J. Paxton

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 → j. paxton

pairing: jules paxton x fem!reader type: fic request: none warnings: nah, just fluff!

prompt/trope: none!

summary: jules and y/n have a movie night after winning a game. word count: 1.16k

"Did you see that last goal? I don't think I've ever seen a goalie jump so high and fail so miserably!"

Jules and Y/n were practically bubbling after the win against the Chiswick girls' team. They'd had the best defensive record for years now, and they'd beat them. The most brilliant thing about it was that it hadn't even been close! It wasn't even a question of if by the second half. Nothing made Jules happier than winning a game, and nothing made Y/n happier than Jules being happy.

"I'm home, mum!" Jules called into the house as they shut the back door behind them. Y/n's brother had given them a ride back from the game and Y/n had her overnight bag at her side, soccer bag in the other hand.

Jules's mum appeared in the kitchen, dressed in bright pinks and blues from head to toe. To put it lightly, she looked a bit absurd. Jules's mum loved bright colors. She never ceased her hobby of buying bright outfits for Jules that she'd never wear. Right then she looked like she'd stepped out of a paint store after having neon paint thrown over her. She looked surprised. "Y/n! You're here as well?"

"She's spending the night, remember?" Jules said, setting her back down by the door.

"Oh." her mum said, looking between them with suspicion for a moment. "Well then. Would you girls like anything to eat?"

"Nah, thanks mum. We're probably just going to watch a movie, and then maybe the game?" Jules looked to Y/n to confirm and she nodded.

At the mention of the word game, Jules's mum looked disappointed. She was never perfectly content with Jules's love of football. She was just about appalled when she found out that women's games were broadcast on television. It meant Jules could actively pursue her love of sport on and off the field. "Just...take off your shoes before you track dirt into the house."

The two girls nodded, slipping off their shoes. Jules peeled off her jersey (earning her a side eyed glance from her mum) and grimaced. "We need a shower." she joked.

At the word "we," Jules's mum jumped like she'd been shot, but by then Jules and Y/n were too far up the stairs to notice.

Two hours later, Jules and Y/n were sat in the living room with matching wet hair, half-watching a horror movie Jules had put on. They were more interested in talking about the game - and in the box of pizza on the table in front of them.

"She practically handed the ball to the other team. Joe was livid." Y/n recounted the moment when she looked over and saw their coach fuming over a pass made by one of the girls on their team.

"It's so odd, Lily's been playing so well lately too." Jules nodded. "I think she said her boyfriend came to the game—maybe that threw her off?"

Y/n shrugged. "Maybe. I wouldn't understand why, though."

"Come on, really? You don't think having the person you're dating in the stands wouldn't freak you out a bit? I think I'd want to show off as much as possible." Jules laughed. "Maybe she was thinking so hard about showing off for him that it messed up her play."

Y/n frowned as she got up off the couch to get more water from the kitchen. "I dunno. I guess I can't really imagine being with someone who doesn't play soccer. I mean, I don't think I could date someone who knew nothing about it. It's practically my life when school's out."

"I think I know what you mean." Jules hummed. "Dating anyone at all seems like too much sometimes. Especially with my mum, who throws boys at me whenever we're at one of her dinner parties. It's like she's trying to marry me off to the most eligible suitor or something."

Y/n walked back to find Jules sprawled on the couch on her back, eyes glued to the TV as she took up all the room. Y/n sighed a laugh. "Thanks for leaving me a spot."

"Well, come here then." Jules said, holding out her arms.

Y/n gave her a look and Jules rolled her eyes, beckoning her again. "Come on, there's plenty of room when you look at it vertically."

Y/n laughed at that, but she couldn't ignore how quickly her heart was beating. Jules, on the other hand, seemed perfectly cool and collected. To be fair, Jules was always an affectionate person. Whenever either of them scored a goal in a match they would always be found leaping into each other's arms, occasionally knocking each other over and laughing hysterically. It drove Joe mad, but they loved it. It was like a tradition.

But this? It was something different.

"You're mad." Y/n mumbled, but she set her glass of water down and walked over to Jules anyway. Shakily (but composed enough to hide it), she fell into Jules's arms, laying her head near her collarbone. Jules wrapped her arms around her, sighing into her hair. "See? Cozy."

Y/n laughed quietly, but she couldn't quite get over the fact that their legs were tangled together and her head was tucked in the crook of Jules's neck so comfortably. God, she really hoped Jules couldn’t feel how fast her heart was beating.

“Jules.” Y/n spoke suddenly, almost startling herself.

“Yeah?”

Y/n looked up at Jules. “When you said dating anyone seems stressful, did you mean anyone?”

Confused, Jules laughed slightly. “Er, yeah I guess so. What d’you mean?”

“Well, we never really talk about guys, right? I mean…it just never really seems important to either of us. And…I dunno, you just don’t seem super interested in all that.” she said, then quickly added: “I’m not either.”

Jules frowned. “I guess not.”

By now Y/n heart was practically in her throat, thumping so hard she could practically feel it in her skull. No, she was sure she’d offended Jules. That was it. “Jules, I–”

Before she could finish the sentence, Jules leaned down and pressed her lips to Y/n’s. It sucked all the air from Y/n’s lungs, a cold wash of shock going up her spine. There is no way this is real.

In an instant it was over. Jules pulled away, and Y/n looked up at her with her mouth slightly agape. For a moment Jules panicked, wondering if she had gone about this completely wrong, but then Y/n moved up so that she was straddling Jules’s waist and kissed her again. This time Jules was the one caught off-guard, but she kissed her back like she had planned it all along. 

When she pulled away, Y/n looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Is this too much?” she asked quietly.

Jules smiled. “Not at all.”

Author's Note: If there's one universal experience I know about, it's Bend It Like Beckham being a gay awakening. I simply will not ever get over this movie!!!! Nor do I want to!!!!!! I hope you enjoyed this fic, I've loved Keira Knightley's character in BILB for so long it was crazy to me that I'd never written a fic for her! Enjoy this one, loves!

Oh my god! Thank you so much for doing my Enid x Normie s/o with a crazy ex girlfriend request! I really loved it!

Hiiiiii yes of course!! That one was really sweet, I really enjoyed writing it and I'm overjoyed that you loved it! Thanks so much for the sweet message, I really appreciate it <3

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!

HOUSE OF MIRRORS (PART ONE)

PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE

pairing: rowan laslow x fem!reader warnings: knives, fighting, two people literally trying to unalive each other (enemies to lovers things), rowan has mommy issues lmao, 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, things go a bit awry. note: Oh my lord I am down bad for Calum Ross. The reason I watched Wednesday actually was because one of my friends kept sending me Rowan edits and ALLLLLL the captions were some variation of "I bet he whimpers" and you know what? After having watched a couple episodes I feel I agree. So enjoy this, I hope I didn't write Rowan too out of character lol. Also plot? She's not here — again, I've only seen a few episodes of the show itself. Enjoy! Happy holidays!

When Rowan walked into her dorm that day, Y/n had the distinct feeling that only one of them would be leaving. Nevertheless, she closed her book and stood up to greet him. "Rowan," she said with a smirk, "always a pleas—" she was cut off as he used his telekinesis to throw her against the back wall of her dorm. In one swift motion he moved to put his hand around her throat and squeezed — not tight enough to prevent her from speaking, but tight enough to send a warning. She just frowned. "This feels a little unfair, no? You're trying to kill me and I don't even get to know why?"

"Don't worry," he replied, his hand tightening around her throat. "you'll find out soon enough."

"Oh my God," Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do you take pleasure in acting like every stereotypical movie villain to ever live? I get the whole 'Outcast in a school of outcasts' thing giving you a kind of tragic backstory and a means for empathy, but really, Rowan. This is just not a good color on you."

All that succeeded in doing was pissing him off even more. He shifted as if to grab something, and Y/n saw the silver flash of a knife in his hand.

"Wait!" she shouted, attempting to buy herself more time. "I'm an Outcast too, right?"

At that, Rowan laughed. "You're really going to play that card? Try and make it seem like we're one and the same, you and I? You may not have powers, and that may set you apart, but we are not the same."

At the mention of powers, Y/n's eyebrow quirked up in the same way it did when she realized the teacher had made a mistake during class. And though Rowan's hand was slowly succeeding in cutting off her air supply and he had a knife pointed at her, she smiled. "Oh, Rowan. The thing about powers is that as long as you don't use them when anyone else can see, you can convince the entire world they don't exist."

In an instant, Rowan began to understand what she meant. His grip loosened ever so slightly, and Y/n took the opportunity to suck in a deep breathe, her eyes going dark as she spoke: "Let me go."

He had no choice but to comply. His hand left her throat and he stumbled back a few feet, looking back at her with wide, confused eyes. "You're a charmspeaker?" he asked, bewildered.

"I was trained by one of the best." she shrugged nonchalantly, fixing the cuffs of her shirtsleeve. "So, Rowan, would you like to continue this little game of ours," she pulled a knife from her boot, "or do you surrender?"

Rowan said nothing in response but straightened back up, flipping his knife once in his hand. Y/n sighed. "Oh, baby boy...you made the wrong choice."

He lunged at her then, giving her only a split second to speak. "Stop!"

At once he seemed to freeze in midair, stuck as though he were encased in concrete. He groaned and struggled against her hold and eventually she let up, chuckling to herself. Unfortunately, she gave him enough time to pull out a few tricks of his own. An unseen force threw her against the wall and cut off her air supply so forcefully that it was impossible to speak, much less take in a breath. Her feet dangled a few feet off the ground. If this were in any other context, she might've enjoyed it...

Rowan came at her again with the knife, but she flung out her leg and planted her foot squarely in his chest, sending him stumbling back. That distracted him long enough and she came off from the wall, collapsing onto her hands and knees at the sudden drop. And Rowan, who was nearly at the end of his wit, offered some explanation: "My mother is a Seer, and years ago she predicted you'd be the downfall of Nevermore. You're destined to end the world. Y/n."

Y/n got up, dusting herself off, and quirked her head to the side at his accusation. "Not exactly the destiny I wanted, but it sounds interesting. Do I get a crown?"

Rowan swung at her with his fist, which she dodged skillfully, sweeping a leg under to knock him off balance. He fell to the ground, wheezing, and Y/n's face soon popped over his field of vision. "Poor little Rowan..." she mocked him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to pull little girl's pigtails?"

Enraged, Rowan grabbed her ankle and pulled, causing Y/n to drop onto the floor hard. He rolled, and suddenly he was on top of her, the silver blade of the knife knicked the thin skin on her lip, opening a cut, and pressed against her throat. "My mother is dead." he said lowly. "And I have to finish what she started."

And while a twinge of guilt pricked at Y/n heart, she pushed it down and refused to let it show. His face was dangerously close to hers, glasses askew, hazel eyes intent on ending her life. "Then quit stalling and make her proud." Y/n hissed. For a split second he hesitated, and her eyes clouded over again. "Too slow. Get up."

He complied immediately. Once again they found themselves standing and facing each other like they had been when he walked in. Except now, Y/n felt that she had the upper hand. "Shut up. Listen to me."

At once, her voice became magnified in his ears and he cringed. He tried to retaliate but found he couldn't speak. Y/n paced before him, perfectly calm and content despite the blood running a small rivulet down her chin. She wiped it away as though it were nothing and cleared her throat. "Now, you said you want to kill me, yes? To avenge your mother and save the world and blah, blah blah...I get it. You have mommy issues. We're all a little screwed up, you know? But killing me...It's not as easy as you think. You want to kill a rat, you have to lure it into a trap first. Corner it. Make it afraid. But I'm not a rat, Rowan — I'm the Queen Bee. And there's only one way to get something from a queen..." she trailed off, fixing him with her opaque dark stare. "Beg."

Rowan dropped to his knees, his hazel eyes looking up at her with a jaded want. She had never seen anything like it. He sighed, almost as if he were relieved to suddenly be so at rest around her. "Please," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

In that moment, Y/n saw Rowan for what he truly was: tired. The weight of a promise he had made to his mother was weighing on him, crushing him, and it likely had been for a while. So much so that begging became the most viable option.

As he knelt before her, the hardened glare melted from Y/n's face. This wasn't a thing she let people see, but Rowan was under charmspeak. He'd go with the image of her compassionate face to the grave if she asked him to. Before she quite knew what she was doing, she stepped forward, his neck craning further and further up to look at her, and she wrapped an arm around him, cradling his head in her arms. And Rowan seemed to melt into her touch, resting his head against her torso as she ran gentle fingers through his hair. "You're not going to kill me." she said quietly, neglecting the charmspeak. "At least, not yet."

She said it because she believed it — he would not kill her. And she would spare his life as well. Because even Queens occasionally show mercy.

She wasn't sure how long she held him before she stooped down to his level, getting on her own knees to face him. She wanted to see her eyes as she spoke so that he would know it was just her — not the charmspeak, not the warrior, not the queen, just her. "You don't want to kill me." she said with a quiet confidence. "And I don't want to kill you. So let's give it a rest, yeah?"

The charmspeak was wearing away and the real Rowan was fading back in, but she stared him dead in the eyes and waited for a response. He didn't speak, but the knife in his hand suddenly clattered to the ground, and she felt they had come to an agreement.

She stood, smoothing out her skirt and sighing. "It's a shame, you know," she said. "I quite liked when you were on top of me. Oh, and slamming me against the wall too. Very nice."

The regular Rowan was fully back in control now and she could see that something had changed. Vulnerability had the power to do that to people — especially when they let other people see it. Y/n nonchalantly opened the door and stood by it with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for him to leave. He stood, picked up the knife, and fixed his glasses. As he headed for the door she felt some small spark of victory in her chest, but he paused just before leaving for good.

"Nobody gets to kill you but me." he said lowly, pointing the knife at her.

All she did was smile. "I'll send out a memo."

He left then and Y/n shut the door behind him, leaning back against the door and sighing to herself. "Oh, God." she muttered. "I'm in trouble."

Author's Note: Oooooooh boy was this a fun one. I want to write so many more of these actually so maybe I might expand on this story, give our MC a name and a backstory, and maybe write a part two? Let me know what you guys think!

Much love, Gracie

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

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.