Everyone But Her Pt.30

everyone but her pt.30

Summary: You're determined to prove to Wednesday that you're better than Joel. Is it in a way she understands? Probably not, but you're no quitter

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, paintball guns, Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) A/N: I'm taking a bit of creative liberty with the wolfing out thing just because it suits my needs, so don't come at me for it

“Do we have to keep him around?” You groaned as you sat down in the booth beside Wednesday.

“We kept you around,” she said without bothering to look up from her book.

It wasn’t like she needed to; she knew who you were talking about and what you were insinuating. You had been doing it for weeks. Although Wednesday didn’t quite understand why you had such an issue with Joel; she had chosen you, had she not? And she had no issue with Ash, so why had you been so upset? If you would just open up then she would comprehend your apprehension.

“That’s harsh,” you whispered. “You keep me around because you like me.”

“I would go so far as to say love,” she said while turning the page.

You stiffened beside her. “You would?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly and turned her head to look at you. The winter had been harsh on you, both physically and mentally. You looked worn and ragged and on edge. A few more feathers than usual had fallen out of your wings over the weeks and you couldn’t quit picking at them; a habit she knew you used to have when you got anxious. Everyone had believed you to have grown out of it, but the past few weeks had proven them wrong.

And now you were looking at her with crinkles around your eyes and the smallest smile on your lips.

“You know I do,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“I would like to hear you say it again though,” you said softly.

You were rather impossible, weren’t you?

“I keep you around because I tolerate you,” she said simply, instantly turning back to the book that she 

“Oh you’re a dick,” you grumbled as you let yourself fall back against the back of the booth. “If you don’t tell me you love me, I’m tripping your boy toy.”

“Your threats are empty,” Wednesday said. “And I don’t reward bad behaviour.”

“I don’t need to be rewarded,” you huffed. “I’m not Enid.”

The pout on your lips was rather adorable, Wednesday wouldn’t deny it. Not that she would ever let you know, of course, but it was. It was the small moments like this that gave her hope that you would get better. Of course you still had your bad days, and you were still going through a hard time with all the talks with the police, but you were getting there. There was hope.

“Oh Jesus christ,” you mumbled when Joel sat down opposite you both at the booth.

“Here you both are,” he said quietly as he slid coffee toward you and Wednesday, leaving his own in front of him. “Vastly different tastes.”

“And that matters why?” You asked, taking the coffee anyway.

“Behave,” Wednesday whispered to you before looking at Joel. “Thank you.”

Thankfully, you did exactly as Wednesday had instructed. You stayed nice and silent as she studied with Joel, going over more than what was required. Meanwhile you sat beside her, your hand resting on her knee under the table. Good little bird, she thought when she looked over and saw you drinking your coffee and playing some silly little game on your phone. Were those chickens?

Throughout the study session, you got up and got everyone, including Joel, some more coffee three times. The first two times were perfectly acceptable, you made hers exactly how she preferred it. Even Joel’s had been made to order, including the small amount of sugar and cream necessary. His third cup was less than satisfactory.

“This tastes incredibly sweet,” he said with a small grimace once he set the cup back down.

“Let me see,” you said, immediately reaching over and grabbing his cup.

Without warning, you brought it to your lips and took a deep drink. Wednesday had to fight her own impulse to smile at the look of shock and disgust on Joel’s face. She would admit, not many people could handle your eccentricities, especially those that hadn’t known you for long. You had very few mundane cares in life, and spreading your germs was something you never took into account.

“Tastes fine to me,” you said with a shrug before sliding it back over to Joel.

“That’s unsanitary,” he whispered into the mug that he couldn’t quit staring at.

“Oh get over it,” you grumbled. “We’ve kissed the same lips, surely we can share a mug.”

Sometimes Wednesday forgot just how childish you could be. Not immature, but childish. A lack of care in what you said or did. Not taking into account how someone else might construe your impulses. Take the coffee; she had come to expect it of you, but in someone else’s view, it was unorthodox, a behaviour you would expect from children.

Oh how she adored it.

“So do you two have any plans for this weekend?” He asked. Wednesday noticed the covert way he pushed the mug of coffee back in your direction, which you quickly took and continued drinking. She knew you didn’t hate him completely.

“Yes we do,” you said too quickly. “And you’re not invited.”

“We have no plans,” Wednesday answered just as quickly when you were done. She could feel your eyes boring into the side of her head, but she didn’t care. “Why do you ask?”

“A friend of mine went to a paintball tournament the other weekend,” he started; your head popped up quickly. “He said it was a cool place, so I was wondering if you and your group would want to go check it out.”

“Absolutely no-”

“-we would love to,” you interrupted her, a surprisingly genuine smile on your face. She gave you a questioning look, to which you shrugged in reply. “Sounds like fun.”

“Then we can all meet up on Saturday?” Joel asked.

“It’s a date,” you said as you reached your hand out and forced him to shake yours.

Your smile turned sadistic.

Oh.

—---

“Why are we doing this again?” Enid asked as you all walked down the sidewalk. The paintball field was finally in view in the distance.

“Because it’s cool as fuck,” Ajax said, to which Kent quickly gave him a high-five in reply.

“Because Wednesday’s girlfriend is looking a little green,” Bianca said, promptly ignoring the boys and walking a little closer to Ash. 

Oh yes, Wednesday had noticed the both of them over the past few weeks. At first she had thought it unusual when Ash came over to the apartment a few more times, claiming it was simply to get under your skin. A believable fib, Wednesday would admit. Part of Ash’s relationship with you was death by a thousand irritations, so to speak, and her presence in the dorm certainly had your feathers ruffling.

But then she started appearing while you were gone at work. The initial claim had been about forgetting her things at the dorm, which she had, and Wednesday never doubted her. Until she caught Ash going into Bianca's room, or meeting up with the siren before quickly heading back out into the world. Wednesday was never one to dabble in gossip or other people's relationships, but she was a curious soul.

It only took one night of following them to discover they had gone on a date. And judging by the ease in which they shared a kiss, they had been on multiple. Wednesday wondered if you knew, or if anyone knew, for that matter. Would you have cared? As much as you complained about Ash, you were rather protective of her. Would you give Bianca the - what did Divina call it - the shovel talk?

“I’m not looking green,” you said as you forcefully pulled Wednesday past the group. “I just think we could all do with a nice weekend adventure.”

“She told me she wants to shoot Joel in the dick,” Yoko said.

“Shut up,” you growled as you threw an arm out, hitting Yoko in the stomach. Hard.

“Why can’t you just talk it out like an adult?” Ash asked; Wednesday noticed her hand brush against Bianca’s. “You’re not five.”

“I said,” you emphasised, “it would be a nice outing for us.”

“But you are gonna shoot him in the dick?” Enid asked from her spot between Yoko and Divina.

“Ouch,” both Kent and Ajax said in unison with grimaces on their faces.

“Can you shoot Kent in the dick too?” Divina asked. “He does not need to procreate.”

“I’m not taking requests,” you said quickly, forcing a new argument to arise.

As you all continued getting closer and closer, you continued going on about how you weren’t going to shoot anyone while everyone had suggestions for you. If anything, it did nothing to ease the irritation that Wednesday could physically feel radiating off of you. It was a good thing she had helped you tighten the harness earlier otherwise it might not have held your feathers after all the ruffling she knew this would have caused.

And yet, even with the incessant arguing from everyone, she couldn’t help but admire the atmosphere it created. Yes, you were all unbelievably annoying and clamorous. And yes, you all gave her a headache that no elixir could ease. But at the end of the day, you would all go back home and laugh about the events of the past few hours the way Wednesday assumed a typical family would.

Although she would rather rip out her own vocal cords than admit that she saw you all as her family away from home.

“Oh look, there’s lover boy,” Yoko said when the group got close enough to see Joel waiting outside.

“I’m shooting him in the dick,” you mumbled to yourself even though Wednesday could very clearly hear it.

“You made it,” Joel said with a smile when everyone got closer. “Everything is all ready.”

“Let’s just go,” you said. You quickly let go of Wednesday’s hand and stalked inside, your hands now shoved deeply into the pocket of your jacket.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Yoko said as she followed, leaving Divina and Enid to attempt to stifle their laughter.

The building itself was rather small and open. There were a few places to sit and eat at - maybe you did have a point in bringing food - and an area off to the side to continue watching the field. It was quite sterile, and even though the colourful graffiti on the wall was headache inducing, Wednesday couldn’t deny the skill that went behind the art.

“Hey guys,” an older man said as he came out of a door behind him. “The name’s Carter. Hope the drive wasn’t too bad.”

“We walked,” you said without looking at him.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be the best outlet for you, Wednesday thought to herself.

“Then you’re all warmed up and ready to go,” the man said with an overly exaggerated clap. You and Ash both flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Curious. “Before we get started, does anyone have any experience with paintball?”

Both you and Ash raised your hands instantly and let out barely noticeable sighs. Well, that would most likely explain your reactions, wouldn’t it? Though, as Carter had you and Ash go to the table to unload snacks and jackets while he continued explaining, Wednesday started to question her own ability to notice the smallest things. For instance, had you always flinched at loud claps or noises? Now she was determined to watch you more carefully to figure it out.

“Alright, now on to teams,” Carter said with another clap, that had you and Ash sharing a look. “You all good if I team everyone up?”

Everyone except for you gave their agreement to the situation. Carter seemed rather excited at the prospect and quickly got to work separating everyone. If he had seen the look you gave him when he put you and Wednesday on separate teams, he pretended otherwise. Although everyone tried not to laugh at the near visible steam coming from your ears when he then put Joel on Wednesday’s team.

By the end of the sorting, the two teams were decided and appeared equally matched. You were to lead the team with Bianca, Enid, Ajax and Kent. On the other side, Ash was to lead the team with Wednesday, Yoko, Joel, and Divina. It was quite humorous to have the couples of the group split up - aside from Kent and Ajax who weren’t a couple but who might as well have been with how often they stuck together.

Carter led the way to the equipment room where you all got what you needed. Wednesday thought the whole thing was rather childish, but she couldn’t deny the look of pure concentration on your face was attractive. If only you could focus on something other than violence at some point. Even she managed to focus on other things when necessary, so why couldn’t you?

But you stood your ground, your face now neutral as you pulled off your jacket and started unbuckling your harness. Thankfully you had gone out into the main lobby to wait as you did so; Wednesday didn’t think you would fit in the small equipment room with everyone else. She was already slightly agitated from the events that she knew were bound to transpire, she didn’t need a mouth full of feathers to add to it.

“I forgot to ask, are any of you Outcasts by any-” Carter stopped talking right when your wings folded back tightly against your back, “-chance?”

“All but two of us,” Enid said with a slight straightening of her shoulders.

“Is that a problem?” Bianca asked.

“No problem at all,” he said as he cleared his throat and resumed his peppy personality. “Just please take care not to wolf out or stone anyone. We don’t have waivers for that.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Ajax said with a shrug, which Kent readily agreed with.

“We do, however, have a field specifically for Outcasts,” Carter said, this time losing his sales persona and looking genuinely pleased. “Sun resistant for vampires, no reflective surfaces, and everything in there is durable enough to withstand an accidental wolf out.”

"Yoko, you can take your glasses off," you said, now standing next to your team who you had quickly ushered away. "Now you can properly see me wreck your shit."

"You gonna talk smack the whole time?" Ash asked.

"Not to you," you said. "I don't talk to losers."

"Oh god," Carter mumbled to himself, and Wednesday very nearly smirked at the newfound fear in his voice. "Alright everyone, outside you go."

“Don’t take any of this personal?” You said when you practically jogged to Wednesday’s location, slowing to a walk.

“You seem to be under the impression that you have a skill in this field,” Wednesday said. “Confidence is good, overconfidence will be your downfall.”

“You’re so intense,” you whispered. “I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

“A much better evaluation of the situation,” she said, her knuckles brushing against yours.

“Will you still love me after this?” You asked when everyone started parting ways to go to their own sides of the field.

Wednesday exhaled softly through her nose. “You simply want me to say it.”

“Yes I do,” you said with a gentle smile.

“My affection will rely on your abilities,” she said before turning around and walking to her side of the field.

“I’ll get you to admit you love me!” You shouted after her.

She simply smiled to herself.

“Okay, Y/N takes paintball really seriously,” Ash said once everyone was gathered around.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko said.

“Enid is ridiculously competitive too,” Divina said.

“Bianca will play fair,” Yoko continued.

“What about Ajax and Kent?” Joel asked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. It was rather smart of him.

“Incompetent at best,” Wednesday said. “They can be dispatched easily, they pose no threat.”

“Remind me to never be your enemy,” Ash said softly. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.”

Everyone listened intently as Ash described the strategy, giving their comments and criticisms as necessary. It was a solid plan, Wednesday would admit it. Joel would focus on Bianca, Ash would take out Enid, Yoko and Divina would get Kent and Ajax, and she would focus on you. The matchups were rather fair, it was a good plan.

It seemed you weren’t the only one who took paintball a bit seriously.

As everyone parted, going somewhere safe, Wednesday took a different approach. If you were as serious about this whole thing as Ash made it out to seem then you would be going after who you believed could pose a problem. And if you were smart, that would have herself and Ash on your hit list. Possibly Yoko depending on what mood you were in for the day.

That being said, Wednesday knew how you ticked. She might not understand your emotions, but she knew how your brain worked. It was something she had picked up on over the past few years, even before she had taken a genuine interest in you. You played the game well, but you were smart. Deceivingly smart.

Sounds of compressed air being released and paintballs hitting obstacles reached Wednesday's ears as she continued her own plan. You weren't foolish enough to fall into a trap, not when you were so focused. Years of being around and knowing Ash had given you insight into her thought process, so you wouldn’t fall for anything she tried to set up.

But Wednesday. Oh, you would fall for Wednesday. All she had to say was jump and you would ask how high. If she told you to kneel, you would do so. She didn’t need to rely on nefarious purposes. Truthfully she wouldn’t even need to try and trick you into anything. If she was right, which she usually was, you would come to her.

With that knowledge in mind, Wednesday walked around until she found the small grouping of trees near the edge of the field. She could still hear everyone, could hear the telltale sounds of whatever unnecessary nonsense was going on a little further away. None of it concerned her; she was focused on you. And if she was going to be forced to play such a ridiculous game, then she was going to play it well.

It didn’t take incredibly long before the sounds started to die out, turning into little more than the occasional hushed voice floating in the air. There was still the rare paintball shot, but everything else started to fade. There was no way you had been taken out by anyone, so Wednesday knew you couldn’t be far away. All she had to do was wait-

“-Caught you.”

Ah yes. With an insane amount of luck and skill, she didn’t flinch when your hands covered her eyes. She had forgotten about your surprising silence when necessary. Mentally she started berating herself for such a thing; she had seen you play that silly Mothman game with your younger siblings. When needed, you were beyond adept at staying silent.

Your hands removed themselves, giving her the ability to turn around and look up at you. Clearly you had been far too into the game because you were covered in what appeared to be mud, with sticks and leaves stuck in your hair. You were suspiciously devoid of paint, but judging by the way you held yourself, you were proud of the fact.

“I figured you would be out here,” you said with the smallest smirk; not gloating, just proud. “You don’t strike me as the type to run in without a plan.”

“You snuck up on me,” Wednesday said, still eyeing you up and down. You were carrying yourself with a certain authority you usually put aside. It looked good on you. “I’ll admit it’s rather impressive.”

“I could’ve shot you from the trees,” you said with a shrug, “but I know better than to shoot my own girlfriend.”

“Yes, that was rather smart on your part,” she agreed.

“How about we call it a truce?” You said with an upward lilt to your words, leaving it more as a question than a statement.

Oh you were clever. You knew exactly what you were doing. Clearly you felt you could beat her if you had truly wanted to, and now you were attempting to give her an out. A way to avoid humiliation and loss. You were giving her the opportunity to save herself - and her clothes - all with nothing but a genuine smile.

Wednesday studied you for only a moment more before cupping your jaw with one hand and pulling you down into a kiss. As expected, you gave in immediately, sighing gently and grabbing her by the waist. You smelled of dirt and trees, but somehow it still smelled precisely like you. Almost as if you were born with the smell.

“I love you,” Wednesday whispered against your lips. Whether on purpose or not, you whined almost inaudibly before kissing her again.

Your hands gripped her tighter, refusing to let her pull away even by a fraction. And at the moment, Wednesday was living for it. No one was around, it was just the two of you, and you tasted of her coffee from the walk over. You tasted familiar and like you belonged to her. It was in the small moments like that that solidified Wednesday’s belief that she would never wish for anyone else but you. She reached her free hand out to your hip, mirroring your grasp on hers.

*splat*

You grunted and stepped back quickly, your hands instantly going to your stomach. While you refused to look down, your eyes trailed down to the paintball gun in Wednesday’s hand. The very same one that had been on your hip only seconds ago. With wide eyes, you finally looked down at your midsection. Pulling your hands away slowly, your jaw fell when you saw the paint now staining your shirt and hands.

“You shot me,” you said incredulously.

“You believed I wouldn’t,” Wednesday said with a slight tilt of her head. “That was your mistake.”

“But you still love me, right?” You asked.

She didn’t answer you, just gave you the smallest smile and turned around to walk off. You were smart, brilliant even, but you had too much trust in those you loved. If she needed to shoot you a hundred times that day to get you to be a little more self preserving, then so be it.

The look of mock-betrayal on your face was rather appealing.

—---

By the time everyone was finally finished with the day, they were all completely covered in paint. Except for Wednesday, of course, who had only two marks on her; one from Bianca, and one from you (even though you had looked devastated at the act). Thankfully no one had been stoned, and Enid had only wolfed out three times. Although two of those times had been because you had goaded her into it.

Then there was you, who had paint splatters covering your wings in such a thick layer that Wednesday knew she would be helping you clean them for at least the next week. Possibly even two if you were stubborn about it, which you usually were. There was going to be paint in the apartment for weeks.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I personally feel a lot better,” you said when you watched with sadistic satisfaction as all three guys walked by with paint all over their pants.

“We all need to get home and eat,” Bianca said from her spot directly beside Ash.

“Or we pick up takeout?” Ajax suggested.

“From that dope Chinese hole in the wall?” Kent continued.

“They do pack a lot of calories,” you said, to which Enid readily agreed with you.

“Then it’s a plan,” Yoko said as she quickly grabbed Enid’s and Divina’s hands to pull them out of the building.

Everyone said their goodbyes to Carter, who looked rather happy to see them all leave, before standing awkwardly in front of the building. It wouldn’t have been so awkward except everyone was busy looking between you and Joel. Even the poor boy had noticed you had a vendetta against him and was standing off to the side, unsure of what exactly to do next.

Wednesday looked up at you when you slipped your hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as you looked over at Joel. She couldn’t read your face, especially not through all the paint and dirt you still had covering your skin. If the ability to shoot at Joel hadn’t helped ease your concern then she didn’t know what would.

“You coming, Joel?” You asked.

“Is it… okay with you guys?” He asked. Everyone looked back at you again.

“Consider it an apology for shooting you in the dick,” you said with a shrug. All three guys covered their paint-stained crotches at the mention of the incident. “Alright, let’s go before Enid gets hangry.”

“I don’t get hangry,” Enid complained as everyone finally started walking away from the paintball fields.

You started up light conversation with Joel as he walked on the other side of you, and even though Wednesday could see you struggling to maintain composure, she was proud of you. Maybe she would need to tell you so when you got back to the apartment. Hopefully you wouldn’t require repayment for the betrayal shot earlier that day.

Maybe she would just kiss you some more before you could ask. Just in case.

legally binded - 8

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 8: Beetlejuice and London Blues

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: hey y’all. I’m gonna be taking a break from this series for a bit after I post this. I’m gonna be real busy this summer, so LB updates probably won’t be weekly for a while. thanks for understanding!

Word Count: 8.2k+ (these are getting longer)

“Fuck me.”

A mistake.

You made a mistake.

Was your first thought when you woke up with the sun shining directly into your eyelids; the throbbing pain deep in your skull was the first symptom of your grave oversight. 

“Fuck you is right…” A loud voice pierces through the silence in the room and the pounding in your head worsened immediately. 

Turning over at a snails pace, you find Link leaning against the doorframe, with a bitter frown on his face. 

“What did I do?” You moaned, holding your head in your hands.

“Other than be a massive asshole? Drink yourself stupid.” He says bluntly, walking into the room and placing a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table.

Pushing yourself up, you continue to loudly groan despite the pounding in your skull and desperately reached for the medicine bottle. After popping two in and washing it down it some water, you leaned against the headboard with a heavy sigh.

Being ran over by an 18-wheeler and somehow managing to survive would be a fair comparison to your current condition.

“I don’t remember how I got back.” 

“We don’t know either, you just opened the door…”

“Right.” Hazy memories of last night’s escapades we’re starting to come back.

“What the hell, Y/N, we were looking for your ass for almost four hours.” He crossed his arms, staring you down as his nose flared in anger.

“Sorry…” You mumbled, closing your eyes. The familiar feeling of guilt rumbled in your chest the longer you met his judging eyes.

After sneaking off to the bathroom, you knew you had to take the opportunity to escape that after-party. You thought drinking your problems away and partying would help distract you from your argument with Jenna. But your efforts proved fruitless. The longer you stood in that loud room, the more suffocating it felt; Jenna’s words echoing mercilessly in your head. 

So you slipped out without letting anyone know. Dumb idea, I know.

You had full intentions of going for a walk to clear your head, thinking of what to say to Jenna and then making your way back to the hotel to wait for her so you could talk, but before that could happen…

“Well, well, well… look who it is.” 

Dropping your hand that was holding your phone limply by your side, you perk up. All thoughts of calling an Uber back to the hotel were forgotten as you turned; feeling your blood run cold immediately at the familiar voice.

“Damon.” You greet flatly. 

“Aw, come on, that’s how you greet an old friend?” He held a hand to his chest, walking forward. “Vegas was so long ago, don’t you miss my company?” 

“Not particularly no.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.

“You don’t mean that, baby…” He stood in your space, leaning into you. You held your head up, not intimidated by his presence.

“What are you even doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t invited to the Met.” You grit. There’s no way his C-list ass was invited to one of the biggest social events of the year. 

“I was someone’s plus one.” He answered, shrugging.

You roll your eyes because of course he wasn't even invited. He was always sliming his way into events.

“Come on, we used to have so much fun…” He leaned closer.

“Get out of my face.” You grit, standing your ground.

“You don’t really blame me for Vegas, do you?” He stepped back, annoyance growing as his brows furrowed.

You bit back a laugh, spatting out. “Of course I do! You had coke on you – snorting that shit in a fucking strip club with me beside you. The hell were you thinking?”

He crossed his arms, anger steadily masking over his features. “You weren’t complaining about wanting to get fucked up before that. Actually, you were the one that begged me to leave L.A.”

You glare at him as you’re reminded of that weekend three months ago. “Clearly that was a mistake. The press thinks it was mine, Damon.”

He shrugged, smirking.  “Beats me.”

Your glare hardens as you clenched your jaw. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh baby, you just found out?” His smug smile widens and you wanted nothing more than to punch it clean off his face. 

“Stay the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you.” You bark, eyes never leaving his.

His gaze twinkled in amusement at the challenge, paying no heed to it. Then he leans in close to your ear, whispering. “You’ll be back soon when you realize no one wants you.”

Your heart drops as his words ring in your ears. You keep your face impassive, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing his words affect you.

“Your little PR relationship with Jenna is cute. You guys almost have everyone convinced, but I know the truth. You’ll be back when Jenna realizes that you’re too broken to love.” He taunts, smiling widely. 

Your heart thrums so loudly against your chest that it makes your entire body throb in tandem.

“Fuck you.” You shove his chest firmly as he stumbled back a couple steps from the sheer force.

You don’t wait for a response as you leg it down the sidewalk, ignoring people’s questioning looks. You weren’t sure if they recognized you or if they were questioning why you were in a fancy suit on the streets of New York City but you didn’t care either way; just stomping off in no particular direction. Not giving anyone who may have recognized you, time to stop you.

You kept walking even as your legs begged for reprieve, taking sidestreets and alleyways to hide from prying eyes, hiding in the shadows. You lived in the Big Apple for a year for a role and in that time, you had gotten to know the city well; preferring to walk to familiarize yourself with new locations. 

“Where the hell were you?” Link questioned. You can hear the agitated tone in his words even as your eyes were closed. 

“I went for a walk.”

“You came back drunk.”

“I stopped by the liquor store.”

“You were gone for three hours.”

“It was a big bottle.”

He huffed. 

You crack an eyelid open, already noting his firmly-set jaw. “Okay, I’m sorry, truce?”

Even you know when you’re being an asshole. You note the dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes and it reminded you of the first time you came home after meeting Jenna. The moment Link opened the front door, he had the same expression on his face.

His jaw tightly clenched but his brows pulled in a way that showed his concern. 

Before you could spew any apology you had saved, he pulled you in for a hug, muttering on about how worried he was about your arrest. It made your throat close up and tears build in your eyes at how distressed he sounded. Even when you’ve fucked up, he was still worried about you. 

That familiar pang of guilt comes crawling back the longer he stared at you now with that same look.

Instead, he sighed, dropping his head in surrender and muttering, “truce.”

That makes you open your eyes fully, nodding. “Okay.”

He sat on the foot of the bed, posture more relaxed. “Seriously though, what were you thinking?”

Picking at the loose thread of the duvet, you couldn’t meet his inquiring gaze. “I really did just need some air at first. Then I was gonna go back to the hotel to wait for Jenna, to apologize… but then I saw Damon.”

His sharp intake of breath reaches your ears. “Did you–”

“No!” You were quick to answer. “No… but he was an asshole, said something that pissed me off and I just couldn’t go back to that party or see Jenna. So I kept walking, I think I ended up in Central Park.”

“What did he say?” His nostrils flared.

“Nothing important, I walked away.” You omit.

He conceded but you could see his reluctance anyway.

“And then what — you were walking around, drinking in the middle of Central Park?” He asked bewildered, like you were stupid. Which, hearing it out loud now, is a very stupid decision. It was a miracle you made it back safely.

“Yes…” You muttered, ashamed. “I know I fucked up.”

His laugh is loud and taunting. “Fucked up? We’re way past that. Jenna’s pissed at you and Jake and Sarah found out you two didn’t go to the same after-party. They’re expecting it to be a headline.”

You bang your head against the headboard, ignoring the worsening ache. You deserved it, anyway. “Shit, Jenna… where is she?”

He scoffed, “gone.”

You whipped your head to find his eyes, ignoring the queasiness it caused in your stomach or maybe it was news of Jenna’s departure. “What?”

“She got out of New York first thing in the morning.” He explained.

“Fuck…” You close your eyes again, sliding down the bed. Flashes of your anger bubbling over, reaching a boiling point and exploding on Jenna. You remember your harsh words and the hurt expression that takes over the other actress’ face as you spoke with unabated hatred. “What did I do?”

“Don’t know, I left the room – but whatever you said, it must’ve been pretty bad 'cause it looked like she was about to cry when she came out of your room.” He recounted; not bothering to sugar-coat it. There seems to be nothing and no one that can get to you other than Jenna. 

Maybe realizing that you’ve hurt her, will be the wake-up call that you needed.

“I fucked up.” You repeated, staring at the ceiling.

“I know, buddy.” He sighed, patting your leg. “But you’ll fix it. You always do…”

“I don’t know about this one man.”

Telling Jenna that you wanted to end this PR relationship with her? You just wanted to be mean and hurt her back and that makes Jenna right, you are an asshole.

“What did you even say?” 

You recounted the anger-filled words that you spewed through your drunken stupor, avoiding Link’s angry expression when you finished.

“Are you fucking serious? How could you say that?”

“It was a mistake… I didn’t mean it.” 

“You need to get your head out of your ass and apologize to that girl.” He huffed, getting off the bed. “Get up, our flight leaves in an hour… stupid idiot.” He muttered, walking off as he shook his head in disappointment. 

This time, you couldn’t even blame him. You are an idiot.

***

“Where’s Jenna?”

“She’s busy but she’s been briefed, we can start now..” Liv pursed her lips, leaning back in her seat. 

The tips of your hands start sweating at her words, not knowing what they could mean.

As soon as you landed back in Los Angeles, you had the day to yourself to recuperate after a long week in New York. You sent the other actress a text before the plane took off, asking if she made it back to L.A. safely but you never got a message back. 

You might’ve deserved that one.

There was no other proof of life from the actress other than when you asked if you could pick up your dog from her since she was looking after the pup before the Met. The only response you received was a text from her assistant saying Jenna’s driver would drop him off at your house later in the day.

Again, you might’ve deserved that one. 

As promised, her driver pulled up in a sleek blacked-out SUV with a dog cage in hand. Upon releasing the pup, you noted the new toy he refused to let go of.

Other than her team obviously playing the middleman between you and her, the only other sign that she was well was the Instagram post on her account of her night at the Met Gala; a variety by herself, showing off her Thom Browne gown, some at the after-party with Enrique and other celebrities.

You'd be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slight emptiness in your chest that she didn’t post you. In the late hours of your stalking, you failed to realize that she did in fact, post the two of you, just a couple of hours later.

As a solo picture, was the two of you kissing on the red carpet. You don’t know why the black heart emoji captioning the photo sends your own heart to a frenzy. If you stared at the photo long enough, it was almost like you can feel phantom sensations of her lips pressed against your own again.

You’re ashamed to admit how long it took for you to decide on a response before eventually settling on a white heart to comment back. 

You thank the heavens that Liv barely sleeps because you got a message from her at that exact moment about a meeting the following morning; distracting you from Jenna and that stupid black heart. 

So that’s where you found yourself, in the dark, clutching the armrests of the stiff office chair in nervousness, the longer Liv and Jake waited to explain why you’re here. 

“It’s an update about Vegas,” Jake explained, leaning on the desk, and staring down at you.

“What about Vegas?” Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sarah found out who leaked the coke…” Liv chimed in. “The source comes from a Twitter account, claims she’s one of the girls in the club, and said she saw you taking a bump, as well. Gossip sites got a hold of it and spread it like wildfire.”

“That’s a lie, I was passed out.” Not the best argument, but it’s the truth.

“She claimed that it came from you.”

“Bullshit!”

“Of course, it’s bullshit. But we’re in damage control now... The police still hasn’t made a comment about pursuing a possible case against you ‘cause there’s nothing there. We’re just dealing with rumours, at this point but I don’t want you to worry about that.” Liv reassured, holding a hand out. She could see the frustration etched on your face.

You rolled your eyes, slumping against the seat. “So, what do we do?”

“The PR with Jenna is going well. It did a good job at covering up headlines about your initial arrest – but now that Vegas headlines are back, we need to work on overtime.”

Immediately, you shake your head, brows furrowing. “I thought the relationship was only meant to last three months?” 

It’ll be three months by the end of this week and Jenna has yet to talk to you since your drunken night after the Met Gala. 

“Yes… and I also said less the faster people forget your night at the county jail, clearly, they haven’t forgotten.” She raised a brow in challenge, and you opted to bite your tongue 'cause she did say that.

“Even then, how would you get Jenna to agree? She’s not exactly my biggest fan, right now.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Jenna’s probably rejoicing at the fact that this agreement was almost over. After the disaster that was the Met, she’s probably laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement longer.

“Is that why you two didn’t go to the same after-party?” Jake flicked a brow, more so curious. You’re surprised he doesn’t too mad about it.

“You don’t even wanna know.” You closed your eyes in exhaustion at the thought of that night, missing Liv and Jake’s silent conversation, debating if it was time for a parently intervention. But you caught on to their silence.

“Please don’t lecture me on my dating life,” you grumbled, “it’s the last thing I want to hear.”

“Dating life?” Jake piped up, eyes lighting up.

“Did you and Jenna actually catch feelings?” Liv asked, a small smile on her lips.

“I literally said don’t.” You glared and the bite in your tone seemed to get them to relent; dropping the conversation. “And don‘t say catch feelings, it sounds wrong coming from you.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, for your sake.” Liv glares before looking at her business partner.

You don’t comment on the weighted glances they keep sending each other.

“Anyways…” Jake cleared his throat, “Lucky for you, Jenna already signed the updated contract—we just need your signature, that’s why you’re here.”

You to sit up straight, unsure if you heard your manager correctly. “What? She did?”

Maybe she wasn’t laughing at the proposition of extending this agreement. But why would she sign it? After what you said to her in New York, you figured she’d be on her merry way out the door and your life.

Liv reached over to the side, cracking open a thick document, and flipped to a page before sliding it over to you; a pen on top.

Beside Jenna’s ink-printed name on the paper, is the same neat handwritten signature that you noticed all those months ago. Your sight flickers down; the empty line with your name just below waiting to be signed seemed menacing this time. As you continue to scan the page and you settle on a certain line causing your heart to stop momentarily.

“A year?” 

Liv nodded, lips thinly pressed. “People are invested. Your names are selling headlines and getting clicks, it’s working. But not well enough to cover Vegas. We need to build you two as a brand, together.”

Suddenly the decision felt weighted.

“A brand?” You drawl, the words feeling wrong on your lips.

Liv sighed, “I know how it sounds… but we need Vegas to go away. After your guys’ appearance at the Met Gala, brands have been calling Jake and Sarah about potential deals featuring you two. You and Jenna sell.” 

You don’t answer, electing to look away to ignore their probing eyes. 

“There’s talk that they want to exclude you from the Dune 2 press run,” Jake admitted after a beat, his heavy-set eyes staring at you unapologetically. 

A knife to the gut is equivalent to how you feel. “What?”

Jake nodded, propping one hand on his desk to hold him up as leaned on it. “I’ve been going back and forth with the producers – reassuring them that you’re not what the press have saying. But like we said, we’re in damage control. SNL, Coachella, the Met Gala, those were good attempts at covering things up to get good press, but it’s not enough.”

Glancing down at the document again, a part of you still hesitates to pick up the pen.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Jake asked.

“I–I need some time, to think about it.” 

“What’s there to think about?” Liv asked, equally confused. “Jenna already signed it.”

“It’s another year, Liv.” You raised your head to meet her eyes, in shock. Ignoring her reassurances. It doesn’t matter if Jenna signed it. There’s no way you’re letting this go on any longer. “That’s a long time.”

Flicking a brow, she answered, “Yes, it’s a long time, but we need to do this. There’s no other way..” She glanced at Jake, standing beside her, sending him a look.

You shake your head.  Mind already made up the moment you saw just how much longer this needed to continue.

“Well, find another way. I’m not dragging Jenna into my mess any longer.”

“What?” Jake dropped his crossed arms, watching as you frantically stood from the seat. “You wanna throw away the last three months?”

“Yes.” You stood your ground, crossing your arms.

Liv rolled her eyes, uncrossing her legs as she stands. You track her confusedly before you realize she’s walking off to Jake’s alcohol collection.

“That was a gift, Olivia.” Jake chided, as he watched the woman pour a hefty shot of the brown liquid from an expensive-looking bottle. 

You roll your eyes at her dramatics. 

“Are we dealing with the same thing right now?” She hissed in pain, placing the shot glass on the table as she gestured to you.

You shake your head, regaining their attention. “I have a career — movies and events lined up. I can’t play someone’s girlfriend for a year on top of that.”

“Y/N, there’s no other way… we’ll find a way to make it work with both your schedules but right now, we need to capitalize on the all of the attention.”

You huffed, annoyed that they were ignoring you. “I don’t care. Find another way. I’m not signing this.” Then you smack a firm hand on the document before turning to walk out of the office.

This has gone on long enough. You refuse to drag Jenna down any more than you already have. She’s better off without you anyway.

***

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Can you wait?!”

With haste, you stumble on your flip-flops when they tangle on your feet as you walked toward your front gate. The buzzing kept ringing out in the dark, quiet air. You desperately wished you bought a house with see-through gates so you could tell off whoever was repeatedly banging on your buzzer.

You lived in a gated neighbourhood, so you weren’t too worried about a random stranger roaming around. You assumed it was just one of your neighbours ringing the bell. 

“What?” You yank the door open, stepping out. The street lamps on the sidewalk don’t do well to light the figure standing across from you. But even in the dark, you instantly recognize her smaller stature.

She stepped back as you close the door behind you, now standing on the sidewalk. Your house was situated on a cul-de-sac and rarely anyone roamed the streets at this time. 

“What are you doing here?”  You squint, walking closer. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Was her answer, words practically dripping in anger.

You stand straighter at her tone, brows knotting together. “What?”

“Who the hell do you think you are, trying to make decisions for me.” She bit back, face contorting in fury. Glancing down, you note her white-knuckled grip on a manila folder.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” You sighed, scanning the street. It was empty and quiet but you never know who was lurking around. 

Walking over to the gate, you held it open, “let’s talk inside.”

She stood her ground, feet firmly planted on the concrete. You can see the sharp edges from her jaw clenching even in the poorly-lit street.

“Jenna.” You said knowingly, titling your head to the side.

You hear her huff loudly before stomping past you and walking up the path to your front door. Choosing not to comment on the fact that she’s never been to your house but she’s walking like she has been. Following closely behind, you can’t help but let your eyes wander down, taking note of her outfit.

As always, no matter what she wore, it hung off her expertly, like it was made just for her. You were so distracted looking at her… outfit, that you failed to realize you made it to the front door. 

“Are you gonna open the door or what?’ She raised a brow, not commenting on how quickly you averted your eyes as soon as she turned around.

“Yeah…” You muttered, sliding past her to open the double doors. 

When you make it to the foyer, Jenna is already confronting you before the door even closes. “Sign the contract.”

“Demanding much?” You raised a brow, shutting the door.

“Sign the damn contract, Y/N.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“What are you doing, Jenna? This is your chance to get out of this.” You wave a hand, gesturing between you and her.

She laughed unamused, “Get out of this? If you think I can leave this PR relationship in the middle of rumours of your arrest and there’s a way I won’t be painted like the bad guy, then you’re really dumber than I thought.”

You clenched your jaw, not answering. 

“Sign the contract.” She repeated, taking your silence as a win.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not dragging you into this mess.”

She laughed again, this time it was plainly mocking. “I’m already in this mess. I’m deep in it if you haven’t noticed. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass every once in a while you’d realize everything we do is attached to each other, now. There isn’t anywhere I can go without being asked about you or our relationship. So no, I’m not letting you make this decision for me. ‘Cause I’m making it for us.”

You stared at her. The fury in her eyes and tension in her shoulders were noticeable even from where you stood; it didn’t aid in easing the mellowing guilt in your chest.

“It’s all from a business standpoint, don’t look into it.” She glared.

This time, you were certain you deserved that. 

Jenna walked up to you, pushing the manila folder against your chest aggressively. You meet her narrowed eyes staring up at you. “Sign it.”

Then she walked off, slamming the door shut behind her.

***

“How’s the missus?”

“How’s yours?” Tom joked back, handing over a steaming coffee cup. Graciously grabbing it with both hands, you eagerly sip on the bitter drink as the London native settles on the patio chair across you.

Although it was considered a warm day in London, there was a cool breeze that wafted through the air penetrating through your jacket. 

“Very funny.” You muttered, ignoring the heat rising up your neck.

“I’m just fuckin with ya.” He chuckled, cheeks crinkling in amusement. 

“She actually has day off from filming, right now.” You placed the paper cup on the table, fiddling with the cover. “So, at home.”

“Beetlejuice 2, right? Insane gig, you must be proud of her.” He smiled, gauging your reaction.

The smile that creeps up on your face is genuine, “Yeah, I am. They just started filming last week, I know she’s killing it.”

“Have you visited her on set?”

You blushed, not even considering that a possibility. “No uh– not yet.”

“Either way, it’s great. I’m happy for you guys.” He said sincerely, but he sees through you. “But, what’s with the long face?”

You sighed, leaning back. Taking a moment to glance around at the quiet street, it was still early morning and the hustle of the Brit actor’s town was still non-existent.

You’ve known Tom for a long time, meeting him during your stint in the MCU. He’s become a brother of sorts, as you two navigated the Marvel fame throughout all those years. As soon as you landed in England, he was the first person you texted.

“It’s complicated– with Jenna.”

“How so?” He flicked a brow, sipping on his drink.

That prompted a long retelling of how you met the other actress (definitely breaching your contract, but hey, you’ll send over an NDA) the events of SNL, Coachella, the Met, and recently, how you’ve been forced to follow her to London as she films Beetlejuice 2 to support her as she films the follow-up to the iconic horror-classic.

“Wow…” His brows raised in shock, mouth hanging wide open. 

You raise an expectant brow. “Well? What should I do?”

“You asking me?” He pointed to himself and if he wasn’t one of your closest friends and Hollywood’s biggest faces, you’d punched him straight.

You huffed, brows knitting together. “Yes, I’m asking you. You and Z are the epitome of a healthy relationship. Tell me what to do.”

Tom rubbed his stubbled jaw, relaxing in his seat as he thought of what to say. “It’s not that easy. Z and I actually want to make it work.”

“What does that mean?” You sat up straighter, a bit defensive.

“Mate, throughout that whole story, you kept talking about this relationship like it was the worst thing in the world. Making up excuses for your actions as to why you can’t open up to Jenna— running away. You guys haven’t talked about anything. She doesn’t know about Vegas, or how you felt about Coachella… You also have yet to apologize for how you disappeared for hours and then acted like an asshole in New York. You just followed her to London, expecting to live under one roof like everything’s alright. It’s a bomb waiting to explode.”

You… couldn’t say anything to that.

He bit back a laugh at your wide-eyed reaction, “Listen, I’m no expert on relationships – I’m still trying to find my way. But one thing I’ve learned, is that when two people want to make it work they will, but that only happens with honest communication. She doesn’t even know how you feel about her… maybe start there.”

“What if it’s too late? What if too much has happened for us to fix things?” You questioned, meeting his kind eyes and allowing him to see the vulnerability in yours.

“Then you start over, build from the ground up.”

You knew his relationship has also seen its fair share of rocky moments. Noting his slew of ex-girlfriends before eventually finding his way back to the Euphoria actress. That made you feel a bit better about your situation.

“Let me ask you this,” He piques up, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers cupping his chin, “what are you so scared of?”

You already know your answer. “I don't want to break her heart.”

He hums, pondering your response, “It sounds like you don’t want her to break yours, mate.”

This time, you’re the one humming as a response, unsure of what to say because he’s right. There’s never been anyone you’ve allowed to get close enough to even break your heart. 

The thought that someone could take your heart and stomp on it whenever they wanted is terrifying concept.

“Look,” he speaks up when you don’t answer, “it sounds like you really care about Jenna. I’ve seen pictures of you two, even if you say it’s just for the cameras. I’ve never seen you look so smitten. Talk to her, you never know what could happen if you stop getting in your own way.”

You flushed, choosing not to comment on his words. “Ho-how you’d see the pictures?”

“You two are everywhere and Z sent me that picture of the two of you with her niece. Very cute,” He winked cheekily.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, I get it. I’ll talk to her.”

“Finally, Link owes me a drink.” He settled back into his seat, sipping on his drink.

You rolled your eyes, shooting the Brit a glare. “You two are annoying.”

But he just chuckled, trying to hide it with a sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Hey, once you get settled here in London, why don’t you come to Monaco with me for the F1 Grand Prix?”

Your gaped at the offer, “You serious?”

“Yeah, it’ll do you some good. Forget about Vegas, the press and Jenna, for a bit?” He leaned in, raising his brows at the proposition, a grin smacked on his teeth. “Me, you, a couple of friends and some cars. What’d ya say?”

You’d take a moment to think over your options but you were already sold.

“I’m in.” You grinned.

***

It’s been three days since you landed in London, following Jenna across the Atlantic Ocean as she filmed Beetlejuice 2. You're still trying to adjust to the time zone difference but that’s really the least of your worries because it’s been terribly awkward living under the same roof as Jenna.

You were seriously considering paying for a hotel during your time here but maybe spending thousands of dollars, or pounds… on a hotel room every night in London for a month straight isn’t the best business decision.

Clearly Jake and Sarah agreed because when you called Jake he said and I quote ‘there’s no other way for you to live anywhere other than with Jenna’ — yeah right.

At least she’s speaking to you — which is a step. Jenna had to fly over to the UK a week earlier and in that time it seems the tensions between you have simmered down. But, her responses are restrained, overly polite, like she didn’t know how to talk to you anymore.

You ignored how your heart clenched at her snipped, cold responses.

“Hi,” She greeted, as soon as you made it down the hallway then living room. Eyes tracking your every move as you shuffled to the kitchen, placing a paper bag atop the counter.

“Hey, how was your day off?” You greeted, glancing up at her momentarily.

“It was alright, I just walked around; got to know the neighbourhood. What about you? You were gone by the time I woke up...” Jenna asked, hating how you averted your gaze from her so quickly these days.

“I met up with a friend over at Kingston.” You replied, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. 

“Tom Holland?”

Turning, surprised she knew that but she answered before you could even ask. “I saw some pictures on Instagram.”

You purse your lips, nodding; not really surprised the paparazzi discovered your outing with the Brit actor. The press never sleeps, even when you’re in another continent.  “Oh, I see… well, he says hello, by the way.”

Jenna perked up surprised. “He did?”

You nodded but said nothing else. 

“You were gone for a while, though.” She added.

“We also grabbed dinner.” You’d usually make an annoyed quip about the sudden interrogation but at this point, you were just glad she’s talking to you.

“Did you have fun?” She asked. You don’t miss the slow, drawled tone that accompanied the question like she was unsure if she should keep the conversation afloat or let it fizzle out.

“Yes, I did actually.” You find yourself saying. A day away from the tenseness in this apartment was a nice change.

Jenna wanted to interject and ask why you looked peeved in the photos and videos she saw. She’s familiar with the tightly wound brows and flared nostrils that you create when you’ve gone off on a rant. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what you two were talking about. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and nodded. “That’s nice...”

Sighing under your breath, you try not to make a reaction and set off an argument with the other actress but the awkward responses were getting old and it’s only your third day here. There’s no way you can handle walking on eggshells around her for another minute.

Shufflling closer to the couch where Jenna sat; gaze still tracking you. You send her a timid smile, placing a paper cup atop the table across from her.

A peace offering, of sorts.

“The coffee shop I was at this morning is known for their hot chocolate, so I got you one on the way back.”

She blinked, evidently surprised at the gesture. You take her silence as a chance to sit on the armchair just across.

“Call it a truce?” You added, sending a sheepish smile. 

Other than the episode of Breaking Bad playing in the background, it’s dead silent in the apartment.

You didn’t comment on how she rewatching an episode that the two of you had already seen.

Jenna stayed mute, just watching you but reached out for the hot chocolate on the coffee table then leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

You considered it as an olive branch.

“I’m sorry for how I acted in New York — I know I worried you.” You gauged her reaction but she averted her gaze to the coffee table, on the cup she was fiddling with — anywhere but your own eyes. “You’re right, I am an asshole and I am so, so sorry Jenna. How can I make it up to you?”

Your question finally has her meeting your eyes, voice cold. “You can’t.”

You sighed, “come on, Jen. There has to be something.”

“You can’t because I’m not ready to forgive you yet.” She reiterated and you slumped back against the cushion, defeated.

“Okay…” You accepted. With a slow nod, you stood up about to walk off to your bedroom and lock yourself inside for the remainder of the night.

Maybe you can try again tomorrow.

Jenna huffed, “where are you going?”

Spinning around, confused; you pointed to the closed door down the hall, “my room? I’m giving you space.”

She stands up, agitation etched on her face and placed the paper cup on the wooden table with force. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I want.”

You flick a brow up, still bemused at her sudden hostility. “So, then what do you want, Jenna?”

Probably like her, you were growing tired of the constant fighting and miscommunication that seems to occur every time a serious talk needed to happen.

Her forehead created lines as she raised both brows, “to talk! I want you to talk to me. Open up to me — I never know what you’re actually thinking. You say I’m leading you on but do you even realize that you're doing the same to me?!”

She finished off with a sharp breath and widened eyes like she didn’t expect to reveal all of that.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to remember the countless advice you’ve been receiving from everyone. Reminding yourself of the unpleasantness that took home in your chest from being away and fighting with the other actress. You didn’t enjoy receiving the cold shoulder from her.

“That’s not what I was trying to do, I swear.” You tried to say calmly despite your heart hammering widly in your chest; fight or flight instincts begging for you to flee.

She studied you with a cautious gaze, you don’t blame her for not believing you. “I like you, a lot – more than I ever expected.”

Your confession has her brows raising in surprise. Not expecting you to say that. You take her stunned silence as a chance to keep talking.

 “I think we both can say that the way we came into each other’s life was less than… conventional.” You chuckled to fill the tense silence, “I’m not exactly sure when or where, but along the way that I started to fall for you.”

You sit back down on the armchair prompting Jenna to perch on the couch, across from you. The space in between you and the other actress feels like a million miles away. Feeling like your nerves are shot from her indecipherable look, alone.

“I really care about you, Jenna and you’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, about anything but especially over Vegas and that’s not fair… so I guess I should start there.”

Jenna can’t even hide her surprise that you’re actually opening up. Never mind confessing how you feel about her. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and allows you to speak.

“Vegas was just a bad decision. I think I was overwhelmed— I had a busy year last year and nothing was letting up. I begged this… friend that I had to skip town, go to Vegas and fuck shit up. Well, we did. When the cops got to the strip club, I was passed out drunk and Damon—uh the friend, was doing coke beside me. Uh, I'm not really sure what happened next but they took me to jail and next thing I knew I was waking up to someone telling me I’d been bailed out… Jake said they tried to pick us both up for drug charges but when they realized it wasn’t mine, they charged me with a drunken disorderly, instead.”

Somewhere along the way, your gaze dropped in shame, unable to match Jenna’s intense stare. You felt mortified as you recounted the tales of your criminal escapade. It’s not a night you choose to relive or retell for a reason, and definitely not a story that you want Jenna knowing. 

But she’s right, she is as deep in this mess as you are. She deserves to know the whole story if you two had to keep this PR stunt going for another year. And if this relationship had any real chance of surviving.

“I heard about it… when it first happened. Sarah was the one to tell me about the coke, that’s why I called you a drug user when we first met…” Jenna admitted, “she said it wasn’t yours but then that headline claimed it was dropped before the Met and you didn’t say anything—“

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to say something.” You hesitated. You’ve never done well at being confronted with the repercussions of your bad decisions, much less having to explain them. “I was scared—“

Your voice cracked, cursing inwardly you fought through the unpleasant thickness in your throat. That makes Jenna meet your eyes, watching as you blinked away the tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Her gaze softens… never seeing you so vulnerable. Continuing to observe you for a few seconds before giving in, “come here.”

You look up at her extended hand and how she patted the open space next to her. Your legs work against you, already standing to walk over and sit.

When you do, she’s turning her whole body to find your eyes. This time her body language is open and inviting rather than the reserved, tense stature you’ve grown accustomed to.

“Sorry…” You wiped the corner of your eyes.

She shakes her head, “don’t be.”

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to meet her kind eyes. She waits for you to patiently speak.

“I was scared.” You repeated.

“I was scared of my feelings for you. That week at your parents' house… was the first time I felt welcomed in a long time. It’s just been me and Link and L.A. for so long, I-I forgot what it was like to have a village around you. I’m sorry if your family sees me differently now.” 

You felt a pang of shame wash over you. But Jenna’s shaking her head, scooting closer — knees touching. “They don’t. My dad and sisters are a little mad but they actually pushed me to talk to you — even when I was mad. They know how the media loves to twist things, they’ve seen it with me, so they try to not pay attention to it.”

She doesn’t know how you did it but you have somehow won her overprotective family over. 

Jenna’s week away from you was needed yet miserable at the same time. After your drunken rant, Jenna was the one who found herself running away. Knowing that this time, she was the one who couldn’t be around you. 

Your words hurt, for lack of a better explanation. The way you spewed them so easily, so surely, was a memory that she replayed over and over again while she was giving you the cold shoulder.

It almost made her give in… to cut the tie with you. Give you what you want — be left alone. But then she remembers her conversation with Hailee, with her mom, with her sisters, with everybody who’s been around you.

It’s comical how everyone can see it but you two.

As if it were written in the stars, a divine intervention seems to always save you two just before the brink of no return. When Jenna found out you were being forced to live with her in London for a month while she films Beetlejuice 2 and you — well she doesn’t know what work you’re doing here yet because she can’t get herself to say more than two words to you — she didn’t know if she should be happy or dreading it.

But then you landed and it’s been a tense weekend since your arrival. You and her seem to share the sentiment of not knowing how to act or speak around the other. Jenna started leaning on dreading it the longer the awkward conversations occurred.

But now you’re here, opening up.

“Are you sure?” You asked a bit croaky; throat a bit tight.

You stare into the other actress’ dark orbs and for the first time ever, it feels like you can finally read her. Hesitantly, she reached out to grasp your hand, firmly clasping it. “I’m sure.”

Clenching your jaw, you try to keep the clouding in your vision at a minimum. Inhaling a sharp stuttered breath, you nodded, “g-good.”

“I’m sorry for how I’ve handled everything since meeting you. It was a lot… dealing with the hate, the arrest and then suddenly realizing how I feel about you. So I ran — like I always do, and that makes me an asshole ‘cause I hurt you. I can deal with everyone being angry with me, I'm used to it. But I can’t stand it coming from you… So you can be mad, but I won’t stop trying to make it up to you.”

Jenna sees nothing but honesty in your fierce, unblinking gaze. It has her heart thudding rudely in her rib cage. She blinked, trying to control her wavering voice, “You’re right… you never talked about Vegas until the last minute and that wasn’t fair of you. But I also never asked you about it either, even though I knew some of the story. I thought we’d do this PR stunt and then go on with our lives….”

You sniffled, eyes feeling scratchy as you listened to her side. You couldn’t keep the stray tear that ran down your cheek at bay. Looking down, you missed Jenna’s softening eyes.

Moving to wipe away the tear, embarrassment ran through you instantly. You tried to pull away from Jenna’s grasp to wipe it but she grabbed it back, tightening her grip. Then she bring her free hand up, swiping the wetness away with a gentle touch that you didn’t feel deserving of.

She squeezed your hand, as she feels you freeze at her ministrations. Your cheek burns against her soft palm. “But, then you met my family and spent time with us and… suddenly you weren’t so bad. Y/N, I like you too.”

This felt like a breakthrough or a light at the very end of a long, dark tunnel in your relationship. 

“So do I.” You repeated timidly, allowing your cheek to rest against her steady hand. Granting the grounding touch despite your racing nerves.

“I’m sorry about what I said in New York,” she swipes her thumb across your cheek, averting her eyes to glance at her actions. You watch her as she does so. 

“You're not an asshole. You’re actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met… when you want to be.” Her eyes flicker back to you, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she gauges your reaction. You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes; easing the slight tension that’s built in the room. “I was just so angry about being left out that I decided to lash out at you. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“I forgive you.” You decided to be brave and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Jenna watches your eyes, not saying anything. Only removing her hand from your cheek to brush some hair away from your sight. Then she drops her palm to rest atop your still-conjoined hands.

“I really, really like you.” She confesses just above a whisper.

“So do I.” You chimed in quickly. She sends you an amused smile before clearing her throat. That’s when you realized it, “but I’m sensing a but...”

You watch as her grin contorts sadly, as she sighed heavily, “it’s not the right time.”

Feeling a pang of disappointment, you nodded nevertheless, averting your eyes. “Oh.”

If somehow there was space between the two of you, there certainly isn’t any, now, as she moved closer, feeling like skin pressing against one another is the only thing that can ground the younger actress. 

“I feel like we went from hating each other to being thrown in New York – SNL.” Jenna tilts her head down, hoping to meet your gaze again, it proves fruitful when she grabs your glance. “Us.. in that dressing room, I know you felt it too.”

Breathing out carefully, you confessed. “I did.”

Jenna sent you a pleased smile, “Then you left for Coachella and I was mad at you again… I even made your driver take you to my parents just so I could see you again cause even when I was mad –  I couldn’t stop thinking about almost kissing you.”

Your heart thumped as she confessed everything.

“My mom set us up with the single bed thing, though.” Jenna laughed as joined. The thought of her family secretly rooting for you two had your stomach in a twist. “The way you were with my family that week… I don’t know. I started seeing you differently and I couldn’t help but kiss you before your performance…”

“I wasn’t complaining.” You shook your head.

“Shut up.” She smacked your arm, making you smile. “We skipped so many steps and just jumped into the relationship part.”

“Yeah… we did.” 

“I want to make this work but I think—“

“I got a lot of shit to figure out.” You chuckled, cutting her off.

“We got a lot of shit to figure out.” She corrected. “And in between filming Beetlejuice–”

“I understand, Jen.” You squeezed her hand.

“I need some time, to figure all of this out because I wanna do it right – with you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. You try to disregard how her gaze fell lower, finding your lips. 

Mentally wishing the other actress can’t hear how loudly your heart is thumping.

“I’ll be here waiting.” 

It wasn’t the conclusion you expected but it felt like a step in the right decision. She’s right, there is a lot that you two need to figure out. Separately and together. Her eyes snap back to you, looking relieved, like it was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m not saying I’m not open to never, possibly– you know.” Jenna blushed, as she stumbled over her words. “But I’d like us to be friends first, get to know each other before we pursue that. I-Is that okay?”

You felt bolder at her confession, finally knowing how she feels about you. Bringing your entwined hands up, you place a delicate kiss on her the top of her hands. “That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready for me.”

“You’re already breaking the rules…” She jokes but her tone sounded wispy as she stared down at the way your lips ghosted over her hand. 

You flick a brow, “we have rules?”

She sends you a pointed look, calling your name flatly.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back, dropping her hands. “Right, sorry… friends definitely don’t do that.”

“You’re an idiot.” You didn’t know an insult could sound better than any piece of music you’ve ever listened to. She hasn’t called you that since Coachella. You think, the term of endearment is starting to grow on you, having missed her reciprocated banter more than anything.

“Yeah… I am.” You respond, fondly memorizing every speckle in her kind, dark orbs staring back into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine.

How could you ever think of letting her go?

***

it only took eight fucking chapters but I did say slow burn…😭

***

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everyone but her pt.32

Summary: With their freshman year of college out of the way and an entire apartment building bought by the Addamses, it's time for year two. Oh boy.

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of blood, swearing, allusions to abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Your parents need to quit buying everything,” you grumbled as you fell down onto the couch. “It’s making me feel bad.”

“They simply bought a new mattress,” Wednesday said from her spot at the typewriter.

“Yeah, they did,” you said. “After they bought the entire apartment building.”

She kept silent, but she knew you were right. Once they hadn’t been required to stay on campus, the Addamses had decided it would be most beneficial to take over an apartment building not too far from campus. And wouldn’t you know it, there was just enough space for the entire group, including Joel and Ash.

“It’s how they show their affection,” she finally said, her fingers returning to the keys of the typewriter.

“They need to quit,” you grumbled again but otherwise fell silent.

Wednesday would admit, she saw nothing wrong with the gift, but she could see how you did. She had learned a lot about “love languages” from Bianca over the past few weeks, and yours was not gift giving. Ash had said it made you uncomfortable because you felt the need to pay back everything you were given. Which Wednesday had known from previous conversations, but she hadn’t known it was actually a thing.

No one had prepared her for the amount of information she would have to learn to have a healthy relationship. It was almost like an information overload, and she was more than capable of handling it, but she hadn’t mentally prepared. She was starting to regret shying away from her parents’ affections.

“Are you working today?” Wednesday asked, turning her head to hear your answer better.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Simon has been sketched out since the police started making their rounds.”

Wednesday frowned. “They indicated they were through with you.”

“Clearly not,” you said. “They came into the shop a few weeks ago.”

“You never told me,” she said as she finally turned around in her chair.

You were sitting with your legs spread on the couch and your head hanging off the armrest. It was a rather pathetic look, Wednesday wouldn’t deny. More than once you had claimed it was comfortable, but she couldn’t understand how. You were stretched out, your wings were tucked tight underneath you, and it almost looked like the blood was rushing to your head.

“I'm tired of telling you how many times I get interrogated by police," you said. "I feel like I hang out with them more than you now."

Wednesday supposed that, too, was true. More often than not you had texted her - well, texted Enid to tell her - that you were at the station again. They seemed adamant you were aware of what had happened on New Year's Eve. As much as you denied it, they didn't believe you.

But she did. It had been a while since her last vision, but there had been nothing about those boys. If you had done it, or even been a part of it, she would've seen it. You weren't the most skilled liar either, she would have seen through the ruse if you had actually done it.

"When's your next date night with Enid?" You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

"Unknown," she said as she got up from the desk and walked over to sit by you on the couch. "She's busy attempting to volunteer at the kennel in town."

"Why am I not surprised," you whispered. There was a slight smile in your tone. "Have you asked her when she's free?"

"Why would I do that?" Wednesday asked with a frown. "She always tells me when she's available."

"It shows her you care," you said as you sat up, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment while the blood slowly drained from your face. "That you want to spend time with her."

"Of course I do," she said. "She knows this."

"Sometimes people still like to hear it, Wends," you said with a light chuckle.

Wednesday didn't have anything to say to that. She supposed it was nice to hear you were wanted. Although you were far more like her in that aspect, she always felt surprisingly warm when you would bring up your desire to spend time with her. Maybe she should tell Enid she wished to spend time with her.

"You have class, right?" You asked. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment when you pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear.

"Yes," she finally said. "And Ash wanted to come over for dinner."

"While I'm gone?" You asked with your own frown.

"She said that was preferable," Wednesday answered.

"That's so fucking rude," you mumbled to yourself.

“Would you like me to tell her no?” She asked.

Your frown slowly morphed into a soft smile. Usually it would accompany teasing about some sort of social cue Wednesday had managed to miss, but this one seemed genuine. The couch shifted underneath you both as you moved closer and pulled her legs over yours until she was very nearly sitting in your lap.

“Do you plan on seducing her?” You asked.

“No,” she said with a frown.

“Does she plan on seducing you?” You continued.

“Not if she has any common sense,” she said quietly.

“She doesn’t,” you teased. “But those answers are satisfactory.” You leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. “You’ll both have a nice night.”

Wednesday rested her head on your shoulder as you proceeded to turn the television on. Neither one of you had any plans for the next hour, and she had fallen into a pattern of watching whatever ridiculous show you would put on before going to work. Reruns or something called “Bridezillas.” She didn’t understand how it was humorous, but she could admire the horror in it.

“Would you ever think about getting married?” You asked halfway through the episode.

Wednesday’s body tensed up.

“I guess that’s a no,” you chuckled, but she could feel your fingers twitch where they rested on her thigh.

“I never said no,” she tried to defend.

“I wasn’t proposing,” you said with sparkling eyes. “I was just wondering if you had ever thought about it.”

She opened her mouth to answer but promptly closed it, her eyes falling to the side in thought. Had she ever thought about it? Not particularly, not in such specific terms. There had been no thoughts of venues or dresses or parties. Nothing about such an overly extravagant occasion.

Unless… maybe you didn’t necessarily mean the wedding itself. You had said “married.” Now that… that she supposed she had thought about, in not so many words. There were a few times her mind had wandered. When you came home late from work, tired and clumsy and knocking things over before falling into bed with your work clothes still on. And each time she thought, yeah, she could fall asleep to that every night.

Or those days where you were off work and you both unanimously decided to relax at home. Cleaning, or going grocery shopping, or just watching something. Wednesday could see the appeal in technology when you were with her. All it would take was one peal of laughter from you and her cold heart would warm up. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hear such a sound on a daily basis.

But she was never one to show her cards first.

“Do you?” She asked after far too long of silence.

“Do I what?” You asked, clearly already re-absorbed by your show.

“Do you ever think of getting married?” She clarified.

You stayed silent, your eyes still focused on the television. There was almost an audible sound of gears turning in your head. If Wednesday focused, she could almost even see smoke leaking out of your ears. Your fingers drummed on her thigh as she watched the constant movement of your mouth; an odd habit you had picked up when you were thinking.

“A little,” you finally said with a nod of your head. “Not now, but, you know.” You shrugged. “Eventually.”

That was an answer Wednesday could live with. Eventually. It eased whatever anxiety was starting to well up in her throat. Nothing soon, she could work with that. It gave her plenty of time to think of how she was possibly going to accept such a fact that you had both talked about so casually.

And how she was going to find a way to admit it to her parents.

Now that was going to be a nightmare.

—---

“The giant chicken helps out while you’re in class, right?” Ash asked as she stirred whatever it was she was cooking. It was rather polite for her to come over and offer to cook in yours and Wednesday’s apartment.

It was no wonder you were so intimidated by her; you were both raised with manners.

“Yes,” Wednesday said as she sat in the chair at the island. “With the exception of work.”

“Well of course,” Ash scoffed. “That’s a given.” She cocked her hip and leaned against the counter as she set the spoon down. “She just needs some sort of stability.”

“How so?” Wednesday asked with a tilt of her head. 

She had a feeling she knew, but she wanted to hear it from someone else. Someone who had known you in a way only she had. Of course Yoko knew you well, but not in the same sense. She needed to hear it from someone who you had loved as something other than family.

Oh you were making her soft, god damn you.

“She thinks too much without a sense of purpose,” Ash said with a shrug. “Even if that purpose is as simple as cleaning the apartment.”

When Ash continued cooking, Wednesday thought about the simple statement. It might have been accurate. The days you seemed more at ease were the days you had cleaned, or cooked, or done the shopping, or done something to “help.” Or helped in any sense, it didn’t have to be an actual act.

She would need to hint at things for you to do if she ever noticed you acting off.

“Was this something you dealt with?” Wednesday asked.

Ash’s movements faltered. “Not quite to this degree,” she said slowly, “but yes.”

“Was there a cause?” Wednesday asked. “Most people are not naturally so…” Ash gave her a raised brow. “Troubled.”

“Nice word choice,” Ash said with a smile before sliding a plate in front of where Wednesday was sitting. It looked rather good; she wouldn’t dare try to figure out what it was. “What do you know about her past?”

Images of you standing in a room, crying about how your parents had abandoned you flooded Wednesday’s mind. She had nearly forgotten the vision from so long ago. It was enough to have anger burning through her veins as she set her jaw and looked down at the plate, actively avoiding Ash’s gaze.

“Marcus and Kristi left her and Nicky at Nevermore,” she said slowly. “I believe that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Not much less than the rest of us,” Ash said with a sigh. She took her time to take a bite of food before continuing. “All I know is they were abusive. Made her feel like she was a burden.”

“Which would explain the desire to be useful.”

“Exactly,” Ash said with a point of her fork. “I have no doubt there’s more to it, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that’s a decent chunk.”

Both girls fell silent as they stared at their food. If Ash was anything like Wednesday, she was no longer very hungry. Why would you not tell anyone what had happened in your past? She understood bad memories were never pleasant, but part of moving on was the acceptance stage, was it not? How could you accept something if you never acknowledged its very existence?

“You’re doing well though,” Ash finally said once they had both finished eating. “Y/N is known to run when things get hard.”

“Explain,” Wednesday said as she got up and started helping with the dishes.

“Well,” Ash sighed, “take when we were together.” She turned the sink on. “After the accident, she got angry and mean and pushed everyone away.”

“And you left?” Wednesday clarified. She took the first dish from Ash and started drying it.

“Not at first,” she admitted with a slight shake of her head. “I tried to stay and help.” She handed over another plate. “But I drew the line at being told I didn’t care.”

Wednesday fell silent and focused on drying off the dishes Ash handed to her. It didn’t sound like something you would do. You had never given her any sort of indication that you believed such a thing, or even that you would accuse someone of such a thing. The most she had seen you do was withdraw and hide away. Would you really accuse someone of not caring?

She reached over to take the last fork from Ash and felt her fingers touch. Her head was thrown back as a volt of electricity ran through her fingers, locking her muscles. The apartment ceiling disappeared, turning into something more. Something open. Something with stars.

A sigh fell from Wednesday’s lips as she spun around and took in her surroundings. It was a forest, or something close to it. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something about it reminded her of the night you had gone bug hunting with Eugene and gotten hurt by the werewolf. It sent a shiver down her spine.

An unfamiliar scream echoed through the forests, sounding as if it was pushing through water. Faded, hazy, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her feet started moving on their own accord, leading her between trees until she found a small clearing. A full moon was illuminating the area enough for her to see the carnage.

One body was on the ground a few feet away, crumpled and broken. Wednesday couldn’t see any blood in the dark, but she could practically smell it. On the other side of the clearing was a tall figure, monstrous in form, almost like a corrupt werewolf. In front of it, trapped in another figure’s arms, was someone familiar.

It was Ash.

Wednesday stepped forward slowly, her eyes stuck on the scene. A twig snapped under her feet, and all three figures turned their heads to look at her. Ash was the only one who had a face, the others were blurred out, almost as if they were being censored. Blood trickled from Ash’s mouth, which she opened wide-

“-Wednesday!”

Her head was thrown forward and suddenly she was back in her apartment. Ash was holding her up by her shoulders, eyes wide with concern and checking over every inch of her. The sounds of the forest were gone, there was no smell of blood, and everything was back to normal. Normal.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, surprisingly confident in her tone. “I’m fine.”

“What was that?” She continued, only just letting Wednesday go after being extra sure she was steady on her feet.

“A vision,” Wednesday said, her voice lowering to barely more than a whisper.

“A vision?” Ash clarified. When Wednesday looked up at her, she was shaking her head and chuckling humourlessly. “I nearly forgot you were one of the freaks.” Wednesday looked at her with a raised brow. “It’s a term of endearment.”

At any other point in time, she would have found an excuse to harass Ash for the term. Even though it was abundantly clear that she had no dislike for Outcasts, she was one of the few Normies in the group. Wednesday wasn’t entirely known for teasing, but she had learned to lighten up just a little. At least that’s how Bianca had phrased it a few months ago.

An unusual sound rang through the air. Both girls looked around for a moment before Ash picked up her phone and unlocked it. Her eyes moved from side to side as she read something. Whatever it was made her smile and roll her eyes before she put the phone back down.

“Y/N says she’s running to a late night anger management class,” Ash said. “And wanted me to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Wednesday said with a simple nod.

“You two really just communicate through everyone else?” Ash asked, heading over to the couch and grabbing the television remote. Wednesday quickly followed suit.

“Technology is a soul sucking void that I do not wish to be forced into,” Wednesday said even as Ash turned the television on and put on what looked like… true crime? Maybe technology wasn’t entirely awful.

“You sure that’s all it is?” Ash asked. “Because I know she gave you Nicky’s old phone.”

Wednesday sighed. “I don’t want to accidentally erase what he left on it,” she finally admitted. “So I would rather leave it as untouched as possible.”

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” Ash said softly. “You know, there are ways to back it up so it’s not lost.”

“I did not know,” Wednesday said. “Would you be able to help me with it?”

“Sure, Addams,” Ash said with a slight chuckle. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Wednesday turned back to the television to watch whatever Ash had put on. It was fascinating, and both girls managed to talk and figure out the real perp each and every time. Maybe she wasn’t so bad, Wednesday thought. This was a friendship that she was more than happy to nurture.

—---

When Wednesday awoke the next morning, you weren’t in bed. Not entirely surprising, she knew if you were too late you would usually just sleep on the couch in an effort not to wake her. A pointless endeavour, she would rather you wake her than she wake up alone. But she supposed she could understand the polite intention behind it.

She took a moment to let her brain catch up with reality. All night she had been plagued by the vision of Ash being attacked by those figures. What were they? They hadn’t seemed human, but she couldn’t see any distinguishing features. That was unusual on its own, she had never had parts of her visions censored. Something about it rubbed her the wrong way.

Your voice floated down the hallway and through the open bedroom door, and Wednesday pushed aside her concerns and got out of bed. She didn’t bother putting clothes on, just wrapped one of your jackets around her to keep herself modest. The floor was still warm from the time of year, so it wasn’t too unbearable to walk down the hall and into the living room.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw you sitting at the table across from Weems.

“Good morning, Miss Addams,” Weems said softly with a gentle smile that reminded her of her mother.

You were quick to turn around, and the smile you gave her started a warmth in her chest. Thoughts of your question about marriage ran rampant as she thought that yes, she would like to see you like that every morning. Simply excited to see her each morning. That was something she could live with for the rest of her life.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” Weems continued. “I ran into Y/N last night after grabbing groceries.”

“She works at the university!” You said quickly with a toothy smile. “Isn’t that cool?”

“You will be teaching?” Wednesday asked. She finally walked over and sat down beside you at the table, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee you slid in front of her.

“Outcast History, yes,” Weems said with a nod. “We’re testing it out as a course to see if it catches any traction.”

“How is Nevermore?” Wednesday asked.

“It’s in good hands,” Weems answered, though her smile turned a little sad. “So, how has everything been?”

The three of you got to talking, and by god Wednesday forgot how much you could talk. It wasn’t that you didn’t talk with her, but some people just managed to bring out every thought in your mind. Weems was one of those people. Truthfully, she and Wednesday didn’t even have to say much, you managed to talk the entire time.

Wednesday gladly sat back and watched you go over everything; skipping over Mack’s death, of course. She would need to remember to fill Weems in on that piece of information. But you talked, and talked, and talked some more. She was almost afraid to look at the time. Her gut told her that you had been talking for far over an hour.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, pulling Wednesday out of her thoughts. “Did you hear some rich dude was murdered last night?”

“In town?” Weems asked.

“No, not here, down in DC,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Some old guy was practically slaughtered in his fancy house.”

“You seem far too nonchalant about the situation,” Weems said softly, more to herself than to you.

“Eat the rich,” you said with a shrug.

Weems turned to look at Wednesday with raised brows, and she just shook her head. You seemed blissfully unaware of the irony of your statement, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up. She would let you live with your beliefs. It was a conversation for another day.

“Make sure you both stay safe, yes?” Weems asked, her eyes falling to where you had grabbed Wednesday’s hand and were playing with her fingers. “Together.”

“Yes mother,” you huffed. “But you have nothing to worry about, anyone who slaughters old white men is a friend of mine.”

Wednesday shook her head and did her best to hold back her smile as she took a sip of her coffee. You were starting to act far more like you had when she had first met you at Nevermore. Carefree, a little silly, happy. Maybe you were finally starting to get better.

She could definitely live with that for the rest of her life.

Weems didn’t stay for much longer, claiming she needed to go back home and work on her learning plan for her classes. You both bid her goodbye, and you gave her a lingering hug that she also seemed to melt into. She gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding goodbye, and you were quick to pull Wednesday over to the couch.

“Do you have class?” You asked, even though she knew that you knew she didn’t.

“No,” she said simply.

“Good, then you have no excuse to not cuddle with me,” you said.

You didn’t give her the chance to argue before pulling her down until she was laying in front of you, her back pressed to your front. She knew it wasn’t the most comfortable position for you thanks to your wings, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. Maybe she could look into designing a couch that would be more comfortable for you. She was sure her parents knew someone that could assist in the endeavour.

“What are you in the mood to watch?” You asked. The hand that wasn’t holding the remote was slipping under her shirt, and your fingers were starting to draw little shapes on her stomach.

“Ash put on something about crimes last night,” Wednesday said.

“Stop bonding with her,” you said instantly. Regardless, you flipped through the channels. “Was it Unsolved Mysteries?”

“Possibly,” she said.

You nodded and changed the channel before setting the remote down and pulling her closer. It was clear you were trying your hardest to engage with the crimes. Were you wrong the majority of the time? Yes. Did you still keep trying to come up with more and more convoluted theories that, realistically, weren’t even close to viable? Yes.

Did Wednesday love it? Absolutely.

“I so could’ve been a detective,” you mumbled after you had managed, for the first time, to figure something out. “I’m practically a natural.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything, just pulled your arms tighter around her. Behind her, she could feel your heart beating steadily. Your heart beat was always a little faster than everyone else’s, reminiscent of a hummingbird, but it was steady. A constant that kept Wednesday’s mind focused and uncluttered.

You shifted, leaning forward to press a kiss to Wednesday’s cheek before she heard you whisper an “oops.” The channel on the television changed and she felt you moving around to try and find the remote. Some news channel appeared, and Wednesday would have been more than happy to ignore it until she saw two familiar faces.

She didn’t say anything, but squeezed your arm.

“What?” You asked as you halted your movements.

Your body stiffened behind her when you looked back at the television as well. Marcus and Kristi were on the screen, doing what looked like a press interview. The message “retired DA Malcolm Hart victim of vicious homicide” scrawled across the bottom of the screen in a red banner. Your nails dug a little harder into Wednesday’s skin.

“We were saddened to learn of Malcom’s passing,” Marcus said. Your body shivered the moment he started talking. “He was a dear friend of mine, and we will be doing everything we can to assist the DCPD in their efforts to find and apprehend the perpetrator.”

Wednesday couldn’t properly focus on the television after that, instead turning her head to look at you. There was a glassy haze over your eyes and a tight set of your jaw. Your arms were holding her a little too tight, but she didn’t pay it any mind. All she was focused on was the clear distress you couldn’t quite voice.

“I hope it kills them next,” you mumbled before settling back into the couch and placing your face in the crook of her neck.

Maybe healing wasn’t going to come as effortlessly as she had originally believed.

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

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legally binded - 6

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 6: Met Gala and Miscommunication

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: SHADOWBAN IS A BITCH

Word Count: 7.2k+ (i dont know how this happened)

“Y/N! Over here, please! To your right!” 

“One over the shoulder, please!”

“Can we get one straight head!”

Shouting and flashes are all you can hear once you step out of the van, one hand bunching up the large gown, the other in Link’s as he helps you down. You and Jenna had to take separate cars because your outfit was too large, a decision that you are mentally thanking the Gods.

There’s no way you can be around her right now. 

Which is going to be a problem because you two have to make your first official red carpet appearance. Other than the usual eyes on you already; you are on the panel of hosts which means the attention on you two will be upped more so than usual. Not to mention, she’s also your date for the evening.

A fact that the media was anticipating. By the increasing decibel of the screaming around you as Jenna approaches, you knew then just how many people were truly watching your every move.

“Hi…” She says once she’s in earshot. The train of her custom coat was dragging on the ground as she walked. 

“Hey.” You mumble, not looking at her. 

“Can we not do this he–” She sighed at your tone.

“Let’s walk the carpet. I’m needed inside.” You cut off, extending your hand for her to take.

Clenching her jaw, she glanced at your open palm with a flat look before relenting; sliding her smooth hand into yours, grasping it tightly. 

Almost too tightly, like she was trying to crush your ring-clad fingers.

But it'd be a lie to say that you didn’t miss the familiar grooves of her skin— even if she was crushing your hand at the moment.

“Ow, stop.” You grit.

Jenna merely kisses her teeth, but eases on her grip.

“Let’s get this over with.” You mumbled, tugging her along.

The sounds of both your heels clicking against the pavement and the incessant shouting from the crowd and media were all you can hear as you dragged the actress to walk past the other celebrities waiting in line to walk to the carpet. 

You know Jenna wants to say something but one glance at your scowl and she knew better. Maybe imperceptible to most, but over these last few months, she’s learned to pick up on a few cues.

Like now, the slight downturn of your bottom lip, the crease between your brow and the clenched jaw were all signs that you were not in the mood.

“Y/N, wait.”

But you don’t. You merely keep walking until you’re both standing in the very front. “Don’t we need to wait our turn?”

You cast her a side glance. “No.” Then turn, spotting a familiar face. 

The very same face of the person who organizes this whole gala.

“Y/N, darling. Don’t you and your woman look ravishing.” Anna Wintour walks to you both.

“Thank you, Anna. You look lovely tonight as well.” You plaster a large, pearly white smile; kissing the older woman on both cheeks.

Jenna feels the heat of the flashes on you three, instantly.

When Anna Wintour turns to her, she mimics your greetings, expressing her own gratitude for the invite.

“I’ll let you two walk the carpet. The press has been waiting eagerly for you two.” She winked before walking off. 

You couldn’t even fight the blush forming on your cheeks if you tried. At least, you can blame it on the makeup you had on if anyone called it out.

“Let’s go?” You turn to the other actress.

Jenna nodded and you allowed her to lead you to the bottom of the large steps of the iconic museum. 

Immediately, a flurry of photographs are taken and shouting of your and Jenna’s name is belted as you actively fight to not tear up.

The two of you pose expertly by yourselves before coming back together to show off your couple-themed outfit, obeying the directions from the photographers as they shout which position to pose in. 

“You okay?” You glance down at Jenna as you were standing behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist when you realize she felt tensed under your touch.

You knew she dealt with anxiety at times, especially during very public events such as this, so you squeeze her waist reassuringly; letting her know that you're right here.

When she blinks up at you slowly, you curse yourself for feeling mesmerized. Her highlighted-freckled cheeks reflected the camera flashes back at you and the white carpet juxtaposed her dark, steampunk-esque outfit and suddenly, you are sure that you're staring at the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Yeah…” She reassured, softly placing her hand atop yours that was wrapped around her waist. 

“That’s perfect guys!”

“Can we get a kiss from the couple!” Someone yells when they see Jenna meet your eyes, influencing the others to start their own slew of requests for PDA.

You freeze, not expecting them to be so immodest with their demands. But you don’t have time to make the decision for yourself because Jenna was making it for you.

She turns in your hold, slotting herself firmly against your side and placed her ring-clad fingers coolly on your neck, pulling you in for a delicate and modest kiss.

In quick, lens-fluttered successions the moment is captured in time. 

You couldn’t even hear the screaming of the paparazzi get louder as the two of you are practically blinded by the camera shutters. Distantly you can hear the crowd of fans camping across the street screaming as well.

But it all sounded fuzzy when her lips pressed against yours.

When she pulled away, you were still staring at her lips, breathing a bit laboured. The pounding in your chest intensified when her eyes flickered to yours; trying to read your reaction.

You don’t have time to think about it because you’re hurriedly being ushered up to the top of the steps where an interviewer was waiting overeagerly.

“Wow, you two are surely going to be the talk of the night. Tell me everything, who are you two wearing?” The enthusiastic and slightly familiar-looking lady spoke into the mic before holding it up to you and Jenna. 

“I am wearing a reconstructed tuxedo jacket dress by Thom Browne and Y/N is actually wearing a custom, one-of-a-kind collaboration, a Prada and Thom Browne ball gown,” Jenna answers for both of you, wrapping an unsuspecting arm around your waist. 

The interviewer’s eyes sparkled with delight at the information, “Just amazing. The two of you look like a million bucks.  Tell me, what was the inspiration behind these two looks? ‘Cause to me, it’s giving goth wedding at the Met Gala.” 

She turns to the camera, nodding approvingly. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that releases from your lips, nodding, “I guess it is giving that… but really, I have to give credit to Jenna. She’s the one who thought of the bride and groom concept. I just showed up.”

“Am I sensing you’re the brains in this relationship?” The interviewer teases, leaning into Jenna, who nodded politely.

“Yeah — I guess you can say that.” She gives into the joke. 

“Wow… I’m right here.” You play into it as well.

“Now, I gotta ask 'cause they’ll get mad if I don’t. But any comments on the Vegas incident and rumours of your arrest regarding the drug allegations?” She whispered the last part.

At least, she made it sound like she was apologetic. 

Clenching your jaw, you tried to plaster a tight-lipped smile about to give an answer. But before you could open your mouth, Jenna squeezed your waist, cutting in. She glanced at you worriedly for a moment, before speaking seriously into the mic; keeping her hold on your midsection; firm.

“The accusations against Y/N are not true and quite frankly, the backlash she’s been getting online, I feel, is unwarranted and unfair. That’s all we’re saying about the matter, thank you.” Then she pulled you inside and away from the vicious teeth of the piranhas, not bothering to listen to the interviewer’s sputtering protests.

Jenna tugged you down a desolate hallway, ignoring everyone else in the way. Frantically whipping her head to try to find a secluded corner. When she does, she pressed you against a column; hidden from the view of prying eyes.

Only then, did you feel like you could breathe, not even realizing how tense your shoulders had been.

“Are you okay?” She scanned you worriedly; grasping your hand in a tender manner; swiping her thumb across the skin. 

“Yeah… yeah — fine.” you glance down at your hands, squeezing them unconsciously.

"Are you sure?" She asked, still studying your startled features.

Your ability to swiftly hide your real emotions should be studied really, cause Jenna blinked and suddenly you were deadpan as if nothing happened.

"Yes. I'm fine. It's what I signed up for." You muttered the last part.

The sigh Jenna lets out is heavy and annoyed. For a moment, you think you see her eye twitch.

“Can you not say that phrase, right now." She chided.

Scoffing, you answer back, "You wanna talk about not doing something? What about what you said during the interview? You know it’s just gonna make things worse."

Her jaw dropped before laughing hollowly. “Are you serious? What, you wanted me to stay silent?”

“No! Just—“ You sighed, clenching your jaw, “you should’ve let me handle it.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, pulling her hand away. “We’ll talk about it later… if you don’t run away.” Muttering the last part, she sauntered off; heading to your table where Enrique and Link were sitting — your posse for the night.

Those two are in for a treat, you thought.

You couldn’t even chase her down even if you wanted to because a Gala worker was already ushering you backstage to go over last-minute notes before the show started.

—

Jenna leaned back against the stiff, rigid chairs, fiddling with the fancy rolled napkin on her china dish, trying to suppress her sigh.

“You okay?” Link nudged her elbow after noticing the actress' slumped shoulders.

Jenna and Link have formed an… alliance of sorts. Since the two of you have been spending more time together, she’s formed an unsuspecting bond with your closest friend and confidant.

He was someone that she felt she could trust because you trusted him wholeheartedly. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed absentmindedly, continuing to pick on the napkin just watching how her glossy french-manicured black nails reflected the light back from the wisping flame on the table.

“What’s up? Is it Y/N?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to spot you.

“It's nothing…” She dismissed.

"Oh, you guys are really fighting? I thought this was just one of your petty arguments, again." He saw through her instantly.

She didn't even answer, just elected to roll her eyes as a response.

"What about Coachella? You guys were fine then, you even kissed, remember?" He raised a brow in question.

Jenna’s forehead creased, frowning. “Of course, I do. But then I learned that she may get arrested? Y/N never brought it up, once. I never even knew if it was true. So sorry, if I’m a little mad about being left out of something important — something that affects me too.”

The assistant ran a rough hand down his jaw, exhausted. “Look, no one’s saying you can’t have feelings on the matter — they’re valid. But come on, Y/N can’t catch a break.”

“Who’s fault is that?” She whispered back harshly, clenching the napkin in her hand too tight.

Link’s eyes raised in shock. “Huh… I guess you really did make up your mind. Feel what you feel, but all I’m saying is hear her out.”

Then he stands, walking away from the table.

Maybe off to find you? Who knows, all Jenna feels is a slight pressure forming in between her brows and the night’s barely started.

She had a feeling she was in for a long one.

Jenna didn't have time to sulk about it because the Gala was starting. A man in a tuxedo walked to centre stage with a mic in hand. “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight and supporting the Met's Costume Institute. Now, can we give a warm welcome to this year’s panel who made this Met Gala possible… introducing…”

Jenna sighed lifting her head up, watching as you appeared from the backstage, walking elegantly with the other co-hosts and Anna Wintour.

“Penelope Cruz, Michaela Coel, Roger Federer, Dua Lipa, Y/N L/N and Vogue’s Anna Wintour.” The presenter named.

You send the room a show-stopping smile, squinting when the spotlights hit your retinas at an unpleasant angle. When your eyes settled onto the crowd they instantly meet Jenna’s but you’re averting them just as quickly.

She pretended not to notice.

The room cheers for all of you up on stage but she doesn’t hear the introductory speech each of you give.

Not even yours because all she could do was stare at you.

You looked regal.

And that frustrated Jenna because she's supposed to be mad at you.

But she had to admit, a small part of her liked riling you up and making you mad.

The furrow in your brow and frown on your lips when you are, is a face that Jenna’s secretly grown fond of. 

But since the two of you have gotten closer, you’ve shown her that you indeed do have a heart, albeit a little cold and prickly at times. 

Despite that, Jenna found herself still wanting to hold your delicate heart even if it hurts.

But there’s only so much she can do when the Universe decides to throw another curve ball toward you.

So, no. 

You’re not off the hook just yet.

She watched as the crowd dispersed when the speech finished and stars and celebrities from all entertainment forms kick off the night of socializing. Jenna noticed you instantly get pulled to a far corner of the room by some executives.

Jenna didn’t feel like doing the shop talk so she elected to stay in her seat; no matter how anti-social she seemed.

“Jen, we need to socialize... I know you don’t want to, but you know.” Enrique nudged.

“Okay, okay…” 

And like the actress she is, she plastered on her best smile and floated around the room, making sure everyone saw her face.

At one point she found herself actually enjoying a conversation. 

“Your date is busy tonight.” A voice commented, sliding into the seat beside her. 

“Olivia.” Jenna sighed in relief at seeing a familiar face, swiftly leaning over to give her friend a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Jenna.” The singer embraced back.

“Are you at this table?” She asked once she’d pulled away.

“Yeah, I think this is the Thom Browne table actually.” Olivia turned around to examine the fancy stock card with calligraphy writing.

“Great…” Jenna nodded, already feeling her spirits lift a bit at seeing a familiar face.

She placed the card back onto the table, “Enjoying your night?”

“Yeah… it’s only my second time here but it’s always nice to be invited.” Jenna replied honestly, feeling the tension loosen within her at being reunited with an old friend.

“What about her?” Olivia nudged, nodding to you standing across the room, exchanging pleasantries with a few musician friends.

“She’s been very busy tonight.” Jenna comments, watching as you work the room. Everyone had their bodies turned to you as you gestured animatedly. Even from afar, she can see your confident posture and slightly raised chin. Briefly, she wonders how you make it look so easy. “But I think she’s enjoying herself too.”

“Good…” Olivia smiled.

“Hi! what’re we talking about?” Florence Pugh slides in.

“Florence, hi! Nice to see you again.” She leaned to kiss the other woman’s cheeks — they exchange the usual pleasantries and compliments.

“Our Met Gala experience…” Olivia answered.

“Oh! How is it, you reckon?” She sipped on her vodka martini with the etiquette of a royal. “This is my first one.”

“I’m having a good time..” Jenna answered.

“Sensing a but?” The bald woman waved her manicured hand.

“Oh no…” Jenna flushed at being called out, glancing as you talked to the likes of: Dua Lipa, Usher, Jack Harlowe. “No buts…”

“Alright...” Florence relents, sipping on her martini. She glances in Jenna’s line of sight spotting you. 

“Oh! Hailee!” Florence kisses her teeth, “that girl told me she wasn’t going to come. Excuse me girls.”

Florence muttered apologies, drifting over to your group. Jenna watched as the Brit strolled over, her line of sight drifting back over to you, embracing this Hailee with a bright genuine smile and a grip on the other woman’s waist far too low for someone who’s supposed to be in a very public relationship.

With furrowed brows, she watched on in confusion as you started catching up, still in each other’s arms as if two lovers reunited after a long war.

Jenna’s throat started feeling funny.

Forcing herself to look away, she grabbed the glass of water to drink to ease the unpleasant feeling.

“Is that Hailee Steinfeld?” Olivia asked from beside her, tilting her head to the side as she watched on as well.

“I think so…”

“Isn’t she Y/N’s ex?” The other titled their head to the side in question and Jenna found herself spinning back around in her seat to find you across the room.

You were now talking in a circle, but Hailee was standing close by your side.

Olivia glanced at Jenna’s sudden reaction. “Uh sorry—I didn’t mean that with bad intentions..”

“It’s alright…” Jenna mumbled, still watching your every move.

“Sorry, girlie,” Olivia mumbled, then shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think they ended on good terms.”

Oh did you? Jenna thought. She’d never heard of an ex.

“That’s nice…” Jenna tried to mutter indifferently. Keyword: Tried.

“Are you jealous?” The singer asked, laughing a little.

“No!” Jenna flushed from the question.

“I wouldn’t worry about it… I saw you two on the carpet. I wish someone looked at me like that.” Olivia winked and then grabbed her drink, walking away.

All Jenna could do was stare holes into you hoping you felt it.

But you didn’t.

— 

“Excuse me.” 

Excusing yourself from the group, you step back, glancing around the large room. Dimmed chandelier lighting hung from the ceilings and an assortment of fabrics and flowery littered the Gala’s tall walls.

You were in charge of this year's decor, working with world-renowned interior designers for the annual gala and not to brag but you quite outdid yourself.

The space looked amazing.

During your once-over of the room, you spot Jenna sitting by herself at your table. Immediately, a pang of guilt rumbles in your chest. She looked kind of lonely just sitting there, people-watching.

Sighing, you contemplated your choices.

On one hand, you could be the more mature one and make the first move, save face for the night or you can stay true to character and ignore your obvious tensions with the other actress.

But if one more person looked at you pitifully, the word cocaine on the tip of their tongue but never actually saying it out loud then you might just pull out your own damn hair.

At least some music industry friends patted you on the back and said ‘happens at least once’ — that did not make you feel better but the sentiment counts?

You walk in slow steps toward Jenna, silently sliding into the empty seat next to her. Her head snapped to yours immediately.

“Hi…” You greet with a tight-lipped smile. “Enjoying your night?”

“Mhmm.” Jenna hummed, looking away.

You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. 

“Can we just… table this, for later? I don’t want to fight.” You frowned, calling a truce.

Jenna glanced at you, only offering a reluctant, “Okay..”

Knowing that was probably the best you’re gonna get from her, you settled against the chair and let silence take over as you join in on the people-watching.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jenna asked, not being able to stand the silence. She can take the fighting, the banter, the bickering, but this type of silence with you? It sends an unsettling feeling within Jenna that she didn’t enjoy.

“Mhmm. I think so. Everyone seems to be having a good time, so I think I can finally relax.” You commented as you scanned the room.

“Give yourself some credit, everything looks amazing. I can tell you picked the centrepieces.” She snorted, picking up the ornamental piece.

You laughed, letting your walls down. “What? Too much?”

“Too bright and flashy…” She scrunched her nose, the sparkling item clinked loudly as she held it with her ring-covered fingers.

“You’d just prefer if everything came in the colour black.” You took the item from her hand, scanning it yourself. “I don't know I think it adds to the ambiance.”

“Black goes with everything.” She defended.

You send her a knowing look. "I rest my case."

Your short-lived banter with the other actress was cut short when a Gala employee promptly explained that the Thom Browne table was needed for photos and videos for the Met’s ad campaign. 

The two of you take solos, couples and group photos with the Thom Browne table; showing off your outfit for tonight.

“We look good…” Jenna noted – looking at the monitor as your pictures were pulled up.

Leaning forward, unconsciously leaning over Jenna’s shoulder, you looked. “Yeah, we do.”

Jenna looked up at you, wanting nothing more than to press back into you — but nope, not this time. Instead, she forced herself to avert her gaze and walk out of the room, not bothering to wait for you.

Trying not to make a scene, you praise the entire photography team, thanking them for their time and slid out of the room, speed-walking to Jenna.

“Are you going to act like this the whole night?” You fall into step beside her, walking down the empty hallway leading back to the main room.

Jenna stayed silent. Only the clicking of heels on the marble tiles bouncing off the tall walls can be heard.

“Jenna…” You sighed, trying again, “What happened to tabling it?.”

“I-I can't right now, Y/N." She frowned deeper and your heart clenched; steps faltering at her words. You stayed rooted as she walked further down the hall, leaving you behind.

“Trouble in paradise?” You spun on your heels, immediately spotting Hailee – who also happened to be your ex-girlfriend.

“The hell? Where’d you come from?” You clutched your chest in fright, staring at the brunette woman.

She just laughed and stood beside you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was on my way outside and I just saw that look and… well. I felt like I couldn’t ignore it.”

When you looked at her, all you saw was softness in her eyes; sympathy. But this time it didn’t feel bad coming from her. Because at one point in your life, Hailee knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Everything is fine.” You lie, averting your eyes. There are very few people that could read you well. It seems like Hailee is still one of those people.

“Mhmm…” She didn’t push.

“I used to hate it when you did that.” You chuckled prompting Hailee to laugh and nod in agreement. 

You and Hailee dated when you were both very active in the Marvel Universe. 

Real loose on the word: dated. Because well you didn’t technically. 

She was filming Hawkeye and you were filming Spider-Man: No Way Home and you both just happened to be filming in both New York and Atlanta at roughly the same time.

Somehow, you and Hailee found yourselves growing closer while filming your respective projects. The two of you grabbed lunch together every day, which turned into dinners at the other’s place, then sleepovers when it got too late to go home and then eventually, a relationship.

There was never an explicit conversation about being together, but you two acted like it anyway. You two even wrote a few songs together.

But, like all things in your life, you self-sabotage. You couldn’t allow yourself to really be in with Hailee like she wanted; like she needed.

So she ended things with you right after you both wrapped your projects. There was no bad blood and you knew that the girl breaking your heart was making the right decision because you can’t give her what she wants. 

You two are better off friends anyway.

“Yeah, you did…” She laughed. “Still gonna say it though.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. It’s just Hailee, you don’t need to put up a facade. Not like it’d matter if you did anyway, she can read you so easily. “Wouldn’t expect anything different from you…”

Hailee glanced around the empty hallway again for a moment, thinking. “Hey… wanna go out for a smoke?”

It certainly beats having to sit in silence beside Jenna.

“Sure, why not?”

– 

“So… You and Jenna Ortega?” Hailee passes the lit cigarette after taking a puff, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips after exhaling.

You grab the bud when she passes it, “Yeah…” Inhaling, deep and long, you started to feel the familiar plight of light-headedness as you visibly untensed your shoulders.

“How’d that happen?” She asked, looking over the balcony and onto the traffic below.

“Our team’s introduced us…” You answered honestly.

This was the first time since Vegas that you’ve been around colleagues and friends in the business. You haven’t exactly had time to come up with a better excuse as to how you met Jenna. “And then yeah… we just started talking.”

“You sound like such a guy…” She snorted, taking the cigarette from your fingers. 

“And you sound like Link.”

“I saw him earlier, he seems good. I’m glad you kept him around, someone’s got to look after you.” She rolled her eyes but there was a hint of honesty and sadness in them that you could read.

“Yeah. He’s definitely kept me standing on my feet these last few months.” 

“And Jenna? Has she kept you standing these last few months too?” She asked inquisitively, scanning you and for a moment, you were stunned in silence.

Your life has certainly changed a lot since you met the younger actress. 

What you and Jenna have is something you’ve never felt around someone before. You two shouldn’t work; you’re highly volatile together and so opposite in the way you view life but somehow, it still worked.

Like the ying to your yang or whatever shit they say. 

Then she kissed you under that smoggy night at Coachella and you haven’t been able to keep her off your mind since.

Ah, Coachella. It seemed so long ago, despite it only being a mere week.

You two still haven’t talked about it in the midst of these arrest headlines.

It was like the elephant in the room surrounded by much larger elephants.

You remember the taste of her kisses. They were way softer than you ever imagined; not that you imagined it a lot… and the way her skin burned against yours when she tugged you closer?

You can pass away tomorrow and you’d be content with the life you’ve lived whenever you thought of that blissful night spent in each other’s arms.

There’s something about the other actress that made you unconsciously lower your walls. Walls that you’ve spent a long time building to hide the parts that you want to close off to the rest of the world.

 But somehow, someway, Jenna sees through so easily even if she didn’t know it herself.

You’re not quite certain you’re ready for what potential you and Jenna can have if you truly opened yourself up to her.

Her constant presence has been surprising and terrifying all at the same time. It felt comforting to be around her and her family. Not that you would ever say that out loud — god you wonder what her parents think about you now.

“Especially her.” You find yourself answering honestly anyway, blinking to meet Hailee’s eyes.

Her smile is kind and soft, seemingly pleased. “Good. I’m so happy for you. You deserve someone like her. I can tell she’s special… don’t fuck it up.”

You blushed under the weight of her compliments. “Oh. I–I won’t.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing you’d never been one to gush about your feelings. “Come on, let's head back. Jenna might be looking for you.” 

Then she winked, throwing away the finished cigarette.

“You’re annoying.” But the singer/actress just laughed.

When you make it back to the party, Hailee is bidding you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek and a tight squeeze, muttering “don’t be a stranger” in your ear.

The first thing you do when Hailee leaves is briskly walk to the bar. Feeling like a drink is very much needed after all that…

“Tequila soda, please. Make that a double.” You lean against the bar top.

“Where have you been?” Jenna slides in out of nowhere, startling you. “People have been asking me about you.”

“Grabbing some air…” You trail off, scanning her for a moment; noting her tightly wound brows creating a crease on her forehead.

“With Hailee?” She crossed her arms, raising a brow.

“Yeah, we went out for a smoke.” You answered honestly, raising a brow of your own.

“A smoke?” She asked, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of her blazer dress.

“Yeah… you know, a cigarette?” You shrugged, turning to the approaching bartender. “Thanks… “

“I’d have asked you…” You spoke after picking up your drink, taking a moment to scan her head to toe. “But you don’t seem like the smoking type.”

Then you take a sip, ignoring Jenna’s twitching eye and scoff, scanning the room and upon initial glance you already see a few eyes watching you and Jenna closely — making you tense.

Without much thought to your next move, you stepped into her space, wrapping an arm around her corset-fitted waist making her flinch, uncrossing her arms. “What are you—“

You cut off her snippy tone, leaning close to her ear; nose in her dark hair.

“People are watching…” You whisper. 

Immediately, she’s placing a hand on your chest, pushing you lightly but you don’t budge. You decide to up the ante when you still see the nosy eyes; obviously talking about you and Jenna.

You leave a litter of light-feathered kisses up and down the side of her neck. “Stop being so tense…”

“You’re taking advantage of the situation…” She muttered but tilted her head to the side allowing you more access to her skin.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than two people in love.

“I’m playing my part for the press…” You bite her earlobe, lightly. Jenna bites her lip to refrain from uttering a moan. This is definitely not the time or the place. “You should too since you love to throw that word around.”

“What—what does that mean?” She asked, breathing a bit laboured the longer you continued your ministrations on her neck. By now, she was grasping your outfit with a death grip.

“Nothing…” You run your teeth against her skin, your whispers turning into low breaths, “Just saying… it seems like your favourite word these days.”

“You sound mad about that…” She whispers back challengingly. 

Jenna was trying everything not to moan out loud in this very packed room.

“Mhmm. Do I?” You grip her waist, flushing her against you. The whimpered moan she lets out in your right ear when you do has your legs shaking.

“Just a bit.” She puffed out, brokenly.

“Good.” You growled, biting the spot behind her ear and running your tongue against the skin. It wasn’t enough to bruise the other actress but it’s surely enough to send a message. When you pull back, you brush her fringe back with a delicate and hesitant touch.

Jenna’s eyes were hollowed and dazed, silently tracking your fingers as they moved her hair aside and if you two weren’t in the middle of a fight, you’d tease her over it.

“I think dinner’s about to start… wanna head back?” You asked, watching as she just stared into your eyes with now, a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah…” She clears her throat, stepping away from your hold, letting your delicate hand fall limply by your side. You try not to put too much meaning on the rejection.

She walked ahead of you, leading you back to your table but she never looked back at you once.

– 

The rest of the Met was spent with very little eating, a lot of socializing and saving face. This time, Jenna had stuck by your side as you made shop talk; introducing her as your girlfriend as everyone gushes about the two of you and the headlines you’ve been making as a couple online. You kept a hand around her waist as you two practically waltzed from group to group, in case there were ever eyes.

Neither of you mention when you keep your hand on her waist, even when no one was looking anymore.

But now, you are back at the hotel with your glam team and stylists getting you ready for the after-parties.

Thoughts of your talk with Jenna are put on the back burner as you desperately hoped to drink and party away the rest of the night; hoping you can still make somewhat of it, good, enjoyable even.

God knows you deserve it after the bullshit you’ve been receiving from everyone and their mothers about your night in Vegas.

You sat in front of the vanity mirror as your team hurriedly bustles behind you.

Fishing for your phone, you pull up Instagram and catch up on other people's posts for tonight. Since the days started, you've been pulled left and right with rehearsals and fittings and finally the actual Gala.

You haven't even so much as held your phone in your own hand.

Photos of you and Jenna have been posted on a minute-to-minute basis from the moment you stepped out of the hotel to just 20 minutes ago when you were both making your way back to get ready for the after-parties.

A certain video catches your eye.

It was of Jenna being escorted out into the hotel. (You two had to take your respective vans back, as well.) She was sending the fans waiting by the hotel, a soft and charming smile as she greeted them. You were staring at the video for so long that you didn’t even see the caption.

‘DID YOU SEE HER LOCKSCREEN?! <;3’

You see the next few comments below the caption of the video.

‘Stop Y/N and Jenna with her niece? This is the cutest photo ever’

‘They have kids already?’

‘IM CRYING JENNA’S LOCKSCREEN IS Y/N AND HER NIECE’

‘ISNT THIS THE PICTURE THAT JENNA’S MOM POSTED??”

‘ACTUAL PARENTS’

Oh shit, you are her lock screen.

When did she even send herself those photos? They were taken on your phone.

And more importantly, why did she make you and her niece, her lock screen? You thought the two of you were merely bantering when you had said you were going to make her yours. 

“How much longer are you gonna stare at that video?” Link asked from behind you making you jump, almost throwing the phone in the air.

“The fuck? Why is everyone sneaking up on me tonight…” You muttered bitterly, shooting him a glare through the mirror when you see his smirk.

You’re not sure if your pounding heartbeat is from the scare or from the thought of Jenna having you as her lock screen.

“You’re Jenna’s lock screen?” He asked in a teasing tone. You don’t reply just opting to close your eyes and groan as a response. 

He laughed. “Doesn’t seem like PR behaviour to me.” 

“Stop.” You grit.

But Link just howls, too amused by your flushed demeanour. 

He’s seen you in many forms.

At your highest, lowest, best and brightest, and even when you’ve been deep in the trenches. He’s seen it all. But this, you flustered over a girl? Never happened, ever. You’ve never even been smitten enough with someone to be flustered over them. Not even Hailee and that woman is a goddess.

First time for everything, Link thinks.

“Come on, change into this damn suit and make up with Jenna so she can be your woman.” He winked, still with that mischievous smirk. Keeping in theme with tonight, he holds up a Prada x Thom Browne two-piece suit made just for the after-party.

“If you want to keep your legs, I’d run in the next two seconds.” You glare, voice dropping seriously.

He hung up the suit bag on the coat hanger and swiftly walked out of the room. You ignore your team’s snickers in the back, getting up to go change in the bathroom.

Scanning yourself one last time in the full-length mirror, you look pretty hot, if you had to say so.

You blink away Link’s words and how you suddenly want to see Jenna’s reaction to your outfit. Pulling the bathroom door open, you step out and immediately take notice to the lack of bustle in the room.

Actually, the lack of people in the room.

All except one person, sitting by the couch, waiting.

“Hey… I thought we were meeting downstairs?” The creak of the door being pulled shut behind you was the only noise in the room.

Jenna blinked at the sound of your voice, turning to face you. “We were– we are.”

She shed off her blazer dress and the long train that followed, instead, she’s now wearing what was under and if you weren’t trying to be respectful, you’d be shamelessly staring at how perfectly that corset fit her like a glove.

Ignore that.

You raised a questioning brow, “What’s up then?”

But she said nothing and stood from her seat, walking in slow-clinking strides toward you. When she stops in front of you, she raises her hands to fiddle with your tie; not looking in your eyes. 

“Tie’s crooked.” She didn’t explain further, choosing to retie the tie for you.

“Thanks…” You trailed off, staring at how concentrated she looked doing such a menial task.

She must’ve heard the embarrassingly wispy tone cause when she looks up she’s giving you the softest look and you’re reminded of your first kiss at Coachella.

But clearly, this wasn’t Coachella because while lost in your daydream, unbeknownst to you, Jenna was fighting her own internal monologue; scolding herself for acting soft towards you despite her angry feelings. But when she looked up and caught you staring at her lips…

“Ow, fuck…” Your neck jerked forward, making Jenna flinch, breaking out of her own trance.

“Shit– sorry.” She unfastened the knot, swiftly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to make it that tight.”

You coughed out slightly, and for a guilty moment, Jenna didn’t know if she should feel happy or bad about being the cause.

“Sorry…” Jenna mumbled again, stepping back from you, no matter how much colder she felt. 

She was here for a reason.

“It’s okay.” You reassured, swallowing deeply. 

“Um–where’d everyone go?” You asked, remembering the once full and busy room.

“I sent them away. We need to talk.”

You raised a brow at the tone of her demand. “You want to do this… before the afterparties?”

Jenna pulled a face like she couldn't believe you were asking that. “Yes? Why, is there somewhere more important you needed to be?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that!” You defended then sighed, “But come on, Jenna, it’s the Met Gala afterparty… you waited the whole day to bring this up, why can’t we just wait until after?”

She stayed silent, crossing her arms.

You were confused until you took a second to scan her eyes, immediately reading the guilt swirling in them.

Your heart drops.

“You think I’m gonna go off the rails tonight or something?” You accused.

Jenna tiredly ran her hands on her face, “No Y/N, I’m just saying... this is the first party you’ve been to since Vegas so I’m sorry if I’m just a bit concerned.” She huffed, arms dropping limply by her side.

The laugh you let out is short and painful. “You call this concerned? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it feels more like an ambush. You don’t reply to my texts for days, you land in New York and you don’t try to see me. Then, when I bring it up you shut me down! How is that fair Jenna!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me…” She gritted, a warning glint in her eye appearing as her voice dropped.

You stared at her for a few moments before, sighing annoyedly. “Sorry…” You apologize begrudgingly.

“And you wanna talk about not replying for days? What about after SNL?” Jenna knows she’s being petty and nitpicking your words but she couldn’t stop herself even if she tried.

She feels herself losing her footing on the idea of a calm, mature conversation the longer you two argued. There was just something about being around you that made her lose all sense of rational and level-headed thinking.

“Not this again…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.

Jenna scoffed at your reaction. “Yes, this again.”

“I already told you that Jake needed me back for Coachella. Remember? Where I was performing?”

Jenna laughed dryly. “That is not what I’m talking about Y/N. I’m talking about the thumbs-up you left on my message after I asked if you got back to L.A. safely. You practically ghosted me."

Yeah… petty.

“Thumbs up?” You asked confused, trying to rack your brain. "Ghosted you?"

Jenna’s offended laugh was not one she could contain. “You are such an asshole.“

“Oh okay, I can’t raise my voice but you can call me names?”

Jenna's decided she's heard enough, turning swiftly on her heels to walk away.

“Uh hello—we’re not done here!” You follow after her. 

“Yes, I think we are!” Jenna declared behind her shoulder. 

“Says who?” You barked.

“Says me!”

You scoffed. “Why did you kiss me at Coachella?”

Jenna stopped in her tracks and turned around to face you upon hearing the question.

The silence is stifling. But she remained unmoving because why did she kiss you? Well, she knows the answer to that.

But she’s not ready to admit it yet — especially to you.

“For the press. There were people watching.” Eye contact unwavering as she spewed that lie.

You don’t say anything for a few moments — you don’t even call her bluff about your private moment in the tent where there was definitely no was watching.

“Maybe we should spend the night apart.” Was your answer, staring at her with the same intensity. “Go to different parties.”

You think that as actors, you’d both be able to read each other well enough. Except neither of you noticed the hurt in each other’s eyes.

“If that’s what you want.” Jenna replied, before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

-

shadowban can’t keep me away for long…

-

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-

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everyone but her pt.31

Summary: Nightmares continue to plague your thoughts, along with a bit of insecurity. At least Wednesday is willing to remind you of your place in her life.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, nightmares, mentions of murder, suggestive themes at the end Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Your eyes flew open, a harsh gasp falling from your lips into the dark room. The pillow under your face felt wet, suffocating, drowning you until you could come to your senses long enough to lift your head. Your wings weighed heavy on your back, pulling at the tendons and stretching them enough to become uncomfortable. Pushing yourself up with your arms proved difficult, but you finally managed to free yourself from the tangled mess of blankets and limbs and wings and sat kneeled on the bed.

Wednesday was still asleep on the other side of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest in her usual sleeping position. She always looked so peaceful when she was sleeping; her bangs slid to the sides of her face and she lost that perpetual frown of hers. Just seeing her looking so calm and at ease in the night had your heart thumping so loudly you swore it would wake the dead. 

However, as Wednesday stayed sleeping, you started to wonder what had woken you up in the first place. Very clearly it hadn’t been Wednesday; she barely breathed let alone moved, at least more often than not. The room was still entirely dark thanks to the blackout curtains she had bought, and as you listened there was nary a sound even from the cars below.

Alex’s scream bounced between the trees.

Blood splashed across your face.

A fire scorched your wings-

-you pressed your knuckles into your eyes until you could see stars behind your eyelids. If you thought it would help, you would have gouged your eyes out of their sockets to rid yourself of the sound of Alex’s screaming. You had heard his screams before, like when he scorpioned on a black diamond a few years ago, but this had been different.

It was a death scream.

With hands still pressed to your eyes, you shook your head slowly. You wanted the images and sounds out, wanted them to stop bouncing off the inside of your skull like that DVD logo on old movies. It left a pressure in your head that you couldn’t ease even with the shaking and pressing against your eyes.

When the images refused to fade, you sighed softly and let your fists fall to your thighs. Alex’s shattered sunglasses sat in your peripheral, shining in the nonexistent light from the room. You gotta check on him. Yeah, that was what you needed to do. You needed to go check on him.

Now.

With a gentleness that you rarely possessed, you slid yourself off the bed without disturbing Wednesday. You checked, of course you did, her sleep was more important than anything else. But once you were sure she was asleep, you grabbed your phone off the charger and walked into the common room.

No one was out there and the TV was turned off, of course. None of you paid for electricity, but that didn’t mean you were raised by animals; no need to waste. In the dark, you could almost see the silhouette of a ghost that had your eyes. A ghost you had been seeing more frequently since that day on the rooftop.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, silently begging him to go away. There were already too many thoughts in your head without adding him to it. If he wanted to help, he could suppress the images. He had done it before without permission, so he could do it again if he was determined to hang around.

Small tremors ran through your hands.

A sigh left your lips as you rubbed your eyes. You were spiralling. Again. It wasn’t the time to be getting angry about something that didn’t even matter anymore. You had come out to the living room with a purpose, so you just needed to check on Alex and go back to bed. It’s where Wednesday was, and you just needed to finish everything and get back to her.

Pops’ number was on speed dial; it had been since… so it was mindless to press the number and hold the phone to your ear. 

Ring. 

It was probably late. 

Ring. 

Maybe he was sleeping. 

Ring. 

Or something worse, and your nightmares had been right. 

Ring. 

Oh god they were probably all lying in their beds bleeding out and-

“-Hello?” You let out a shaky exhale.

“Hey Pop,” you said softly. Weakly. So fucking weak.

“Y/N?” He asked; you heard shuffling from the other end of the phone. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Is Alex home?” You asked, completely ignoring his question. Your personal ghost reappeared in your peripheral.

“Course he is,” he answered, his voice still croaky from sleep.

You started pacing between the couch and the kitchen table. “Can you check?”

“Did somethin’ happen-”

“-Can you just go check?” Silence. “Please?”

“Okay, baby,” he said softly. Soft enough to make you feel like glass. Maybe you were.

You kept the phone to your ear as that familiar silhouette stayed in your peripheral, a little closer now. It used to be a comfort when you were younger, now he was touching on every single nerve in your body. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Now it was just cruel. You couldn’t keep your head straight if he didn’t just leave you alone.

“Alex and Daniel are safe in bed.” Pop’s voice pulled you away from your spiral, and that ghost disappeared along with the pain that had been growing in the back of your skull.

“Good,” you exhaled. “That’s good. Thank you.”

“You okay, baby?” He asked.

“I’m fine,” you said with a nod of your head that he couldn’t even see. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s alright,” he answered without hesitation. “Need anything else before bed?”

You looked around the empty living room. “No sir.”

“Then get some sleep, little bird,” Pop said.

You bid your goodnights, hanging up the phone before he could ask anymore questions. Only after hanging up did you notice it was a little after three in the morning. Far too late to have been calling him. It made you sick. Were you going to be keeping everyone on edge for the rest of their lives? Maybe your parents were right. You were just a burden-

“Cara mia?”

A cold hand touched you on the arm, so softly it was difficult to tell if it was even real. But you turned around and saw Wednesday standing there, fighting the sleep in her eyes even though you knew she would kill you if you mentioned it. Her nails scratched your skin lightly and you could almost physically feel yourself coming back down to earth, back to reality.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, turning your body to face hers.

“The lack of your insufferable body heat left the bed cold,” she said with a shrug and a dismissive shake of her head.

“So yes,” you said. Wednesday just looked at you.

There was a hesitation in her eyes. She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something but closed it again. You didn’t know what she was hesitant about. Did she even want you to join her in bed again? Or did she wish for you to just stay on the couch? Not that you would blame her if that was the case, you had been keeping her awake for weeks.

Wednesday’s hands lifted to rest on your cheeks, holding you still and keeping you looking at her. In return, your hands fell to her waist as if she would float away. If she had said her fingers held some kind of magic, you would have believed her in an instant. Even though her hands were cold, they were so unbelievably soft and held you as if you were made of glass. Not in a fearful way as if you would break, but in a gentle way to ensure you were safe. To remind you that you were loved.

“Come back to bed,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving yours.

And oh. Oh, how could you possibly say no to that?

“Okay,” you said with a nod.

Her thumbs rubbed over your cheek bones before she let go and grabbed you by the hand instead. Gently, she pulled you back toward the room, watching you the whole time. Maybe she thought you would run away if she turned back around. Had you given her that sense of paranoia? Had you truly worried her by this point?

You kicked the door shut as quietly as possible while Wednesday continued to pull you further to the bed. It only took the most miniscule amount of effort for her to pull you onto the bed next to her, being careful to let you adjust your wings. One behind you and the other hanging in the air, undecided if it was going to cover you both or not.

Wednesday turned to face you and moved closer until she could place her head between your collar and jaw. Her hands folded over each other before being pulled to her chest, similar to how she slept on her back. You waited patiently until she was settled before wrapping your arm around her. Your wing was quick to follow, creating a feathery blanket over the both of you.

“You’re too warm,” she said. Her breath tickled your neck.

“I know,” you said back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head for good measure as you both settled.

You both had such funny ways of saying I love you.

—---

“You’ve got a guest tonight,” Tio said, sitting on the chair you were in the process of finishing.

You stopped and dusted your hands off as you turned to look at where Wednesday was studying at your desk. The headphones she had reluctantly accepted from you rested over her ears, leaving her completely unaware of the rest of the room. Which was the point, of course, but still. It was downright adorable to see her at your desk with your headphones and your jacket.

Maybe Yoko was right. You were a simp.

"She's been uncharacteristically clingy," you said not unkindly. Tio laughed.

"It's her way of showing love," he said as if you weren't already aware. It certainly made you feel better to hear it from someone else though. "How have you been?"

"Tio," you sighed.

"Be honest, pollito."

"I appreciate you asking," you said as you stood up and grabbed your tools, "but I'm really fine."

"So the bags under your eyes are designer?" He asked, following you while you walked by everyone's projects, inspecting every inch you could find.

"My inability to sleep has nothing to do with my mental well being," you said with a shake of your head. Your fingers traced a groove in one of the cabinets; you would need to fill it.

"You're starting to talk like her," he pointed out as he proceeded to sit on another project and grab the apple off of Simon's desk, promptly biting into it with a satisfying crunch.

"I talk like me," you defended.

"I noticed the books on your desk yesterday," he said. You sighed. This man was going to go through every topic in the world at the rate he was going. "Since when did you care about chemistry?"

"Just got curious, Tio," you said as you stood up again and walked off. He was quick on your heels. "Is that a crime?"

"Doesn't Wednesday's ex study chemistry?"

"Tio." You spun on your heels.

He looked you in the eyes and took another bite of the apple, slow and with intent. He was well aware he had crossed a line, there was no way he didn’t know. And yet there was no indication that he was going to take his question back. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your fingers twitch.

“She likes you whether you know chemistry or not,” he said with a gesture of his head toward your desk.

You sighed and moved only your eyes to look at Wednesday. She was still studying, looking at her textbooks, sitting at your desk. Tio’s words echoed in your head and you could almost picture her with Joel. He was smart; incredibly smart. Too smart, if you were being honest. But he could hold conversations with her in a way you couldn’t. They could be weird and smart together and she enjoyed it, everyone could see it.

And then she looked up and locked eyes with you, and the air left your lungs while the shop disappeared. It was only you and her and if you listened, you could practically hear her heart beating in sync with yours. Just like that, you didn’t think about Joel. She wasn’t with him, she was with you. She shared her room and her life and her time with you, not anyone else.

“Told you,” Tio’s voice said, and your eyes snapped back to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you said. You winced when he smirked at you. “I meant you’re a dick.”

“Now you sound like yourself again, pollito,” he said as he continued to eat the apple.

You left him standing there, laughing to himself, as you walked over to your desk. Wednesday took notice and put her book down again before slipping the headphones off her ears, leaving them hanging around her neck. There was the slightest indent on the top of her hair from the weight. If you didn’t think she would kill you for it, you would’ve teased her.

“Yes?” She asked when you sat down on top of the desk, your feet barely touching the ground.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times; it was something she disliked, but she tolerated it for you. Enid had filled you in on that little detail. It wasn’t against you personally, she just found it moronic. Which, you supposed, that fit you perfectly. But you couldn’t help it, the words just wouldn’t come out.

Don’t ask, the voice in your head demanded. Don’t sound desperate. Part of you agreed. If you asked the question then you would be showing her your hand. Wednesday didn’t like unnecessary weakness, and this would be your way of showing one of them. Realistically, she would probably hate it.

But on the other hand…

“Do you like me more than Joel?” You asked.

Wednesday opened her mouth once before shutting it. Ouch. You could feel your heart attempting to claw its way up your throat to place itself at her feet. Maybe if it did, she wouldn’t tell you what you were so anxious she was going to say. You knew you shouldn’t have asked, it was a stupid question that was just going to hurt your feelings. She opened her mouth once more.

You both turned your heads quickly when the front door of the shop swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud slam. Two policemen walked in, each with a hand on their gun. You knew that position; they were expecting a fight. You shared a look with Tio before you hopped off the desk and walked your way over, cutting them off before they could get too far in.

“Can I help you, officers?” You asked politely, making sure to stand in between them and Simon. Get him out, Tio.

“We need you to come back down to the station for a few more questions,” the shorter one asked. Her grip tightened on the butt of her gun.

“About what?” You asked. Something shuffled behind you.

“The double homicide from New Year’s Eve,” she said. Her eyes darted to your right side before going back to you.

Your heart dropped at that little tidbit of information. What could they be questioning you about again? Sure, you had drank a little too much, didn’t remember the entire night, but you remembered damn near all of it. What else could you tell them? You admitted to the fight, you admitted to having been drinking, there was nothing else to say.

They don’t trust you.

“Just let me grab my things?” You asked, pointing your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of your desk.

“Sure thing,” the police woman said with a hesitant nod.

You refused to completely turn your back on them as you speed walked back to your desk, keeping your eyes on them as you grabbed your wallet and phone. Wednesday was looking at you with an intensity that you couldn’t quite place. As  discreetly as possible, you shook your head.

“Go home,” you whispered before walking back to the officers. “All set.”

“Everyone here legal?” The taller officer asked. You followed his gaze to see he was looking directly at Tio and Wednesday.

“As legal as you and me,” you said quickly.

The taller officer glared at you as his thumb flicked open the strap on the top of his holster. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears as you watched him. Take him out, the voice growled. For the first time in a while, you didn’t disagree. If he so much as looked at any of them wrong, you wouldn’t hesitate.

“Let’s go,” the shorter cop said.

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the taller one, and he didn’t take his eyes off you. If he wanted to play hard ball, you would play. When he placed the strap back over his gun, you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. You readjusted your jaw and looked down at the floor, counting the specks of woodshavings.

When the two officers turned around and started walking out, you were quick to follow. You glanced back one more time to see Wednesday watching you. You tried to give her a confident smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Please go home, you thought when you turned back around and finished making your way to the cruiser.

You were getting really tired of all these police visits.

—---

The sun was starting to set by the time you finally walked out of the police station. A gruelling… four hours, if you were right. No wonder your back was stiff, they needed to get comfier chairs. If they were going to keep people in there for hours at a time then the least they could do was help prevent fucking scoliosis or some shit like that.

We’ll be in touch, the male cop had said when you tried to leave the room. You didn’t trust him. He had stared at you a little too long, a little too harshly. He certainly thought you were guilty about something. Jokes on him, the only thing you were guilty of was agreeing to talk to them without a lawyer.

Maybe it would be smart to call Señor Moreno.

The wind was cold as the temperature dropped along with the sun. It was the start of a beautiful sunset from what you could see. It dropped along with any hope you had that you would get home at a decent hour. You pulled your phone out and looked at the lock screen; a picture of Wednesday on one of the rare occasions where she almost smiled.

A distraction. You were very much in need of a distraction from… everything.

You started walking away from the police station as you scrolled through your contacts, pulling up her name and starting the call. A part of you, a very large part, knew she wouldn’t answer. She would rather die than have to use the phone you had given her back at Nevermore. But while it continued to ring, you secretly hoped she would answer. It was rather important, after all.

“Addams residence.”

You didn’t even bother stopping your smile. “Up for a date with a murder suspect?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said without hesitation. “Now?”

“Why not,” you said with a shrug that no one could see. “I’ll send you the address, Enid can help you pull it up.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“I’ll take care of it,” you said, immediately running through a list of things you could grab from the shop. “Meet me at the address in 30?”

“That will be acceptable,” she said.

“See you soon, Willa,” you said, smiling when you heard her little huff from the other end of the line. She only tolerated the nickname from Enid.

“Good bye,” she said softly before hanging up the call.

You chuckled to yourself as you typed out the address of the hiking trail before putting your phone back in your pocket and heading to the shop. Most everything should already be in the extra bag you and Tio kept behind his desk. A blanket, some snacks, some drinks. The perfect getaway bag that no one was allowed to know about.

The sun was just starting to kiss the horizon when you got to the park. You removed the bag and worked on taking your harness off, placing it in the duffle. If you could convince Wednesday to let you fly her, you could get to your destination with plenty of time to watch the sunset. You weren’t going to let that stupid interrogation keep you down. You were innocent.

“Be strong,” Nicky’s voice said, and in the peripheral you could see his shadow against the tree.

It had been a while since he had actually talked to you.

“Not a place I would choose for a date,” he continued. The shadow moved to your other side.

“Good,” you said, “because it’s not your date.”

He chuckled, a weird, watery sound that you couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It almost sounded like it was inside your skull, echoing and bouncing off the bone and leaving your eyes moving from side to side. But it also sounded like it was floating on the wind, twirling through the leaves and resting on the grass like dew. Nothing like his normal voice.

Still. It was better than nothing.

“Here she comes.”

Nicky’s voice faded out as you turned around to see Wednesday approaching. She was still wearing your jacket, leaving it hanging past her fingers and nearly touching her knees. Her usual scowl was present but it softened when she locked eyes with you. Not that she smiled, but you would take what you could get.

“Enid said you’re picking up on my proclivities for unusual activities,” she said when she stepped closer. With no one around, she instantly reached over and slotted her fingers between yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s not unusual,” you said as you pulled her into the woods with you. “It’s romantic.”

“You’re dragging me through the woods at night,” she said. “It’s an excellent idea.”

“See?” You said with a smile. “Romantic.” You pulled her closer, nice and tight to your chest.

“Don’t,” she said as she looked up at you with a frown.

“Love you,” you said before bending your knees and propelling you both into the air.

Wednesday was getting particularly good at keeping her screams to herself when you forced her to fly. You knew she hated it, and you really did try not to do it often. Whether it was her fear of flying, or heights, or the unexpectedness of it all, you weren’t entirely sure. All you knew was she hated it and you usually ended up sleeping on the couch later that night.

You landed on the cliff’s edge and let her go, holding her by the waist until you were sure she was steady. The landing, though one of your more graceful ones, left just enough noise to bounce off the walls of the cave behind you. Wednesday looked around, and you let her go, dropping the bag to the ground and pulling out the blanket and snacks.

“A cave?” She asked. Her eyes were glued to the opening.

“A bat colony lives in it,” you said as you smoothed out the blanket on the ground. You hoped it would be thick enough to be comfortable. “Not as cool as birds, but I guess they’re okay.”

A smile finally graced her lips. “You certainly know how to capture someone’s heart.”

“Come on,” you said, finally patting the spot beside you.

Wednesday promptly walked over and sat down, folding her legs to her left side and leaning toward you. From the spot where you were both sitting, you could watch the sun sink below the horizon, illuminating the individual leaves of the trees in a stunning orange glow. It warmed your chest and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, you felt safe.

“Have they deemed you a viable suspect?”

“Wednesday,” you groaned, throwing your head back so hard you fell back to the ground. Your wings crumpled underneath you, leaving a twinge at the base of the limbs and your back arching to relieve it.

“It’s a valid question,” she said, laying down on her side to look at you. “Have they deemed you capable of murder?”

“I mean,” you sighed, “I am capable. Do you not remember last year?”

“I… try not to,” she said.

“What, you didn’t think I looked good in handcuffs?” You teased.

But when you turned your head to look at Wednesday, a goofy smile on your face, she was already looking at you. It was a look you didn’t think you had ever seen from her before. Her pupils were blown and her lips were parted ever so slightly. Why was she looking at you like that? Your smile fell slowly as realisation hit.

Oh.

You chuckled nervously before looking away, now looking up at the stars that were just starting to appear. Oh, this didn’t quite seem like the distraction you had thought. What if she… oh geez. Oh geez. You didn’t know what to do, what if she thought you were being ridiculous?

The blanket tugged a bit underneath you, and you turned your head again to see Wednesday moving closer until she was practically leaning over you. Oh geez. Butterflies swarmed your stomach. Why are you so nervous, you thought, you’ve kissed her before. But this felt different, and you weren’t entirely sure what to do.

“Wednesday?” You asked, your voice sounding croaky and weak. How pathetic, the voice said.

“Earlier you asked if I liked you more than Joel,” she said, her own voice sounding a little rough.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. You went to move your head away, but Wednesday’s perfectly manicured fingers grasped your chin, keeping you looking at her.

“I would like to show you how much more I like you.”

You swallowed harshly.

You nodded once and looked down at her lips. That seemed to be all she needed before she leaned down, her soft lips pressing against yours and erasing every single thought in your head. Her grip on your chin was gentle but firm, and the only thing you could think about was how she had turned you into putty in her hands.

She was going to ruin your life.

You couldn’t have been more excited for anything in your life.

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

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 @karsonromanoff @elduster

---

movie nights iv

Summary: You gather the Woodsboro survivors to go over your suspect list. Maybe you're just trying to impress Tara. That's for you to know and no one else to find out.

Word Count: 6.1K Warnings: swearing, Scream levels of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt.i) (movie night pt.ii) (movie night pt.iii)

The door was open. It was wide open, all that rat bastard had to do was walk right through it so you could kill him yourself. No fire escape, no hideaway, only the door. Why hadn't he walked through the goddamn-

"-You're not listening to me."

You blinked once before looking back over to your Aunt Sherry. By some miracle - it was still unclear if it was a good miracle or not - she had been the paramedic on scene. She hadn't truly questioned you yet, but you knew it was bound to happen. Your family was nothing if not nosy.

"What did you say?" You asked, fighting against the natural slip of an accent that would mimic Aunt Sherry's perfectly.

She gave you a pity-filled look. "Did he get ya anywhere else?"

"No," you instantly replied with a shake of your head. "That's it."

"Then you're all set," she said as she went to pat your shoulder. Thankfully she caught herself in time and patted your back instead. "And you don't want to go to Mercy?"

"Absolutely not," you mumbled as you hopped out of the back of the ambulance. "And don't tell Ma or Pop!"

"It's already on the news, kiddo," she said with a shrug. "If they know, they know."

"You're good for nothing," you shouted as you backpedaled to where Tara and her bunch were still standing. "See ya at mass."

Aunt Sherry waved at you and shook her head, but otherwise let you go. You looked down at the stitches now keeping your bicep together. Only five; it could've been much worse. If that was the bastard you were up against, he wouldn't be much of a challenge. Couldn't even swing a knife properly. Talk about pathetic.

You mouthed a “hey” at Tara when you finally got closer. It was cold now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were finally feeling the cold autumn air. Would have been nice to have some sort of jacket. Or your shirt that Tara was still wearing. Well, you supposed everyone could enjoy seeing you half-naked. You would just freeze to death, it was fine.

“You okay?” Tara asked quietly, her eyes darting to the stitched up wound.

“Course I am, sweetheart,” you said with a shrug. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was starting to sting like a sonofabitch.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, and both you and Tara turned to look at her. If you were cold before, you were frozen under her icy stare.

“I mean… I’ve been worse,” you said as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

“Good,” she said. You didn’t have time to brace yourself before she slapped your uninjured arm. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Ouch!” You complained. “The hell are you getting mad at me for?”

“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Sam continued. “You could have gotten her killed.”

“You think I called your stupid little serial killer?” You asked; you could feel the accent coming back in full force. All it did was make you more frustrated. “Isn’t he supposed to call me?”

“Guys-”

“-Nothing happened until you got Tara alone,” she interrupted Danny. “And that’s just a coincidence?”

You scrunched your face up and shrugged your shoulders. “Yes?” You said. “Why would I want anything to do with your psycho killer?”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Tara said, moving to hold Sam’s arm.

It didn’t stop her. “We were doing just fine until you came along.” Sam jabbed her finger into your chest.

“You really think the two ‘a youse were doin’ fine?” You asked. “You’re trust issues and repressed trauma in human form.”

“Hey,” Tara scolded, her eyes now on you.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m right,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “And you can be suspicious all you want, but why the fuck would I interrupt myself finally gettin’ laid for the first time in months?”

“Oh my god,” Tara whispered to herself as she turned her back to you.

“I have priorities too,” you defended.

“Fine,” Sam said quickly. “If I say I believe you, will you please shut up?”

“Yes,” you said.

You all finally fell silent, Sam still giving you a look that meant she did not believe you, but at least she had stopped arguing. Danny was giving you that stupid “I’m not mad, just disappointed” look, and Tara still wouldn’t face you. What was going on in the world? You were just supposed to get laid, you weren’t supposed to be dealing with… whatever the fuck all of this was.

“So,” you finally said as police continued to mill around you. “What do you guys normally do now?”

“Seriously?” Tara asked, finally turning back to look at you.

“I’m no Ghostface expert,” you said defensively, again. “Do we just… go on as normal?” A chorus of groans followed your question. “Because I still need to go clean up the kitchen.”

“I do too,” Danny said, looking at Sam for a moment before turning back to you.

Unfortunately for him, Tara noticed and she stood up straighter.

“What was my sister doing in your apartment anyway?” She asked him. His mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water.

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your hip. “About damn time.”

“I was helping him carry up groceries,” Sam said with a slight shake of her head.

“Oh, so you can go into a stranger’s apartment and I can’t even have someone I know over?” Tara asked.

“Okay, hang on,” you said, somehow turning into the middle man. This whole night was turning into a disaster. You needed a drink. Or five.

“No, she doesn’t get to accuse you when she’s acting suspicious,” Tara said with a shake of her head before looking at Sam and Danny again. “So do you know him or not?”

“Tara-”

“-no, Sam,” she interrupted. “What is he to you?”

You locked eyes with Danny at the same time Tara and Sam locked eyes. Part of you wanted to just break the awkward tension and say Danny was with Sam. It would get Tara off his back and you could all go about the real problem; finally getting you back into a shirt so you wouldn’t freeze your tits off.

Sam sighed. “He and I are… a thing.”

“I knew it,” Tara said softly.

“Tara-”

“-I would’ve been happy for you,” she said. “If you hadn’t accused my partner of being Ghostface.”

“I’m your partner now?” You asked, perking up immediately.

“Shut up,” she said quickly.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, snapping your jaw shut. God you loved when she was mean.

“If I may-”

“-You may not,” Tara said, turning to face Danny. “I don’t want to hear from any of you right now.”

“How about from me?”

All four of you shut your mouths and looked around, finally seeing Detective Bailey walking toward your little group. You sighed and looked around. The last person you wanted to see at the moment was him. Well, okay, the last person you wanted to see was Ghostface, but Detective Bailey was a very close second.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asked, clapping you on the shoulder of your hurt arm. Oh fuck it hurt.

“Always a pleasure, Detective,” you said politely through a forced smile.

“You sound just like your old man,” he said.

“Bet I do,” you mumbled as you turned your head away.

“I’m going to need the two of you to come down for a talk,” Bailey said, pointing to you and Tara.

“Not us?” Danny asked.

“I’m coming too,” Sam said without waiting for Bailey to answer.

“You’ll be waiting in a separate room,” Bailey said. You didn’t blame him for not even arguing; if anyone knew Sam, they knew to just roll with the punches. “Come on.”

You followed him, Tara quick behind you. With a glance, you saw Danny and Sam talking for a moment before he backed away toward the apartment. She, on the other hand, caught up in only a few strides and forced herself in between you and Tara. If it hadn’t been for the whole just-nearly-getting-murdered thing, you would’ve teased her about her territorial tendencies.

“Don’t put me back there with her,” you said quietly when Bailey tried to put you in the back of the squad car. Right beside Sam. “She’s not my biggest fan.”

“Neither am I,” he said with a smile before pushing your head down and shoving you into the car. “Get in.”

You practically fell into the car, your knees banging against the front seat. It was still cold as hell and now your arm was strained. A quick glance down showed a few little spots of blood. Great. Now that was split again too. Why couldn’t anyone just let you grab some clothes?

The entire ride to the station you could feel Sam’s gaze on you. No, not a gaze, it was a full-blown glare. If you had died in that apartment, you didn’t think she would’ve been too upset about the fact. And Tara was being diplomatic and keeping her mouth shut, looking out the window as the city passed by. It was smart.

“So,” you started, “did you and Danny have a nice night?”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbled.

“Okay,” you said quickly.

Well, at least no one could say you didn’t try.

It was a short drive to the station, and you felt like you were going to combust under Sam’s eyes. The scrutiny didn’t stop when you pulled into the station, and it certainly didn’t stop when you walked in. If looks could kill? Yeah, it was a real thing. It might not kill, but it definitely made you want to die.

“Hey, Y/N,” Linda at reception said when you walked in.

“Hey, babe,” you said with a wink, walking over to lean on the desk. “How’re the little rascals?”

“They’re good,” she said, leaning forward on her arms. “Found you a girl yet?”

“Think so,” you said, fully putting on the charm. “Right over there,” you gestured your head behind you.

“I’m guessin’ it’s not the one givin’ you the “eat shit and die” look?”

You both turned your head to look at Sam, who had now crossed her arms over her chest. Tara wasn’t even trying to stop her; you didn’t blame her. Samantha Carpenter was a force of nature that no one wanted to fight against. Tara had probably learned that after the first Ghostface attack in Woodsboro.

“Good guess,” you mumbled.

“Keep moving,” Bailey said as he walked past you with Tara and Sam hot on his heels.

“We’ll catch up another time,” you said, sending Linda a wink and smile.

“Countin’ on it,” she replied before blowing a kiss in your direction.

Your brother was going to kill you for flirting with his wife.

It was a familiar walk back to Bailey’s interrogation room. While Sam was directed to a separate room, you walked in ahead of Tara and sat down in the seat that you had secretly designated as your own. At the rate you frequented, you might as well just carve your name into the wood. Just so Bailey would always have a reminder of you whether he wanted it or not.

“Here,” he said when he walked in and threw something at you. You flinched, but caught it. “Put that on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you pulled the NYPD shirt over your head. You sneezed. “Sorry,” you said when you wiped your nose. “I’m allergic to pigs.”

“Stop,” Tara whispered to you.

“What can you tell me about tonight?” He asked, completely ignoring your comment.

“We were just having dinner and watching a movie,” you said with a shrug. “Bada bing, bada boom, little rat bastard interrupts.”

“Did you find him?” Tara asked. Why was everyone ignoring you? You were the one with the injuries, right? Shouldn’t you have more of a say than anyone else? Maybe you had a lot more to learn about this whole Ghostface thing than you had thought.

“We didn’t find anything,” Bailey said with a shrug. “Got anyone who has it out for you?”

They both turned to look at you after the question had been voiced. You looked between the both of them. Oh for fuck’s sake, now it was just getting insulting. There was no winning for you, was there? First you’re interrupted, then you’re attacked, then interrogated by not only Sam but now Bailey too? Well, fuck you, you guessed.

“Why are the two ‘a youse looking at me?” You asked. “I stay out of trouble.”

They both gave you exasperated looks.

“I mostly stay out of trouble,” you corrected.

“Was your sister accounted for?” Bailey asked.

“She was across the alley with a guy,” Tara answered with a shake of her head.

“Danny,” you filled in. “He didn’t do this.”

“And neither did Sam,” she said.

“Did he target one of you more than the other?” He asked.

“He turned to face Tara,” you said as you recalled the event. Most of it was a blur, but you could pick out one or two pieces. “But he didn’t have enough time to really target anyone.”

“Then you need to stay safe,” he said directly to Tara. “I would guess he’s going after your Woodsboro crew.”

“Typical,” Tara huffed, falling back against her chair.

“What do we do?” You asked, doing the opposite of her and leaning forward on the table. “Twiddle our thumbs until you maybe catch the guy?”

“Are you calling us incompetant?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I am.”

“You’re going to go home and let us do our jobs,” he said.

“And if you don’t do your jobs?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“You’re still going to stay out of it.” He wasn’t even looking at Tara anymore. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” you answered.

You kept your eyes locked on his. It wasn’t your first stare down with Bailey, and it certainly wouldn’t be your last. You knew you were on his permanent shit list, but quite frankly you didn’t care. His group of piss poor detectives had let you all down time and time again, you weren’t going to trust him with your life.

And you certainly weren’t going to trust him with Tara’s.

“You’re both free to go,” he finally said. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I bet you will,” you said, but stood up anyway.

Tara left the room before you, and you sent one more glare at Bailey before following suit. To no one’s surprise, Sam was already waiting. She checked on Tara and gave you a once-over before starting the walk out of the station. You gave Linda a smile and a little wave before walking outside.

Where the news stations were waiting.

It was absolute pandemonium. Too many voices, too many flashing lights, you were amazed the Carpenters weren’t fazed. Well, you were amazed but not surprised. You knew all the shit they had to deal with since Woodsboro. They were probably used to all the commotion that came with being survivors of a brutal series of killings.

“Don’t talk to them,” you said as you quickly got between them and the reporters. “Keep walking, I’ll take care of it.”

You turned around and held your arms behind you to keep a hold of Tara and did what you knew would work. As your godmother had taught you, you started swearing up a storm. Every word you could think of to form the most colourful string of curses you could come up with. The looks of pure agitation and frustration on the reporters’ faces was enough to make you smile.

“That doesn’t work on me, sweetheart.”

Your smile fell when Gale walked into your view.

“Now’s not the time,” you said with a pointed look. “We can talk later.”

“An exclusive?” She asked, following behind you as you pushed Sam and Tara down the sidewalk and away from the station. And the reporters.

“Without your cronie,” you said.

Gale gave you a look of pure exasperation, but only a moment later waved for her cameraman to leave. You waited for him to be out of earshot before you gestured for her to follow you, and she instantly fell into step with you as you both caught up to the Carpenters. They didn’t seem as impressed, but at least they knew her.

“Are you okay?” She asked you. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” you said with a shrug. “Far less than you lot have gone through.”

“I had wanted to keep you out of all of this,” she said.

“Well,” you sighed. “Seems I’m in it now.”

“What are you doing here, Gale?” Sam asked, turning around quickly and stopping the four of you in your tracks. “I think you know we’re not too happy with you.”

“No one is ever happy with me, sweetheart,” Gale said with her News Smile. “I’m actually here to check up on Y/N.”

“With your cameraman?”

“How do you know Y/N?” Tara and Sam asked at the same time.

Everyone turned to look at you, who was in the process of biting your fingers off. You froze under the scrutiny, your hands slowly falling back down to your side where you shoved them in your pants pockets. It seemed like you were just going to be interrogated for the rest of your life.

“I’m their godmother,” Gale said when it was clear you were a little too frazzled to talk.

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“My Pop went to college with her,” you finally managed to say. “Suppose he liked her enough to make her part of the family.”

“And you just failed to mention that little fact?” Tara asked, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Oops.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” you said with a shrug, “I’m not Woodsboro.”

“Can we focus?” Sam asked. “What do you want, Gale?”

“What happened?” Gale asked. “No recorder, no camera, just tell me.”

The three of you looked at each other and sighed. They might not trust Gale - which was understandable, she had written a book when she said she wouldn’t - but you did. She might not be blood, but she was family. You gave the Carpenters time to stop you before turning to face her and telling her what happened.

You ommitted the little detail that you were mid-lay.

“I’m going to go do some digging,” she said with a dazed nod of her head. “You do the same?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve got a few things to go over.”

“Good,” she said before looking back at Sam and Tara. “Stay safe.” She looked at you. “All of you.”

All of you nodded and mumbled an agreement before bidding Gale goodbye. You watched and waited for her to be gone before turning back around to face the others. Now that everything had mostly calmed down, you were starting to focus on the real issue at hand again.

“What now?” Tara asked, her eyes flicking between you and Sam.

“We need to meet up with Chad and Mindy,” Sam said. “Fill them in.”

“I’ll head to my apartment,” you said. Tara opened her mouth to protest almost instantly. “I need to go over a few things.”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

“We can all meet up at my apartment tomorrow night,” you said with a gentle voice. “I’ve got some digging of my own to do.”

“No one even knows where you live,” Sam said. She looked at Tara and waited to see if she knew. Thankfully, she didn’t, and Sam let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief.

“I’ll call you from a burner and tell you the address,” you said. Both girls looked at you with raised brows. “Can’t trace a burner, and it guarantees it won’t be mirrored.”

“That’s some sketchy shit,” Tara said. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” you shrugged. “Still not Ghostface,” you defended when Sam gave you a judgmental look.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam said. “Come on.”

She turned around to leave, and you stood there watching her go. Tara hesitated, looking between you and Sam. As much as you wanted her to stick around, you knew she needed to be with her gang. No one could understand them the way they understood each other, and one little half-hearted attack didn’t make you one of them. You knew that.

“Go on,” you said softly with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked at you for a little too long, long enough to have you shifting your weight from foot to foot. You inhaled deeply, trying your best to calm your racing thoughts and pulse. Tara stepped forward slowly and grabbed the front of your shirt, pulling you down just enough to plant a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Stay safe,” she said. “I mean it.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with another smile.

Tara took that as good enough and turned around, jogging to catch up with Sam. You could see the both of them talking, and Sam’s arm wrapped protectively around Tara’s shoulders. It was sweet. You couldn’t even imagine what all they went through on a regular basis. All the chaos was enough to make anyone insane. They were lucky to have each other.

You shook the thought out of your head and started the long walk back to your apartment. If they were all coming over tomorrow night, you would need to have all your ducks in a row. No way were you inviting veterans into your home only to look like a fool.

—---

By the time everyone showed up at your apartment, you were running on 43 hours of being awake, your seventh espresso, and your 13th RedBull. Were you going insane? Yes. Could you smell colours? Absolutely. In fact, red smelled like black pepper. Or maybe that was the disgusting takeout you had been munching on for the past nine hours.

Damn, you needed to clean. Thank god Garret wouldn’t be back from his parent’s house until next weekend.

The knock on your front door pulled you back to the current situation. Right. You were going to show everyone what you had discovered. Which, not to brag, but it was pretty impressive. You managed to sweep the majority of the trash into a trash bag and put it off to the side before tripping over papers on the way to the door.

“Hey,” you said with a frazzled smile when you threw the door open and saw the entire gang standing there.

“When was the last time you slept?” Anika asked.

“Or showered,” Chad chimed in.

“Just get in here,” you said as you stepped aside. “I’m definitely on to something.”

“Good, because I have my own theories,” Mindy said with a smile. She was the first to enter.

You said hi to every one of them as they came in. Anika gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek and Quinn patted your unhurt arm. When Tara finally walked in, at the very end of the line, she gave you a look that you… couldn’t quite describe. She didn’t look sad. You supposed “worried” was a much better descriptor.

“You didn’t even change out of the shirt,” she said, pulling lightly on the NYPD shirt that you were still sporting.

“Shit,” you mumbled, “you’re right.”

“Go change,” she said, and you nodded before shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Get settled,” you told everyone as you walked into your room. You left the door open as you dug for something to wear. “All ‘a youse stayed safe, right?” You called.

“Safe and sound,” Anika called back.

“Good,” you said, tossing the NYPD shirt onto the bed. You were still trying to orient the new shirt as you walked back into the living room. “I’ve got some information you’re all going to love.”

“Who is that guy staring at us from across the alley?” Chad asked.

“What?” You said as you finally pulled the shirt over your head. You walked over to the window to see who he was talking about. “Oh, that’s Tony.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“My older brother,” you said, shooting a wave at him. He waved back and smiled. “After the other night, I asked him to keep watch. His bedroom window watches the fire escape outside my room.”

“How many brothers do you even have?” Quinn asked, mostly to herself.

“Five,” you answered anyway, “and two sisters.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Tara asked incredulously.

“What can I say,” you shrugged. “We’re Catholic.”

“And you trust Tony?” Mindy asked. “Like really trust him?”

“With my life,” you said. “Now, everyone sit down, I’ve got a few things to show you.” You looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Econ,” Chad answered.

You looked around for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “Alright then,” you said. “Mindy, would you like to enthrall us with your theories while I get my stuff situated?”

“I would love to,” she said with a smile as she stood up in front of everyone.

You listened to Mindy’s talk about sequels and remakes and upping the budget and yada yada. It was all very flashy, very out there, but you could respect it. If anyone would know what was going on, it would be Mindy. And she managed to fill more than enough time while you finished pulling everything up on your laptop and hooking it up to the projector on the ceiling.

“Now we shall hear your theories,” Mindy said as she practically handed you the floor.

“Not necessarily theories,” you said, “but I dug up some dirt.”

“And how did you manage to do that?” Chad asked as he leaned back against your couch.

“Well, Chadwick,” you said, ignoring the glare he sent you, “I learned from a very reliable source.”

“Gale is their godmother,” Sam explained.

“And my sister Martha is a tech guru,” you said as you pulled up your powerpoint presentation, “so I learned from the best.”

“Did you turn this into a TED Talk?” Quinn asked with a tilt of her head.

“Why yes I did, Quinn, thank you for asking,” you said as you pulled up the first slide.

“How long is this presentation?” Tara asked.

“Long,” you said with a smile, “so buckle up.”

You went over everything you had managed to dig up for the past 18 hours. From all the Reddit conspiracies, to possible motives. You pointed out how all the theories of Sam being the killer had all managed to come from different sock puppet accounts, which all connected to two different real accounts, which shared IP addresses.

“And you learned how to find that out from your sister?” Anika asked as she leaned forward on her thighs.

“Yes I did,” you said, “and she’s never wrong.”

“Who do the two accounts belong to?” Tara asked.

“Now that I don’t know yet,” you sighed. “But we got our two potential Ghostfaces right there.”

“Two?” Sam asked.

“There’s almost always two,” you said. “Except for, uh, what’s his name,” you shuffled through some of the papers on your table. “Ah, that Roman guy.”

Everyone looked at you with a mix of shock, confusion, and amazement. And maybe a little bit of fear.

“I told you I did my research,” you defended. “Unlike you guys, I didn’t grow up with Ghostface as part of my school curriculum.”

“So you did all this just to tell us you still don’t know who it is?” Chad asked.

“I’m not a detective, I’m doing my best,” you huffed. “It’s more than that pig Bailey ever did.” You instantly looked at Quinn. “No offense, doll.”

“None taken,” she said with a shrug.

“But I do think this means he’s going after you, Sam,” you said. “He painted a bullseye on you with the Reddit bullshit. Must’ve pissed someone off.”

“Seems that’s all I ever do,” she said with a huff.

Everyone got to talking, going over what you had managed to find out. You continued shuffling through your papers, seeing if there was anything else you had left out. All the adrenaline and caffeine was starting to wear off and your eyes were fuzzy, but you could focus long enough to read. Mostly.

Your phone vibrated on the table, and you looked down. From the area code, the call was from the Bronx. If anything, one of your siblings got a new phone and was calling you to let you know. It had happened far too many times anyway, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Quit breakin’ your goddamn phone,” you said immediately after answering.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You froze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “Cat got your tongue?”

Everyone was still talking amongst themselves. You didn't know if you were supposed to tell them about the call or not. No one was looking at you, so you walked over to the window. When Tino looked over, you signed for him to watch.

"You and your buddy showin' up tonight?" You asked. "Or are you both a couple 'a pussies?"

"You're bold," he said. "Have you learned much from your research?"

"A bit," you said. You were eying the streets below. Surely he was somewhere close.

"Then I'll ask you the single most important question," he said. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

“Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure,” you said. “Large Marge will haunt me till I die.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“My Ma told me I’m a natural comedian.” He wasn’t in the alley. Where was he?

“You ever seen Stab?”

“Not really,” you said. You were vaguely aware of the fact that everyone had fallen silent. “I think they're insensitive."

"Insensitive?" He chuckled. "How chivalrous."

"You gonna play your game or not?" You asked, finally turning back around to see everyone staring at you.

Oh no.

"Did you check Garret’s room when you got home last night?"

Your eyes darted to Garret’s closed bedroom door. No. No you hadn’t checked it last night. The phone fell from your hand as you vaulted over the armchair in your way. Someone was calling to you, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Without any hesitation or sense of self preservation, you threw the door open.

No one was in there.

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Don’t go in there!” Mindy shouted at you from the living room. “Have you never seen a horror movie?”

“Just shut up,” you called back. “Get out,” you said when you grabbed one of the baseball bats you kept in every room of the apartment. “Tony’s apartment number is 413, it’s a four floor walk-up.”

“I’m staying,” Tara said.

“Come on,” Chad said; you hoped he grabbed her and forced her to leave.

This is a stupid idea, you thought as you stalked your way to Garret’s closed closet door. Sure, you had a bat, but you had no idea what you were going to do if that fucker was in there. What, you were going to just bludgeon him to death? Yeah, that would look great on your rap sheet.

“Here goes nothin’,” you mumbled as you turned the doorknob and threw the door open, the bat primed and ready.

No one was in there either.

“What the-”

-screams came from the front door.

Shit. 

You tripped over Garret’s duffel bag that he had left and hit the floor with a hard *thud*. The stitches on your bicep pulled tight. You could hear your pulse racing in your ears as you pushed yourself back up to your feet and ran out of the room.

Just in time to see Ghostface pulling the knife out of Anika’s stomach.

You saw Mindy not too far away holding her bleeding arm, but you couldn’t find anyone else. That was probably a good thing.

Ghostface lifted the knife again.

The wood of the bat rubbed harshly against the skin of your palms as you swung. It hit his head with a hollow *thunk*, and he groaned and fell to the ground. You didn't recall crossing the living room.

“Go,” you shouted as you pushed Anika and Mindy into your room and slammed the door behind the three of you.

Mindy helped Anika onto your bed and pushed against the wound that you could now see went all the way from her sternum to her stomach. Your own stomach twisted at the sight. The muscles in your legs were frozen even as your mind ran rampant.

Something grabbed the doorknob.

You dropped the bat and lunged, slamming into the door right as it opened. Your hands wrapped around the doorknob as it twisted erratically. The metal started to heat up from the friction and you could feel it burning the skin on your palms.

"We're going to die," Anika cried.

"Try to stay positive," Mindy told her even as she was looking around the room for… you didn't know what.

The doorknob twisted again. The door opened slightly, and you slammed your shoulder into it again. Why didn't you fix the fucking lock when you had the chance last week?

"If we get out of this alive, I'm fucking strangling you-"

-The gleam of a knife took over everything in your sight.

You followed as it pulled out, leaving a hole in your door right beside your head along with a light smear of blood.

"Get out," you said, your eyes still glued to the blood smear on your door.

"What?" Mindy asked 

"Fire escape leads to Tony's room," you said.

"Tara will kill me if I leave you-"

-the knife drove through the door again. You jumped back but felt a sharp sting in your hip.

The door tried to fly open again. You yelped, but pushed against it harder. Your bare feet dug into the carpet and you could feel the strain in your thighs.

"Give me the chair," you ordered, waving your hand vaguely in the direction of a metal folding chair.

Someone shuffled around the room, and in seconds you felt the chair in your outstretched hand. You placed it underneath the doorknob.

The knife pierced the door again.

And again.

And again.

"Come on," you heard Mindy say to Anika. At least you assumed that was who she was talking to.

Anika groaned, but the sounds meant they were moving. Hopefully to your window. Your pulse was rushing in your ear.

The doorknob jiggled again.

"Grab my hand!" Okay, that was Sam, the window was open.

The knife came into your field of view.

Oh god this was so stupid!

"Y/N, come on!"

Tara?

The doorknob quit moving and the room was enveloped with a deafening silence.

You let go of the doorknob slowly and took a few hesitant steps back. The heel of your foot hit the bat, and you reached down to pick it up without taking your eyes off the door.

"Just get out here!"

The grain of the wood rubbed your palms raw as you tightened your grip on the handle. It hung in the air above your shoulder, ready to swing.

I dare you to try it.

"Tara wait!"

Someone stepped onto the fire escape before climbing into the window. You didn't dare turn from the door. A familiar hand touched your ear. It stung.

"You're bleeding," Tara said softly.

You didn't answer.

There was banging in the living room. You twisted your hands around the bat and planted your feet. So help you god, if Ghostface even so much as sneezed you would-

"-It's Bailey!"

Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"We have paramedics downstairs," he continued, "open the door."

Your eyes stayed on the door even as you toed the chair, pulling it until it fell to the ground with a *clang*.  Your grip on the bat tightened as you watched the doorknob twist.

Detective Bailey stepped into the room, hands held up in surrender.

You exhaled sharply and felt all the muscles in your body relax.

The bat fell to the ground as your vision went fuzzy. Tara's hand fell and rested on your hip.

You supposed you had just survived attack number two.

---