you tried again to get past the tape.

Your shouts and cries sent a shock through her heart as she walked nearer.

“I need you to tell me when you saw him last,” the police officer’s voice became more clear as Wednesday approached.

“I- I- we-.” You inhaled, held it, and exhaled slowly. “He left around noon.”

“Do you know where he was going?”

Wednesday saw your shoulders fall.

“It’s his daughter’s birthday.”

The officer sighed before looking back at the corpse that was now being blocked from Wednesday’s view. You were still staring in the same direction but she could tell you weren’t seeing anything. It was in the way your eye twitched every few seconds. In the way your hands and legs shook.

Without thinking, she reached out and took your hand. Almost instantly, you squeezed it tight. Painfully tight. But she didn’t dare pull away because she could see the quickening rise and fall of your chest and the flare of your nostrils and the slightest quiver of your bottom lip.

“Can I call you if we have any more questions?” The police officer asked you. He was shorter than you by a few inches, so his attempt to look up at you was almost comical.

When you didn’t say anything, Wednesday elbowed you lightly in the side. You blinked rapidly a few times before meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said as if through a fog. “Yeah, of course.”

You gave the police officer your name and phone number. While you were answering a few more questions, Wednesday was able to get a better look at Mack’s body. Blood was pooled around him and the photographer was taking a picture of a knife that was on the ground a few feet away.

“You kids get home,” the police officer said. “It’s not safe.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything but nodded once before pulling you away from the scene gently. It was as if your feet were made of lead with how you barely managed to drag them across the asphalt. Your eyes were unfocused and your bottom lip continued to shake just enough for her to notice. She knew you were close to Mack.

This was going to kill you.

You were still in a daze when Wednesday walked you through the door to the dorm. Everyone was already in the common room, watching the news as they talked about the most recent murder. From her position so close to you, she felt your body shake.

“Oh thank god,” Enid said. She nearly tripped over herself in her rush to check you and Wednesday over. “We thought you were goners.”

“Don’t you walk by this place every night?” Divina asked.

Your face started to pale when the news mentioned Mack’s name.

“We’re going to bed,” Wednesday said.

All it took was one look at you before everyone closed their mouths. Kent turned down the volume on the TV and changed the channel. Enid gave you both an apologetic smile and stood aside so Wednesday could gently usher you to your shared room. Thankfully, you let her.

You still didn’t say a word as you stood unmoving in the middle of the room. You still had on your work clothes and Wednesday knew what she was going to have to do. Slowly so as not to startle you, she stood in front of you and started taking your work clothes off.

First your shirt, which was buttoned all the way up to your neck. It was one of your old ones; the one with the oil stains and the hole in the breast pocket. She didn’t bother folding it before tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner. Then it was your harness, which was the easiest part. Your wings stretched themselves out before settling comfortably against your back.

“Sit down,” Wednesday ordered not unkindly. Even then, she helped guide you to the bed until you were sitting slouched over as if the weight of the world rested on your shoulders.

She was thankful for the work boots you had picked out because there were no laces. It made it so much easier to just slip off your feet and place them back by the door. You sat, still unmoving aside from the occasional shiver that wracked your body. At least you assisted her in sliding your jeans off your hips so she could fold them and place them neatly by the closet.

When Wednesday turned back around, you had already curled yourself into a ball on your side of the bed. You hadn’t even given her the chance to get your pyjamas out, instead staying in your boxers and tank top. With how comatose you appeared, she figured it wouldn’t hurt for her to go ahead and get ready for bed on her own anyway.

The moment she was ready, she climbed into bed beside you and waited. Times like these were where she was most uncertain with how to act. Sometimes when you were upset, you would want to pull her close and press a kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse underneath your lips. But other times, you wouldn’t want any contact at all, instead deciding to be upset all on your own.

It was the good night, Wednesday realised when you reached out with shaking hands to pull her closer. She turned until her back was pressed against your front and you could wrap an arm securely around her waist. You kept her head tucked right underneath your chin. Even from that position she could feel your erratic heartbeat against her skin.

“It’s his daughter’s birthday,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Wednesday didn’t know what to say. So she just lifted your hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to each individual knuckle. She held your hand against her until she felt your heartbeat slow to a normal rate for you. Your breaths came out evenly and your grip on her waist relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” Wednesday whispered only after she was sure you were asleep.

She hoped you were too exhausted for the nightmares to make another appearance.

La Petite Mort - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir

Summary: R deals with RJ, Lorraine gets jealous

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language, tiniest little bit of blood and physical violence

A/N: Turns out jet lag is cool because you can wake up at 4AM and start writing again. The headcanons from yesterday helped me break through the writers block, thank you guys!! Let me know what you guys want to see next!

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part IV

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.

The words rattle around in your skull, bouncing haphazardly in the blank space. For a brief, blissful moment, nothing else exists but you and Lorraine. She’s there, right in front of you, in your arms. Her big doe eyes pleading with you, don’t go.

Like many perfect things, your flawless moment is brief and shattered by reality. The hum in your ears begins to fade as voices are raised around you. Your tunnel vision widens, expanding the scope past Lorraine’s freckled nose. Everything seems to be happening in a vacuum, sluggish and unreal. You feel like you’re just an observer of the universe, not meant to interact with its characters.  

You look at RJ over the top of Lorraine’s head, his expression furious. You grant him that; you’d be angry if you were him too. The van door behind him is open, the film crew all watching with bated breath, wide smiles on Maxine and Bobby-Lynne’s faces. Maxine shoots you an enthusiastic double thumbs up, making you huff out a laugh despite the situation. 

Lorraine wraps her fingers into the hem of your shirt, pulling herself tightly to you, completely disregarding everyone else. You know you’re not going to leave with her wrapped around you, and she does too. RJ shakes his head, his mouth open in silent shock. He throws his hands up, his expression pained. 

“What are you doing, Raine?” He asks, pacing, “What is going on right now?”

You don’t speak, only observe. Lorraine squeezes her eyes shut, bracing herself against your chest. She’s not ready to deal with him, but she needs to be. You rub her back, trying to comfort her. RJ continues to pace. 

“You owe me an explanation, Lorraine! You owe me!” 

You disagree with his approach; his tone is far too harsh. But you do agree with what he says. She does owe him an explanation. You crane your neck to see her face against your shirt, dip your head down to whisper to her.

“He’s not wrong. It’s the decent thing to do.”

She nods, her cheek rubbing against your sternum. The interaction sends RJ from confused irritation to absolute outrage. 

“Two years, Lorraine! Two years and this is what I get in return? You’re running behind my back, sneaking around and with her?”

That gets her attention; yours already snapped onto him. His face is red, sweat beading on his forehead, his hands shaking. If ever this man can be dangerous, you know it’s right now. There is very little more unstable than an embarrassed man. You eye him warily, unsure of his next move. 

Lorraine turns to him, her gaze lowered to his feet, her back only inches from you. She wrings her fingers, and you can’t see it, but you know her lip is being chewed to high hell. 

“I…I don’t know how…to explain-“ she starts, “it just happened, and then you came back, and I had a lot to figure out- “

“A lot to figure out?!” He shouts over her, advancing on her but stopping a few feet short, “How is there anything to figure out? You’re supposed to be a sweet girl Lorraine. That’s what I loved about you. But you’re not a sweet girl, are you? You’re just…you’re just a whore!”

His words make you tremble with anger. You understand his plight, can have empathy for the man. But you would not stand for him insulting her. You take a step forward, silently setting a boundary. His lip curls at you, his eyes wild. 

“I’m not…I’m not a whore,” Lorraine says, her voice soft and shaking, “I love her.”

RJ looks like he’s had the wind knocked right out of him. His breath comes out in a whoosh as her words snap into the morning air. The audience in the van is dead quiet, jaws dropped open. 

“I-I love you, Rainey. I do. It’s you and me.” He says, reaching out to her, his tone changing completely.

She steps back and leans into you shaking her head, “What’s my favorite flavor of ice cream, RJ?” 

Everyone is shaken, Lorraine is standing up to him. Your chest swells with pride, watching her go from cowering to straightening her spine. Her frantic eyes more sure now, watching him. You brush your fingers against her wrist, reassuring her that you’re there. 

RJ shakes his head, “What-what kind of question is that?”

Lorraine tilts her head, “An easy one, I think, for someone who’s in love with me.”

Her expression is pained; she takes no pleasure in this. When RJ answers her with “Chocolate chip,” she closes her eyes and nods. 

“It’s strawberry,” you say from behind her and snap your jaw shut. You hadn’t meant to interject, but it was an unconscious reaction. 

You take note of the fact that RJ’s entire body goes rigid. His fists curl at his sides, his jaw flexing. You know he’s going to do something stupid in his desperation. He takes a step toward Lorraine, and you feel yourself winding up, every muscle tense and ready to spring into action. 

Wayne climbs out of the van and circles around, his hands out in front of him. He wants to diffuse the situation, but you can see in the way RJ’s lip twitches that it hasn’t worked. The moment is a ticking bomb, every second passing by filled with nervous tension. Your heartbeat is slow, steady. Your eyes trained on RJ, tracking his every movement. 

Lorraine steps toward him, her brows furrowed, her worry for him growing. He calms slightly, the muscle in his jaw relaxing and his fists unclenching. His eyes grow wide, his mouth downturned. He looks like a child, you think. It almost makes you feel bad for him. Almost. 

“It’s time for you to go, RJ. I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Lorraine says softly, reaching her hand out to comfort him.

His fingers wrap around her bicep, and the wild look in his eyes is back. He pulls her into his body, her hands pressing against his chest. She struggles back, but his arms around her keep her pinned there. The whole thing lasts less than a second. 

Before RJ can even speak to justify himself, your knuckles are connecting with his cheekbone. A satisfying crunch pops around the bones in your hand, his glasses fly off his face. Lorraine stumbles backward, free of his grasp, as he crumbles to the ground. His shoulder hits the dirt, and his hands fly up to his face, crying out and inspecting the damage. His nose is bleeding, and a red and purple bruise is already forming above his cheek. 

“Woah, now!” Wayne cries out as you step over RJ.

He takes a step toward you but is halted by your look. The girls in the van twitter like birds at the commotion, but neither of them protests. Jackson sits quietly, waiting to see the outcome. You’re not sure where Lorraine is, somewhere behind you. 

You grab the collar of RJ’s shirt and pull him up to your face. With your free hand, you dust his shoulders off, and you give him an apologetic half-smile. You’re not sorry for punching him. You’re not sorry for what you’ve done with Lorraine. But you are sorry that someone has to be hurt in this situation. 

“You don’t love her, man.” You say, your voice low, your faces inches from each other. 

RJ deflates, his weight hanging in your hand, “I…I…” he sighs, squinting at you, “I wanted to.” 

You see Maxine move out of the van and approach you from the side, RJ’s collar still secure in your grip. She squats down and hands over his glasses, which you take and wipe on your shirt. You let go of him, but you remain in his space, Maxine hovering just outside of it. You place the glasses back on his face. 

“She deserves to be loved, not just wanted,” you say, searching his face for a reaction.

Maxine whistles, low and long, “Now there’s some cowboy wisdom. I see why she loves you, handsome. You’re a regular Casanova, ain’t ya?”

RJ turns to look at Maxine, still shell-shocked. You stand and reach your hand down for him to grasp. He hesitates but takes the offer, and you pull him to his feet. His nose gushes with blood, making you wince.

“You’re gonna want somethin for that,” you say, gesturing at the blood geyser on his face. 

Bobby-Lynne sidles up to him, a tampon in her hands. She fusses over him, shoving the cotton up his nose while he whines. She pulls him back toward the van, he follows with unsure backward steps, shaking his head. His eyes lock on to something over your shoulder, and you know it must be Lorraine. You turn to watch her, surprised to find the stubborn set in her jaw, her arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes cold. 

You had only seen that look on her face twice in your lifetime. Once when Mr. Day had to put down a sick cow, Lorraine absolutely insisted she be there. Her father had denied her, and the next day she was in the barn, arms crossed and refusing to leave the cow’s side. The second time you were teenagers, and you were slowly drifting apart. Your parent's divorce sent you down a path of alcohol, drugs, and sex at a young age. Lorraine climbed into your bedroom window one night and would not leave until you explained to her why you were pushing her away. She never left your side, and you never pushed her away again.

And now, as she watches her boyfriend… ex-boyfriend get pulled into the van, she wears that same look. You turn back to the van, watch as the crew piles in. Maxine rolls down her window and winks at you. 

As Wayne puts it in gear and begins to roll away, she leans out and yells, “You treat her right, church mouse! Or I’ll come back for her!” She blows a kiss and laughs as the car kicks up dust and rolls down the driveway. 

You put your hands on your hips and laugh, shaking your head. When you turn back to Lorraine, her eyes are narrowed at you.

“What?” You yelp, your smile washing away from your face.

“That’s not funny,” she growls.

You smirk, “I mean, it’s a little funny, Rai-“

Your words are swallowed whole, Lorraine’s lips crashing into yours, her teeth knocking against yours in her haste. She pulls you back and leans against the trailer with her hands wrapped in the front of your shirt. She's possessive, her mouth hot against your lips, her hands pulling at you. You fall into her, let her expend her pent-up anxiety with soft sighs through her nose.

When she calms, you push back, creating enough space to look down at her. There is worry in her eyes, set in the lines between her brows.

“You’re not leavin',” she whispers, her hands still tight on your shirt.

You wrap your fingers around hers, “If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

The relief that washes over her is intense, her grip loosening and her shoulders dropping. She leans her head back against the metal wall of the trailer and exhales, her hands shaking. You feel your tension wash away; all you want to do is comfort her in that moment. 

You kiss her cheek, lean back and smile softly, “Go back a bag.”

She frowns again, “A bag?”

You nod, “I’m already packed up. Let’s get away for a bit. Somewhere we can talk and sort this out.”

She blinks slowly at you, mulling it over, then nods. You step back, and she releases her hold on your shirt, her eyes searching your face.

“If you leave while I’m in the house, so help me-“

You laugh, “I’m not gonna leave you here, Rainey. I’ll get Pearl and load her up. Go pack a bag.” 

——

The drive to Big Bend National Park is probably further than necessary, but 8 hours in the truck with Lorraine seems like the sensible thing to do. Your heart sings at the sight of her in your passenger seat, your bags in the truck bed, horses in the trailer. It feels like living out a dream. 

You glance over at her, absorbing as much of the vision as you can. Her feet up on the dashboard, wind whipping in her hair, the radio softly playing your favorite Queen song. You turn your eyes back to the road, tapping at the steering wheel, watching the desert and tumbleweeds roll by.

Around hour four, Lorraine gets restless. She fiddles with the radio, hand surfs the wind out her window, runs her hand up your thigh. 

“Let’s stop in Sonora, I’m tired of bein in the truck. And the horses need to get out.” 

You glance over at her, apprehensive, “They don’t need to get out, and you know it. We’re halfway there; we can set up camp by midnight.”

She shakes her head, “It’s late, I want to sleep in a bed.”

You chew your lip, torn between wanting to give her what she wants and pushing on until you get where you’re going. 

“Hotels round here ain’t exactly welcoming to two women in one room Raine.”

She shrugs, “We’ll get two rooms then.”

You sigh, rub your eyes. The setting sun is making you sleepy, and it has been a long day. You relent with no further pushing from Lorraine. You pull off the highway exit into the small town, and find the closest motel. 

The parking lot is nearly empty, a broken down Honda on cinder blocks rests near the front office, and a handful of trucks are parked outside sporadically spaced. You pull in sideways, taking up several empty parking stalls. 

“Stay here, I’ll get our rooms,” you grumble, and Lorraine nods sleepily.

The reception desk is vacant when you stroll inside, the dark wood walls and pictures of buffalo making the space feel long abandoned. The only sign of life is the quiet tinkling of a radio playing an old country song. You slap the bell on the counter and wait for a response. A few minutes go by, and none comes, so you hit it again.

You can hear shuffling from a back room, a smoky cough, and then a short old woman titters up to the desk, her hair and makeup bearing a striking resemblance to Dolly Parton. She clears her throat and stares at you, not speaking. 

You blink at her, waiting for her to speak, but she continues to stare. 

“Howdy,” you say, unsure, “You got two rooms available?”

She narrows her eyes at you, and speaks in a growling smoker's voice, “You dealin drugs?”

You jerk back, surprised, “Uh, no, ma’am. My friend and I are on a trip to Big Bend.”

She cranes her neck to see out the window, eyeing your trailer, “No cartel business at my hotel.”

You put your hands up, “No, ma’am I’m not involved in that. Just a ranch hand, takin a break is all.”

Her expression softens as she accepts your answer. She slides two keys over to you and takes your money. 

“Check out is 9 AM. No smoking in the room.”

You eye the burning cigarette in an ashtray behind her and raise your eyebrow at her. Not wanting to push your luck, you nod and sweep the keys off the counter. You tip your hat and back out the door.

Lorraine is asleep in the passenger seat when you round the truck. You open the door and rouse her gently, unlock her bedroom door, and guide her to bed. With her safely tucked in, you leave the keys on her bedside table and head back out to lock the horse trailer. 

When you finally settle into your bed, the exhaustion of the day presses into you. The water stains on the ceiling and the faint smell of cigarette smoke don’t deter you from crashing into a deep sleep.

——

Maxine’s laughter fills your mind, her high-pitched voice wrapping around your throat and suffocating you. RJ begins to laugh and then cries somewhere in the distance. The Days pass through your line of sight, waltzing over the dirt, kicking up dust in their wake. CB snorts and stomps next to you. Everything moves in a choppy, jumpy way. People appear and dissolve in your vision, and then Lorraine snaps into view. Everything else fades away, and suddenly you’re sitting on the hay bales in the barn, she’s in your lap, and she’s kissing your neck. Your heart races, and a jolt of electricity shoots through you. You’re not surprised to find yourself in your underwear and then suddenly naked. 

It occurs to you that you’re dreaming, but the thought is fleeting. Lorraine slides down your body and settles herself between your legs, her hands on your knees. Your chest heaving, your eyes wide, you run your fingers through her thick hair. When her mouth finds your center, you gasp.

You shoot up in your bed, the water stain above your head swimming into view. Your sleep-heavy brain takes a minute to register the hands on your hips and the lips pressing into your leg. The chain on your door is locked; nothing makes sense. You feel a tongue press between your legs, and you gasp again, throwing the blankets back. 

You blink hard, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them, disbelief flooding you. Lorraine fucking Day, snuck into your room, slid under your blankets, stripped you down, and woke you up with her mouth doing unholy things to your body. You push her hair away from her face, sighing at the feeling of her tongue on you. 

Your voice is breathy, low, “Baby, what-“

She sucks your clit between her lips and pushes her hand against your stomach. You drop back into the pillow, deciding to just let the moment be what it is. You’ll gather your senses later. Right now, you’re enjoying what she’s doing to you. Briefly, you wonder how she’s so good at this. You let the thought slip through your mind like sugar in a sieve. 

Her hand slides up your ribs, her thumb caressing your skin as she squeezes your side. Quiet, indulgent moans leave your throat as she runs her tongue through you, building you up. She hums into you, and it sends you into overdrive. Your hips tilt up gently, seeking more contact with her mouth. She continues, consistent and steady, sucking and licking until you’re rocked by your orgasm. Your body shudders under her, your legs squeezing her head. You fall limp around her, and she presses a last kiss to the inside of your knee. 

She crawls up your body, and you can see now she’s bare, naked as the day she came. She sits on your hips, hot against your skin, and leans down to kiss you languidly. Your hands run over her cheeks and back into her hair, anchoring you to her while you come down. She leans back, smiling down at you, and your heart skips a beat.

“Wha-what was that?” You ask, shivering under her.

She tucks her hair behind her ear, her skin illuminated by the strips of silver moonlight creeping in through the blinds, “A reminder.”

You frown, your hands reaching out to hold her hips, “A reminder of what?”

She leans over you, her voice gravelly, “Not to make jokes about running off with Maxine.”

You would laugh if this possessive side of her didn’t turn you on so much. The glint in her eyes makes you feel like you’re made of pure gold, something to be hoarded and guarded aggressively. It’s foreign on her, and it’s delicious. So delicious, you’re practically drooling at the thought of her taste. 

You pull her down into a kiss, running your tongue over her lips, your hands abandoning their post in her hair and making their way to her thighs. You want her in every way possible, all at once. You want to consume her, absorb her into yourself, and carry her around with you everywhere. 

You settle for slipping two fingers inside of her wet heat, your tongue in her mouth, her chest pressing into yours. It’s the closest you can get to becoming one with her, entangled as far as you can go. She sits up, holding her weight in her legs, and grinds into your fingers, one hand on your chest, the other on her own leg. She doesn’t give you room to move, instead taking what she wants from you, rolling her hips and biting her lip. 

You reach up with your free hand and pull her lip from her teeth, running your thumb over it. You don’t think your pupils could expand more than they do when takes your thumb in her mouth, rolls her tongue, and sucks on it, all while riding your other hand. It’s enough to send you into another orgasm. 

She releases your thumb with a pop and watches as you shiver under her. Her mouth slightly open, she begins to pant. Your hand goes straight to her nipple, you roll it between your fingers, and that’s what it takes for her. She moans your name out and drops over you, holding herself up with shaking arms. You lift your head and lick at her throat, your eyes rolling back at the vibration when she groans. She tightens around you, gripping your fingers until she cums around them and collapses. 

When you pull your hand away, your fingers sticky on her ribs, she’s back to herself. She curls around you, leaves soft kisses on your collarbone and under your jaw. She shivers, presses her face into your neck, and sighs. 

“I have half a mind to make you jealous more often if that’s the treatment I’m gonna get,” your voice breaks the silence, a soft chuckle escaping from your chest.

She pinches your side and sits up on her elbow.

“Ouch!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from her.

“That’s not funny,” she says, looking down at you, her hair falling over her shoulder. 

You shrug, grinning, “I mean, it’s a little funny.”

She tilts her head, “You make me jealous on purpose, and I’ll just hold out on you next time.”

You gasp, “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

You know, without a doubt she is serious. Not wanting to push your luck, you pull her down and kiss her softly, your thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. She pulls back to lay her head under your chin, her breathing even and slow across your skin. Suddenly you’re grateful for dingy motels and Lorraine’s knack for breaking and entering.

It Will Come Back

Summary: The cabin was becoming a distant memory but you and Wanda had been anything but. Missions continued with the team but when it was time relax, you were no longer alone. And for the first time, you never wanted to be alone again

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of alcohol, alcohol consumption, blood)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: The rhythm is slowly coming back and of course, I can't leave this series alone for too long. Here’s chapter 17 of AOP. I’ll be testing out if I have major writer’s block with a fic not related to this a bit later 😂 Happy Reading everyone! 💕

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

________________________

Your chair squeaks beneath you as your leg quietly bounces, hands trying to pop already cracked fingers. It's taking everything within you not to let out a sigh, trying to remind Steve that you all had plans later tonight and there was still things to do. He was even involved, you just knew he didn't want to set up the decorations.

You knew this was a fact as you glance over at Nat, her eyes peering up from the time on her phone. Even she knew he was cutting it close and she needed him to climb the ladder.

As you glance around the room, you catch a pair of emerald eyes across the way. Your stare softens as you watch Wanda cock her brow, you pen tapping silently against your temple. You wait for her to tap her fingers against her journal, the silent confirmation that she was connected to you. A secret language the two of you had developed over time.

You're beautiful, the words fill your mind and you watch the smallest upturn in Wanda's lips as she tries to pretend to pay attention to Steve.

The mission, her distant voice echoes in your mind as you sigh, leaning forward onto the table. You feel the pull to find her eyes again, to find her across that table but you hold yourself together for the moment. You'd have all the time in the world to stare into those emerald eyes, as you trace along her silk skin and listen to her alluring whispers all night long.

The clicking of the air-conditioning brings a soft rush of air from the vents. You noticed the slight shift in Wanda's hair and smell that sweet amber flow from across the table. Breathing in deeply, you feel yourself relax your cheek even more into your hand. You stare at Steve but your attention is far from him.

You smell wonderful, you think.

Y/N...we're in a meeting, Wanda warns and you move your hand to hide the grin on you face,

You smell wonderful at this meeting.

Wanda doesn't respond but you watch as she stares down at her notes, biting softly against her lips to keep her beaming smile from escaping. You don't stop your thoughts but simply readjust yourself in your seat.

Haven't seen each other in a few days. I say, we go get a solitary cottage by the sea. Lock myself inside with you. Stay there for a week.

Green eyes curiously flash up to you, What would we do for a week?

Got a lot of ideas, you shrugged.

Wanda catches the hum she nearly lets go and clears her throat, Perhaps. And even more, I like what I see.

You can't pull away from her stare this time. A teasing glint in her eyes and a glowing warmth in her cheeks. Your thoughts start to continue through everything the two of you can do in that solitary time together. All the recipes that could be attempted, all the kisses that could be stolen.

A sharp pain in your knees makes you jump in your seat as you sit up straight, your hand rubbing against the throbbing pain.

"Alright, we'll check on this lead. Y/N, check in with Yelena and we'll meet back here. Hopefully we'll have a triangulated location of where Strucker is."

You nod at Steve's works and glance over Nat, gratefulness whispered from your lips to her. She makes a noise as she stands and beings to walk out with Wanda. You sigh, closing your journal and trying your hardest not to look at Wanda. As you glance up, you shift your eyes and see a different pair of green eyes already looking at you. She was waiting. Expecting you to fail at your only objective, not to be obvious.

Quickly, you jog out of the room and past the pair, attempting to catch up with Sam. Mostly you were trying to put as much distance between you and Wanda. To get the Russian off your scent before she sent Yelena to ask a billion questions to break you. Besides, you had the rest of the day to preoccupy yourself with getting things prepared for the party.

And the rest of the day was tiring burden. To avoid Wanda and the peering eyes of Nat, you picked up other people's responsibilities. You walked into the compound with an armful of party decorations as Wanda was finishing decorating a batch of cupcakes. Your eyes connected, both of you knowing the redhead could come around a corner at any moment. There would be time to share cake later, no matter how much your stomach was growling.

________________________________

You make it through the afternoon though. Finding yourself leaning up against a doorway with a grin on your face. Nat was out of the Compound, you were a bit safer to knock on the door in front of you. As it opened, your brow rises slightly.

"That's a nice sweater you got there," you eye the slightly oversized sweater on Wanda. She pulls softly at the sleeves as you push yourself away from the threshold.

"I picked it up from somewhere,"

You step forward, "Somewhere or someone?"

"Oh, I don't remember actually," Wanda closes the door softly behind you, 'But I'm sure," she leans against you as your arms wrap around her, "Or someone could spark my memory."

Your lips press against hers, feeling her arms slink around your neck. She steps into you, practically leaning as your arms tighten around her waist.

"We can't stay here forever," you whispered to her, "You have to make a good first impression,"

Wanda grins against your lips, stealing one more peck, "Just knowing I put up with you, she's going to love me."

You let her slip from your grasp and watch her put the finishing touches on her hair, "That might draw some suspicion, Princess. Putting up with me as... an acquaintance?"

"Exactly," Wanda nods as she steps out of her slippers, "Who sometimes wear each other's clothes."

You laugh, "You do look amazing. I might have to steal it back later, though."

"You do know I’m not wearing this tonight right?," she teases and reaches for the closet handle. You press your hand over hers, softly clasping your fingers around hers.

You hover your lips over her neck, watching how her breath catches, “Even better,”

As your lips press against her soft skin, you hand that wraps around her waist sneaks beneath the sweater. Her contented hums vibrate through you as she cranes herself closer to your lips. Until you feel her hand rise up, pressing your face just to side.

For a moment, you fight to continue kissing down to her collarbone but you feel her body shift. Her lips find yours as she peeks over her shoulder. You feel your body relax in a way that’s only possible with Wanda.

Every muscle her fingers run across, relaxes at her touch. The sighs that brush over you when you grip her tightly and press the softest kiss beneath her jaw. They pull you from the world around you and truly show you just how vulnerable you are. But you don’t worry about made up dangers anymore.

All your focus doesn’t belong to fear now. Only to her.

“You don’t want to wear yourself out too soon do you,” Wanda whispers against your lips, sucking in a breath when you nip along the tender spot on her neck.

You hum as you nuzzle into her, “A warmup before strenuous activities is highly recommended,”

Wanda giggles, trying to pry your locked arms from around her, “There won’t be any strenuous activities if you don’t let me get dressed,”

You let out a defeated groan, watching her open her closet, “Isn’t the point to not let you-,”

She holds her hand out the door and with a flick of her wrist, her duvet is twisted around you.

“This! Is!” You struggle against the unending maze of fabric, “Unfair!” By the time you rip the sheet off your head and give it a few good stomps, Wanda has already undressed and dressed.

“It was for your own good. We’d never make to down those stairs.”

Jabbing at her sides with a grin, you press a kiss to the side of her head, "Should we be walking down those steps together? Y'know, all this secrecy stuff."

Wanda glances back at you, "We shouldn't really take all the attention away from your sister, right? Besides, we still have things to talk about. Serious," her finger stabs into your chest and flicks up to your nose, "Adult things."

You hum, "After some serious, adult activities?"

She rolls her eyes, "Is it serious when you fall off the bed?"

"Get movin', Maximoff," you pinch her side and steal one last kiss before you slink out of her bedroom. As you check the hallway before sauntering down the stairs, you hold onto the smile on your face for one moment longer.

No matter how hard you tried, that smile would find its way back on your face. Glancing across the room and crowd, you find that red headed witch in her own conversation. You watch how her eyes glowed as she laughs, the spinning of her rings when she stood and listened. When those green eyes finally found yours as you turned and found her already looking your way, your chest falls into itself. A tightening you had never felt before. A warmth throughout your limbs you wish you had felt sooner.

You both tried to keep your distance for most of the evening. Interacting with the rest of the team and the moments you did run into each other, it was a friendly conversation. A comment on a past mission or when the two of you were going to train again.

As you sit at the bar, you wonder if it was too nonchalant.

"So," a voice comes from beside you and you know it'll confirm your thought, 'You're in an interesting mood."

You glance up from your drink, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," the redhead settles into the stool next to you and holds up two fingers, "Curious timing with Wanda walking down those stairs. Hope you guys got to spend some time together since last mission."

Your brows clench as you take a long drink from your glass, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What it means is..." Nat slides the shot of vodka to you, "The way you act when she's away, it's something. Maybe that same something that has you giddy as a pig in shit."

A grin forms on your face, letting her go and have her fun, "Alright, well she is my friend,"

Nat scoffs but you point at her and continue pointing to the rest of the team that is scattered around the floor, "I act the same whenever any of you are out without me. I'm always saving your asses on mission."

She raises her brows and waits to sip on the vodka with you, "Friends don't do any of this."

You clear your throat, "Don't what? Protect each other?"

"They don't cancel plans to watch a stupid show," you clench your jaw slightly, knowing she said that to see your response, "Have conversations with nothing but their eyes or forget the world exists when you hear your name."

Your clear drink is warming in your fist as Nat finishes hers in a single gulp, 'How many times can you really take the scenic route?"

You shiver, downing the rest of the drink so you can get far away from this conversation. As you gag to your right, you see a blonde making her way to you. It was a trap and you figured it out too late.

"Look. From where I am," Yelena slides in next to you, cornering you, "Which is from the sidelines because someone hates family."

You glare over at the blonde, "I took your dumb vest didn't I?"

Her brown eyes roll, "You two make a lot of sense together. It'd be a shame if you can't see that yourself."

You flip over your empty glass and push away from the bar, Yelena quickly downing the shot she just ordered. She presses her hand against you, "Where the hell do you think you're going."

You look up at the Russian, the answer should've been obvious as you look at the time, "Out? With all of you?"

"Absolutely not, you have some things to take care of tonight," her eyes glance back towards a certain redhead that jokes with Barton, "Go show some of that sensitive side. Don't be so serious,"

"I hate you," you grimace as the refill on your drink is stolen and the two sisters take off to continue the night in the city.

You groan as the night finally reaches its end here in the building. You don't want to have this conversation yet. You were fine having fun. Having fun with her. But you wonder how much more fun it could be when you weren't meeting at different times to grab a cup of coffee together.

Or having Thor interrupt the two of you watching a movie together in the living room.

You wanted to blame all of this on your want to keep things casual and not put a label on any of this. But you know, deep down, that you are scared. Terrified, even. You are terrified of ruining her.

The world around you is lost as you get lost in your own mind. A cold chill brings you back to the world and the door you find yourself in front of, opens without a sound. You feel yourself shoved inside with a quiet giggle and tip over onto your bed.

"You're very distracting," she whispers against your lips,

You shrug, "You weren't even paying attention to Stark and his thrusters,"

Wanda smiles, placing her hand on your cheek, "The team's scattering. What're we doing tonight?"

You sigh as you breath her in, alcohol teasing your nose, "Right now? I don't know. But I bet Nat's cashing in on a bet,"

"Let her," she giggles as her lips brush against yours, a tense kiss relaxing with each moment.

Your hand cups her face, "Everything alright in that little head of yours, Maximoff?"

She nods, "It's just... we're so close to Strucker. You and I know more about him and his tortures than anyone. If we get caught, we know how unlikely it is we come back," Wanda presses her hands against your chest as she sits up, "Who thought now was a good time for love."

You raise your brows with a grin, "Who said anything about love? I'm just trying to get you back into bed."

She chuckles but her eyes stay glued on her rings, "Still an asshole,"

"Hey," you whisper, "I'm not going anywhere. I told you."

"Your thoughts were quite loud tonight," Wanda's eyes flash to yours, "You wanted to run,"

You wrap your arms around her waist and push yourself up from the bed, "I just... I'm scared,"

Her fingers rub the back of your neck, her body resting on your thighs, "Y/N, what could you be scared of?"

"I've never really been scared," you chuckle but it falls flat, "I was always faster or smarter but then... Then I met you," you play with the rings on her fingers and find why they calm her so much. "I wasn't faster or smarter when that bullet hit you or when I made you slam your head on those steps,"

"Hey now, you saved-,"

You don't let her finish, "I'm terrified. So terrified to lose you. Or to ruin you."

Wanda runs her fingers through your hair, you know what she wanted to say. To deny everything that you were saying. That you've grown so much from who you were when you first met in that HYDRA building. But she knew, your past wouldn't let you believe it.

"I don't feel so angry all the time when you're around. You shake the frost from my bones every morning you're next to me. But I..." you forced yourself to look up from her rings, 'I don't know where I'd be if..."

"Probably falling out of windows, "Wanda grins through her tears, "Getting your ass beat."

You click your tongue and feel her hands press against your chest. You listen to her silent commands, falling back onto the bed as her lips press against yours. You breathe in slowly, slowly filling your lungs, "There's no world in which I'm good for you,"

"You have nothing to prove, Y/N. It's you and me," Wanda whispers against your lips as her hands cup your face gently, "It was worth putting up with you. But even think about leaving," those soft hands squish your cheeks as she leans forward, "And I'll rip your limbs off,"

You move quickly, arms wrapping around her as you flip her over onto the bed. She giggles, sending your heart soaring as you peer down at her, "I love when your grin grows," your own lips tug upwards, copying Wanda. Every time you saw that grin, it made you lighter than air.

"Life gave and took so much from you," you sigh as your thumb runs down her jaw, "And that same one reminds me every day, I could never deal with me like you do,"

"You are a pain sometimes," she wraps her hand around yours, "But I still have time to fix you up. It's not like we're getting married."

With a grin, Wanda settles down into the crook of your arm, "Man, we'd never hear the end of it. Still, love?"

Wanda chuckles, "Who would've thought. I love you,"

Guiding your finger down her face, you push a strand of hair from her eyes. Her green eyes had never looked brighter than in this moment. Their beauty would never fail at blowing you away. The life behind them awoke the life inside of you, "Even when I snore?"

She gives a tight smile, "No. You really need to get that under control, actually. Like, that could end all of this."

"Oh yeah?" you laugh, rolling onto her and pinning her to the bed. She lets out a groan as she tries to push you off,

"Someone had a heavy breakfast," she jokes, straining to push you off still.

You rest your face in the crook of her neck, snoring loudly into her. She laughs, trying to get you off now with tickling fingers against your side. You fight against the panic in your body as you quickly pin her wrists to the bed. She cries out for mercy and with a long raspberry blown on her neck, you look down at her reddened face.

"You have all of me," your words are slow and firm, making sure she understands everything you're telling her, "I can't do any of this without you,"

You let her arms slide out from your hands and she curls up into you. Rolling softly and entangling her legs into yours, listening to the words that come from your lips, "I promise to take care of you,"

She smiles, her hand resting on your face, "I love you," the words are slow and drawn out. Everything you're saying in this moment that you're drawing out, she's saying it all in those three words. Three words you never thought would be uttered from you. Three words that feel like guiding a thread through a needle. As you stare at her, you know this should all be easier than it's feeling. It all feels so right and yet something still hods you back from giving her everything.

As you look at her, you see no malice in her eyes. No impatience to get you to step on the gas and repeat those words to her. You take in a deep breath, watching her bite her lip and hold back a smile.

"I have to say," she whispers, her breath washing over you, "It's kinda fun seeing you out of control."

You let out a hearty laugh and roll onto your back and pat your stomach as she gets as close as possible to you. You draw her even closer and press your lips atop her head. She rests her head on your chest, breathing in deeply as she feels your heartbeat.

You both lay there in silence. Your hand subconsciously runs through her hair, feeling her body relax into you with each passing moment.

She sighs, her telltale sign that she was moment from falling asleep.

As you glance down at her, you see everything in her. Your past, your present and all of your future. Even if you wanted to fight against Nat and Yelena about how wrong they were about anything between you and Wanda, it was impossible. Your entire world is merging with hers and you were doing nothing to stop it. You want nothing to stop it.

You press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

"I love you, Wanda," you whisper as her breathing turns quiet and deep, "I... am so in love with you."

Resting your head back onto the pillow with a soft grin, you feel a pair of lips press under your chin, "I know,"

You look down at her, a smile that nearly squeezes your eyes shuts on your face, "I really fucking love you,"

Her lips plaster to yours before you can gather a breath. You pull her into you, each of your movements so slow and your breaths so deep. You just want to be one with her, just together.

As her lips move with yours, you feel a sharp pinch, "Ow! What was that?"

"Can't let you get complacent," Wanda's smile presses against your lips,

You hum, "Funny, we've done that a few times now,"

She chuckles, remembering everything between stolen kisses, quick peck and long lazy kisses the past weeks.

"It felt like our first kiss to me,"

"I've heard that once you say, 'I love you,'" Wanda's thumbs slides across your hand, "A kiss tastes differently."

You hum, "Maybe we oughta test a few other things out? I think Stark has a cabin tucked away somewhere,"

Wanda's fingers climb up your chest, "Not so fast. We'll have plenty of time to visit cozy cabins," you pout a little but she kisses your chin and watches the frown disappear, "But... I doubt the world will end if we sit here a while,"

____________________________

You hum to yourself as you clean your room. Snatching up clothes thrown around and making sure your bed has fresh sheets on it. Wanda was away on a mission and all you can think about was the quiet moment shared between the two of you. The moment the two of you admitted just how far you had fallen into each other. 

As you pick up the papers that litter your desk, your eyes fall on a torn piece of paper. In it, you see Wanda’s handwriting. A small note to you so you wouldn’t forget how much she’d be looking forward to coming back to you.

And an even smaller reminder to not watch any of the show’s episodes without her. Sticking the note onto your laptop, you shuffle your files together and decide to get to them at a later time. A later time as in, when Nat smacks the back of your head with them. 

Tying the garbage bag off, you start to make your way towards the trash chute down the hall. Whistling the theme of the show you’re dying to watch, your flat notes are deafened. A blaring alarm explodes throughout the Compound and there isn’t a single thought in your head. 

The bag tumbles to the floor as your feet are whipped around and back into your room. Your thumb presses against the small box on your bedside table. A quick scan, a click and the box door shoots open. You reach inside, your hand wrapping around the grip of the gun inside. 

As you walk, your hand slams the magazine into the grip. Rising up to yank the slide back, listening to it click as it settles forward with a bullet resting in the chamber. You peek subconsciously already around the corners of walls as you make your way down the hall, swiftly bypassing rooms. You don’t hear any fighting inside so you’re wondering if it’s a break in. 

Peeking over the edge of the stairs, you wait and listen. Besides the blaring alarm, there’s no crashing or shouting. Light comes from underneath the doorway that leads towards the garage. Adjusting how you hold the gun, you cant the pistol as you wait for someone to come through that door. 

The alarm is silenced. You clench your brows, no one breaking in would know the code or certainly wait that long to silence it. The alarm leaves a deep ringing in your eyes and it only grows in pitch as the scene in front of you slowly plays through that garage door. 

First, Steve limps into the safety of the Compound. He drags a half conscious Sam through the door and towards the infirmary at the end of what must seem like a never ending hallway. Banner jogs past them, calling out to FRIDAY to start turning on the machines that might be needed to save Sam’s life. 

You stand there. Staring at the blood that is dragged and smeared across the floor. Remembering the tears and burned portions of Steve’s suit, half of his helmet missing and his unprotected face covered in dried blood. The whole side of his face was red and the whole front of Sam’s suit was red. Head hanging limply as his feet stumbled over themselves.

Your eyes rose back up to the door another straggler makes their way inside. 

Nat drops her bag of equipment in the threshold, pressing against her bandaged side with a tight grimace. Slowly, you raise the pistol up towards your chest, the muzzle pointed towards the wall. The magazine dumps out and tumbles down the stairs with echoing thuds as your stomach flips just like it.

The slide cracks backwards as you lock it in place, a single bullet following after the magazine. Wrapping your hand around the slide, you rack the slide backwards once, twice and three times before locking it again, feeling it pinch the skin of your thumb. Feeling something.

You moved slowly through the process. Usually it took you less than three seconds. But you were deliberate in each movement you made. Your eyes never leaving the door in front of you. You were waiting and you wanted a pair of feet to come through that door by the time the bullet reached the last step. 

You stare down into the empty chamber. You’re not sure why you wait to look up again. Everything is finished. Inside you though, you feel like you might be finished too.

“Y/N,” Nat groans out, stopping the rolling bullet with her torn up boot. 

You don’t look at her. If you don’t look at her, she can’t tell you why that door isn’t being shoved open and that bag being thrown across the Compound in a hazy red cloud. 

“Y/N,” Nat tries once again to get through to you, “She isn’t coming.”

The plastic of the gun snaps in your hand as the metal of the frame is slowly bent out of place, “What happened?”

“Please,” her eyes are red and now you know it’s not from exhaustion. They complement the dried blood in her ears and the tears that stain her dirty face. You watch her limp her way into the conference room, holding open the door for you.

You follow her inside, dropping the twisted metal and plastic that was once a gun. Your next victim is the chair you stand behind as she tells you everything. The ambush and betrayal. How Yelena’s contact had been bought out for twice as much by Strucker.

Using his own home as the fallout zone of a huge explosion. He played all of you like a damn fiddle, thinking Strucker would let his location get out that easily. And you learned how easily it was for him to take back one of his prized possessions. 

Yelena was already on her way to help, taking care of this loose end before coming here. She recognized the group that became involved when Nat contacted her on the Quinjet. Nat pulls out a tattered patch from her belt pouch and drops it onto the table. You glare at the black circular patch, red outline of a skull with six tentacles and a red star inside the skull. You have a stack of these patches hidden in your belongings and you hoped you’d never have to see it again. 

A special Hydra division you had been a part of. The same division that nearly executed you in a warehouse. You surrendered to them and all their experiments to save your family and now, you were going to have to make sure no one ever wore this patch again.

You narrow your eyes, lip twitching in rage as the chair creaks. Everytime you thought their head was finally chopped off, it always came back. This time though, you were coming back. 

“We’re gonna hit these fuckers where it hurts.”

“Hey,” Nat calls after you as you slam the chair into the table and walk to your locker, “I think you should wait,”

You open your locker, swinging the door slowly until the metal just clangs against another locker, ‘What are you talking about,”

Shuffling through your gear, you pull out your empty magazines and place them on the bench behind you. You’d go down to the armory and start to load everything up. And you’d unlock a part of your past that you tried to bury away, even hide from Wanda. 

Nat sighs, “When was the last time you conducted a ‘brunch chit chat’?”

You glare over at her, “Are you thinking I’ve gone soft?”

“No, no, quite the opposite,” Nat takes the keys to your past and yanks them slowly from your finger, “I don’t want you killing them before we learn anything.”

“I’m not stupid, Natasha,”

“But you’re angry,” your finger loosens on the key ring, “I haven’t seen you this angry in a long time.”

You sigh, gripping your locker and talking more for yourself than to Nat, “We just follow a trail. Soldiers, general then Strucker. And then we all come home, right?”

Natasha looks at how you try to hide the shaking in your hands, an itch you’ve always had starting to surface, “Y/N…”

“Right?” you plead, her eyes widening as she sees the terror in your eyes. It’s stronger than the anger that rages through your body, a chill that settles into your bones. 

Nat closes your locker slowly, “I’m not asking you to do any of that,” you watch as the key she took is hidden away in her gloves, “Let’s just start up a plan and wait for Yel to get here. Okay?”

But you knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

everyone but her pt.19

Summary: Fall semester is in full swing and Wednesday agrees to go on a triple date with you and the gang to the Harvest Festival. But when you get a call in the middle of the festival, everyone's lives change. And not for the better.

Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: character death, swearing, physical injury, depictions of grief, flashbacks (bolded italics), emotional abuse, abusive parents Pairing: Wednesday x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat

The fall semester could not have come soon enough.

After Lurch had picked her up and brought her back, Wednesday had walked into her own home and felt lonely. Something was missing, and that something was you, and she was so mad at you for ruining the peaceful atmosphere she had spent so long crafting in her home. The perfectly sculpted silence now felt broken and incomplete.

Damn you.

You exchanged letters throughout the rest of the summer. Each one detailing your work at the ice cream shop with Bo, or helping Tio with his construction company, or including letters from your siblings. Emily made sure to write, and Daniel would send her updates on your thoughts. Those were always fun, even if they were rather mundane.

There were occasions when you would appear at the house, whether it was before visiting Nicky or after. You would only ever stay the one evening and night, but Wednesday looked forward to them. Even though you were usually far too tired to do anything but relax, it was simply your presence that made the days feel normal.

Somehow, some way, you had wormed your way into Wednesday’s daily life and routines. She would hate you for it if she didn’t feel so strongly for you.

She got back to Nevermore a week before you did. It gave her enough time to settle in, get back into her regular school routine, and reacquaint herself with Nevermore's scenes. But she would be gravely mistaken to believe your absence didn't affect her at Nevermore either. Even Enid commented on her "excessive moping" before you arrived.

You finally showed up halfway through the first day of classes. It had already been unusual enough to go through the first few classes without having you there to doodle on her papers and distract her. The moment she saw you walking with Weems through the courtyard, it felt a little less empty. There was something off putting about you walking around in something other than your Nevermore uniform, but that was something she could get used to.

Surprisingly, you were tasked with practically being a teacher’s assistant. More often than not, Wednesday found you in the teacher’s lounge grading papers, or preparing documents for the next week, or whatever else everyone could think of. The best days were where she would see you during class, with you sitting in the back doing whatever the teacher had instructed.

Those were the days Wednesday would sit in the back with you, letting you hold her hand under the table while you worked and she listened.

You had admitted one night after her writing hour that it was essentially just a job to give you something to do. Weems knew you couldn’t just spend the year doing nothing, so she had basically created a position for you. Wednesday could see you deflate a little at the admission, only picking yourself back up when you got back to talking about all the things you “got” to do.

The first few weeks were easy to get used to. While Wednesday would study and you would work, you both still found time for Saturday morning coffees or occasional trips down to visit Nicky. More often than not, you would invite Wednesday to go with you, having just enough money for the bus trip to and from the hospital each Sunday. She was even becoming a regular, and Nurse Jackie always greeted her with a warm smile.

It was on one of these bus trips back that you brought up an idea that you thought was rather genius.

“The harvest festival is this week,” you said. 

It was easy to hear you from the seats at the back of the bus. After enough trips you had both picked up on the fact that if you sat at the back, your vehicle anxiety eased considerably. Then add the repeat trips and you were almost a professional. Your leg still bounced and you still played with Wednesday’s fingers, but it was progress.

“Indeed,” Wednesday answered. “Enid is very much looking forward to it.”

“We should go,” you said. Your eyes were focused on her fingers; you also couldn’t sit by the window or look out of it. That was okay, she enjoyed the view. “We could make it a triple date.”

“Who would be the third couple?” She asked, turning to look at you and the small smile on your face.

“Ajax and Kent.”

“They’re not a couple.”

“They certainly act like it,” you teased.

“The harvest festival is where teenagers go to act like imbeciles and show off their subpar skills at carnival games,” Wednesday said even though she already knew how this conversation was going to end. It always ended the same.

“But we are teenagers who act like imbeciles and show off our subpar skills,” you said without looking up. “It’s what you like about us.”

“It’s what I like about you,” she said aloud and froze. You stopped playing with her fingers for a moment before continuing.

“Well then I can’t wait to try for an hour to win you a carnival bear,” you said with a tone of finality that Wednesday couldn’t argue with.

Throughout the week, everyone continuously brought up the harvest festival and what they were all excited for. The trio was excited for a ferris wheel, Kent and Ajax were excited about the food, and you were excited about the games. Even though you admitted you weren’t sure you had the money for it.

She slowly snuck a little bit of money into your wallet each day before the festival. You never noticed.

“Alright, where to?” Enid asked once everyone had gotten off the bus at the festival. You were already holding Wednesday’s hand; for tonight, she would allow it.

“Food first,” Ajax said with a nod.

“You’ve just got the munchies,” you said with a snort.

“I absolutely do,” he replied with his own smile.

“Ferris wheel,” Kent said. “That way Divina will shut up about it.”

“I’ll kill you,” Divina shot back instantly.

“If you kill me, you won’t get your “romantic” kiss,” he teased.

“Your death won’t stop me,” she said, “it might even make it more enjoyable.”

“No homicide,” Yoko cut in. “I’m not talking to the police tonight.”

“What about tomorrow?” You asked, pulling Wednesday along to get the group moving somewhere. “Fun tonight, homicide tomorrow.”

“You’ve been hanging around Wednesday too much,” Yoko mumbled.

Wednesday pretended not to see the smile on your face or the way you squeezed her hand lightly. Everyone quieted down the faux arguing and started getting down to what everyone wanted to do. They all made their way to the ferris wheel first where you climbed in and pulled her close. If she leaned into your side when the ride got started, or kissed you once when she was certain no one would see, neither one of you would admit it.

“Did you and Ajax kiss at the top?” Divina asked once everyone got off.

“Full make out,” Kent said with a nod.

“With tongue,” Ajax continued. Your laugh made Wednesday’s stomach turn.

After the ferris wheel - which the trio wanted to ride four times in a row - it was on to get some food. Ajax and Kent got an obscene amount of food that was enough for the whole group. Unfortunately, so did you and Enid. Wednesday waited at the table with Yoko and Divina, waiting impatiently for you to come back.

“Oh god,” Yoko said when the four of you came over to the table with what had to probably be over a hundred dollars worth of food.

“It’s vital for our health,” you said when you plopped down beside Wednesday and scooted some fries in her direction.

“You mean for our health,” Yoko said with a glare directed at you. “You all get hangry.”

“Enid and I need it,” you said. Your thigh pressed against Wednesday’s and she felt your thumb rubbing her knee. It was comforting, yet discreet. Perfect.

“What about those two chucklefucks?” Divina asked, pointing her finger at Ajax and Kent who were absolutely hypnotised by their food.

“They’re just high,” you shrugged with a smile before shoveling some more fries into your mouth.

Conversation was easy when everyone was sitting around eating. You had pushed all your food in between you and Wednesday, silently urging her to eat. And she did. Everyone knew you weren’t necessarily one to share for no reason, and she certainly wasn’t going to turn you down. After all, the smile on your face was more than enough to convince her to continue.

You looked happy. It was one of the few public outings, outside of Nevermore, that you had let your wings free for the night. There had been an uncertainty in your movements at the beginning of the night, but now that everyone was laughing and having fun? All uncertainty was gone and you were almost, almost confident. Your wings would twitch and ruffle when you laughed, or they would give a little flap when you were excited. They stayed close to your body, but they were free. You were free.

“Wanna go on some rides next?” Ajax asked once everyone had eaten their fill. Well, Kent and Ajax had eaten more than their fill, but that was alright. No one was complaining.

“I think we’re gonna play some games,” you said, pulling Wednesday closer to your side. No one commented, but she saw the smirk on Yoko’s face.

“Then let’s meet back here in 30 minutes?” Divina asked, and everyone agreed before they all walked off.

“Come on,” you said once everyone had left. “I’m winning you one of those stupid bears.”

“You’re going to spend all of your money before you can win it,” Wednesday said simply, but allowed you to pull her along after you anyway.

“Then I’ll be broke and happy,” you said with a smile.

She had been right; you were losing your money far faster than you were able to win anything. The only bright side was that you had her hold your wallet, and she would slip a few more dollars in while you were focused. Much like the past week, you still didn’t notice.

There was one game that you ended up being successful at; the small, rigged shooting range. With a precision that only came from hundreds of hours of practice, you hit the bullseye on each target, your face scrunched up in concentration and your tongue sticking out of the side of your mouth. You managed to knock over every target on your first try.

“Here you go,” you said when you handed over the small stuffed crocodile. “Told you I’d win it.”

“Win a different one,” Wednesday challenged.

“You don’t like him?” You asked as you eyed the crocodile. “I thought he was pretty cute.”

“I think Nicky would appreciate him more,” she said with the smallest smile. You looked at the crocodile for a little longer before nodding.

“You’re right,” you said. “You’re much more of the pink teddy bear type.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Wednesday whispered.

“Watch me,” you shot back. She didn’t have time to argue before you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

In public.

Oh, you were getting bold.

Wednesday’s pout was still present when you both walked back to the meet up spot, a stuffed animal in each arm. Wednesday was now carrying the crocodile and a pink teddy bear while you were carrying two of the biggest stuffed gorillas she believed she had ever seen. But when she saw your grin now stretched from ear to ear, she couldn’t tell you how ridiculous it was. Not that night, at least.

“Jesus fuck,” Yoko said once everyone finally came into view, “what is that monstrosity?”

“I won it for my boys,” you shot back as you dropped the giant gorillas into Kent’s and Ajax’s arms. “Can’t leave them empty handed.”

“You’re all so weird,” Divina said with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re just jealous because your girlfriends are useless,” Kent said. He flinched when Enid fake-lunged at him.

“Y/N’s your girlfriend now?” Wednesday asked, looking up to meet Kent’s and Ajax’s gaze.

“Uh-”

“-Well-”

“-Be nice,” you chuckled while both boys floundered in their response. “They know their place.”

“Do they?” Yoko asked as Wednesday felt your pocket vibrate. You looked at the phone in confusion for a second.

“Hey, give me a sec,” you said, patting her shoulder once before you walked away. “Hello?”

They watched you walk away from the group for only a moment before continuing the conversation, but Wednesday stayed watching you. She listened to the group, of course, but her eyes were focused on you. You had started pacing and she took note of the way you were fluttering your fingers. 

The longer the call went on, the more frantic you looked. You ran your hand over your hair and looked around with wide eyes. She wasn’t with you but she knew you weren’t really seeing anything; simply looking for something to keep yourself grounded. Your hand remained on the top of your head until you stilled and your phone slowly slid out of your hand until it hit the ground.

She saw the light reflect off a tear falling from your right eye.

Your wings extended and you jumped into the air, flying off before anyone could even notice.

—---

Faster.

The cool fall air stung your lungs with every breath you took.

Faster.

The burn in the muscles beneath your wings was practically unbearable; too little use had eliminated any sort of endurance you used to have.

Fucking faster!

You let out a frustrated scream as you tried to push yourself harder, faster than you had ever flown before. The wind hurt your face and your lungs and your fingers were going numb but you didn’t care. None of that mattered because you had to get there, you had to get there now.

If you could get moving a little bit faster then you could get there in 20 minutes and then you could-

-it felt like a bolt of lightning struck the back of your brain. The bolt raced through every inch, every fold. You let out another scream as your wings faltered.

“Back straight, Y/N, and shoulders back.”

“Why can’t you be normal like your brother?”

“Don’t you understand what this is doing to our family?”

A warm hug, hands pressing tight against the base of your wings. It hurt, but the hug just felt too good.

“What will the senator think about this? The mayor?”

“Y/N, you know I love you. So why won’t you just do this simple thing?”

“If you won’t put them away, I’ll cut them off.”

The pain was too much. It felt like your head was throbbing and your brain was trying to push your eyes out of their sockets. Your hands flew to your eyes to put pressure on them as your wings faltered again and you fell a few hundred feet before catching yourself.

“Oh yes, she’s doing wonderfully, we’ll make a prodigy of her yet.”

“You love us, don’t you, darling? This is for your own good, you know that.”

“Your parents have high hopes for you, young lady. Don’t disappoint them.”

“It’s just you and me, little bird.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N!”

Another scream slipped past your lips as your wings finally gave in, the pain in your head finally rushing down your spine. The wind whipped past your face as you plummeted back to the ground, and you only just had enough time to cover your face before hitting the trees and ground below.

Everything hurt. It hurt so bad. Everywhere throbbed or burned or stung or just flat out ached. You rolled onto your stomach and pushed yourself up to your hands and knees, coughing until you could spit out the gunk in your mouth. It was blood.

Your father helped you smooth the dress down, pressing tight against your wings until they were completely hidden. He gave you a simple kiss before whispering “you wouldn’t tell anyone about those things without permission, would you?” You shook your head and he smiled.

Nicky held your hand as you watched your mother and father continue to talk with the lawyer man from down the street. They were supposed to be done, it was bedtime. Didn’t they know you were waiting?

“You will tarnish our name if you keep up this nonsense.”

“You wouldn’t want to hurt me, would you, darling?”

Your ankle was sprained, you could tell that much when you finished the struggle to push yourself up to your feet. The thoughts - were they memories? - continued to rush through your head with every beat of your heart. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered, you needed to go. Your wing was sprained but it could last another 20 minutes. With a clumsy jump into the air, you started your journey again.

The hospital looked different in the dark. It looked less welcoming. Fitting. You could feel the dirt stuck to your knees and elbows fall to the ground as you skip-ran through the halls. Only one thing was on your mind and you had to get there, he was right up there, you had to get there, Jackie needed to move out of the fucking way.

You crashed into the doorframe.

It was horrifically quiet.

“I’m so sorry, darling.”

Why was it so quiet?

“We didn’t want to interrupt your night out.”

Why wasn’t the heart monitor on?

“The experts said it was futile.”

Or the ventilator?

“It was only prolonging the inevitable.”

Your eyes turned to the far side of the room where Marcus and Kristi were standing. Why were they there? Couldn’t they hear how quiet the room was? It was never quiet. Why were they giving you that look?

“I’m sorry, darling,” Marcus said softly. “This is the merciful thing to do.”

You inhaled sharply once your lungs started burning. Had you not been breathing? Surely you had. Your heart felt like it wanted to burst out of your chest. It hurt. Why would it hurt? Everything was fine, it was okay, it was just too quiet. Once the noises started back up, everything would be fine.

But why couldn’t you bring yourself to look at him?

Marcus was suddenly standing in front of you, a sad smile on his face. Why was he sad? Everything was fine, it was all okay.

“You look disastrous,” he said softly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and oh.

Oh.

You sighed involuntarily, almost even whimpered as you leaned into his touch. Oh, it was nice. His hand was warm and soft and comforting. When had he done this last? When had he last let you lean into his touch?

“You simply must behave,” your father said softly once he had pulled you away from the party. “Just smile.” He cupped your cheek; his hand practically covered the entire half of your face. His hands were soft. They were home.

“You know it was necessary,” Marcus said. From the way you were leaning into his hand, you were in the perfect position to look at Nicky.

All the equipment had been removed.

Why had they taken it away?

“They’re an abomination!” Your father yelled. “Either you keep them hidden, or I have them removed!” You cupped your hands over your ears; he always yelled so loud.

“Come here, darling,” Marcus whispered, pulling you into a hug and tucking your head into his neck. His arms wrapped around you so tight and you could feel your eyes stinging and your head was still pounding and-

“-Daddy,” you choked out around the sob that was stuck in your throat. 

Your next breath was watery, scratchy, and you let out another strangled whimper before grabbing the back of his shirt so tightly your fingers ached. The tears continued to fall down your cheeks and stain his shirt and your cries echoed through the room, but he was holding you. He was holding you, and you could hear him saying something into your ear and he was acting like your father. Nine years you had waited for that hug, and it felt better than you ever could have imagined.

But why did it have to be because of Nicky?

It was impossible to look away from him. You were holding Marcus so close and it almost felt like home again but you couldn’t quit looking. His eyes were closed but you could feel him staring back at you. Through the pounding in your head and the memories that wouldn’t quit, you could hear him. Hear him banging against your skull and wailing and asking why.

It was so terrifyingly quiet.

“That’s quite enough now,” Marcus said softly into your ear. “Smiths don’t cry, remember?”

No. No, Smiths don’t cry, he was right. You held back the cries until it physically hurt. Held them back until you felt nothing, nothing at all, and you wondered if maybe that was how Nicky had felt before they had made their decision. Had he felt numb? Had he felt anything at all?

“That’s better,” Marcus said as he pulled away and held you at arm’s distance.

“We have paperwork to sign,” Kristi said softly. That was rather unusual; she must have been feeling particularly emotional. “We’ll give you time to say your goodbyes.”

Kristi walked out of the room, her hand brushing lightly against yours. You flinched. Then it was Marcus’ turn. He squeezed your shoulders lightly and stepped around you - please don’t let me go. For a moment, his fingers brushed against your dirt covered wings; you shivered violently. Please do it again.

“Put those things away before we get back,” he said with a smile.

He walked away.

The room was quiet.

Nicky was just laying there; if you didn’t think about it too hard, he almost looked asleep. That was good, right? Yeah, he was asleep. You should go over there. You should go over there and talk to him. It was awfully rude, you hadn’t even said hello to him yet.

But your feet wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t take the steps to get to the side of the bed where you could check if he had stubble that needed shaving. He would need a nice shave if Marcus and Kristi were there. You should go over and check. Just go check.

Or you should put your wings away first. Marcus said so, you should put them away. Your eyes looked all over the room - skipping over Nicky in his bed - but found nothing. Oh, right, it wasn’t your dorm. You didn’t have an extra harness. That was okay, you could tuck them under your jacket for now. Right?

Every joint in your body ached, but you managed to pull the jacket over your wings. The holes were still in the back, but it was okay. Marcus just said to put them away. You just needed to take a deep breath and go say hi to Nicky and they would come back and you could all be a family, right?

Right?

You didn’t recall walking yourself over to the side of the bed. That was okay though, you were still trying to wade through memory after memory that was resurfacing. The migraine hadn’t gone away but it was okay. Everything was fine. You couldn’t see Nicky’s chest moving but it was fine.

He was sleeping.

The room was too quiet.

His hand looked terribly lonely there, resting on top of the bedsheets. It had been a little while since you had held his hand. But Wednesday had held it last week; she had commented on how warm it was. He was always warm. Maybe it was something in the family, because she always said the same thing about you. All you needed to do was reach out, hold his hand, feel how warm it was, and everything would be fine.

Everything was fine.

His hand was cold. It was cold, and his fingers didn’t move the same, and it was too limp. Why was he cold? It was fall, sure, but the room was warm. Maybe he just needed an extra blanket, and then he would be fine.

Everything was fine.

The room was too quiet.

The memories continued to pound memories into your brain like nails. It felt like you were nothing more than a glorified pincushion. But that was okay, because the memories meant everything was okay. People were supposed to have memories, right? It was supposed to happen.

You climbed into the bed, curling up into Nicky’s side and resting your head on his chest. It was quiet. He was cold. But it was okay. Everything was fine. He just needed someone to warm him up and then he would be okay. Your lungs were burning and your chest hurt and you wanted to scream, but it was okay.

The room was too quiet.

Your thoughts were too loud.

Maybe if you just closed your eyes for a few minutes, let the memories play on the back of your eyelids. That would help a bit, wouldn’t it? Give your brain time to burn itself out, settle back into the usual patterns. No more memories, no more thoughts, just silence.

You wished your head was silent.

“Wake up, darling.”

Your mouth tasted like ash and felt like cotton. There was a hand gently shaking your shoulder and your eyes felt heavy as you looked around. Nicky was still sleeping beneath you. Good, he needed the rest. But why couldn’t they let you rest too? You had been working hard, you had been up late, you were hurting. You could rest too, right?

“We need to go gather your things,” Marcus continued. He pushed your shoulder just enough to roll you off of Nicky. “You’ll stay with us while we plan the funeral.”

Why would you be planning a funeral? Who had died? It had to be a family member, that was the only reason Marcus and Kristi would be there. Yes, that had to be it. A family member had died. A shame, truly, hopefully it was someone you remembered.

Arms reached under your back and behind your knees and you felt yourself being lifted out of the bed. Warm hands, strong hands held you close, and with a shaky sigh, you leaned into the body underneath you. He smelled nice; like tobacco and mint. Just like you remembered.

Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the tear stain you left on the collar of his shirt.

You stared at the hole in your jeans. It hadn’t been there earlier, had it? No, it must have happened after your fall. One of the tree branches had to have caught it just right, it would explain the dark stain spreading out from it. A simple scratch, nothing more.

You were so focused on the hole in your jeans that you didn’t see Nurse Jackie move toward you, or hear her tell you she was sorry.

You didn’t notice anything. You were simply numb.

It was still too quiet.

—---

Wednesday was losing her mind and she didn’t care who noticed.

You had vanished and left your phone and there was no way anyone could have gotten a hold of you. She had immediately left to tell Weems, and after handing the phone over, Weems’ face fell. Why? She didn’t explain, but it was enough to set Wednesday on edge.

Everyone had gotten back to Nevermore and you still weren’t there. You were still missing, and no one had heard from you, and no one even knew what to do. No warning, no nothing. And as Wednesday paced the floor while the entire group watched, she felt even more on edge.

They needed to quit staring at her.

“It was probably just an emergency,” Divina said after Wednesday had completed what was probably the 37th lap around the room.

“She looked panicked,” Wednesday said.

“She always looks panicked,” Ajax cut in. “It’s a normal look, I bet she’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t she warn anyone?” Wednesday asked. “Emergency or not, she left without notice.”

“You know she doesn’t think things through like that,” Enid said softly. She had tried to comfort Wednesday at first, but after realising it was a failed task, she had settled down on Wednesday’s bed.

You should have been settled on her bed.

“I’m going to talk to Weems,” Wednesday decided aloud. “I’ll be back.”

No one bothered trying to stop her as she walked out of the room and made her way downstairs. Weems had insisted on staying downstairs in case you came back so it was easy to find her. She hadn’t even gotten herself a chair to sit down on, instead just standing at the top of the stairs and watching out at the gate.

“You know where she is,” Wednesday said as she sidled up next to Weems. Neither one of them looked at each other.

“I have a hunch,” Weems answered. “I pray I’m wrong.”

“If you’re not?”

“Then you had better learn how to be comforting,” she said with a sad smile. “Quickly.”

Oh. Oh so it was serious. This wasn’t some simple emergency, this was going to be something devastating. Wednesday’s mind wracked through everything that could have been the culprit. Your family was the logical conclusion, but who? Had one of the kids gotten hurt? Had your aunt been in an accident on the way back to Portland? Or maybe it was Abuelita, she was rather old. Hopefully it wasn’t-

-a car pulled through the gate and up to the entrance, and a man and woman stepped out. She recognised the woman as Kristi, and instantly she felt the desire to commit a felony. But the man she didn’t recognise at all. He went to the passenger rear door and opened it, helping someone out.

And there you stood, with dead eyes and scratches and dirt and dried blood all over you. You moved forward with a limp, and you still weren’t looking up. She heard Weems inhale sharply as she held her hands together tightly, knuckles turned ghostly white.

“We’re here to grab a few things,” the man said. He had your lips. “She’s coming home while we plan the funeral.” A funeral?

You still weren’t moving or looking up at anyone. Wednesday wanted you to look up, to say something, to act like more than a zombie. You couldn’t just leave like that and come back like this and not expect anyone to worry. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she was worried.

“Shall I go help her?” The man asked once no one had said anything.

He looked like you; you had his face. The same eyes and curve of the nose. His hair was the same too, and though he was just an inch or two shorter than you, Wednesday could clearly see the resemblance. Your father, the one you had never truly talked about but had eluded to on a few occasions. Which, as Wednesday connected the dots, would make Kristi your mother.

Things were making a bit more sense.

“Miss Addams will take her,” Weems said with a faux smile. “You two shall stay down here with me while we discuss the situation.”

“Very well,” your father said with his own mock smile. His seemed far more predatory as she turned to look at you. “You’ll need about two weeks worth, darling.”

Oh, Wednesday didn’t like him at all. She hoped he saw the glare she was giving him because if it was up to her, she would have destroyed him. Physically? Emotionally? She wasn’t sure, she just knew he deserved to be punished for something. Anything.

She didn’t wait for anyone else to say anything before reaching out and grabbing your hand-

-her own head flew back as that unexpected electric shock went through every nerve in her body.

A grave was being dug as a crowd approached. Tears fell down your cheeks but you didn’t dare utter a noise.

The sound of flesh pounding into flesh and screams of rage following quickly after.

“I worked with your father,” an accented voice said, “and I want my pound of flesh.”

A werewolf howl.

Your face, smiling a bloody smile.

Wednesday steadied herself quickly and pulled you along, ignoring the looks everyone was giving her. Except for you, of course; you still had yet to look up. She was thankful you could at least function enough to walk up the stairs and make the trek to your dorm.

Once your door shut behind the both of you, she let go of your hand and watched you. Watched as a tear slowly, silently slipped down your cheek. There was the slightest quiver of your bottom lip and that familiar shake of your hands. What was going on in your head? What had happened?

“Y/N?” Wednesday asked once you still hadn’t moved for the next few minutes. You blinked once, slowly, before turning to look at her.

You were crying.

“I’ll be right back,” you said in such a broken voice that Wednesday’s heart hurt.

You stumbled your way to the bathroom and shut the door, and Wednesday was left to stand there in the middle of your room. Part of her debated packing some things for you; your father had said two weeks, hadn’t he? There was no way you were going to be able to pack it all yourself, not in your current state.

“You had better learn to be comforting,” Weems' voice echoed in her head. It was terrifying advice because she wasn’t good at comfort. It didn’t matter how many times she asked Enid or Yoko, or how many times she rehearsed it in her head, she was no good at comforting someone. And now that you desperately, clearly needed it, she wasn’t sure if she could do it.

But she could at least be helpful. She could help pack your things and make it a little easier for you. So that’s exactly what she did. Her shoes thudded against the floor as she walked around, grabbing the clothing she knew you preferred to wear. Sweats, a pair of jeans, some of your favourite shirts. You didn’t have much, but she still knew your preferences. She even threw one of her own jackets into the bag for you for some extra comfort.

She was in the process of finding your socks when something crashed in your bathroom. Her body acted on instinct as she ran to the door, her hand flying to the doorknob. It was locked, and she could hear another crash and what sounded like a muffled scream.

“Y/N,” Wednesday called out, but the sounds didn’t stop. “Open the door.”

That muffled scream sounded a little louder, and Wednesday could hear the heartbreak in it. The utter devastation, completely reminiscent of when Nero had been brutally murdered. It was horrifying, almost a wail, and it sounded painful. Almost like your throat couldn’t handle the sounds it was producing.

“Open the door,” Wednesday said again, a little louder, a little more bold.

Another crash, another scream, a thud.

That’s it, Wednesday thought as she looked around your room. She knew you kept bobby pins on your desk, top left drawer. Her shoes made the same thud that had come from your bathroom as she walked over and grabbed the bobby pin. It would work perfectly.

With the precision that only came from practice, she picked the lock to your bathroom door and threw it open. She stopped in the doorway as she took in the scene. The singular mirror was broken and the shards lay littered across the floor. Bottles were thrown around and the towel rack had been ripped off the wall.

There in the middle of the floor, leaning against the tub, was you. You with your hands gripping your head and tears falling down your face and another wail just begging to fall from your lips. Your knees were pulled up to your chest and you were rocking back and forth.

And Wednesday didn’t know what to do.

She could see one or two shards of glass sticking to your palms and the blood was slowly dripping down your arms, but she didn’t know what to do. There was too much to do. Did she help you remove the glass? Or comfort you emotionally? Did she clean up the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself again?

What did she need to do?

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice sounding watery and like you couldn’t breathe properly. Maybe you couldn’t. “I’ll fix it, I’m sorry.”

Now that was devastating.

You kept mumbling you were sorry while Wednesday walked across the broken glass until she could sit down beside you. She could see blooming bruises on your arms in the shape of fingers; they hadn’t been there before. You were bloody and bruised and broken and she didn’t know how to help you. What would help you?

“I’ll fix it,” you mumbled again, and Wednesday took note of the erratic, hazy look in your eyes and she didn’t know what to do.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped your head even tighter as if to hold all your thoughts in. Your mumbling was getting more incoherent and your fingers were digging deeper into your skin and you needed to stop. You were going to hurt yourself, you needed to stop.

In a split second decision, Wednesday took a gamble. She reached over and wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you tight and holding you still.

“Don’t touch me,” you practically cried as you attempted to push her away. But she didn’t let go. “Let me go.”

But your feeble attempts at pushing her away soon ended as you leaned into her and cried. No, it wasn’t just crying, you sobbed. Held her shirt so tight she swore she heard it rip, but she didn’t care. She just held you and let you sob those painful sounding cries and mumble your unintelligible words.

She didn’t know how long she sat there with you. How long you cried and soaked her shirt and probably bruised her side with how tightly you were holding her in return. A tear or two slipped from her own eyes, and she was thankful you couldn’t see or hear her. But seeing you this broken, this completely devastated? It was impossible to witness.

“It’s my fault,” you cried after a while. Wednesday didn’t question what you meant; it wasn’t the proper timing. “I killed him.”

Him?

Oh.

You pulled away before Wednesday could say anything. After all, what could she say? She didn’t know all the details, and had no idea what had gone on during the night. She knew it wasn’t your fault, of course, but she had no idea about anything else. What would she say to you?

“I need to go,” you whispered, and Wednesday watched helplessly as you violently wiped your eyes and nose dry and stood up. “My daddy is waiting.”

You walked out of the room with bloody palms and a blood stained face, and Wednesday got up quickly to follow. For a moment, you stood in the middle of your room and looked around; looking, but not seeing. You looked utterly lost, and Wednesday wanted to pull you into another hug because… well, because you looked like you needed one.

She didn’t want you to be alone.

But you shook your head and looked around again, grabbing the bag she had packed for you. The only other thing you grabbed was your harness, dragging it on the floor as you started to walk out of the room without her. She took care to turn your light off and close the door before chasing after you.

Everyone was still waiting at the school entrance when you both made it back down. You didn’t even bother looking at Weems before heading to the car and threw your stuff into the back. No goodbye, no lingering looks, nothing. You simply crawled into the car and shut the door behind you.

“We shall send you the details once they have been solidified,” your father said with that predatory mock smile as he and your mother walked back to the car.

Wednesday and Weems watched as they got into the car and pulled away with you, broken, in the back.

“She will never be the same without him,” Weems said softly. Wednesday looked up just in time to see a tear fall down her cheek. No, Wednesday thought as she looked back out to see the rear lights on the car. You wouldn’t be the same; you were broken.