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Summary~ The day is heavy and tense, filled with unspoken words and careful distance. Jenna feels colder, more guarded, and every interaction carries a weight that wasn’t there before. I spend most of the day trying to keep it together, searching for steadiness while everything between us stays unresolved quiet, fractured, and painfully charged.
Pairings~ Jenna Ortega x female reader
Tags~ wlw,angst(doomed yuri time)
WC: 1.6k
A/N: hello everyone hope you’re all having a wonderful day!! Enjoy the new chapter!!
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
The morning starts quiet.
Deceptively quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful. This one presses down on my chest, heavy and expectant, like the world is holding its breath just to watch me crack.
I wake up already tired.
My phone sits on the nightstand, screen dark, face-down. I don’t reach for it. I don’t want to see missed calls, unread messages, or worse nothing at all. Silence feels louder right now. Yesterday still echoes too clearly in my head, every look, every almost-touch, every word that landed wrong or didn’t land at all.
I stare at the ceiling longer than I should, replaying things I have no business replaying.
The way Jenna’s fingers brushed mine.
The way she stayed close, but never close enough.
The way her hoodie smelled faintly like my detergent when she wore it, like something that belonged to me even when it didn’t.
Eventually, I force myself up.
Getting ready is slow. Deliberate. Like if I move carefully enough, I can keep myself from falling apart before I even leave the apartment. I shower, dress, tie my shoes with more focus than they deserve. Anything to stay grounded.
It doesn’t work.
Her laugh creeps in anyway.
Her distance.
The way something between us shifted without either of us naming it.
By the time I step onto set, the place is already alive. Lights hang overhead, cables snake across the floor, crew members rush past with coffees and clipboards, walkie-talkies crackling nonstop. It’s loud, chaotic and normally comforting.
Today, it only makes the quiet inside me feel worse.
Jack is already somewhere near the main set, laughing too loudly as usual, trying to wrestle a prop sword out of an extra’s hands. Jasmin stands nearby, narrating the whole thing like it’s a nature documentary, her dry commentary cutting through the noise.
And then I see her.
Jenna.
She’s near craft services, hoodie pulled over her hair, mug in hand. She looks the same at first glance, controlled, composed, effortlessly magnetic. But something’s off. I can see it in the stiffness of her shoulders, the way her body angles just slightly away from me, like it’s instinct now.
My chest tightens before I can stop it.
“Morning,” I say, forcing casual into my voice as I approach.
She pauses.
Just for a beat.
Too long.
“Hey,” she replies.
That’s it.
No warmth. No softness. Just the word, flat and stripped down to obligation.
I tell myself I’m imagining it.
I tell myself not to spiral.
I spiral anyway.
The next hour drags like it’s fighting time itself. Every line I deliver feels hollow. Every cue slightly off. I’m hyperaware of where Jenna is at all times, where she stands, who she’s talking to, how often she looks everywhere but at me.
She adjusts around me. Steps back when our hands almost brush near props. Moves just far enough away to make the distance unmistakable.
And Mason God, Mason.
He floats through the set like he owns it. Easy charm. Easy laughter. He jokes with extras, teases Jack, makes Jasmin snort mid-sentence. And Jenna leans into it. Not obviously. Not overtly.
But enough.
She stands a little closer to him than she does to me. Laughs a little easier. Looks relaxed in a way she hasn’t looked with me all day.
Every small movement feels like a needle threading straight through my ribs.
Melissa notices. Of course she does.
She doesn’t say anything just watches. Neutral, careful, eyes flicking between Jenna and me like she’s measuring something fragile. When Mason tosses a joke my way, Melissa gives me a small half-smile, a subtle tilt of her head that feels like a warning.
Tread carefully.
First break hits, and I escape to the side area near the sinks, gripping my water bottle like it might hold me together. I fill it slowly, letting the sound of the water drown out my thoughts.
“Y/N.”
Jasmin’s voice is light, amused. I glance over to see her leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirk already in place.
“You two,” she says, nodding vaguely toward the set. “Something’s up, huh?”
“What?” I ask too quickly, my hands freezing mid-motion.
She waves it off, but her eyes stay sharp. “Nothing. Just… vibes.”
That’s the problem.
Everyone feels it. Everyone sees it.
Everyone except me, apparently.
Across the room, Jenna laughs at something Mason says. It’s softer than usual, restrained but it still lands wrong in my chest. She stays near him between takes, nodding, reacting. Every second she doesn’t look my way feels deliberate.
Later, Jack corners me mid-conversation, rambling animatedly about something that happened off set earlier. His hands move dramatically, reenacting the entire thing like a one-man show.
Despite myself, a laugh slips out.
Soft at first. Then a little fuller.
My shoulders loosen just enough to give me away.
“See?” Jack grins. “I’m telling you. Absolute chaos.”
“Yeah,” I say, breathless, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he bumps my shoulder lightly, “here you are.”
I smile again small, tired, but real.
I don’t notice her at first.
But across the set, Jenna looks up.
I feel it before I see it that familiar pull in my chest. When I glance over, she’s already looking away, but not fast enough for me to miss the way her expression falters.
She doesn’t look angry.
She looks conflicted.
Her fingers curl tighter around her mug, knuckles whitening slightly like she’s grounding herself. Something tight flickers behind her eyes, and my stomach twists.
For a second, I wonder if I imagined it.
Then Mason says something beside her, and she laughs too loud, too quick and I know I didn’t.
Lunch is worse.
The table is crowded, voices overlapping into a chaotic hum. Jack and Liana argue quietly over the last sandwich. Jasmin snickers at something Mason mutters under his breath. Melissa sits back slightly, watching the group like she’s balancing invisible scales.
Jenna sits beside Mason.
Not touching. Not overt. Just close enough.
Her shoulder brushes his when she laughs. Their knees almost touch under the table. It should mean nothing.
My hands curl into my lap anyway, nails pressing into my palms.
I tell myself not to look.
I look anyway.
By the time lunch ends, the tension is crawling under my skin. I catch her near the storage racks afterward, away from most of the noise. The air feels thinner there. Heavier. Private.
“Jenna,” I say quietly.
She stops. Turns halfway. Crosses her arms.
“What?”
The tone alone almost makes me retreat. Almost.
“This,” I gesture vaguely between us, frustration slipping through. “You’ve been distant. All day.”
She lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Have I?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretches. Thick. Pressing. She doesn’t look away fully, but she doesn’t really look at me either like she’s bracing for impact.
“I don’t want to get into it,” she finally says.
“Why not?” I ask, stepping closer despite the knot in my chest.
Her jaw tightens. “Because it’s not my place.”
“Not your-” I stop myself, inhale. “What does that even mean?”
She shrugs, defensive. “You’re allowed to have… distractions. Whatever they are.”
The words hit wrong. So wrong my stomach twists.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper.
For a split second, something cracks when she meets my eyes. Regret, maybe. Or hesitation.
“We should get back,” she says instead.
She turns to leave, and our fingers brush as she shifts a prop. Just barely. Enough to freeze me in place.
Her hand tenses.
Doesn’t pull away right away.
Neither do I.
The air between us hums, electric and unresolved.
Then she pulls back.
Later, I’m back at the sink again, refilling my water bottle for the third time when Jack steps beside me.
“She’s avoiding you,” he says quietly.
I sigh. “Yeah. I noticed.”
He nudges my shoulder gently. “Doesn’t mean she’s gone. Doesn’t mean you lost her.”
“I can’t tell anymore,” I mutter. “Everything feels… off.”
“One step at a time, Y/N,” he says, resting a steady hand on my shoulder. “Just breathe.”
I do.
Barely.
I try Melissa next. She steps aside from a small group, face calm as ever.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Jenna’s cold. And I-”
She lifts a hand gently. “I can’t tell you what she’s thinking. I won’t. But… give it space. You’ll figure it out.”
Vague. Protective. Exactly what I expected.
By the end of the day, I’m running on fumes. My movements slow. My smiles don’t reach my eyes. I rub the back of my neck when I think no one’s watching.
But she sees it.
I catch Jenna looking at me when she thinks I won’t notice. Something raw flickers across her face concern, conflict before she looks away.
For a second, it feels like she might step toward me.
For a second, I think she might say my name.
She doesn’t.
The set empties slowly. Props get packed away. Voices fade.
Jenna passes me without a glance.
Then one last brush.
Her hand grazes mine as she adjusts something she’s carrying. She doesn’t flinch. Neither do I.
She pulls away first.
And walks away.
Later, alone in my car, I sit with the engine off, the quiet pressing in.
My phone lights up my lap.
Jenna’s name.
I type.
Can we talk?
Delete.
I didn’t mean to make things weird. I just—
Delete.
I miss you.
I stare at it.
Then delete everything, lock my phone, and let my forehead fall against the steering wheel.
The want doesn’t fade.
The fear doesn’t either.
And somewhere between the two, everything stays unresolved.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
WARNING! Heavy angst, the gif was chosen on purpose, one-sided Wednesday Addams x Female Reader
Summary: In the end, she chose him every single time.
Word count: 0.9k
-I try to make you see my side, I always try to stay in line, but your eyes see right through, that's all they do-
For a moment you felt like your whole world froze as you watched her, swinging the axe, ending the nightmare that was Tyler Galpin. Or so you thought at least. It felt like time stopped for you as you watched the axe heading toward his binds, not his jugular, and in that moment, helpless to stop it, as you were already halfway to Pugsley, you saw her eyes.
And you knew.
He was the only one she ever looked at like that. “I missed,” struck you like lightning. She never missed. She never did anything impulsively, unless it came to him. And you stood there, motionless, even as she ran by you to free Pugsley. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t even look at you, her attention more on Tyler’s fight or whatever with his mother, than even fully freeing her brother.
You should have known better.
Wednesday lied from time to time. That’s how you explained the last time she saw Tyler. That’s what you told yourself when she said she was attracted to him, that there was only one way they could be together.
Yet that look in her eyes betrayed her. The way she couldn’t mask her emotions as well when it came to him. The way her mouth twitched up ever so slightly, the way her eyes would be just a bit more expressive.
You stood there as the place exploded, she didn’t look back. Didn’t check to see if you survived. Blind faith in your abilities, you would have told yourself until tonight. Now it was a lot more obvious, as the flames licked at your skin and you managed to get out in the nick of time, only to find her looking toward the roof above her room, the same place he stood minutes prior, you knew.
~X~
The following days passed in much needed contemplation on your part and now you found yourself at the entrance, with her standing about a dozen feet away from you, looking at the road as she expected her Uncle Fester to show up. To find Enid, she said. That much you believed. You waited, thought she’d tell you to follow her, but as he drove in, his bike clearly meant for only two people, and an extra hand, you knew well enough what the end result would be.
“Should we meet somewhere?” you still asked, and for the first time since you approached, she looked at you. Only for a moment. You hated how desperate and pathetic you sounded, how much you still wished you could protect her, wished you could be something more to her, wished she would, at least once, look at you like you deserved even a fraction of the time and emotion she gave to Tyler Galpin.
You weren’t even worthy of being a friend in her eyes. You were an accident that kept occurring in her life.
Not her opposite like Enid.
Not a stalker like Agnes.
Not a monster like Tyler.
Just an outcast with convenient ability that happened to be drawn to her and remained blindly by her side through it all.
“No. Go home,” three words. All she said to you were three simple words as her uncle drove away. You nodded, having no strength to fight it anymore.
As the three of them vanished from your sight all you could think of was the way she looked at Tyler, the way they looked at each other.
You were such a naïve fool.
You leaned back on the wall, laughing, though you couldn’t explain why. You just felt empty, like it all meant nothing to her.
No, that was wrong. It truly meant nothing to her.
He lied and manipulated her.
You couldn’t lie to her to save your life.
He threatened her.
You got between them every chance you could, just so he’d have to go through you first to hurt her.
And he did hurt her. Threw her through that window.
Only after he threw you across the hall, making you hit the wall and cracking several of your ribs.
It still hurt to breathe.
He put her in a coma.
You crawled out of your bed to check on her the moment you woke up.
He tried to kill her.
You lost track of how many times you nearly died for her.
Maybe if you hurt her. Maybe if you reminded her she was alive, if you made her dread your presence like she dreaded his, maybe things would have been different.
Maybe if you were a risk, someone who would constantly put her on edge, maybe she would have looked at you. Maybe if she could never truly know if you’d kiss her neck or rip her throat out with your teeth, she’d see you as more than an accidental presence in her life.
If you gave her the thrill of danger and threw her around like a ragdoll, if you were mentally capable of tearing her in half on a whim, maybe you’d be worth her time.
But you couldn’t “love” her like that.
They’d cross paths again, not because some fate or higher power willed it to happen, but because she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and like a moth that flew too close, her wings would catch fire as well. And even if you caught her in that moment, it still wouldn’t be enough.
Guess you just weren’t enough of a monster for her.
A bit of anxiety at the start, but mostly fluff, enjoy! Also, this is an old request, updated with more scenes.
Summary: Tara thought she would never fully trust someone again, not after what Amber did, but then you came along.
Word count: 3k
She was early, so early she walked into an empty classroom and just stood there, looking at all the empty seats. The room that was barely any bigger than the classrooms back at Tara’s high school now felt bigger than a football stadium. She closed the doors behind her and the click made her jump, the simple sound felt more like an explosion in her mind.
She looked at the back of the classroom, the security of always knowing what was in front of her, the security of not having anyone behind her. It felt safer, but that was also where most people would be, fleeing from the front rows where a professor might turn their attention.
Tara then looked to the front rows, promising less people, but potentially making her catch someone’s attention.
Cold sweat washed over her, an anxiety she’s been so desperately keeping under lock and key was rattling at its cage, unsettling her, reminding her of how vulnerable she was in a new place, surrounded by strangers.
The last thing Tara wished for was to surrender to that anxiety, to let it rule every part of her life. She saw what it did to Sam, and she didn’t want that, she wanted to be free from the horrors that happened in Woodsboro. She was no longer there, she moved to the other side of the country, Ghostface was in her past.
Yet…
Being betrayed more than once, by people she was supposed to trust left more than just physical scars on her body. The emotional scars went even deeper, and she was almost certain she would never truly trust anyone enough to open up and act vulnerable.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, begging her heart to calm down, not that begging anyone or anything for mercy seemed to ever help her. She weighed her options, sitting in the back, in the very corner of the classroom at first, but now the room felt even bigger and it frightened her. As if she just realized sitting in the back would make her a lot more aware of all the people here.
It would satisfy her paranoia, calm it down a bit, certainly, but then again she wanted to do this whole thing right. So, Tara grabbed her things and went to the front row, taking the seat by the window and pulling her things out. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips felt dry and she nearly fled to the middle of the classroom, seeking a moderate approach without having to go to either of the extremes.
But then the doors opened, and a group of students walked in, not paying any attention to her. But it was enough to keep her sitting in the front row, afraid to catch their attention. As another minute passed more and more students came in, and, as she predicted most of them sat in the back or the middle of the classroom with a couple of students being bold enough to go for the front rows.
“Hi, is this seat taken?” she swiftly turned to her left and saw you standing there, gesturing to the chair next to her. And Tara just stared at you, too taken aback to properly respond right away. "Is everything okay?" you asked her, a worry so genuine in your voice she almost thought her mind was playing tricks on her.
Tara blushed, embarrassed by her silence. "Sorry, yes! For both! I mean, no, the seat isn't taken and yes, everything is okay," she was tempted to look for another seat because there was no way she could sit next to you for the next hour and a half after that blunder.
You didn’t look like you minded though. "Thank you," you smiled, sitting down next to her and getting your notebook out of your bag. "I'm Y/N, by the way," you twisted in your seat to offer her your right hand.
"Tara," she accepted the handshake and returned your smile. She didn't quite believe in instincts anymore, they tricked her more than once, but the kindness and gentleness radiating from your eyes and smile made her reconsider if maybe her instincts were right this time.
Not that the two of you got the chance to talk much after the introduction, as the professor arrived and both of you had to turn your attention to the class.
Halfway through the class you reached into the bag, pulling a bottle of water and taking a sip. Tara just now realized how long it's been since she had the chance to drink anything, and she caught herself staring at you as you swallowed the water.
"Want one?" you asked as quietly as you could and gestured at the bottle.
Tara shook her head slightly. "It's okay, I don't want to be a bother," the offer was tempting, but she still refused.
But you still reached into your bag and pulled another bottle. "It's not a bother. Besides, it's too hot not to drink anything," you offered the bottle to her with your left hand, and she caught a glimpse of a tattoo just barely peeking out of the long-sleeved shirt you were wearing.
"Front row, settle down!" the professor chastised the two of you, causing both of you to flinch a bit and lower your heads in embarrassment. Tara's eyes still met yours as you sheepishly scratched the back of your neck, and you grinned as she took the water with a small smile of her own.
The moment the class was dismissed the two of you almost rushed out, giggling the moment you were in the hall. “Man, I really hope he doesn’t hold a grudge,” you leaned against the wall, grinning at her, despite the seriousness of having a professor hold a grudge against you.
“Come on, he’s probably used to students talking,” Tara hoped that was the case, she really did.
“Probably,” you agreed. “Say, Tara, do you, by any chance take any of these?” you asked, showing her your schedule, and she did, in fact take a few of them.
She nodded, smiling softly at you. “All the law related ones and the ones related to movies,” there were quite a few classes in both groups, and from the looks of it, she shared them with you.
Your grin widened, making you ridiculously adorable and Tara felt a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Would you like to sit with me? Perhaps a couple of rows back from now on?” you joked and she nodded.
“I’d love that, Y/N,” she thought she’d never be able to fully trust again, yet somehow you came into her life and changed that.
~X~
That was how it started, and that was how it continued for a long time. She would see you during classes, you'd sit next to each other and slowly but surely you won her trust. It was scary how effortlessly you were doing it. She missed class, you'd sent her notes before she even had the chance to ask you, and vice versa. She even started hanging out with you outside of class, away from her friend group.
God, when Sam finds out she'll go ballistic.
But Tara didn't care. She felt good when she was with you, she felt free from the past in a way parties never made her feel. And then, one day while you were drinking coffee and going over the notes you noticed it, the scar on her hand.
Your reaction was instant as you lowered the notes and took her hand and Tara felt like lightning went through her, your touch making her feel warm and safe. And then she realized she didn’t cover up the scar. “Y/N, that’s,” she choked on her words, afraid you’ll freak out, start asking questions, realize her story and that it would scare you away.
But you just looked into her eyes and hugged her. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” you whispered and she melted into your touch, seeking that warmth like she craved to be hugged like that her entire life.
“Did you figure it out?” she whispered and much to her relief, felt you shaking your head.
“I just see in your eyes that it’s a painful memory,” you whispered, rubbing her back gently. “You don’t ever have to tell me anything, but please know I’m always here for you,” you assured her gently, showing nothing but support to her.
That time and every time before and after that your eyes never showed any hint of deception, you wore your heart on your sleeve, and Tara found herself trusting you more than she trusted anyone she met ever since Amber betrayed and tried to kill her.
And so, day by day, time after time spent together, she found herself crushing on you, hard.
~X~
When you met Tara, you really were just looking for a seat, seeing as you barely made it on time and frankly you wanted to sit in one of the front rows but also didn’t want to sit all alone. You didn't think that choice would have such a profound effect on you. You saw her eyes, and you were struck by them, by the deep-seated doubt and mistrust in them, and a paradoxical desire to be loved hidden behind all of that.
You didn't wonder what caused her to feel like that, like everyone could turn into her enemy, and you had no desire to guess. It was her past, and if she wanted to tell you, you'd listen, otherwise you'd just be by her side here and now. You did feel a strong urge to make sure no one would hurt her again, to make her feel that she was safe with you.
At the moment you and Tara were having a quick bite between classes, and you caught her curious gaze aimed at your left wrist. She was being adorable, trying to subtly find a better angle to figure out what the tattoo was. "You're really cute right now," you reached for the side of her lips with your right hand, just to wipe a bit of hot sauce that remained there.
Tara scoffed. "Whatever, Y/N," she muttered, but the corners of her lips were tugging upward, showing she was trying to restrain a smile. "Are we going to work on the assignment at your place tonight?" she asked, it's been about three months since you met Tara and she definitely relaxed during that time, she even came over to your place a couple of times. Just to work on assignments of course, but she still went to your place. And it didn’t take knowing her past to know that it somehow meant a lot for the girl in front of you to do that.
You nodded. "If you're okay with that," if she wanted to work on it somewhere else, you were more than happy to go there as well.
Tara's eyes shone with appreciation, and she blushed a bit and your heart threatened to jump out of your chest the way it always did when Tara Carpenter was near you.
~X~
Tara just finished packing her bag and was about to head out when she heard a knock on her doors and turned around to see Sam standing there. “Another study date?” Sam asked, making Tara blush.
“Mhm,” she mumbled under her breath as Sam came in and sat down. Tara bit her lower lip, looking at Sam as she sat down as well.
Sam sighed, though not in the exasperated or worried way, but more like ‘what do I do with you?’ way. “You like her, don’t you?” she asked and the blush on Tara’s face spread like wildfire.
Tara nodded quickly, just once, but it was enough for Sam to see. “She’s really amazing,” she admitted, smiling at the thought of you. “I’ll invite her over next week, so you can meet her and see she’s not dangerous,” Tara suggested with a bit of an uncertain smile on her face, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she waited for the answer.
Sam wrapped one arm around Tara’s shoulders and nodded. “I’d love that,” she said. “I’d like to meet the girl who makes you smile so much,” she teased and Tara groaned, hugging Sam, partly to hide the smile and the blush on her face.
~X~
As the night went on the summer heat was getting unbearable and if Tara could dismantle your fridge and go rest inside of it she would. She would probably fit as well. Seeing how small she was. Why did she have to be so small if she couldn't use that to her advantage and sit in the fridge?
“Y/N,” she groaned, wondering if it would be alright to melt on your bed.
“Yeah?” you asked, dropping down on the other side of the bed, your assignment forgotten on the table because it was too hot to concentrate.
“Sam wants to meet you,” Tara didn’t even have the strength to break it to you gently.
You sat up abruptly and looked at her, your jaw dropping until you just nodded. “Sure, I’d love that,” you brave soul, you had no idea what you were agreeing to, and Tara had to admit she admired that about you.
“I’ll tell her to go easy on you,” she promised, smiling, appreciating your decision to come and meet Sam. It made her feel like you were serious about this.
You nodded. “Thanks, T,” you grinned and a few moments later you remembered the heat. "Fuck, it's too hot!" you complained, falling back onto the bed and covering your face to muffle a loud, completely understandable groan. "That's it!" you sat up so abruptly you nearly startled Tara in the process, but nothing prepared her for you just taking the arm sleeve you had covering your left arm off.
She's been curious ever since she noticed you had the tattoo, seeing as she thought some tattoos were cool, but she never got to see it. It always peeked out from underneath your clothes, just teasing and taunting her, the mystery of what was underneath the clothes plaguing her mind. If you weren't wearing long-sleeved shirts or jackets you were wearing an arm sleeve to cover it up.
She had her suspicions, that it was at least a bigger tattoo, if not full-on arm sleeve tattoo. And her guess was right, though the sleeve of your T-shirt still covered some of it up Tara saw the bodies of two Chinese dragons surrounded by flames tangled up on your arm.
Without thinking she went and touched your forearm, the summer heat suddenly feeling insignificant, as she began tracing the body of one of the dragons and leaning closer to you. It wasn't until she heard your breath hitch that she realized what she was doing and backed away as if burnt by the flames on your arm. "Sorry, that was inappropriate," she apologized, biting her lower lip nervously.
You scratched the back of your neck, a gesture she learned was something you did when you were a bit embarrassed. "No, it's okay, I just didn't expect it. Do you wanna see the rest?" you offered, that same smile she fell in love with once again gracing your face.
Tara scooted closer to you and nodded. You lifted up your sleeve and the dragons went up, almost to your shoulder, and there, between the dragons, she saw a heart, protected by the two dragons.
"Uh, my parents were born in the year of the dragon, so I feel like they watch over me no matter the distance between us," you explained, your expression softening as you thought of your parents. "Guess I got lucky with the year they were born in, I mean, can you imagine if they were born in the year of the rat?" you laughed.
Tara laughed right alongside you. Rats really wouldn't look nearly as cool as the dragons. "I think it's beautiful," she said as you stopped laughing and slowly reached toward it again. She bit her lower lip again, you hid it, maybe you didn't like it being touched.
"Go ahead, I only hide it because it's more convenient," you moved so you were closer to her, and Tara placed her hand on your knee as she leaned over and touched your arm. She started from your wrist, tracing the right dragon all the way to its' head, and then moved on to the left dragon.
Somehow, the tattoo, and the explanation made her fall in love with you even harder, and she glanced up to look you in the eyes. She wasn't sure where the sudden boldness came from, but she moved closer, parting her lips. And you understood, her gaze, her intention, not that she was trying to hide it. You closed the distance between the two of you, as her fingers stopped on the heart tattooed on your arm, and as her own heart pounded against her chest the two of you kissed.
It no longer matter that being this close only made the summer heat more unbearable.
This, kissing you, holding you, being held by you, that was all that mattered, and her heart soared, filled with happiness.
Softly, gently, filled with so much love and trust, her lips moved against your own, as the two of you got tangled up much like the dragons on your arm. And she felt safe, her body pressed against yours, her other arm hugging you tightly as you held her, pulling her closer. She never thought she could trust someone besides Sam, Chad and Mindy as much as she trusted you, that she could never be completely vulnerable; yet she was wrong, with you she didn’t need to keep her guard up. With you the horrors of Woodsboro and Ghostface didn’t haunt her.
You’ve given her what she wanted her entire life, love, acceptance, safety, and she would give it back to you with all of her heart.
A/N: a few people asked for a second part with a happier ending to reader and their success so i went ahead and gave them a really cool sexy talented gf as well (sophie thatcher). AND i have to say that when writing the first half of this i realized sophie and jenna actually met at the vanity fair party irl (same night reader and jenna did). so that means crazy lore added to this story. anyway, this was inspired by a vast amount of media i consumed while writing! pls do leave your thoughts i love to hear them!!!
synopsis: it could have been hers to keep, now it’s hers to remember.
read part one here
pairings: jenna ortega x reader, sophie thatcher x reader
genre: sweet beautiful angst (the kind that hurts in a good way). fluff.
warnings: reader has a new gf. no happy ending if you wanted reader to end up with jenna (sorry). heavy on the angst. it’s kinda whimsy tho. kind of la la land inspired.
WC: 3.6k
please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.
five months later.
it was two am when jenna’s car dropped her off at her rented london flat. the street was quiet except for the quiet hum of the car’s engine. she muttered a tired thank you to her driver before walking up the steps to her temporary home.
mechanically, as always, she dug for the keys in her bag, unlocked the door, and flicked a light on as soon as she entered.
she let out a sigh, but it wasn’t out of tiredness– though she should have been tired. her day had started at six a.m. and bled into the next morning. shooting, costume fittings, and rehearsals. and despite having a call time at ten a.m., she didn’t have it in her to call it a night.
instead, jenna felt the kind of restlessness that she’s grown used to when being oceans away from home.
she kicked off her boots into some corner, and threw her clothes into a pile of dirty laundry that lay next to her open, unpacked suitcases. she’d thrown on something more comfortable for the night before finally lying down on the bed that had belonged to her for the last five months.
the sheets were cool and too comfortable to remind her of her bed back home. she found herself staring at the ceiling above her, letting the quiet of a long day press into her skin, though for some reason it felt heavy on her chest.
jenna usually loved existing in the silence. especially on her own, but on a night like this, it felt a little self-pitying. she chopped it down to exhaustion and work.
maybe she was starting to feel the weight of not having room for anything else in her life, though she hated to stay on that thought for longer than she did.
she’d have to bring it up at her next therapy session.
jenna found herself scrolling through her phone. unanswered emails and texts flooded her notifications. she didn’t click on any of them, merely acknowledged them for later. then, against better judgment, she opened instagram.
she never liked it much. it was easy to feel out of control, especially once you started drowning your own noise in the approval from others. it felt like another performance to commit to. and if jenna were being completely honest, she didn’t have the patience to entertain it– especially not these days when every single one of her moves was scrutinized.
but it’d been one of those nights where she wasn’t interested in doing what was good for her.
she tapped mindlessly through people's stories. occasionally, she stopped when a friend posted something that caught her eye. but she stopped almost immediately when she landed on a story from the a24 official account.
jenna was frozen for a second before shooting up in bed. she adjusted herself to get a better look at the screen, squinting like she’d imagined the whole thing, but her eyes hadn’t deceived her when they recognized you on her phone.
there you were, a headshot of you, sharp and radiant, on the cover of a headline that read–
deadline exclusive: a24 in talks to produce and distribute the second directorial film of breakout filmmaker–
jenna’s jaw went slack.
she read the rest of the article, things about production dates, casting rumors, and the script synopsis. she skimmed through most of it, only really paying close attention to the words that were said about you. the article calling you a fresh perspective or indie cinema’s exciting new voice.
all words she had already known were true before the world did.
jenna let out a breath she didn’t know was being held back. a sense of pride washed over her. your name in bold, in a headline that many people wished to make it to.
she hadn’t meant to keep tabs on you as much as she did the last few months. really. but sometimes she’d find herself skimming her socials, maybe for a glimpse of you. it wasn't always premeditated, more like she happened to be on her phone, and you happened to be there as well.
she never directly interacted with anything. but she’d known that you were neck deep in writing and meetings the last few months, whether it be you posting a casual photo of a messy desk, a dozen cups of caffeine, or a simple scatter of opened notebooks and busy whiteboards.
your life online was all she had left of you. it was mostly empty noise to anyone else. but it’d become her kind of noise. her own little reminder that you were still out there, still being you.
she’d kept you on her phone for a reason.
but seeing the news now, of how you’ve just landed your own deal with one of the film industry’s most notorious production companies, she couldn’t help but be happy that you had pulled the whole thing off.
jenna let out a breathy laugh. “good for you,” she whispered into the quiet room.
her chest swelled. pride, of course. relief too. but even that heaviness she never wanted to admit to was there.
and like an active haywire, she’d scrolled over to your page, just to see if you posted the news. if you’ve already celebrated. she tapped into your stories, you reposted the same deadline article, gave your thanks to the people who believed in you. her smile widened. she tapped a few more times before she landed on your latest story.
then instantaneously her smile dropped. another repost, but this time from someone who seemed really close to you.
the girl had her arms wrapped around you from behind. towering over you slightly as you were seated. you looked mid-laugh, happy, lit up. all while this girl pressed a kiss to your cheek.
jenna felt like she knew her. the girl in the photo. then, recognition clicked after a moment. sophie thatcher.
jenna talked to her very briefly at the vanity fair party months ago. the same night she had met you. sophie had been kind that night. she introduced herself, and jenna could already tell she was the kind of person who was effortlessly cool. she congratulated her on her movie success with companion and heretic, thinking even then, sophie was a movie star in the making.
and now here she was. seeing her again. in a photo where she held you close, like you were meant to belong there.
the caption at the center only added more salt to the wound.
my genius, my girl. the world doesn't stand a chance.
jenna immediately shut her phone off and threw it to the side. like it had personally attacked her, even though she was the one responsible for her own demise.
she stared into the empty space on her sheets. blinking, thinking. the heels of her palms press into her eyes. and suddenly that ugly, inescapable feeling becomes impossible to ignore.
there is no other way to put it except that jenna had made a decision that, even now months later, she regrets.
her overconfidence, her ego, her pride, her work, her inability to make room for things that should matter; it’s all come back to haunt her.
she was the one who had ended it. she had no right to act like this. to feel envy for a version of her that doesn't even exist. but now she sees you here, while she’s an entire ocean away, and you’re living life, you’re moving on, and you’re happy.
you have someone who doesn't hide. who shows you off and is proud of it, unashamed and full of something jenna couldn't even begin to humor when she had you.
the worst part is that she isn’t even entirely mad. because jenna had told herself over and over that if she kept you, it wouldn't have worked. she let you go because she felt it wasn’t fair to bring you into her fast-paced, chaotic life. you were better off without her.
but if jenna were entirely honest, she wasn’t sure if she even believed half of that anymore. because maybe if she had been braver about it all, if she was willing to mold herself more, you would’ve stood a chance.
her hand twitched toward her phone. a reckless thought. something that whispered, text her. just once. say something.
but what could she say? i’m proud of you? i miss you? i’m sorry?
every word tasted empty in her mouth. hollow. too late.
you didn’t need her congratulations. you had the world now. you had sophie.
and jenna?
jenna had her walls. her choices. the job that she lets demand everything from her.
there’s no use in thinking of a what-if now. not when she was the first one to walk away and let you move on. not when she missed out on something real. something good. something that could have been kind and perfect and quiet, beyond all the noise in her life.
jenna had built these walls herself. and all of it had cost her, you. now the ache would be hers to carry.
eight months was a lot of time for change.
you threw yourself into constant work. you’d sit in your apartment for days working on rewrites, building a world that had only started as a note on your phone. it took a lot out of you—days where you only ran on three hours of sleep. where drafts of variations of your script were scattered across your bedroom floor. and a whiteboard that had you constantly adding sticky note after sticky note.
now, with enough caffeine to power a horse and multiple zoom calls with your agent, studio execs, and producers later, the script you’d been quietly nursing to life had found its home. a24 had picked up your script for production.
the idea had felt foreign in your mind. it even looked like a hoax as the email sat open in your inbox. but it was real, very real.
your life was filled with the kind of chaos you’ve always dreamt of now. you were taking calls with the kinds of people you would see in rolling credits. and now you were sitting in meetings where people asked about your opinion, your choices, and your vision.
all those times where you thought this was just a hobby you’d grow out of, or wondered if anyone would ever take you seriously, collapsed underneath the weight of one single yes. you were finally finding your footing in a world that, ages ago, felt like something you could only admire from afar.
and in the middle of it all, you had also met sophie.
she came in like a very sudden fluke. you weren’t looking for anything. in fact, at the time, you were still trying to mend yourself back together over everything jenna wasn’t able to give you.
you were at a friend of a friend's birthday party, hosted in the backyard of a house in silver lake. she was sitting on the dewy grass, nursing a beer and a cigarette, as she sang along to someone strumming their guitar.
she’d caught your eye as soon as you spotted her. and you had seen a few of her projects enough to realize she played that one character in that one show you had obsessed over last spring. she was another actress, you had a type, you suppose.
sophie came up to you first that night. immediately clocking that you recognized her. and though she didn’t point it out, she did smile at you as if she was in on a joke only you two knew about.
you hadn’t felt funny in months, but that night was the first in a while since you laughed as hard as you did with sophie.
everything that happened afterward occurred organically and unintentionally. the way all things do when the universe decides it’s time for a person to fall into your orbit.
sophie’s presence didn’t demand much from you the way being around jenna did. it was a good thing. a refreshing thing. something you didn’t know you needed. she didn’t come with a set of rules or shadows that followed her every move, and she didn’t try to hide you away in her apartment.
you didn’t have to shrink yourself to fit into her world.
with sophie, there was never a moment of second-guessing around her. if she wanted to see you, all she did was ask. if she wanted to hold your hand out in public, then she would.
even if it’s still months fresh, everything with her felt different. you know it’s better. it didn’t hurt to be around her. she made you feel brave about wanting something more, she didn’t dangle the future in front of you just to give you hope.
it felt easy, the way she’d hold your hand, sit in your world for a bit, and let it be. sophie was teaching you that it didn't have to hurt to want something, that it could be easy and uncomplicated, and real.
and maybe sometimes you did find yourself staring at your ceiling, letting yourself remember jenna. it was hard not to when she was everywhere.
she was on billboards on your drive home, in interviews you sometimes stumbled upon, in industry chatter at events. her face was right there on the home page when you logged onto netflix.
you remember her. and you remember how it felt to want her. and how good it felt to hurt for her. because it did, in some masochistic way, you think of it as its own intimacy. a twisted proof that what you had with her mattered.
but in the end, hurting for her wasn’t enough. and the ache didn’t matter.
so if it wasn’t in the stars, then you didn’t want it either.
your script was getting turned into a movie. and there was a new hand to hold yours at night.
you’ve never been stronger.
jenna’s flight back to l.a. landed just after midnight. the air was thick, familiar, the way it always was when she came back from months away. she rolled her carry-on through the airport, through the swarm of flashing cameras at arrivals, through the automatic doors where her driver was waiting. by the time she reached her apartment, the city felt quiet underneath her.
it should have felt like homecoming. but instead, the air in her apartment felt stale, as if it had been holding its breath in her absence.
she stood in the doorway for a long moment, keys still in hand, staring at the place she had once loved. her stack of books by the window, the ones she never bothered to get a shelf for. the candles she likes to keep lit at night. everything that made her home a home. but tonight, it just reminded her of you.
the record player in the corner. you used to play music while she cooked, dancing barefoot in her kitchen. the balcony. you sat out there with a glass of wine, legs folded under you, reading drafts you swore you’d never let her peek at. the couch. the same one where you’d fallen asleep against her shoulder after a long day, where she had told herself she’d find the courage to say what you meant to her…and never did.
it all came rushing back, heavy and invasive. and jenna hated that she couldn’t even walk into her own space without the ghost of you making it feel crowded.
she unpacked her bags mechanically. hung up clothes she wouldn’t wear for weeks. lined up her scripts, call sheets, color-coded notes. work was the only thing she could stomach right now, and luckily, she was busier than ever.
across the city from her, you were in meetings of your own. casting decisions would have to be made in less than a week for you to reach the one-month deadline before production started.
one of your producers offered to send the script out to well-established names. said it would even push marketing to have already beloved actors attached to the movie.
“florence pugh? she’s already worked with us twice before,” one of your producers said.
another producer across from him jumps at his suggestion. “what about jenna ortega? maybe she’d like a bite.”
your pen paused mid-stroke on your journal. your head immediately shot up, but you played it cool as if you hadn’t heard the one name you didn’t want mentioned.
one of your producers confuses your silent panic with excitement. he grins, pressing on. “she’s bankable. great press. and already has a huge following that’s willing to watch whatever she’s in.”
the man across from him hums in agreement. your assistant across from you takes notes of the meeting. probably writing something down like,
possible cast: -florence pugh -traumatizing ex-situationship?
you laugh it off instead, brush off her name as coolly as you can. try not to show how much it affects you to hear her name brought up, even though you should be used to her in your world by now. jenna is everywhere, even if you don’t want her to be.
“she’s probably really stacked on jobs right now. and this character isn't exactly fit for her.” you lie straight through your teeth. even if you knew jenna would’ve made the role fit for her. you knew better than anyone that she could do it. she’d disappear into it and make it her own. just like she always did.
the meeting continues, and people throw out more names. a few land, some don’t. you’re just mostly glad you were able to avoid jenna again. at least for today.
but anyway, the days would move on. and you and jenna would both be pulled into your separate worlds of hollywood chaos.
you would come to learn how easy it was to get soaked in the excitement of work. of how easy it would become to let your job consume you.
sometimes in those moments, you’d remember jenna. you’d understand why she was so obsessed with what she did, how horrible it felt for her when she wasn’t doing what she loved most in the world. and how her work was just as much a part of her as her laugh or the way she made people feel seen.
you came to understand the feeling too well. how thrilling, and dangerous, and safe it could feel all at the same time. maybe that was all you had in common with her now.
jenna would still continue to be jenna. she’d fly off to whatever city work called her to next. get consumed and obsessed with whatever job she was doing. and then she’d find something greater to do afterward. an endless cycle of the only thing she knew how to do. the only thing that could never let her down.
you would still exist in the small, carefully structured margins of her life. and she’d hear about you through some headline, a glance at her phone, or even a friend. she’d learn not to let it sting her so much anymore. instead, she’d smile, like remembering a dream she swore felt real.
but she’d always see you. in that small, nurtured, dark corner of her brain. where she remembers you as the girl who had kept her afloat in a world where no one actually knew her. where she remembers you as the gem that she had lucked out on, and no one else knew about.
sophie would continue to be the girl jenna never was. celebrating you in the photos shared online. holding your hand without fear of being watched, kissing you when it felt right. and always making space for you in her world.
in a few months, your movie would finish post-production. marketing would come in heavy, and there would be posters all across the city for the movie you created out of a small footnote in your brain. a final vision would come to life.
your movie would be well-received before it even came out. early screenings with critics would be revealed, and there’d be buzz about whatever thing you decided to do next.
jenna would see it all. how magnetic you had always been, even in the small ways. and a part of her would hate how easily the world seemed to recognize what she had kept hidden for so long.
the night before your premiere, a bouquet would show up at your front door. delivered quietly only by a man in a uniform.
you’d sign it off and watch him leave, carrying the carefully put-together arrangement inside.
it didn’t take much of a glance to recognize these weren't any kind of flowers. they were understated, but sleek. the kind you knew cost way more than what you would buy for yourself.
they were nice, and you could already imagine them being placed in a vase near your living room window.
you assumed the note attached had been from the production company until you opened it up and read it.
for all that you are, and all that you will be. i’m glad i knew you before the world did. - j
it was the most you had gotten from jenna in months, even if she sometimes showed up in quiet corners of your life.
you stared at it for a long moment. maybe longer than you should have. then tucked it away into your drawer. no one needed to know.
maybe her words had been a peace offering, her own way of a proper goodbye that she felt she owed you.
or proof that even now, after everything, you still found ways to haunt each other without meaning to.
either way, it was quiet, discreet as things between you had always been.
let’s have a moment of silence for losing a wonderful and talented writer, because of a fucker who’s fingers are sensitive for scrolling through the jenna ortega x reader tag.
I’ll miss you and your works @cobaltperun. I hope I can still read your fics.
Summary: in which… you and Wednesday dated last year but she broke up with you, not wanting you involved in the dangers of her investigation. This year, however, with her newfound popularity and a new danger looming over her head she has no choice but to turn to you.
Warnings: mentions of danger, insecurity and heartbreak. Angst (if you squint). Not a warning, however, I don’t know if angels can turn invisible but this one can! Wc: 852.
“I know you’re there.”
Is what you hear as soon as you land on the balcony of Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. How she knows you’re there? Beats you. You’re currently invisible to the human eye but apparently not to Wednesday's eye.
You shake off the enchantment that cloaks you and finally reveal yourself to her.
“Hm.” She hums in approval, while raking her dark cold eyes over your figure. You don’t know if she’s appreciating you or the fact that she was right. Both probably.
You retreat your wings into yourself but don’t leave your spot atop her balcony.
“Vision?” You inquire, indirectly asking her if that's how she could tell you were there in the first place. All too aware of her psychic ability and how powerful it can be.
“No.” She declares. “I could just… tell. Like a smell.”
“You cannot smell me.” You point out.
“I didn’t say I could. It was a comparison. I guess, a more accurate description would be a sixth sense.”
You hum in acknowledgement. Your eyes trained ahead on the buildings beneath the night sky.
“My father has it with my mother.” Wednesday continues, her unblinking gaze never leaving your figure.
Your heart skips a singular beat at that. The comparison she just made apparently meaningless to her, just another thing that came out of her mouth, like many others. To you, however, it’s a different story. Because right now, in this moment, something clicked in your brain. Because right now, you realise that she actually cared, she wouldn’t have compared the two of you to her parents otherwise, even if only in her own weird twisted way, even if she’s the one who ended things. Even if it tore you to shreds.
An uncomfortable silence settles between the both of you, Wednesday loves the uncomfortable, you not so much. You wonder if she’s enjoying this, if she’s getting some sick pleasure from it.
If she is, it’s apparently not enough, because she’s the one to break it. Squash it. Kill it. Like she did to your heart.
“I need you to do something for me.” She declares, voice cold, calculated. It wasn’t a request, it was an order something she just expected you to do.
And the worst part is… you probably will.
“Why would I do anything to help you?” You counter, you wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Because you’ve been showing up to this exact same spot every night since school started.”
Well, she’s not wrong. But that also means she’s been paying attention to your whereabouts.
“What do you need?” You finally concede.
“Thing.” She calls out.
You then see the pompous loose hand obediently passing through the tinted window, bringing outside a large painting with him and carefully setting it against the railing. He stops in his tracks once he sees you. He looked surprised, well as surprised as a hand can get, but he sent you a little wiggle with his fingers nonetheless, you waved back smiling softly, Wednesday then sent him a glare then sent him inside, honestly you miss him, you miss her.
You shake off the thought and decide to focus your eyes on the painting that thing so tirelessly brought outside.
The large canvas held a blind black crow with something red across its face. It was quite the eerie sight but relatively tame to Wednesday standards.
“What’s this?” You inquire, quietly. Eyeing the whole thing suspiciously. You know Wednesday didn’t paint this. So, who did?
“It doesn't concern you.” She snaps, but you could hear a hint of fear in her usual monotone voice. Or maybe that’s just your wishful thinking playing tricks on you, again.
“You just said you needed my help.”
“I did.” She sighs. Holding on to the railing, as if her next words are bound to leave her unsteady. “Just—” she starts. “If during one of your late night flights you happen to spot this bird, inform me…but steer clear of it… for your own safety.” She finishes, you can tell she’s holding her breath for some reason you can’t quite grasp.
So, you finally face her, a confused expression adorning your features while you wait for a more satisfying explanation other than ‘spot bird, bird dangerous, don’t touch it.’
But Wednesday doesn’t respond; she just retreats inside with no explanation, again. Just like she did last year when she broke up with you, like you're not worth an explanation, like you're incapable of keeping up with her, like you're somehow beneath her.
You remain on that same spot frozen for a few more minutes. Stupidly hoping she’d come back. Give you an explanation, keep you in the loop, for once.
But she doesn’t, because Wednesday doesn’t change. She can’t.
So, you jump off the railing and take on the starry sky. With only your feathered wings and the shiny stars to keep you warm on such a cold, lonely, night. Hoping, against all odds, that your own feathers are enough to attract the ones of the bird she so desperately seeks.
A/N: just finished watching Wednesday and had this idea pop into my mind so I had to write it. That’s it, bye now.
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hii I have an idea for a Wednesday Addams x fem!reader fic! <3 Maybe Reader is like really into poetry, reading and stuff like that and has a BIG crush on Wednesday so she decided to leave little love notes in Wednesdays bag. Then Wednesday finds the notes and literally thinks it’s like a blackmail or something and starts investigating the „case“ and Enid’s like girl wtf but she knows exactly who wrote these notes and then Wednesday somehow gets to the bottom of it by doing crazy Wednesday stuff xD and then she confronts reader and reader confesses
I hope you can understand what I’m trying to say, English is not my first language!
A/N: I Feel Like I Rushed This. Please Tell Me If I Need To Fix Any Mistakes.
When you were younger your mother would leave little, “I Love You” notes in your fathers lunch box when she would make him his lunch in the morning for work.
That was the memory that crossed your mind when you started to write small poems for Wednesday. You had liked her for awhile now but you were to embarrassed to tell Wednesday anything and you knew Wednesday like a good mystery so you would cut up news papers and stick the letters of paper. Making small poems for Wednesday and sneaking them for her when you go and hang out with her. You thought it was a nice sweet gesture to help get your feelings out there. Maybe soon you will tell Wednesday your feelings but you’ll play stupid for now.
But what Wednesday took from all this wasn’t love it was death. She thought these were riddles to her death. As they would pop up anywhere and everywhere. She showed Enid her findings and Enid was weirded out too. She didn't know who could it be till she told you, she wanted to let you know as she knew about your crush on Wednesday. But she noticed the small blush on your cheeks and how you adverted your eyes when she mentioned the poems.
Enid now knew they were from you so to help you out she tried to let Wednesday see them from a different light.
Where every Wednesday goes a note would be there. Wednesday tried everything to piece all the poems together one way or another. But it all came to a head when Wednesday was going to your room to have your daily hangouts at the library. But before she knocked on your door she saw it, another poem.
She read it and stuffed it into her bag. That whole time you both were hanging out Wednesday would look around. How dare her stalker go after you, you had nothing to do with this.
That night she was dissecting every word of each poem she had gotten. “Wednesday theses poems seems harmless” “No they all have information I know personally but this one, this one has information that is between me and Y/n”.
“My stalker is getting closer. And the worse thing is I think they are going to target Y/n next" "Wednesday I don't think-", before Enid could say anything Wednesday was out the door.
You were outside the school waiting by the gates you and Wednesday would always meet there before sneaking off from school grounds. You were standing there waiting till you saw Wednesday run to you. "Y/n I think my stalker is going to kill you" "Stalker?-Oh- that's what Enid meant-wait Wednesday it was me" "You are my stalker?".
Wednesday was confused this whole week she thought she was being stalked. But you being her stalker she didn't really mind.
“Y/n. What does these poems mean?” “For someone as smart as you I thought you would figure it out”, you say almost laughing. “I wrote them for you because-“ “You what to black mail me, murder me,” “Because I want to be more than friends”.
Wednesday was a bit surprised taken a back looking everywhere but you. You noticed and your confidence went down a bit. “Did you not like them? Or feel the same way?”, you looked away from Wednesday too.
Wednesday looked at you and everything was finally setting in. Wednesday finally realized how you both have grown together, helped each other out, how she was worried someone would hurt you.
Wednesday Addams liked you.
The silence was too long for you so you started to back up a bit. “Sorry Wednesday I didn’t want to waste your time” “Why would you do all that?” “Huh?” “The poems, why write all these for me?”.
“I told you, I like you Wednesday Addams”, you and Wednesday both looked at each other and you smiled. “Y/n I’m not more than a friend material. I will put my needs before you” “Than let me be there to support you. I want to be your devoted slave, I want to worship and adore you” “I pity you. But are you sure you can handle me?” “Who else will”.
You and Wednesday both leaned into each other giving a nice slow kiss. Pulling back from each other Wednesday couldn’t help but stare at you. As much as she isn’t one for emotion especially happiness she loved seeing you smile. You reminded her of a lost puppy who’s looking for their owner. And your owner was Wednesday.
“How were you able to get pass me and put those notes everywhere” “A magician never reveals their secrets”. “Now think about the poems the first one Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe” “I wanted to hint my eternal love for you. We have a love so great not even demons and angels can separate us”.
You and Wednesday walked back to her dorm as you both spoke a bit. “So now that we are together I bet you wouldn’t like having those poems around-“ “No, I like that you kept me on my toes. The fact that you know how to keep me entertained shows you really do love me”.
“I have to make sure my dear is happy”, you said as you kissed Wednesdays hand. Wednesday went back inside her dorm having a surge of energy to write her novel again.
“So are you and Y/n you know” “Yes we are dating”. Enid squealed as she talking about how two are so cute together. But all Wednesday could think of was finally have Viper get with her love interest who was the killer all along.
So you do it again? Just kill yourself. You’re probably a pedophile too.
jokes on you, I already did that yet somehow survived🥳 also throwing 'pedophile' accusations to people while hiding your identity? i ain't one but you might be who knows? I'm 19 but how old r u? bet ur a grown ass adult 🧐
What happened with @cobaltperun is my fault. If only I had said these words before without giving up then she wouldn't have faced the bs she did now.
We write because we want readers to have their own little worlds to escape into. None of us get paid for this. We do it for you, we put in hours, days, months, just to give you something to smile about, to feel, to hold onto. And yet, we get hate just because we want our work to reach people across the whole fandom.
If our tagging bothers you so much, you could simply block us. You never had to go out of your way, waste your time, and send hate messages, ruining our day as well. @neoeleoo showed me a post where someone wrote a whole rant about how “annoying” it was that we use Jenna’s tag yet instead of just scrolling or blocking, they chose to pour energy into negativity that now I see might be the start of it all because I too received the hate message around that time. Is it really that awful that we want our stories to be read?
My works never reached much under just the Wednesday tags, especially since I started this account almost a year after S1 aired. Most of them barely hit 100 notes. So yes, I started tagging Jenna too and it helped. It gave me encouragement to keep writing for you all. Over time, I made friends with so many amazing writers and users like @cobaltperun @ortegalvr @whoops-all-jennas @blue-because-no-yellow people who also write to keep this fandom alive. This is what happens when big series like Wednesday S2 drops: authors come back, write fics, tag Jenna and her other characters too, because they want the fandom to thrive. They want to share. They want to create.
And yet some of you chose to tear that down. You sent anon hate. You pushed people away. You killed an author. We are all at fault here, @cobaltperun deserved better. I’m not someone who usually holds grudges. But I will never forgive myself and this community for what was done to her. She spent years keeping this fandom alive, only to be driven away with hate the moment new people showed up. She didn’t deserve that. None of us did.
You never know what someone is dealing with in their life. And yet, you chose to make it harder for them over something as trivial as tags. When I got hate before, I ignored it. But the last anon inbox was around the time I lost my best friend two years ago, and I was already carrying too much. So opening my inbox, hoping to see a reader’s request or a kind comment, only to find hate, did break my heart, made me give up.
But not this time. Cobalt stood up for us. She didn’t have to, but she did. She showed us that sometimes the better way is not silence, but standing together. I've seen the support I am getting in inbox from my readers, thank you so much for that. I am not giving up anymore.
There’s still time to be kind. Life has a way of teaching the lessons you refuse to learn. Don’t wait for it to be too late.
that rude anon. that person who hides behind a button to talk shit. Idk who you are but you sound unemployed than the authors who writes to pass their free time.
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