G. Blythe

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎 → g. blythe

pairing: gilbert blythe x fem!reader type: fic request: none warnings: mild angst (but mostly fluff)

prompt/trope: "I like you." A mumbles, almost scared to admit. B absently reaches for A's hand on the railing, a smile forming on their lips. "Can we really do this? Nobody must know-" A throws B's hands on their shoulders, pulling them by their waist. "You and I know, and I think that's--that's more than enough, love." (@urfriendlywriter)

summary: when an accidental glance makes y/n's heart race, she's pushed to make a confession to her best friend, gilbert―who, surprisingly, seems open to a confidential agreement. word count: 1845

One glance. That was all it took. Y/n looked up momentarily from her slate, craned her neck ever so slightly to look beside her, and found a pair of hazel eyes already locked on her. In an instant she saw familiar freckles and curly dark hair, and an instant later they were gone. Gilbert's head snapped away the moment Y/n's eyes met his as he struggled desperately to look instantaneously busy in his studies, but Y/n's head stayed up, a crease forming between her brows as she gazed on, trying to work out why exactly Gilbert's eyes had been on her - and, even more, how long?

"Miss Y/l/n!" Mr. Philips snapped from his place at the desk. "Tear your eyes away from Mr. Blythe for once and focus."

A spattering of giggles from the girls and snickers from the boys coursed over the room. The only two who stayed truly silent were Gilbert and Y/n, who kept their eyes fixed intently on their respective slates so as not to draw any more attention to themselves - or to the other. Y/n's cheeks blazed red (as did Gilbert's although she was too afraid to look up and see it).

But it all begged the question, why? Gilbert and Y/n had been close friends from what seemed like the beginning of time. Well, perhaps friends wasn't the best way to describe how they started out. They began as all children do―by bothering each other. He'd pull her hair and she'd chase him around the schoolyard, throwing insults back and forth until they both ran out of breath. It happened so often that, at some point, they almost began to enjoy it. Soon enough they'd find themselves taking the same path to and from school. They'd use that time to bicker as well, not wanting to walk in awkward silence. Then, eventually, their bickering turned to casual conversation, then to enrapturing discussion about anything―reading, school, the goings on of Avonlea.

But they were friends. That was all. So why was Y/n blushing to high heaven over nothing but a momentary glance?

"Miss Y/l/n! Tear your eyes away from Mr. Blythe for once and focus." Y/n replayed the teacher's scolding again and again in her mind as she walked to town hall. Recently she'd been giving her time to help Miss Lind with the annual Christmas play she put on - with Gilbert. The two had long since grown out of participating, so they volunteered to help in other ways. Miss Lind had put Gilbert in charge of the lighting, seeing as he was the only one who could make sense of the queues and contraptions involved in the process. And Gilbert, quipping that he could only truly stand to be around her for hours at a time, elected Y/n to help him.

Until that day, Y/n had looked forward to rehearsal. But now she found her palms beginning to sweat as the town hall neared, despite the snow that was still surrounding her as she walked.

"Y/n!" Miss Lind exclaimed upon the girl's arrival. "Lovely to see you. Gilbert's already in the loft―go on up and see what you can do to help."

Miss Lind knew to phrase her request in such a way because it was common knowledge that Gilbert was the true brains behind the operation, and Y/n was his less knowledgeable but very teachable assistant. Y/n nodded at Miss Lind's request and left her to continue squawking at the young children singing a very off-key rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Y/n climbed the familiar steps to the upper loft at the back end of the auditorium, feeling her heart race as she did so. She tried with all her might to scold it back to a normal rhythm, but it was no use. All the panic just wormed its way into her mind, her thoughts racing at speeds that were surely unnatural.

Gilbert was indeed already at the loft, close by the railing, tinkering with one of the stands as she tried to raise it a few inches. Y/n stepped quietly so as not to make her presence known immediately, hoping for a few extra seconds to plan how to address him (although she had never quite wondered such a thing before), but her heel brushed a paint can by the landing and caused a great scraping noise that in turn made Gilbert whip around in surprise.

Y/n pursed her lips. "Oops." she muttered.

She heard Gilbert laugh. "Could you stop knocking things over for a moment and help me?" he asked. "I can't quite figure out how this is supposed to work."

"Aren't you supposed to be the expert on lighting?" Y/n quipped, walking over and crouching to look at the light stand from below. "No, no you're doing it wrong―there's a fixture inside that needs to be turned, but it's locked. There should be something on here to unlock it..." she spoke, running her hands along the stand until her fingers grazed a notch. She seized it, pressing tightly until the button depressed, and there was a small click. Immediately the stand began to collapse into itself, lowering at a high speed. Gilbert and Y/n both reached out to stop it and found their hands on top of each other. At once the stand stopped its fall and came to halt, leaving both Gilbert and Y/n breathless.

There was a moment of silence as they both blinked at the stand, making sure it wouldn't fall. Then, Gilbert let out a breath, laughing slightly. "Now who's the expert?" he asked quietly.

Y/n smiled breathlessly back at him, now intently aware of Gilbert's hand atop hers. He froze as well, seemingly noticing the same thing. Y/n's breath hitched. In an instant she removed her hand from the stand and moved away to let Gilbert raise the stand himself. Y/n moved to stand by the railing and looked down upon the rehearsal on the stage. She picked at wood chips on the railing nervously, her hands growing cold.

Gilbert watched her for a moment as she did so before turning back away to fiddle with the light stand. Something gnawed at him as he did so, but he focused on the task ahead of him.

Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek and fiddled with the railing. She couldn't do much about the lighting without Gilbert to instruct her―but she was dead set on not turning around and speaking to him unless absolutely necessary. And, right now, nothing seemed necessary. Not in the slightest.

Finally there was a sigh, and Gilbert moved to stand beside her, placing his own hands on the railing. "What?" he asked lowly.

Y/n didn't meet his eyes, but stared straight ahead of her. "What do you mean?"

"You seem upset." he said gently. "Anything I can do to help?"

Y/n almost laughed at that―Gilbert's not knowing that he was the root cause of all of her worries. "There's nothing you can do, Gilbert. Believe me." she said. "Unless you're up for murdering Mr. Philips?"

"Normally I would say yes, but today I'm feeling like an upstanding citizen. So I guess I'd say...make it look like an accident."

Y/n laughed this time, but a moment later she felt Gilbert take a step closer to her, and her heart beat resumed its incredible pace. She moved away to the other side of the loft almost immediately to try and lower the other stand to meet the other. Gilbert frowned as she moved away.

Y/n lowered the stand with a decisive press, making sure it was level with the one on the other side. Miss Lind was struggling to gather all the actors together on the stage to start from the top of the show, meaning that soon Y/n and Gilbert would be forced into silence as they focused on the show. For Y/n, that couldn't come soon enough.

The show began within the next several minutes, during which Y/n and Gilbert sat in uncomfortable silence as they shuffled around the loft, rearranging things and ensuring everything was in its correct place. Y/n set the light and left it, knowing that she needn't change it for the majority of the show. Gilbert set the other light as well and saw Y/n wander back to the railing, leaning against it and holding onto it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He frowned.

In a moment, Y/n saw Gilbert lean backward onto the railing beside her out of the corner of her eye and stiffened, gritting her teeth. They stood there for a moment with Gilbert trying to figure out to phrase his approach and Y/n hoping against all hopes that he didn't try to say anything.

But, of course, he did. "I know something is wrong." he whispered.

"Shh," was all Y/n said in response, using the ongoing show in front of them as an excuse to shush him.

Gilbert's frown grew deeper, but he pushed on nonetheless. "Is this about earlier? Because what Mr. Philips said―"

"Shh," she said, more forcefully.

"Y/n." said Gilbert, taking her hand from the railing and holding it in his. Y/n looked down at it, her heart skipping a beat. Gilbert tried to meet her eyes, but she kept them craned down. "Y/n, look at me."

She bit her lip. How could she explain to Gilbert something she didn't fully understand herself?

Slowly, she looked up, worry knitting her brows together.

"Tell me what's wrong." Gilbert pleaded quietly. "Whatever it is, I want to help. I don't like it when...I don't like seeing you upset. So, come on. Talk."

Y/n, overcome with worry, looked away, fixing her eyes on the stage. She had a chance―a chance to do something that had the power to completely upend her and Gilbert's friendship. But she didn't think she could stand regret.

"I like you." Y/n mumbled.

Gilbert absently reached for Y/n's hand on the railing, a smile forming on his lips. Then, in one swift motion, Gilbert moved forward and pressed his lips on hers. Y/n, shocked, nearly jumped out of her skin. But, almost in an instant, she relaxed into his touch, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

But a moment later she pulled away, fear worming its way back into her mind. "Can we really do this? Nobody must know―"

Gilbert interrupted her by throwing his hands on her waist, pulling her in. "You and I know, and I think that's―that's more than enough, love."

Y/n smiled, the fear melting away as she looked at Gilbert.

"Hey!" came the shrill voice of Miss Lind. "That's the light cue! What's going on up there?"

"Nothing!" Gilbert and Y/n yelled in unison, scrambling back to their posts on the loft, hiding their smiles.

Author's Note: AHHHHHH MY FIRST FIC!! I've had this one in my head for a while now, but @urfriendlywriter 's prompts just really nailed it into my head that I needed to write it. I've been binging AWAE as school started and...I gotta say...I'm a sucker for dark hair and dark eyes. And the title, inspired by a Hozier song, just fits the vibe of the show so well I love it. But yeah! Enjoy my first fic and send in any and all requests you got!

<3 Gracie

AWW THANK YOU SO MUCH! And no worries, I totally understand!

hiiiii hazel!! i absolutely adore your writing and i was wondering if i could get a small blurb for wednesday addams with the dialogue prompts "we make a pretty good team."

thank you so much! have a lovely lovely day <3

heyy honey!! congratulations on 200 <33 and I love love ur idea but I'm currently not taking requests!! maybe in the future I'll definitely write this 🫂 and I think u are one of the most talented writers on here! 💋

friendly reminder to please check my list of characters i write for before you request! sometimes i'll write for certain characters from a show/movie but not others, so please always check before requesting. if you request a character i do not write for i may not complete your ask. you can always pm me and ask if i'll write for a new character before you request!

[001] BEING THE YOUNGEST IN THE STUDY GROUP (nbc community headcanons)

Because I am talking about a big group, I made a little color-coded list so there should be no confusion as to who is speaking! Also, this is set about halfway through season one, so that explains the timeline.

Reader = Purple Jeff = Blue Britta = Orange Annie = Yellow Abed = Green Troy = Red Shirley = Pink

pairing: fem!reader x platonic!community warnings: none

The choice to go to community college hadn't exactly been an ideal one

You had accidentally filled out all your actual college applications wrong and didn't realize they never went through until all the application dates had passed.

So, weighing your options, you decided that Greendale was your best option.

By then you had to enroll in all the leftover classes that still had spots open

You had taken French all throughout high school and barely retained a word of it. You'd hoped to jump into some French classes for an easy A, but all of the French classes had already filled up.

The solution? Spanish 101.

You showed up to the first day of class determined to make the best of the awful hand you had been dealt.

And surprise, surprise! Spanish was nothing like French.

The teacher was a little kooky and he severely overestimated how much work his students could do before the next class.

Before you knew it, you were drowning in work that you didn't know how to do and suddenly your grade started to drop.

When your next door neighbor took a liking to blasting loud music while you were trying to study, you decided to head to one of the study rooms to try and be productive.

But when you got there, you found the table was already full of people.

"Oh! My bad, sorry-"

You tried to leave, but, due to your immense surprise, one of the girls at the table recognized you.

"Hey, wait - aren't you in our Spanish class?"

Before you could confirm, someone answered for you.

"Yeah. She sits in the third row and color codes all her notes."

You looked at him in confusion.

"I'm Abed."

And then another woman in the room smiled at you.

"You color code your notes?"

You nodded and took them out to show her, but a douchey looking guy in a leather jacket scoffed.

"The only people who color code notes are horse girls and psychopaths."

Four years of going to public school has made you immune to assholes...and excellent at shutting them down.

So you slapped down your color coded notes and took the chair beside him.

"I bet this psychopath's color coded notes can teach you more Spanish in five minutes than an entire semester of whatever blow-off class you're taking."

And again, to your surprise, he almost looked impressed.

"I'm Jeff Winger."

"Y/n L/n."

And just like that, you were in.

You met with the group every day after class to work on the Spanish homework and study for upcoming tests and quizzes

But, to be honest, you guys weren't always great at staying on task.

"Okay, um... yo nací en mil novecientos noventa y dos."

"Hang on, that can't be right. You just said you were born in 1992."

"No, that's right."

"Y/n, that would make you seventeen."

"...Yeah?"

Needless to say, they kinda lost it.

"You're even younger than me! Wait, I'm not the youngest anymore? Ha! Suck it, Y/n!"

"I started school a year early and I have a late birthday! I don't know what the big deal is."

"No big deal, I just didn't know that there was a child in our midst."

"I am not a child."

"Aw, look at them pouting! They're so little and adorable."

Thus began your long journey of trying to prove to your friends that you were not a child.

Your first step? Changing up your look.

And boy did you turn some heads when you walked into the study room in a leather jacket and thick eyeliner

"Okay Wednesday Addams, give us our Y/n back and no one gets hurt."

"Jeff, I'm trying to prove a point."

"Is the point that you lost a bet with the cosmetology class?"

So...yeah. That didn't go as well as you were hoping.

Even so, they stuck by you through all of your erratic, split second decisions that you made without really considering the consequences

Like when you walked into the first day of second semester with bangs you had cut yourself over the break.

Surprisingly, Abed seemed to be the one most enthusiastic about them.

“It’s likely that we’ve just began a new season, so one of the main characters changed up their look to provide a jumping off point and to keep viewers interested.”

Silence followed…

“I like them.”

“Aw, thanks Abed!”

But, obviously, you endured some teasing—mostly from Jeff.

“Okay, remind me not to let Mia Wallace near a pair of scissors ever again.”

“Did you just Google ‘female characters with bangs’ and use the first one on the list?”

"…No.” (Jeff said as he slyly put his phone back in his pocket.)

The group became like a family to you, but sometimes you missed your family

Especially when they called and said that they couldn't make it to Family Day. You had had the sneaking suspicion that they were disappointed that you ended up at Greendale, but this seemed to confirm it.

You did your best not to let on how upset you were by brushing it off when you were asked.

"Y/n, how worried should I be about interacting with your parents on a scale of Helicopter Mom to Cougar?"

"Actually, my parents aren't coming to Family Day."

"Oh no, why not?"

"They were just busy. It's fine, I saw them a couple weeks ago. No big deal."

Family day approached and you were actually feeling pretty okay about the situation. Acting like you didn't care had actually made you not care, which you thought at the time was a good thing.

But as you sat in the quad and watched everyone walk around with their relatives, talking and touring, you realized just how upset you really were.

So you left.

You found yourself hunched over your Spanish textbook in the empty study room reading the same sentence over and over and mindlessly writing unhelpful notes that you'd never actually study.

You weren't sure how long you'd been there before you noticed someone looking over your shoulder.

"That's odd, these Spanish notes are in black and white."

"I wasn't in the mood to color code. Plus Abed stole all my pens to make mini lightsabers."

Jeff sat next to you, taking your textbook and notebook and placing them on the other side of the table.

"Look, I know that I spend a lot of time trying to act like I'm older than I am, but I'm still a kid. Know how I know? Because I miss my mom and dad. I was always a little afraid to leave home, so when I had to come here for school, I had to admit that I felt a little relieved to be only an hour away from where I grew up. I felt safer knowing my parents would only be a short car ride away. But now it just feels like they might as well be on the other side of the country. I know they're disappointed I didn't go to an Ivy League or get to go out of state for college, but I wish they'd just get over it and accept it. I have. Why can't they?"

Jeff never considered himself particularly good at the advice thing. Sure, he could talk until hell froze over and manipulate anyone into doing his bidding, but he could never figure out how to make sad people be less sad. You may have been young, but you weren't naive - he knew that.

He saw you now like a younger sibling rather than a jury member or someone he was trying to con. So he decided to speak accordingly.

"People are stupid. Parents are stupid. Greendale may not be Ivy League, but it's something. You could've blown off college and stayed at home where it's safe, but you didn't. You cared enough to pack your stuff, drive sixty minutes away, rob an entire Office Depot, and enroll in the last classes they had available. You did all that because you care. And if they can't see that, then that's on them. I may not know a whole lot about warm, fuzzy, familial relationships, but I do know this: you have a family here at Greendale. A weird, messed up, occasionally problematic family. So screw Family Day. We're a study group. And I wouldn't trade that for the world."

You hadn't expected to tear up, but you did anyway. You said nothing and hugged Jeff, who reluctantly returned it.

"I'll steal your pens back from Abed."

"Thanks."

The rest of the year progressed smoothly. Sure, you guys had your ups and downs of course, but you always found yourselves back in the group study room after class

But that, you supposed, was what a family did.

Author's Note: Can you tell I'm obsessed with Community??? Ugh this was so fun to write, I genuinely love the headcanon format because it's how my brain just functions, so this was really good for me to write to get out of my head for a bit. It's also funny bc this is how it is with my friend group, all of which are in college except for me, so it was fun to draw from some real life experiences. I hope you guys had a lovely week and I hope this makes you smile! Much love 💗🖤

Okay but can I get a Wednesday x reader on how her and Wednesday argue when it gets really bad💕 maybe reader walks out and they both make up after giving each other space

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 -> w. addams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi yes???? I love this so much?????? Healthy relationships?????? Thank you so much for your wonderful words???? But seriously I love this kind of angsty fluff stuff fr...this is how I survive in this cruel, cruel world HAHA. Also I'm pretty sure I've used the phrase "thaw her frozen heart" in a Wednesday fic before, but oh well! I'm a sucker for stuff like that. Hope you enjoy this one! I'm really proud of this :') (Also peep the little gif paragraph break thingie I made on Photoshop...I'm a little too proud of it...)

PAIRING: wednesday addams x gn!reader WARNINGS: arguing

ARGUING WITH WEDNESDAY ADDAMS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. She's as sadistic as they come, even when not mildly discontented (which in Wednesday Speak is as close as you can get to happy), and she never backs down from a fight. And, though a lot of Wednesday's sharp edges become a bit dull around you, that doesn't mean that she'll let you win an argument.

"You can't just endanger someone's life because they bother me, Wednesday!" you shouted. That particular argument was nasty — while you and Wednesday fit together seamlessly most of the time, she occasionally did things that you just couldn't agree with.

This time Wednesday's target had been Leah. Leah was one of the Scales, and one of the more insufferable ones at that. For the past week or so, Leah had for some reason chosen you as the target of her constant torture. She tripped you during class, used her siren song to make you humiliate yourself in front of the school, and on one occasion even managed to push you down the main staircase without anyone around her seeing. Wednesday had seen, of course. Wednesday always saw.

So she concocted a plan: she sent Leah a fake letter in her boyfriend's handwriting, telling her to meet him at a very specific location in the woods near Nevermore. As expected, Leah took the bait and made her way deep into the woods after dark. Instead of finding her boyfriend there, she was met with a pack of hungry wolves — and she quickly noticed that someone had sewn raw meat into the pockets of her clothing.

Leah returned to school half an hour later — out of breath, scratched around the ankles, and terrified. Wednesday watched her return with a smug grin — all it took was one look at her and you knew instantly this had been her doing.

Wednesday hadn't really expected you to be pleased (she had made peace with the fact that you two had very different moral codes), but she certainly hadn't expected you to react like this. "I only inflict pain upon people who deserve it," she said, her monotone voice never wavering in resolve, "and Leah deserved it."

"You don't get to decide that!" you said, rage curling your hands into fists.

"Would you rather be pushed around and ridiculed for the rest of the semester?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat constricted and tears rushed to your waterline before you could get a word out. You paused, taking in a breath and willing your voice to steady. "I don't need you to fight my battles, Wednesday. If you can't respect that, then..." you trailed off, not quite sure where you were going next. Then maybe this isn't going to work out. You stopped yourself just short of putting the end in sight, not wanting to say something you didn't really believe and might regret later. Instead, you bit down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. You blinked the tears away as you took one last look at Wednesday's stoic face and walked out, slamming the door to her dorm room behind you.

Wednesday watched you go with a bitter taste on her tongue — and not the kind she liked. You had had your arguments in the past, but you had never walked out on her. Unlike Wednesday, you were a stickler for talking things out right then and there, clearing the air before things got too ugly. But this time it had been too much. She had been too much.

Thing crawled onto the desk, having heard the entire argument. Wednesday turned sharply. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"I hope you're going to fix this."

"Why? Clearly they don't care enough to stay and have it out. Why should I be the one to piece things back together?"

Thing said nothing, but sat there in a way that said, Really?

Wednesday grit her teeth. "You're very passive aggressive for a hand."

"You're one to talk," Thing tapped back, "and ouch. Don't you think they might've needed some space?"

Wednesday paused. She hadn't thought of that, actually — not that she'd ever let Thing know that. "Fine then," Wednesday conceded. "What do you suggest?"

And, for once, Wednesday took someone else's advice.

She gave you the space you needed. For the next day and a half you received total radio silence from Wednesday. She still took her seat next to you in class, but she kept as far away from you as possible and didn't attempt conversation — not that Wednesday could ever endure small talk.

Eventually you were so unnerved by her behavior that you spoke to her, leaning over and keeping your voice to a whisper beneath Thornhill's lesson. "Wednesday? What are you doing? Are you alright?" you asked.

"I'm giving you space," she said, not meeting your eye. The words sounded unnatural in her voice. "Thing suggested it," she added quickly.

You sat back in your chair, a perplexed crease forming between your brows. This was very un-Wednesday like behavior. You weren't upset of course, just surprised. Not only at the fact that Wednesday was willingly giving you the space you needed, but that she actually took advice from Thing. It made your heart give a little flutter as you attempted to focus back on the lesson.

Wednesday never paced, but she had never been closer to doing it than she was that evening. She skipped dinner with the intention of writing her novel, but found herself staring at a blank page, unable to write a thing. Rain pounded the large stained glass window on the opposite side of the room. She had never suffered from writer's block before. This was excruciating, and not in a good way. She let out a slow breath, and finally something snapped. That's it.

She got up and strode to the door of her dorm with the intention of meeting you in the courtyard and demanding that you settle your argument from two nights ago, a crack of thunder scoring her sudden outburst. But just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, she heard a knock.

You stood out in the hallway, shivering and soaked with rain, your blazer wrapped tightly around you. The greeting you had prepared was quickly tossed away as you gave a sudden sneeze, a shiver running down your spine. You looked back at Wednesday and the words died on your tongue.

Instantly she pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and getting one of Enid's fuzzy (revolting) blankets to wrap around your shoulders. Wednesday didn't often have these, God forbid, motherly urges very often, but again, a lot of things about Wednesday changed when she was around you. And the sight of you shaking in the cold on her doorstep was enough to thaw her frozen heart.

Once she was satisfied that you were slowly being warmed up, she stepped back, letting you dry the rain droplets from your cheeks and hair. Thing subtly crawled onto the desk and Wednesday saw it subtly sign out of the corner of her eye: "Talk."

Wednesday set her lips in a grim line. This was the part she always had trouble with. "Y/n —"

"I know you were just trying to protect me, Wednesday," you cut her off quickly. "I know that now, and I appreciate it. I didn't like what Leah was doing, and I know you didn't either, but I needed to try and figure out how to fix it in my own way first. I know that you want to look out for me, but I'm capable of fighting my own battles. I need you to tell me that you understand that."

Wednesday paused. And now she understood. This was what you had been trying to say the night of the argument — you just hadn't been able to get the words out right. Space. Space had allowed you to understand what you needed to say and what you needed to hear. Wednesday understood that now — and more importantly, she could respect it. "I understand," she said, "and I'm sorry."

You almost gasped. Wednesday rarely apologized for the things she did, especially to the people she did them to. But this was genuine.

She continued, "I don't regret what I did to Leah, but I do regret that it hurt you."

You nodded in understanding.

"I don't like seeing the people I love get hurt."

All at once you felt tears rushing to your eyes. Not the bad kind. You pushed them away with a hard swallow, sniffing. "I love you too, Wednesday," you said. "And I promise that if my way of fixing something doesn't work, you'll be the first person I call."

Wednesday felt a rush of something then, something that flushed in her cheeks and almost drew the corners of her lips up. She struggled to stifle it, but every glance at your rosy face made her that much more willing to surrender to it.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked. You and Wednesday had reached a point where you could hug her without asking first, but you liked to get the clarification every once in a while.

Once you received a brisk nod, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her and enveloping both of you in Enid's thick purple blanket. Wednesday wrapped her arms around your waist, letting herself bury her head in your shoulder. She allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of being wrapped up with you, holding you tightly and knowing that you were together.

The storm continued to rage outside, but you two were warm and safe in the knowledge that, when you were together, there was nothing that couldn't be fixed.

HOUSE OF MIRRORS (PART TWO)

PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE

pairing: rowan laslow x fem!reader warnings: once again we have knives, fighting, two people literally trying to unalive each other (enemies to lovers things), fear, at one point someone tries to unalive themselves (please do not read if you are sensitive to that kind of thing), gratuitous sexual tension, possibly ooc rowan? (i've only seen a couple episodes of wednesday)

summary: y/n and rowan have been trying to kill each other since the day they met. on this particular day, rowan finally meets the other guy who's trying to kill her. note: OH MY GOD IT'S PART TWO GUYS. Part one did so unexpectedly well so I decided to sit down and plan some stuff for part two. Theoretically I could write a whole "limited series" type deal on this with an arc and an OC and a plot n all that but I'm not 100% sure I have all the motivation necessary for that haha. Plus I have like two other WIPS going right now, one of which I desperately need to update and the other I need to plan. But anyway! Here's this! Enjoy! word count: 3693

Being at Nevermore was becoming more and more like a lethal game of hide and seek. She'd go about her day as normal, talk to the people in her classes, participate in demonstrations, and then she'd almost be killed by a flying knife as she headed back to her dorm. If there was one good thing she could say about Rowan, it was that he was persistent.

As Y/n walked through the halls of Nevermore that day, she was attempting to untangle her destiny — why was she the one destined to end the world? She wasn't anything special, really. So she could do a couple things that Normies couldn't, but that was the entire population of Nevermore! No one there was strictly normal, so why couldn't the universe have picked another person to take the weight of destruction?

While she ruminated, she felt a pair of eyes on her. She knew that familiar chill of the spine. So she looked up and found exactly who she was expecting: Rowan. They were in a crowded hallway, so there wasn't much he could do in the way of killing her. She liked to smile at him in situations like this, just to confuse him, but something stopped her before she could muster up a grin. Behind Rowan stood a tall, shadowy figure, stretching nearly eight feet tall. It was vaguely human in stature but made entirely of inky black shadow. At the sight of it, Y/n's blood went cold. It had found her. Without so much as a blink, she turned and sprinted down the hallway, nausea creeping up her throat.

As she turned around to see if the figure was following her, she ran into someone hard, sending them both to the ground. She groaned, scrambling for her books. "Sorry," she muttered as she stacked them back in her arms.

The person she had knocked over was Xavier Thorpe, Rowan's roommate. Y/n hurriedly held out a hand to help him up, glancing behind herself every few moments. "No problem," Xavier said as he stood up. He noticed the frantic look in her eyes and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Y/n responded quickly. Too quickly. "Look, um, if Thornhill asks where I am next class, can you tell her that I went to the Infirmary? I'm not feeling well."

Xavier was confused, but he nodded anyway. "Sure."

"Thanks." Y/n said, immediately walking around him and continuing her fast pace down the hallway. Xavier watched her go, still perplexed by her hastiness to get away.

He passed by Rowan in the hallway and noticed that he too was looking after Y/n, his brows twisted up in confusion. "What's up with her?" Xavier asked.

Rowan just shook his head. "No idea."

Y/n had barricaded herself in her dorm room, now glad that she had one all to herself (her last dorm mate had dropped out after one of the carnivorous plants in the greenhouse had nearly taken off her pinky finger). Y/n first took the small pendant off from around her neck and opened the locket to reveal a small mirror no bigger than a slightly above average grape. "Keep a lookout, okay?" she muttered to the mirror. She placed the pendant just inside her door and set to work.

She opened the closet and dragged out her prized possession: an ornate mirror taller than herself, handed down from her grandmother. In the L/n family, all females were given the powers of vitrikinesis, or mirror manipulation. At least most females. Her mother had inherited some sort of mutation that gave her a different kind of power.

The pendant had been passed down for generations, beginning with her great-great-great-great grandmother Alethea, whose soul had been trapped in that one small mirror. She acted as a guardian of sorts for the wearer, which came in handy in any conflict where Y/n mother was involved.

She traced the ornate detailing of the mirror with her finger, then stepped back and closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. When she opened them again, duplicate mirrors lined the walls of her dorm, stretching all the way to the ceiling. Speaking of...

Y/n stood on her bed, stretching her hand as high above her head as she could get it. The moment her fingertips touched the plaster ceiling above her, its entire surface became reflective, and soon enough she could see herself in its image. She jumped down from the bed and was about to begin arming herself, but the pendant suddenly flew from the door into her hands, and a voice reverberated in her head: Someone is coming.

Y/n didn't waste another second before approaching the nearest mirror and stepping inside of it. Immediately she was engulfed in a mirror version of her own room, allowing her to see out but not to be followed or seen by anyone who chose to walk in. Except shadows. The shadows could always see.

Y/n looked down at the small pendant in her hand. "Show me who it is." she whispered. The mirror changed from showing her own face to showing her who stood just outside her door. There was a knock then, and Y/n saw in the mirror hazel eyes behind a pair of glasses. Shit.

She stepped out of the mirrored room. "Go away, Rowan!" she shouted.

"Relax, I'm not here to kill you." he replied.

Y/n scoffed under her breath. "That would be a first." she muttered. Suddenly the pendant rattled in her hand and the voice of Alethea came back: It's coming. You need to hurry.

"This isn't a good time!" Y/n shouted, ready to jump back in the mirror. Alethea's voice came back: It'll kill him too.

Y/n sighed, whispering to the pendant. "Would that really be the worst thing?"

Alethea said nothing back, but that was response enough. Y/n groaned, rolling her eyes. "You are so passive aggressive." she hissed, slipping the pendant back around her neck.

Y/n ran to the door and flung it open to Rowan standing there. Without so much as a hello, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, sticking her head out the door frame to scan the hallway.

"Y/n?"

"Shut up." she hissed. A cold shudder went down her back and she looked to her right. A black shadow was forming at the opposite end of the hallway. She slammed the door behind her and grabbed Rowan by the arm again. "I don't have time to explain, but we're both in danger. Well, I was in danger, but since you decided to show up unannounced, you are also now in danger — so if you die, I will not be taking the blame." she stopped them in front of one of the many mirrors. "Get in."

Rowan looked at her like she had actually gone insane — which, for the record, he hadn't totally ruled out yet. When he hesitated, Y/n groaned and pushed him as hard as she could. Rowan braced himself to hit the mirror, but instead he fell right through and landed on solid ground. When he opened his eyes he saw the mirrored version of the dorm. "What the hell?" he muttered.

Y/n stepped through the mirror just as Alethea's voice came back: It's here.

Rowan looked up at her. "What's going on?"

Y/n said nothing, shaking her head and pulling him back up to stand. When he tried to protest, she slammed a hand over his mouth and backed him to the wall in between mirrors. All at once, the temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. It had come in.

As Y/n stood with her hand clamped over Rowan's mouth, he saw something he had never seen in her: fear. True, unadulterated terror. There was a low growl from the other side and her eyes squeezed shut, lips pursed as though she was afraid she might accidentally scream. He noticed she was shaking from head to toe.

In the corner of her eye she saw the Shadow as it slowly walked about the room, looking for her. If it chose to step through the mirror, they'd be dead in seconds. She couldn't protect Rowan at that point. Protect Rowan. That was an odd thing for her.

Y/n's knee began to shake so violently that her heel rattled against the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw the Shadow turn its head. She sucked in a breath, terrified tears forming in her eyes. She had taken her hand away from Rowan's mouth and now pressed herself against him, trying to take up as little space as possible to prevent them from being seen. Rowan was still too confused to really notice as she buried her head in his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut again to stop herself from crying.

When the Shadow left her line of sight, she looked back up, looking around carefully before fixing her eyes on Rowan. "Stay here," she mouthed to him. After another careful glance in the mirror beside her, she stepped back until she was in the center of the room. Now it knew she was here. "Contritus." she said aloud.

At once, every mirror in the room shattered. Rowan flinched as pieces of glass fell at his feet and all around the room. He looked up to see Y/n holding the pendant she always wore, her brows knit together in terror. "Is it stuck, Alethea?"

He didn't hear a response, but Y/n soon nodded as though she had. "Good." she said. She looked back at Rowan, her cool demeanor slowly returning. "Congratulations, Rowan. You were almost just killed by Shadow, my mother's henchman."

"That thing works for your mother?" he asked, bewildered.

"You're not the only one trying to kill me." she said lowly. "It's trapped on the other side. As long as none of the mirrors in here are intact, it can't get through to us. The only problem is we can't go back. Shadow is a patient guy, too, so it looks like we'll be here for a while."

"What's here?" Rowan asked. "Where are we?"

"A mirror dimension. But it's limited." she crossed the room and opened the front door. Immediately outside it was a reflective wall preventing them from getting through. Y/n knocked on the mirror to show him it was solid. "It's unbreakable. Nothing exists outside of it., so nothing can get in. This is the safest place to be when a Shadow attacks."

After a moment of silence, Rowan spoke: "Vitrikinesis." he said. "You're a mirror manipulator."

Y/n nodded, pacing about the room.

"So how does charmspeak tie in?" he asked.

Y/n frowned. This was just about the first time he had engaged with her and not tried to murder her in the process. It felt weird to tell him things about herself. It felt weird that he wanted to know in the first place. “It's a branch of mirror manipulation. It takes whatever I want someone to do and reflects it back on their mind, making them think it’s something they want to do.”

Rowan nodded, and they lapsed back into silence. As Y/n paced, he noticed she was picking at a hangnail on her thumb. She checked the pendant every few moments, presumably to see if Shadow was still lurking in her dorm. He was still in shock from seeing her look so afraid. He had almost convinced himself that she had no capacity for fear, but this was irrefutable proof of the opposite. He had no idea what Shadow really was or what it could do, but he had the feeling it was much worse than he could imagine.

After a few minutes had passed, Rowan asked the question he had been dying to ask: "Why is your mother trying to kill you?"

Y/n stopped pacing, going completely still. She stared across her at one of the broken mirrors, unblinking. When she finally did speak, her voice was flat and monotone. Unfeeling. "When you said your mother had predicted that my destiny was to end the world...it was like you had confirmed my worst fear, Rowan." she said. "Do you know why I came to Nevermore?"

He shook his head, but, realizing that she was facing away from him and couldn't see him, he responded. "No."

"I came here to escape my mother. Six months ago she had a dream of the world ending — and I was at the center of it all. Believing she had received a vision from the Universe, she discerned that I was going to cause the end of the world, and that the only way to stop it was to kill me. For six months, I ran. But everywhere I went, Shadow followed. Weems was the first person to offer me a safe place to stay and protection. I couldn't pass that up." Y/n paused, biting her lip. "All this time I thought my mother was just crazy. That her powers had finally gotten to her mind and destroyed it. But now...I guess she was right all along. I'm going to end the word in seven days, and I don't even know how I'm going to do it."

Silence followed. Y/n sniffed as quietly as she could. She hated crying, and she hated people seeing it even more. She looked down at her feet and saw a sliver of a broken mirror. She saw her own reflection, her own pale, pitiful face staring back at her, and she picked it up. After a moment she turned and tossed it to Rowan, who caught it carefully so as not to cut his own hand. When he saw what it was, he looked up at Y/n in confusion.

"Go ahead." she said quietly. "I don't want to end the world, Rowan. But I don't want to give my mother the satisfaction of being the one to put a stop to it."

He looked back down at the shard of glass in his hand and suddenly he understood: he was asking him to kill her. After she had skillfully evaded his attempts to do just that for weeks. And even though every voice in his head screamed at him to take the opportunity and just do it, he hesitated.

It felt like cheating.

"Did you hear what I said?" Y/n said after a moment of silence. "Just fucking do it. I don't care if it's fast or slow or painful or just like falling asleep." she said. When he stayed silent again, her lip quivered and tears rushed back to her waterline despite her every attempt to push them away. "Rowan, please."

He shook his head. "No."

Y/n bit the inside of her mouth, rage filling her chest. Her mouth drew up into a sadistic grin. "Fine. I wanted to make this fair, but I guess I'll just have to do this the easy way." she said, and her eyes began to go dark.

Before she could utter a word of charmspeak, Rowan rushed forward, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Don't."

She ripped his hand away, betrayal filling her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you? Isn't this just what you've wanted? Every fucking day I've been here you've been trying to kill me. No matter where I go, someone out there is going to want me dead. I can't escape my destiny, Rowan. The only way out is death. The least you can do is let it be on my own terms."

But still Rowan declined. "I'm not going to kill you, Y/n."

Enraged, she tore the mirror shard out of his hands. "Fine." she said, and held the shard to her own throat. Rowan used his telekinesis to once again tear the shard out of her hand, dragging a cut along her hand. She hissed in pain and turned her head to him, anger filling her eyes. She threw a punch, which he dodged, and then another. When he evaded both, she huffed, realizing she'd have to make herself a new way out. She looked down and suddenly a small square of the floor turned into a mirror. She looked down below and saw her dorm room as though she were standing above the ceiling. After a moment, she jumped down into it, landing atop her bed in a second mirror dimension. Very rarely did she jump from one temporary dimension to another because it was pretty easy to get lost, but she figured that if she planned to die today, it didn't much matter if she got lost or not.

Rowan landed beside her a moment later (which came as a shock, as she hadn't expected him to follow her) and threw an elbow into her throat. She stumbled and fell, and Rowan was once again on top of her, the shard of glass tucked in his hand. She frowned. "Not this again."

"Listen, Y/n, I'm not going to kill you. But if you try to charmspeak me into it, I'll rip your vocal cords out and leave you alive. Got it?"

Y/n just nodded, not trusting herself to speak without her voice wavering. She pushed him away, sitting up and staring at the floor. "This is a weird turn of events."

Rowan sat beside her. "I don't normally have people begging me to kill them."

"I wasn't begging, I was asking. Forcefully."

He laughed slightly. "Okay."

A moment passed between them in silence before Y/n spoke again. "Rowan, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You can use telekinesis to choke people without touching them." she said. When he looked at her in confusion, she explained, "I looked it up in the library." she admitted sheepishly. "So why do you always use your hand when you're trying to kill me?"

He hadn't been prepared for that question. "O-Oh, um..." he trailed off.

"I know better than to ask if you have a crush on me, seeing as you've been trying to end my life for nearly a month. Happy three week anniversary of the first time you tried to murder me, by the way. I would've gotten you a gift, but I haven't exactly had time to browse the shops in Jericho."

He smiled at that, scanning the way she still picked at the hangnail on her thumb. The closer he looked, he realized she had hangnails on nearly every finger. Her fingers looked like they had been picked to bloody shreds. The guilt began to seep in. "For the record, I'm not usually a murderous lunatic."

"Could've fooled me." she said as she flopped back to stare at the ceiling, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in her voice. "You didn't exactly make a good first impression. Or a good any impression."

"I know." he admitted. "I don't suppose it would help if I said I'm sorry."

"It might, but it depends."

"On what?"

She sat up, meeting his eyes. "How do I know you're not going to turn around and try to kill me the second I'm safe from Shadow?"

He paused. "You'd have to trust me." he said finally. She laughed bitterly, rolling her eyes in irritation. He continued, "I'm the one who just stopped you from killing yourself, remember? I had my shot and I didn't take it. You don't think that counts for something?"

"I'm not sure when it comes to you. You haven't exactly given me any reasons to give you the benefit of the doubt, Rowan."

She had him there. He sighed, "I'll make you a deal."

Y/n looked up, brows knit together in confusion. He continued, "You're destined to end the world in seven days. I'll give you six of them. I'll help you try and figure out how to stop it, but if in six days from now you still don't know how to save the world, I promise you, you'll be dead before you can cause any damage."

The confused look slowly melted away, and he saw something he could almost call gratitude. "Thank you." she said. Then, her head cocked sideways like she was hearing someone speak, and she let out a small sigh of relief. "Shadow's gone. I guess he got impatient."

She got up to stand on her bed and, after taking a few test jumps, leapt through the mirror in the ceiling. Rowan followed, and by the time he got up to the first mirror dimension, she was already fixing the broken mirrors with a wave of her hand. They stepped back through and were once again in her dorm, which had been left untouched. With another wave of her hand, all the mirrors disappeared (save for the one original) and the ceiling returned to plaster.

Once the room was back to normal, she spun and turned to him. "Why did you come after me?" she asked.

To that, he shrugged. "You looked upset."

"And you're the caring, compassionate type?" she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Not that you ever gave me the chance to show it."

She squinted at him. "Fair enough." she said monotonously. "So, we'll start tomorrow — I'd like to figure out how I end the world so that I can not end the world and maybe live to be of legal age to know what Fireball tastes like."

Rowan laughed quietly. "You're kinda funny sometimes, you know that?"

She hid a smile. "Not that you ever gave me the chance to show it."

Without another word, Y/n walked to the door and opened it. "Now get out. I still don't trust you."

Rowan nodded, heading for the door. "I had a feeling."

"Hey," Y/n said, grabbing his arm to stop him before he could leave. "No one gets to kill me but you, okay?"

"Okay." Rowan confirmed. Y/n shut the door behind him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I hate this school."

Author's Note: HI HI HERE'S PART TWO! I feel like I could literally write a whole short story off of this and like,,, maybe I will? I was thinking of the name Ani Edwards for the MC, so let me know what you guys think of that! I also changed the title because I felt like this one fit nicer with the theme of the story. Of course I have to tag @ourgoddessathena for the post about mirror manipulation that inspired this character's power — I hope you enjoy how I used it in this fic. Much love to everyone!!