#Mister Sinclaire

[happycricketbox]

som bojack scribbles,

[cccovers]

Harley Quinn #40 (May 2018) cover by Amanda Conner and Alex Sinclair.

[captainfreelance1]

My favorite Prehistoric tv science program Ask Mister Lizard.

[nitpickrider]

Your grandfather was also the original Mr. Terrific, Roulette. Don't pretend you weren't brought here by your own bad choices.

[brionysea]

that quarry reveal, huh

[justdealingwithsomeissues]

Another PAD masterpiece... I swear he has more 5 star books than any other writer for me in the order...

[its-monster-mash]

Okay so I have a Bo fic in mind that I want to write SO bad even though I should be working on my original works instead shh

[king-of-the-underworld-hades]

Can you please do a Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair x Male Reader imagine? Where Reader is from a popular family of hybrids and tribrids, where Reader is a Vampire, a Witch and a Shapeshifter. And the three of them became roommates temporarily because there were no more available rooms for him in the boys' dormitory.

Tri-problem (Male)

Art by TanyaF2022 on X/Twitter.

You sigh as you feel the bumps of the road as the family chauffeur, Jack drives you to Nevermore Academy. You pull out your phone and start swiping on Instagram to see all your "friends" stories and whatnot. Rolling your eyes you start to block them all one by one. "Are you okay young sir?" Jack asks as he looks at you in the rearview mirror. "I told you to call me Y/N," you said annoyed. "But if you must know I'm just annoyed. Why am I being punished for something that my parents agree was the right action?" "Well, I doubt the school board was happy to hear you almost ended the life of your classmate," Jack said causing you to roll your eyes. "Please. No one would've missed him. He deserved it. He assaulted Normies to feed his ego. There is no excuse for that." "Yes, but you decided to, hex him, suck out almost two liters of his blood, and shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla to break both his arms," Jack said flatly. "And?" You said as if it wasn't a big deal. Jack just sighed.

"Well Mister L/N your father had informed me of your... predicament," Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore said as you sat across from her. "We have had your uniform custom made as your family requested but... I- uh..." she stumbled over her words causing you to raise an eyebrow. "We have no space in the boy's dormitory... and well... since you have no family in Jericho... I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the girls dormitory..." "You gotta be kidding me..."

She was indeed not kidding... here you were... standing in front of a dorm in Ophelia Hall... "Fuck my life..." You sigh and knock. Not like you had a choice all your stuff was there... "Enid. The door," you heard a flat cold muffled voice on the other side of the door "Coming~" you heard a second, sweeter warmer muffled voice. Soon the door was opened. "Hello...~ oh- I don't think I know you... have I seen around?" The girl asked her wide smile which showed off her sharp canines never faltering. She was about 5'2, had fair skin, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, blond hair with pink and blue tips, a pink sweater with white and maroon diamonds, a maroon skirt, and white thigh-high socks. You see that inside the dorm another girl was sitting at a desk writing in a typewriter. She had pale skin, black hair that was tied into two even braids, anthracite eyes, and a blank yet focused expression. She wore a pair of black boots, black jeans that went over the boots, a black shirt with white stripes that were slightly above her belly button, a black shirt with Ghostface on it that was the same length as the undershirt, a black vest, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. Before you were able to answer the blond girl's question, the ravenette turned and looked at you, her cold piercing gaze locked with your gaze as she spoke. "Y/N L/N. Correct?" Her voice was cold and monotone. "...Y-Yeah..." You mumble as the blonde's expression lit up. "You're our new roomie!" She exclaimed grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. Now inside you, we're able to see the room clearer. It was split in half, the spider web window was only halfway filled with color on, what you assume is the blonde's side, the other side had no color and was just normal glass with no tint. The blonde's side of the room was very colorful. Her bed frame was white and her blanket was splattered with multiple colors, her bed was on top of a puzzle-like rug with each piece being colored differently, ribbons were hanging from the ceiling, and a desk littered with notebooks, markers, pens, etc. A bean bag chair, posters, and so much more. The ravenette's side was the complete opposite. There was a lamp, a black cello, a black sheet music stand, a desk with a black typewriter, a black bed, and a black leather chair. All your stuff was neatly set in a corner of the room. The blonde let go of her hand as she looked at you her grin somehow wider. "My name is Enid Sinclair! I'm a Fur, AKA a werewolf! Nice to meet you roomie!" Enid said excitingly as she went to the ravenette and grabbed her cheeks making her look at you. "This is Wednesday Addams! She may look gloomy but she's a softie!" Enid exclaimed before Wednesday leaned away scowling. "...Nice to meet two..." You mumbled. "So~," Enid said as she leaned closer to you so close you could feel her breath on your face. "What are you? Fur, Scales, Fangs, Psychic, or something else?" She asked curiously. "Personal space Enid," Wednesday reprimanded her from her chair causing Enid to lean back pouting muttering "I was just asking..." under her breath. "I'm a tribrid... I'm part Vampire, Witch, and Shapeshifter," You explained as Wednesday stood from her typewriter. "Your family is known for that are they not?" Wednesday asked rhetorical. "Your family is known for giving birth to Hybrids and Tribrids," She said monotone with her cold expression. "Yeah... they are," you said as Wednesday nodded. "Weems had informed us of your... incident. Try to behave yourself," Wednesday said as she headed for the door. "Unpack and try not to make a mess of things," she said before leaving. "She always like that?" You ask. "Pretty much," replies Enid.

As the next two weeks passed you got accustomed to living with the two. You found out that Enid would try and snoop when you were on your phone or laptop to find something to put on her blog. When you caught her she blushed and turned away but after that day she would randomly ask to things, favorite color, would you rathers, song taste, etc. You got used to "Addams schedule," as Enid calls it. Basically when she did her writing when she wanted to be left alone, when she would leave for coffee, etc.

As time went on Wednesday had admitted she got used to your presence and even let you watch her write. Yoko, a fellow vampire and friend of Enid said that most Vamipres have a calming presence around them. Ironic. So since Wednesday hadn't really spent a prolonged time near vampires she was getting a heavy dose of it.

Enid on the other hand would paint your nails, do your hair, take you on friend dates, etc. You would talk to her about werewolf stuff, since you had cousins who were part werewolf you could relate in some aspects. After five months of living with the roommates, Weems came to visit.

"Hello girls, and Mr. L/N." "Yo," you did a two-finger salute from Enid's bed, your head in her lap as she dyed the tips of your hair. "I have news, one of the boys has moved out of his dorm as his parents found a suitable house in Jericho, so that means that Mr. L/N here will finally be moving to the boys' dorm. Fun!" Weems said with a smile but Enid stood up causing your head to fall onto the mattress. "What!? B-but he can't- I mean-," Enid stammered but Wednesday spoke I'm her usual monotone and cold tone. "What Enid is trying to say is we don't wish for Y/N's leave. He's been here for six months now. We have grown attached. So much so," Wednesday said as she stood from her desk and walked over to you, who had sat up. She cupped your face, causing you to raise an eyebrow, she then leaned down and kissed you softly. Her hands were cold to the touch. Her lips were soft and plush and tasted like coffee. Wednesday soon pulled away and looked at Weems. "We've started a polygamous relationship," She said as she looked at Enid who was blushing. Enid quickly walked over to you and kissed you as well. She was nervous, unlike Wednesday. Her lips were warm and soft. They also tasted like milk tea. Weems blinked a few times at this action. "W-well... this certainly complicated things..." she said as she looked at you. "I will... talk to your mother... see what she says about this...," She spoke before leaving. You were flustered and confused. The room was silent for a few seconds before Wednesday spoke. "I have him Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We share Sunday." "T-that works..." Enid mumbled. "The fuck just happened?" You ask as Wednesday rolls her eyes. "You just got two girlfriends."

[adalwolfgang]

POV: prank gone wrong (w/ the sinclairs)

(Name), talking to Lester : This is gonna be fun, watch me freak out Vincent.

*(Name) walks over to Vincent*

(Name): Honey?

Vincent: yeah?

(Name): I think we should try to have a baby.

Vincent: Okay.

*the room goes silent for a moment*

(Name): w- w- what’s that now?

Vincent: Okay, I’ve been thinking about it too and I..I think we’re ready.

(Name): Wha- Are you kidding me? You- you think we’re ready to have a baby, now?

Lester: oh, this is fun!

Bo, walking into the room: You’re ready to have a baby? My boys all grown up!

Vincent: you said you were ready too?

(Name): Yeah but I was just screwing with you t- to try and get your voice all high and weird like mine is now!

Vincent: but haven’t you wanted a kid forever?

(Name): okay just back off mister. Cause I am ready to have a baby. I just want Bo to be the father.

Bo, spitting out his beer: wHaT?! aRe yOu cRaZy?!

(Name): that’s it! Right there! That’s all I wanted!

[small-sinclair]

Hehehe I love you’re writing, here’s another request, angst with a happy ending

7. I told you that I fucking loved you and you stood there and laughed at me (angst prompt list)

9. “I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you.” (Fluff prompt list)

Reader confessed their love, Bo laughs (it’s out of disbelief reader doesn’t take it that way) reader leaves, Bo comes home in the evening, obviously dude sucks at his emotions and they argue and then Bo ends up word vomiting a love confession too, little kissy at the end :3

Ooooooo. This is a nice one! Had to think about this one for a moment, but I think I have something for this :3

Bo x grey reader

What a Fool

Tw: sfw, confused Bo, mention of future killings, mention of murder/using a person, lovely Bo at the end,

When you told Bo how you felt in the garage, he had to take a double take on you. He looked at you in a mixture of disbelief and... hurt? Why does his baby blue eyes look so hurt when you said you want to spend the rest of your life with him?

"Say that again, honey?" He asked, wiping his hands over his pants, oil stains on his face. He was working on a 2004 Jeep today, and the motor was giving him trouble. "I think the heat is gettin' to my head."

"I said," you take a breath, "I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." You felt butterflies fluttering around your stomach and head. The way the golden afternoon light touching his skin and his wrist made him look like a saint. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

The corner of his lips twitched as a goofy smile cracked. At first, you thought he was happy, but when he started laughing hard and held him stomach, your confidence fell. He looked at you, trying to keep a straight face, and laughed harder.

He wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, y/n--what? Did Lester put you up to this? Goodness me, darlin'. You're the funniest human alive." Bo turned back to the jeep. "What a joke."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You burst into tears, turning on your heels, and left the garage. You didn't mean to start crying, but a cry escaped your mouth as you ran out the garage, pushing Lester aside as he brought visitors to the station. Lester raised a brow at you then looked back at Bo, who was following you behind, confused as ever. The group--two girls and one guy--watched as you ran up the hill towards the house. You want to throw yourself on the closest thing like a Disney princess does in a moved when their love denies them. Is this what it feels like to be broken hearted?

One of the girls didn't stop watching you go until Bo said, "Don't mind 'em. They're actin' funny."

"I don't think they are, mister," the blonde said. "I've seen a broken hearted person, and that one," she thumbed over her shoulder, "just lost all of their love all at once."

The red head girl nodded. "Yeah, man. The hell did you do to them?"

Why don't you mind you own business? Bo wanted to snap, but he had to keep the good southern charm on. Maybe they won't do anything about it?

"It don't matter," Bo said, waving it off. "Y/n just said they love them."

Lester's eyes lit up like a puppy being given a bone. "Really? That's great!" He had the biggest smile on his face. "They were real nervous about it but I told 'em 'at y'all love 'em, too, Bo!"

Oh... no. "They weren't lyin'?"

Lester's not one for violence, but... "Wha did ya tell 'em, Bo?"

Bo's blood ran cold as he covered his mouth. Man, did he feel like a prick. "I thought they were jokin' an'--"

"Don't tell me you laughed at the poor thing!" The blonde said in disbelief. "Please say you didn't?"

"Yeah, I did." Why is Bo talking to the people he's going to kill? "I thought they were jokin' an' Les put 'em up to it!"

The man shook his head, clicking his tongue. "That's cold, brother."

"Ain't your brother," Bo snapped, pacing back to the counter then towards the group, covering his mouth. "Really fucked up 're."

"Yeah! Crashed and burned seems to sum it up," the red head said. She nodded at the door. "You should go after them and say your sorry."

The blonde nodded in agreement as she checked her phone. "Yeah, mister. If you go now, you can beat the rain." She then held up her phone. "Cause, like, it'll be cheesy as hell if your run through the rain to get to them."

Lester had to nod in agreement. "Yeah. Super cheesy."

Then the man held up a hand, asking, "But do you feel the same about them? Like, do you love them?" He shoved his hands back in his sweatshirt. "Because if you say it and not mean it, it'll be Oversvile for you."

"Brendon's right," the blonde girl said. "Because that could make this worse and you might lose a friend." She then looked at the red head and asked, "Remember Will did that, Macy?"

Macy, the red head, nodded. "He played me like a fucking room after that, Percy." She then looked at Bo. "You better figure it out, man."

Bo chewed the inside of his mouth as he placed his hands on his hips, thinking. What did he think of you? Sure, he would laugh with you, talk with you, sleep and hold you. Part of him wanted to kiss you when you dragged him outside to watch the fireflies dace over the wildflowers. The way you spun in the flowers as you tried to catch stars in your hand and held yourself so soft and gentle around them, your smile always warm. Cracking up laughing when Jonesy jumped up to lick your face made his heart swell like no other. Every time he was around you, he felt so calm and lighter. Bo's heart ached when you would curl up closer to him at night, hugging his wrists and scars with so much love. He hated when people looked at you wrong, and he hated when you were taken away from him just to talk to a group of people. When you fell down the spiral stairs and hurt your knee, he wanted to bend over backwards to make you stop crying. He hated to hear you cry, to see your sadness, to see your frown... He hated seeing you run out of the station, holding her face, crying. It felt like a bullet to the chest.

So, why did he laugh? What made him think that it was a joke?

Then it hit him: Trudy said it and never meant a word. The only love he's every felt was... was with you.

"Oh, shit," he said under his breath. "What did I do?" He then looked up at the group then at the door. He heard the soft rumbles of the thunder and flashes over the sky. Fuck the killings, fuck the group... he wanted you. Sweet, perfect, beautiful you.

Macy seemed to be reading his mind. She stepped aside, and held her arm out as a path to the door. "Well, get after it then!"

That was all he needed to hear. He hurried pass them and started up towards the house. The group be killed or not, it doesn't matter. You were in that damn house alone crying. What a fool he is! A damn fool! Here you were, in the shop, looking nice than normal, all dolled up for him, just for him, to ruin something that's been building up in his chest for weeks!

What a fool Bo Sinclair is.

*****************

"I'm an idiot, Vincent!" You sobbed in your pillow. He sat on the edge of your bed and rubbed your back. "A dumb, love, stupid-stupid idiot!"

You scared him when you slammed the door, causing him to drop his coffee mug of tea. It hurts seeing you cry, but it hurts more knowing your crying over his dumb twin. Vincent just wanted to hit Bo with the tow truck--

"Y/n?" Bo called from downstairs, closing the door. "Darlin'?"

"Go-go away!" You chocked out, yelling back down. "I-I don't wan-wanna talk to-to you!" You heard his boots coming up the steps as rain pattered against the glass. You hugged your pillow tighter as you cried.

When Bo saw this scene, his knees didn't feel right and he felt sick. He did this to you. He made you cry. Goods, he's like his father--

Vincent glared at Bo as he stood. His hands moved quickly. 'Talk to them. Y/n's hurt. Fix it.' He stops at the door then looks back at Bo. ‘Fix. It.’

Bo took a deep breath and nods as he brother past by him, his eyes lingering over your crying form. He took careful steps in your room and sat on the edge of the bed. He folded his hands as he listened to your tears. The hallow pit in his chest caved in faster as you flinched away from his hand touching your knee. He hated himself more. He hated himself more than anyone.

"Hey, darlin'," he hummed softly, his voice echoing inside his chest. "Wanna talk to ya."

"Why?" You sniffed. "What? You wanna laugh at me more?"

Those words were like daggers in his heart. "No, no, y/n-- I didn't mean to laugh."

You turned on your side and sat up. You brought your legs close to your chest. He brought his leg up on the bed and shook his head. "I told you that I fucking loved you," you wiped your face, "and you stood there and laughed at me, Bo."

Thunder rumbled against the roof. "I didn't mean to, honest."

Your eyes were so red and puffy that he didn't want to look at you. "What am I to you, Beauregard?"

"What do ya mean--"

"What. Am. I. To. You?" You didn't mean to sound tired or angry. You didn't mean to curl your fingers into a fist. "Tell me. What?" You used your arm as a tissue to wipe away the snot. "Do you see me as a play thing? Want me in-in the basement like the rest?"

He felt disgusted. "No, no!" The near thought of you strapped down in some place horrifying like that nearly broke him.

"Then what am I to you?" You snapped, making him jump at the suddenness. "Am I a joke? A dumb person you thought it'll be fun to play with?" Then something clicked and your mind didn't want to go there, but it did. Your body started to shake. "Are you waiting for the perfect moment to kill me?"

Lightning flashed over his eyes, his blood running cold. Your voice being defeated. Your heart breaking in his hands all because he laughed? Calling them a joke? You. Perfect you. Breaking for a damaged Bo. Why? Why are you doing this to him? His arms reached around you and pulled you into a tight embrace. He held your head against his chest, his hand covering the back of your head protectively. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest.

You struggled against his grip to wiggle free, but it felt so safe, so loving. Luckily, your struggling failed as you cried in his arms. He hushed you softly, kissing the top of your head.

"Wanna know wha' you are to me?" He whispered as rain pattered like bullets. "Yer my first thought every morn. My last thought every night. Yer the reason I git outta bed to mak' coffee. I-I fucking live to hear ya say 'good mornin' ' to me, and it drives me crazy when ya don't say it." He held your head up and cupped your cheek. You were looking up at his beautiful eyes. Those baby blues that made you hit the ground harder. "I thin' 'bout ya when I work on the cars. I thin' 'bout ya when I smoke, wonderin' if yer cooking or bakin'. Shit," he couldn't help but chuckle at thought, "I've said yer name out loud with my last name: Y/n Sinclair." He blushes. "An' it has a good rin' to it, yeah?" You found yourself nodding. He rested his head in your hair, smelling the flowery shampoo you used this morning. "I don't know what ya did to me, and I like it, y/n," he looks down at you. "I like ya a lot."

"So," you hiccuped. "You love me?"

"I love you doesn’t begin to express what I feel for you, darlin' y/n," he answered, laughing. There's a sparkle in his eyes when he asked, "Mind if I show you how much I love ya?"

You managed a nod as your cheeks flushed red.

He leaned down, brushing your lips gently with his rough thumb, and kisses you. His lips were cracked, but they felt like the softest pillows under you. The storm under your skin calmed when you pulled yourself closer, running your hands over his shirt sleeves, tugging him closer. He held your back up as he deepen the kiss. He took you in as if you were the last glass of cold water in July. His head spun as the thoughts of you twirling in the ran sent his mind a blaze, taking you as you were, putting his mama's ring on your finger to forever call you his.

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair," you breathed against his lips.

He smiled against your skin. "Say it again?"

"I love you, Beauregard Sinclair." And you would say it until your dying breath.

[heckcareoxytwit]

The wedding misadventures of Rick Jones and Marlo Chandler

As the wedding is about to begin, Hulk and Captain America are helping a very nervous Rick Jones into his tuxedo. While in another room, Marlo is being helped into her dress by Betty Ross and some other women. As she looks into the mirror, Marlo is frightened by the brief appearance of Mephisto reflected back at her. Before the ceremony, there were some surprising appearances such as Northstar who happens to be dating Hector (Hulk's friend from the Pantheon) as well as Rahne Sinclair, Guido Carosella and the unmasked version of ROM Space Knight.

As the wedding ceremony begins, the priest who looks like Peter David reads the book to the bride and groom when they are interrupted by the arrival of Drax the Destroyer. Everyone is surprised when Drax presents an invitation, even though he wasn't mailed one. Nonetheless, they have Drax sit next to Adam Warlock. Next, the wedding is interrupted by the supervillains - Wizard, Absorbing Man, Mister Hyde and the Living Laser. However, they have not come not as wedding crashers, but as attendees, as they too have invitations. In reality, the invitations got mixed up so they were given to the wrong people. The Hulk is about to start a fight with them anyway, however, Doc Samson convinces him to stand down. Rick Jones then agrees to allow the villains to stay for the ceremony. Things get even worse when Kree and Skrull ships arrive with more attendees. The special occasion does little to soften the relations between the two races. When one of the Kree tries to start a fight with Talos the Tamed, the Silver Surfer steps in to prevent the situation from escalating further.

Just before the ceremony is over, it is interrupted by a final surprise guest, Mephisto, who has come to claim Marlo's soul. However, he faces opposition from both the Silver Surfer and the Hulk. The Hulk resolves to handle the situation himself, and seeing a bright light in the sky, he admits his belief in the possibility of a higher power. This apparently gives the Hulk the strength to beat Mephisto back, forcing him into retreat. However, Mephisto gloats how this "defeat" is part of a much larger scheme to damn the Hulk. The wedding is quickly completed and Rick and Marlo are made man and wife. During the reception, Marlo is congratulated by the various guests including the surprising appearance of Death of the Endless, who has come to give Marlo a gift. Once Marlo accepts it, Death quickly leaves. Marlo isn't sure who the woman was, but she and Rick open the box and find a beautiful hairbrush inside.

Incredible Hulk #418, 1994

[mdshh]

Who is she?

Dimitri: I’ll send you a copy of documents on mail. Do you have any questions, miss Forks?

Destiny: I don’t. Thank you.

Dimitri: Then this is sorted out. Now I have a question: will I get a pleasure of having lunch in your company tomorrow afternoon?

Destiny: Oh. I… don’t have any plans for tomorrow.

Girl: Hey, honey! You ready to go?

Dimitri: Kim, I am with a client. But we just finished, I’ll be downstairs in few minutes.

Dimitri: Miss Forks, have a good evening.

Destiny: You too, mister Sinclair.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.15

Summary: Detention can't keep you down, but Yoko certainly wants to give you a piece of her mind. When you're finally free and you stand Wednesday up again, she decides to investigate and learns a bit more than she was prepared for.

Word Count: 6.0k Warnings: swearing, making out (so slightly suggestive themes), slight description of injuries Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn

Larissa was on the verge of separating you and Miss Addams to opposite ends of the room.

It was her own fault for having assumed you and Miss Addams, of all people, would have behaved in detention. You were naturally nothing but trouble, and Miss Addams had been stirring the pot ever since she had been accepted into Nevermore. Yes, you had gotten slightly better since admitting your feelings for Miss Addams, but she should have known better.

“Pass one more note,” Larissa said without looking up; she heard all movement in the room halt, “and you shall be separated.”

You groaned, and Larissa looked up in time to see you put the note on your desk and get back to your excessive late homework. You should have done them earlier, she thought, but she knew better. It was getting closer to your birthday; you wouldn’t be able to properly finish your work until it had passed.

She leaned back in her chair and watched you doodle aimlessly on your work. Thankfully it was your right arm that was stabilised; your handwriting would’ve been illegible if your left had been injured. Two weeks of stabilisation had done little for the cut under your eye or your broken nose, but at least you were almost cleared to have a little more mobility. Maybe you could finally sleep and ease the bags under your eyes.

“Principle Weems?” Mister Ottinger asked, drawing Larissa’s attention to him. “May I go take care of the hive?”

“Of course you may,” she said with a smile. “As a bonus, we will consider this your last day of detention.”

His face lit up as he gave a quick “thank you” and gathered his things. She had to admit, he was a sweet kid, she understood why you had gone to keep him safe in the woods. It did not excuse your recklessness, but she understood your intentions.

“Principle Weems.” She sighed. “May I go help with the bees?”

“No you may not,” she answered without hesitation.

“Oh come on,” you huffed, “I’m an integral part of the Hive Society.”

“You most certainly are not,” Larissa shot back once she saw the defiance in your eyes. “Besides, if anyone needs to serve out the entirety of their detention, it’s you.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you mumbled, but she saw the way your shoulder relaxed slightly.

“Since we’re on the topic,” Miss Sinclair voiced, “may I go too?”

“Yes you may,” she said with another smile and a pointed look at you. “We will consider this your last day as well.”

“See you later, Wednesday,” Miss Sinclair called out as she very quickly left the office.

And the delinquents were down to two. Of course it was the two most troublesome ones as well, Larissa shouldn’t have been surprised. Miss Addams would never dare to ask to leave early, and she would never give the option. But you, no, she wanted you to stay longer than necessary. You had been avoiding her since you had gotten back from Spring Break, and she was determined to find out why.

Paper rustled just enough to become suspicious. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as you handed Thing - she had long since gotten used to his presence around Nevermore - a folded piece of paper. He in turn crawled across the floor until hopping up on the desk and handing the paper to Miss Addams. The ghost of a smile appears on her lips as she reads it before writing one back, and the cycle continues.

“Miss Addams,” Larissa said once it hit 7 in the evening, “you are free to go.”

She didn’t say anything before grabbing her things and leaving. Your eyes followed her until the door closed and she was officially out of view. It almost made Larissa chuckle when you slunk further into your chair now that you were the only one left in the office.

“This isn’t fair,” you said, apparently feeling free enough to speak your mind now that everyone was gone.

“You were the one who put yourself in direct danger,” Larissa said, finally putting all of her work down to focus on you. “If anything, you should have gotten a worse punishment than simple detention.”

“If keeping someone safe gets me punished, then I’ll just mind my own business next time,” you threw back at her.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” It was difficult to see you this way; injured, frustrated, defiant. In pain. “Are you going to tell me what this recklessness is really about?”

You sighed, twirling the chewed up pencil between your fingers. A nervous habit that, truthfully, Larissa hadn’t seen you do in a few months. It brought a sharp pain to her chest as she watched your eyes focus on the pencil, eventually glazing over before you dropped it and it brought you back to the present.

“Marcus called a few weeks ago,” you said so softly, so tearfully. “He wants to cut Nicky off.”

Oh. Now that. That would explain things.

“He can’t just do that.” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked down at the papers in front of you. “He can’t. Nicky will wake up, he just needs a bit more time.”

“Darling-”

“-he promised.” A single look into Larissa’s eyes. “He promised, and Marcus can’t just do that.”

Larissa barely had time to rush to you before you leaned into her and held her with your one good arm. Tears soaked her blouse but she couldn’t care less. It wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to feel, and she wasn’t going to stop you for something as inconsequential as a wet blouse. No, she just held you tight, letting you cry.

It broke her heart, and there was nothing she could do about it. Deep down she knew this wouldn’t help you very much; you never allowed yourself to feel long enough to make a difference. But it was better than nothing, and she would be damned if she didn’t give you the space and comfort you so desperately needed.

Larissa held you until your cries turned into hiccups, and those hiccups turned into the occasional sniffle. Your fingers still kept their death grip on her blouse as you pulled her closer, and her own hands rubbed your back as gently as she could. The bandages under your shirt were still prominent, and she was doing her best not to touch the injured wing, but she didn’t stop until you finally pulled back.

Do you feel better, she thought, please talk to me. But she didn’t say anything to you at all. Not a single word as you wiped your nose with the sleeve of your sweater and let out a long, shaky breath. Another tear fell silently before being harshly wiped off with that same sleeve. Your bottom lip quivered.

“Am I done for tonight?” You asked in a shaky breath.

No, Larissa thought, we’re staying here until you feel better. There was no undoing the damage you were trying to process all on your own. She also knew, was painfully aware of the fact, that you wouldn’t talk to anyone about it. You wouldn’t let her know you were hurting, wouldn’t let her know how to help, wouldn’t agree to receiving help.

She had tried. Oh yes she had tried, time and time again, from the time you had first arrived to just this past year. No one had gotten through to you. You would let your tears fall for a minute before picking yourself back up, dusting yourself off, and going about your day with a smile.

“Yes,” Larissa said softly. She pushed a strand of hair out of your face and felt her heart ache when you leaned into her touch with a sigh. “You’re done for tonight.”

You pulled away and took a deep breath in before releasing it, and just like that you were back. With puffy red eyes and a tired smile, it was you.

“Is this my last day too?” You asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Larissa shook her head, “I might just add another week for the note passing.”

“Come on, Mama Weems, please?” You asked, sticking your bottom lip out to pout in the way you knew she couldn’t resist. Oh, you were using the big guns, and for a moment she considered letting you win.

But only for a moment.

“I will definitely add another week for the note passing,” she answered. Your pout immediately turned into a frown and a huff.

“Worth a try,” you mumbled, followed immediately by another sniffle.

At this rate, you would be in detention for the rest of your life.

—---

You had only a few days left of detention, but Yoko was convinced she was going to murder you before then. She was already mad at you for luring Enid out during a full moon, but now you were just getting on her nerves. If she didn’t love you so much, she would’ve beat you to death a few weeks ago.

“I told you it wasn’t her fault,” Enid said when Yoko let out a loud sigh as Thing brought another note to Wednesday.

“She says otherwise and I believe her,” Yoko said simply. “She’s an idiot, but she’s not stupid.”

“She’s both,” Wednesday said from across the room. She was writing her own note that she handed to Thing, who grabbed it and left out the door once again.

“Then she’s a stupid idiot who could have gotten you all killed,” Yoko finished with another sigh.

She loved you, she did. If put in the same position, she would kill and die for you. There was no denying you were probably her closest friend, her greatest confidant, her partner in crime. Through thick and thin, she would defend you with her life. Hold you when you needed that small bit of comfort, remind you that everything would be okay. She loved you.

But if you ever put her girlfriend in any sort of risk again, she was going to kill you. Yoko knew you had a lot going on, especially right now, she understood. And she most definitely understood how reckless you could get when you were stuck in your own head. If that’s what you needed then she would let you do it and help patch you up afterwards (before Wednesday came along, at least).

She drew the line at you risking other peoples’ well being. Whether it was Enid, Wednesday, Xavier, anyone, she didn’t care. Some lines had to be drawn and shouldn’t be crossed, and this was one of them. There was no doubt in her mind that you hadn’t intended to get anyone hurt, but intention didn’t matter when the outcome could have been so very horrific.

“Give her a break,” Divina said softly. “She’s been stuck with Weems for nearly a month, I think that’s punishment enough.”

Yoko supposed that was true. Not that you didn’t love Weems, but you certainly didn’t love detention. Which was funny considering how often you were in it. And when Thing marched into the room with another note, Yoko realised that yeah, maybe it was a decent punishment.

“Is she surviving?” Enid called out to Wednesday as she read the note.

“She says, and I quote,” Wednesday started, “I’m starving, bored, and Weems won’t quit fussing over my shoulder.”

“Oh poor thing,” Yoko taunted. Divina elbowed her in the side.

“Behave,” she whispered.

“Maybe we should sneak her some snacks,” Enid chimed in, far too cheery. “She’s been in there for ages.”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Yoko said quickly, “otherwise we will get detention. Again.”

Thing tapped on Wednesday’s desk and started doing his weird faux sign language thing. Yoko still had yet to understand what he was saying, but Enid and Wednesday just nodded along. Thankfully Divina wasn’t even attempting to pay attention either. Made her feel a little less out of the loop.

“Won’t that get her in more trouble?” Enid asked. Thing signed again.

“Fine,” Wednesday huffed. She leaned over and pulled something out of her desk drawer and handed it to him. “This should suffice for now.” He scuffled off quickly.

“Since when do you keep protein bars in your desk?” Enid asked, thankfully just as confused as Yoko and Divina were.

“Since I discovered our little bird gets extremely agitated when hungry,” Wednesday explained with a shrug as she turned back to her desk.

Ah, there was that hint of softness Enid had told them about. Just that tiny bit of consideration Wednesday had for almost exclusively you. If she didn’t think the goth girl would’ve killed her, she would’ve laughed. Laughed aloud at how you of all people had wormed your way into her cold heart. Leave it to you to break down those walls, huh?

On second thought, maybe you being with Wednesday was punishment enough for the rest of your life. She would certainly keep you in line.

—---

For one reason or another, you were becoming particularly adept at driving Wednesday to the edge of insanity. The worst part of it all? It wasn’t even on purpose. There was just something in your genetic code that gave you the natural talent of dancing on her last nerve.

You had been granted your freedom from detention two days ago, on a Thursday of all days. That same night you had come by her dorm, asking her to finally go to coffee on Saturday morning. Of course she had agreed, though maybe with a bit too much enthusiasm, and you had smiled that nauseatingly attractive smile before running off; heaven forbid you got caught after curfew and had your detention extended. Again.

But now it was well past noon and you were still nowhere to be found. Wednesday had waited a reasonable time (until 10am, to be exact) before searching. She had checked your dorm first, knowing that you had been guilty of sleeping in far more often nowadays. Then the library, the greenhouse, the hives, and even Ajax’s dorm. No one had seen you.

“Check her climbing gym,” Yoko said when she passed Wednesday in the quad. “It’s where she hides away when she’s upset.”

Upset? Why would you be upset? You had just gotten out of detention, surely that would have been a good thing. There had been plenty of excitement in your voice when you had asked her to coffee. Had something happened?

She could feel her heart in her throat as she quickly made her way to your gym. Her brain was filled with ceaseless theories of what had caused you to be so upset. Was it her? Had she done something to upset you? The leaves and sticks on the ground cracked underneath her shoes as she got closer.

Muffled music could be heard echoing in the forest before Wednesday could even see the building. It increased in volume as she got nearer and nearly deafened her when she opened the doors. Some horrific sort of music, far too loud and screaming and heavy on the drums. An assault on her ears, is what it truly was.

And in the midst of it all, you were nowhere to be found. But your presence, she noted, was scattered around the room in various ways. It was found in the boots and uniform pieces that were tossed haphazardly near the doors. Or the numerous thermoses sitting on the table closest to what you had called the “challenge wall.” And, most obviously, it was in the music that was continuing to blare so loud Wednesday felt she would go deaf before the day was up.

You’re here somewhere, Wednesday thought, her own feet carrying her through the gym. Under the arches, in the makeshift caves, everywhere you could possibly be. She found your harness at the base of one of the formations but that was all. There was nothing, not the slightest hint of where you could be-

-there. A shadow on the ground.

Wednesday stepped out of the makeshift cave just enough to see you sitting at the top, your legs dangling off the side. She knew the nurse had given you a bit of freedom to move around, but there was no way you had been cleared to climb or fly. How had you even gotten up there?

There was only a split second of hesitation before Wednesday bent down to unlace her own shoes. Then her jacket until she was left in just her pants and sweater. She paced around to find the easiest path up to where you were and braced herself. I can do this, she thought as she grabbed the first hold and started making her way up.

It took her far longer than she would ever openly admit. The holds were rough on her bare feet and she could feel the cramping starting in her calves and forearms. She purposefully ignored the stinging in her hands. If she focused on the music then it was easier to keep going. Maybe that was why you had it so loud.

Every muscle in her body ached by the time she pulled herself up onto the top of the structure. Her feet, her hands, her back, everything. It didn’t help that now she was out of breath and a little bit dizzy. Adrenaline had certainly kept her going, but now that it was wearing off she felt a crash coming on.

Now that she was atop the structure, she trudged to where you were sitting. Your wings drooped pathetically, the right one looking a little stiff. With no shirt in the way she could see the shine of scars littering your back. The wounds from the attack were almost healed but there was still a bit of scabbing left.

Just from the hunch of your shoulders, you looked… sad.

You flinched when she put her hand on your shoulder. If she had thought you could hear her, she would’ve called out to you. For a moment she was worried you were going to fall off the edge when you spun around. Your eyes went wide when you saw her.

The music drowned out whatever you were trying to say. Sure, your mouth was moving, but the only thing Wednesday could hear was the deep bass of whatever new song had just come on. You rolled your eyes and shook your head before pushing her to sit down and holding your hand out to her.

Stay. She knew that one.

Almost immediately after Wednesday nodded once, you slipped over the edge and disappeared. She hoped you had climbed down, but she knew not to expect too much from you. The music fell to little more than a thrum that settled into the base of her skull. It was only another minute or two later before your head popped back up and you pulled yourself onto the top.

With one hand, Wednesday didn’t fail to notice.

You let a bag roll off your shoulder onto the structure in front of her. The clang echoed through the now-quiet gym, reaching her ears again by the time you sat down. What usual gentleness was in your hands was gone as you reached over and pulled her hands closer, inspecting the new wounds she had received on the climb to the top.

“You shouldn’t have come up this high without help,” you said as you let her hands go. “What are you even doing here?”

The bite in your words didn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s Saturday,” Wednesday said.

“So?” You were digging in the bag for something, completely focused. Or possibly avoiding her eyes. Either was a very real possibility.

“We were going to get coffee.”

Every muscle in your body tensed up and your jaw clenched impossibly tight as your hands stopped moving in the bag. An almost inaudible exhale through your nose while your eyes slipped shut. Wednesday had seen you with that look only a handful of times. It was more often than not accompanied by guilt.

“Shit,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut even tighter.

As your eyes opened and Wednesday noticed the slightest shimmer of tears, she felt lost. She didn’t know what to say to you. It wasn’t like she could tell you otherwise, you had missed coffee with her. Intentionally? Most likely not, though that didn’t change the fact. But she hadn’t expected you to react this way.

“Fucked up again,” you mumbled around a humourless chuckle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You don’t have to, Wednesday thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. Her mouth wouldn’t form any words as she watched with bated breath as you started moving again. The muscles in your shoulders were still tense, but at least you were moving around.

“Come here.”

A disgusting little squeak fell from her lips as you grabbed her by the arms and pulled until she was sitting in your lap. Your lap. Her back was pressed against your chest and your arms wrapped around her to mess with her hands and your breath was fanning across her neck. Instinct told her to pull her hands back to her lap; you stopped her.

“Quit moving,” you said softly as your arms tightened around her, “I need to clean them or they’ll get infected.”

Wednesday watched your movements as you started cleaning the new raw spots on her hands. If you hadn’t pointed them out, she never would have noticed. Well, surely she would have known eventually, but you had picked up on it immediately. The alcohol wipe you used stung, but Wednesday refused to let you see her wince. You cleaned and started bandaging them as if you had done it a million times before.

“You know what you’re doing,” Wednesday said when you effortlessly taped one of her fingers.

“My brother taught me,” you said, your face now leaning over her shoulder to get a better look. “Used to tear my hands up all the time.” Delicate fingers wrapped tape on another wound. “Eventually he got tired of patching me up and taught me how to do it instead.”

“Which one?” Wednesday asked, recalling all the names she had seen on the paper in her novel.

“Nicky,” you said; she felt your chin rest on her shoulder. “He’s my big brother.”

Ah. Wednesday had heard others mention that name before, and now she could at least figure out the relation. She wanted to ask you more, find out who he was, if he had gone to Nevermore. But judging by the slightest shake of your chin, she kept her mouth shut.

“He taught you well,” was what she said instead when you finished wrapping the last of her wounds. Her hands looked like a mummy’s with all the tape and bandaging.

“He was actually pretty shit at it,” you said quickly with what almost sounded like a small laugh. “Couldn’t clean worth a damn.”

Wednesday could feel you pull her closer, your wings moving into her peripheral almost as if to keep you cocooned. Your hands rested palm up, and she couldn’t help but place her own hands on top of them. Slowly, your fingers linked through hers until you were holding her hands. Snug, but not too tight. Comfortable.

Just ask.

“Yoko said you were upset,” Wednesday said. You squeezed her hands.

“Yoko needs to mind her own fucking business,” you said with what was akin to a growl.

“Are you?” She asked anyway. You shifted underneath her before holding her closer once again. Your wings continued to encroach upon her peripheral.

“Yes,” you said so softly she could barely hear it. “I am.”

Wednesday wracked her brain trying to think of what else to say. She had talked with Enid numerous times to work on keeping up this kind of communication, but that didn’t mean she was adept at it just yet. What would Enid say?

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked. That was the proper response. Right?

“Not today,” you said. "I'd rather be distracted."

How could you not already be distracted in such a giant building? Your music was still in the background, you had hundreds of feet of climbing walls, and you had that obnoxious phone of yours sitting off to the side. What else could you possibly need to be-

-she froze when she felt your lips brush against the skin behind her ear.

"Relax, Addams," you chuckled, your breath tickling her neck, "I don’t plan on defiling you in a gym." That was not what she was concerned with. "But I do have a question for you."

You were really going to ask her a question while you littered the softest of kisses behind her ear? When your hands were pulling her closer until she could feel your heart racing against her back? When you could undoubtedly feel her erratic pulse underneath your lips? Now was the time to ask a question?

She nodded once for you to continue anyway.

"Be my girlfriend." Odd, that didn't sound like a question. No, it sounded like a statement.

A rather bold statement that created a fog in Wednesday's brain that she couldn't clear. You wanted her to be your girlfriend? It was preposterous, really. More than once she had let you know she wasn't relationship material. If anything, she was barely even friend material, she was only going to hurt you or use you for her own personal gain.

But as your lips trailed kisses down to the back of her neck, she started to reconsider. After all, you had stuck with her for this long, hadn't you? Through all of her attempts to push you away, her insistence that you were merely acquaintances, her poor excuses to be near you. Her family had taken a shine to you, you had defended her brother, and you had done everything she asked without question.

She shifted in your lap, turning herself around until she could put her legs on either side of your hips. Even sitting you were significantly taller. Looking down at her with slightly puffy red eyes, blown pupils, and a soft smile. Your hands felt so incredibly warm on her waist.

In this moment, you were vulnerable. Vulnerable in that you were still recovering from injuries that still clearly pained you. Vulnerable in the fact she could feel the bare skin of your stomach under her fingers. Vulnerable in that all she had to do was tell you "no," and your entire world would come crashing down.

Against all odds, you were baring yourself to possible devastation.

She had an idea.

"No," Wednesday said.

"I knew- what?" You asked, your cocky grin instantly dropping. "No?"

"No," she repeated. Your stomach tensed underneath her fingers.

"Wha- why not?" You asked; pouted, essentially. It was almost adorable.

"I have standards," Wednesday said, doing her best not to laugh as your mouth fell open in indignation.

"Don't be fucking rude-"

"-ask me again when we're not in your disgusting gym," she interrupted, and the offended look on your face turned to confusion, then understanding.

"Then will you say yes?" You asked with furrowed brows.

“Ask me later and find out,” Wednesday told you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

But she noticed the way your eyes then fell to her lips; the way your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip. She was becoming particularly skilled in knowing when you wanted something. No, scratch that, when you wanted something particular. And in that moment, with your soft skin under her fingers and your slightly parted lips, who was she to deny you?

Your fingers gripped her tightly when she leaned up to kiss you. Somehow your body always tensed up for the smallest moment before relaxing completely under her touch. She could feel your hands pull her closer, trying to eliminate whatever space was left between you; not that there was much to begin with.

In a surprise twist, your lips aren’t chapped today. No, they’re much softer even though you’re kissing her as if your life depends on it. They even taste different; unlike the usual sour taste from your energy drinks, you taste sweet. Fruity. And when she dares to lick your bottom lip, the specific taste hits her; cherry.

Her fingers scratch lightly against your stomach and she can’t help but smile when you inhale sharply through your nose. She can feel your own smile against her lips before you lean down to deepen the kiss. Oh, the reactions she could get out of you if she only dared to try.

“You’re a dick,” you mumble against her lips before pulling away.

In a shameful twist of fate, Wednesday was the one leaning forward to kiss you one more time. But you pull further away and she’s left there in your lap with a smile that, for the life of her, she can’t get rid of. How had you turned her so soft? She felt like nothing more than a fool, falling deeper into the trap that you had unwittingly dug for her.

You, with your kiss swollen lips and wings that were now completely encompassing the both of you as if to create a safe haven that only you knew about. For a moment, Wednesday reconsidered telling you no. In this position, in this very point in time, she wanted nothing more than to tell you yes. Yes, she would allow you to call her yours and vice versa.

She leaned forward again, trying to recapture your lips but your hands pushed down on her hips until she couldn’t move. With a furrow of her brows, she locked eyes with you. Those blown pupils of yours had gone back to normal and were now replaced by the slightest little crinkle that made Wednesday’s stomach flip.

“I only kiss my girlfriend,” you said with a shrug and the tiniest shake of your head. “And you’re not her.”

“What?”

With an ease that would normally get her heart racing, you pushed Wednesday until she was off your lap and you could stand up. From her position on the ground she looked up at you like some kind of worshiper at the feet of her god. You looked far too smug about it.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Addams,” you said.

She watched in absolute shock as you winked at her before starting your climb back down to the ground. You were really going to just leave her there? On top of the structure that took her far too long to get up on? Now you were going to expect her to climb down all on her own? No, that wasn’t acceptable.

“You’re going to regret this,” Wednesday called over the ledge. You were already halfway down.

“No, I don’t think I will,” you replied with a smile.

If she ever managed to get down, she was going to kill you.

The next two weeks were insufferable. Even after her threat that you would regret things, she was being proven wrong time and time again. No, you weren’t regretting a single thing. She was the one with the regrets.

It had started at lunch on Monday, and you hadn’t brought the two mugs of coffee that you usually carried with you. There was only the one chipped mug that you kept with you at all times. Wednesday knew there were times you would just share with her, so she did what she usually did on those days; she reached over to take a drink.

And you slapped her hand away.

“I only share coffee with my girlfriend,” you said with a raised brow and a smile hidden behind the mug. Everyone else at the table looked at you both in complete shock but wisely kept their mouths shut.

That was all it took for Wednesday to learn what game you were playing, and she was not happy about it. The nerve, the audacity you had to pull this type of nonsense. She shouldn’t have been surprised, you were known for making plenty of bad decisions in your life, but you had yet to make them where she was involved. Well, she supposed that wasn’t true, you made plenty of poor decisions where she was involved.

And you continued to make them over the next two weeks.

“Sorry, I only shoot things when my girlfriend is around,” you said with a shrug when Wednesday asked if you wanted to go to the archery range.

“Can’t, only my girlfriend knows how to teach me math,” you retorted when Wednesday pointed out you had missed tutoring.

“I’d love to, but I only really let my girlfriend in my room, sorry,” you said when Wednesday attempted to meet up with you in your dorm to talk about a project.

“I only give my girlfriend the other half of my snacks,” you told her with a frown while you handed a piece of your orange to Yoko. Who proceeded to then not take the orange slice when she saw the death glare Wednesday sent her way.

Each time you told her no, you would have to turn your head to hide a smile. Everyone knew you were smiling, everyone - even Wednesday - could see it and could see the shake of your shoulders in silent laughter before you quickly excused yourself. It was infuriating that you were getting so much joy out of this preposterous situation.

She knew what you were doing. It wouldn’t work. Wednesday would rather be cut down before becoming something great than let you win such a ridiculous little game that you had started. There was no way in hell she was going to let you win. Pride be damned, now this was personal.

“Sorry, I can’t talk, I’m waiting for my girlfriend,” you said when you saw Wednesday standing at the door to your room.

She pushed against your chest until you were both in your room and she could shut the door behind her. Now that you were (mostly) officially cleared, your nest had gone back to normal and your things were as chaotically organised as ever. There were a few new shiny things on the shelf, but it was normal. It was you.

“Do you make it a habit of barging into someone’s room when you know they have a girlfriend?” You asked.

Your incessant, obsessive, intolerable overuse of the word “girlfriend” was starting to grate on Wednesday’s nerves. She understood, she got your point. But as you smirked down at her with those eyes that were sparkling with mischief…

Oh, fuck it.

“It’s pretty ru-” you came to a full stop when Wednesday pushed against your chest again and you fell backwards onto your nest.

Your mouth snapped shut when she walked over and climbed on top of you, her knees on either side of your hips. That mischief in your eyes was long gone, now dulled into something comparable to hunger. But your smirk grew when your eyes trailed down her body and back up.

There was that vulnerability again; you were splayed out before her, underneath her, and it gave Wednesday a sense of power. Sitting there on top of you, she held your heart in her hands. She knew you were smiling, but she could feel how tense you were. It was understandable; her own heart was racing at the aspect and that familiar nausea was settling in her stomach.

And then you opened your mouth to speak.

Oh no, Wednesday thought, not this time. She reached out to firmly grip your jaw, holding your face still and stopping you from saying whatever nonsense you were planning. You had talked plenty over the past two weeks, it was her turn.

“I will be your girlfriend,” Wednesday said. There was no room for debate.

“Knew you would cave-”

“-just shut up.”

She didn’t give you a chance to keep the bickering going. Instead just falling forward until she could kiss you, her hand still keeping your face still. Your warm hands rested on her hip and the back of her head, pulling her closer as you let out a dreamy sigh.

Maybe she was okay with letting you win. Just this once.

[wednesdayorwhatever]

Weems, teaching Wednesday how to drive: Okay, now, you’re driving and Miss Sinclair and Mister Thorpe walk onto the road. What do you hit, Miss Addams?

Wednesday: Xavier, obviously. I wouldn’t want to hit Enid.

Weems:

Weems: The brakes, Miss Addams. You hit the brakes.

[ornii]

“Bitterly Beautiful”

Wednesday Addams X Blind Male Reader. Part (1)

• This was a Story i posted on my Wattpad and decided to post it here, also thanks for reading it btw. I decided to use tumblr and well here I am.

Nevermore Academy, founded in 1791, to house and Teach the most, unique, individuals. Some were Vampires, Werewolves, and some even the most otherworldly beings, but there even existed monsters from beyond the bounds of reality. That could not be any more true than the boy who awakens in his dormitory room, he keeps his eyes closed but sits up with a weary yawn. He, without much issue gets dressed in the classic Nevermore uniform, the grimly striped blazer with shirt, tie and sweater combination of black sleek pants. After putting a pair of dark oval glasses on, he turns left and grabs a cane, a very antique design with a steel crow embodied design for the handle. He twirls it and walks to the door and leaves for the morning.

The boy enters a large courtyard, where the sounds of students bellowing, talking, howling, fill his ears. He places a tea cup on the stone table as he walks and sits down upon a stone seat and towards the table. He felt dust brush up against his skin, mostly his face. Not being able to use your eyes has its major disadvantages, but it also provides small bonuses. One was the much more heightened senses of Smell, touch, hearing and taste. Since the lack of eyesight was prominent. The other senses had to work harder to compensate for the loss, so even the slightest brush of wind picking up, he could notice. He removes his glasses and begins to wipe them off, but it was interrupted by a pair of oddly soft hands covering his face, which really does little to stop him.

"Guess Who~" The Mysterious and Cheerful voice asked under a muffled giggle. The boy stopped wiping his glasses and just smiled.

"Enid.. you know that doesn't work, right?" He said, and she lets go, and sits next to him.

"I know, but I didn't want to cover your ears, you couldn't hear me then (Y/n)." She says smiling, this was Enid Sinclair, a Werewolf and overall pretty amazing girl. They met during his first tenure at Nevermore and sort of, Clicked, not intentionally of course. She had her bright bubbly attitude which melted down his more cold and indifferent attitude towards everything and everyone, and now (Y/n) "Views" life in a more, honest fashion. He smiles hearing her voice, and tilts his head slightly to her direction.

"Well, what's new? You're pretty exited.." He asks and he notices her heartbeat is faster than average, and he can just hear the gleaming in her voice.

"I should and called you about it but let me give you the deets, I'm getting a roomie!" She says, and he smiles in response.

"That's great, is someone changing dorms?"

"No, she's transferring from another school, Wednesday Addams! I did. my research and she got expelled from her last school." Enid casually explains, and (Y/n) takes a sip of his Assam black tea, before listening to more of Enids explanation

"Yeah she tossed piranhas into the school pool and a boy lost a testicle." She flatly said which causes (Y/n) to cough up his Tea hearing that.

"E-Enid, are you... sure You want someone like that to Room with you? I think Principal Weems would understand you wanting a transfer."

"What? No! We're going to be the best of friends! I can already picture it! Doing each others hair, nails, talking about all the gossip at Nevermore, the Boys~" Enid was too much in a euphoric mood to listen to reason, (Y/n) simply nodded and acted happy for her, subconsciously worried for her health.

"Well, I hope you have fun then." He said, before the Principal Weems spoke up from behind them.

"Miss Sinclair." She said with this gaudy and proper tone, Enid quickly turns around, and smiles.

"Please, allow me to bring you up to your new Roommate, good morning also to you Mister Healy." She said, turning her attention towards (Y/n), who gives a solemn bow to principal Weems.

"Good Morning Principal." He replies, "Could I ask you what time it is?" He said, and she checks her watch.

"Nearing Seven."

"Ah, well I should get to feeding the crows then." He said, Enid and (Y/n) stand up and she waves him goodbye as she walks off with the Principal, he gives her a small wave back before walking away. He, without much issue, walks over to what seems to look like a Bin, he digs into it and takes out a bag, opening it, was full of an assortment of seeds. He tosses the bag as it opens and spills the seeds, he grabs a handful, and with the other arm, he taps his Cane on the ground twice. The Caws echo from the dead trees outside the Academy. They soar like a platoon of airmen. They land and peck, eating the seeds hungrily.

"You all seem eager, good." He says, and one flies up and lands on his arm. He smiles, it's caw echoes like music to his ears. He soon felt the crow fly off his arms desperately, all the crows fly away as if they're trying to avoid something. He feels a pair of footsteps approach. He acts oblivious until Enids voice comes though like music.

"And this, is (Y/n) Hearly. (Y/n), this is Wednesday Addams." Enid said, he turns around to sense a, dark presence, the sound waves echo and it forms a decent image of the woman standing next to Enid, the aura about her was a sense of utter dread. (Y/n) tries to put it behind him and offers a handshake.

"(Y/n), nice to meet you." He says, she takes it, firmly but her skin felt like ice. Sending chills down his spine he shivers slightly from it. He lets go a bit quickly and motions to the front.

"Welcome to Nevermore—" he begins but she cuts him off.

"You can skip the school Introductions your "Bestie" already informed me. I have no intention to stay here." She said, and Enid tries to make the situation better.

"Anyway, I came to ask if you could help move her stuff to the room!" She says and (Y/n) bows.

"I'd love to help." He says, Wednesday just stares morbidly at him, emotionless, cold. Shes analyzing him, she looks at his cane.

"You're Blind." She Said. And he laughed.

"Oh, how very perceptive of you, yes. I am." He Said, sarcastically, but her eyes still focused.

"You seem much more focused on your surroundings than the average blind person, you probably heard us approaching." She continues.

"Huh, can't get anything past you, can I? A question if I may, what happened at your old school?" He asked, and her response was short but terrifying.

"The only person who gets to torture my brother is me." She replies in that deadpan mundane tone, which sends shivers down his spine, he attempts to play it off.

"Ah, understandable, so... you don't plan to stay? Why not?" He asked, "This was my parents' idea. They've been looking for any excuse to send me here. It's all a part of their nefarious, yet completely obvious plan."

"What plan?" Enid asked.

"To turn me into a version of themselves." She replies, and Enid looks a bit, curious.

"In that case, perhaps you can clear something up. Rumor's been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school, and your parents pulled strings to get you off." Enid says, and (Y/n) chimes in. "Murder?"

"Actually, it was two kids, but who's counting?" She says, Enid and (Y/n) sees both taken aback by her odd behavior, even for an outcast. "Right.." Enid begins, "Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene."

"I'm not interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés."

"Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain. There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales. Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires. Some of them have literally been here for decades. That bunch of knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!" Enid says to herself.

"Full moons get pretty loud around here. That's when Furs "wolf out." Id suggest you pick up noise-cancelling headphones, they've saved me ample sleep." (Y/n) says.

"I'm assuming Scales are sirens?" Wednesday said.

"You catch on quick. And that girl, Bianca Barclay, is the closest thing Nevermore has to royalty. Although her crown's been slipping lately. She used to date our resident tortured artist, Xavier Thorpe. But they broke up at the beginning of the semester. Reason unknown." Enid explains, much to Wednesday's uncaring attitude.

"Fascinating. And you?" She asked (Y/n) who gives a bow.

"A Fomorian, we’re..Ancient Tyrants from Ireland." (Y/n) explains, "There isn't many of us, Enids the only one who's really been a good friend to me, others are a bit wary. But they’ve come around, once Enid showed them I’m mot much of a real threat, they became much nicer and understanding thanks to her blog I suppose.” (Y/n) explains.

"I know, right? My vlog is, like, the number one source for Nevermore gossip." She explains, "(Y/n) sadly can't see it." Enid huffs.

(Y/n) leans into Wednesday a bit.

"There are some benefits to being blind. But I must ask, if you do murder people, what do you do with the bodies? Do you.. eat them? You might be a Fur."

"Quite the contrary. I actually fillet the bodies of my victims, then feed them to my menagerie of pets." She stares proverbial daggers at (Y/n), who just laughs, almost in disbelief.

"You.. really are different." He said. "Not that it's a bad thing of course."

"You should really get on Insta, Snapchat and TikTok." Enid says to Wednesday.

"I find social media to be a soul-sucking void of meaningless affirmation." She replies, (Y/n) and Enid share a small glance. "Well, I should get to taking your stuff to your room." (Y/n) says.

"See you adequate enough to not get lost on the way there?" She asked, and he smirks.

"Well, much like you Wednesday..." he says, the Furs begin a food fight and one hurls a peach, flying at him, without even breaking a sweat he catches it. His focus still on Miss Addams.

"I'm very perceptive.."

As (Y/n) and Enid take Wednesdays things to her room, she is forced to say goodbye to her family.

"Look at you, my little deathtrap. Seeing you in this uniform brings back so many terrible memories. Doesn't it, Tish?" Her Father, Gomez. Her illustrious and, profound mother steps up, Morticia.

"Yes. Why don't you boys wait in the car? Wednesday and I need a moment." She said, Pugsley, her less than enthusiastic brother is then approached by Wednesday.

"Pugsley, you're soft and weak. You'll never survive without me. I give you two months, tops." She says, what seems to be nothing but cold insults to some were words of love to him.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, sis." He said, Gomez and pugsley leave, letting Wednesday and Morticia have a solemn stare down.

"Any plans you have of running away end right now. I've alerted all family members to contact me the minute you darken their doorstep. You have nowhere to go."

"As usual, you underestimate me, Mother. I will escape this educational penitentiary, and you will never hear from me again."

The two opposing forces seem so contested. Morticia sighs at her dismayed daughter.

"You are a brilliant girl, Wednesday, but sometimes you get in your own way. I'm sure you'll grow to love Nevermore, and find it as life-changing as I did. Oh, I got you a little something." She continues and hands her an amulet, dark in design.

"W... M. Our initials. It's made of obsidian, which Aztec priests used to conjure visions. It's a symbol of our connection."

"Which one of your spirits suggested this toe-curling tchotchke? I'm not you, Mother. I will never fall in love, or be a housewife, or have a family." Wednesday retorted with scathing remarks, Which Morticia tries not to respond to.

"I'm told girls your age say hurtful things, and I shouldn't take it to heart."

"Fortunately, you don't have one."

"..Finally, a kind word for your mother, We can't talk to you for the first week while you're settling in, so we'll call you next Sunday." She said, giving Wednesday a lovingly look before leaving. What seems to be a "Perfect." Rooming situation has turned into the complete opposite, as Wednesday tore off the colored plastic for the massive circular window within her room, only her side of course, which would have been fine for most people. But Enid isn't, most people.

"What the hell did you do to my room?!" Enid storms into her room after seeing it, which Wednesday calmly turns to her.

"Dividing our room equally. It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side."

"I—"

"Silence would be appreciated. This is my writing time." Wednesday says, sitting at her desk and in front of a vintage typewriter.

"Your writing time?"

"I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same, your vlog might be coherent. I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation."

"I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love."

"Your followers are clearly imbeciles. I'm surprised (Y/n) hasn't poured melting wax into his ears by now listening to it, They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures."

"Uh, you mean, emojis? It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you." Enid reminds, pretty surprising, they approach each other, standing on the edge of their respective sides of the room.

"When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole. By the way, there are two D's in Addams. If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly." Wednesday walked back to her typewriter. Enid, in pure spite, Enid plays pop music, just to annoy the more mundane Wednesday. She twists her head around, Owl like.

"Turn that off. This is your final warning." Wednesday approached, but Enids nails elongated into sharp claws.

"Rawr! Don't mess with me. This kitty's got claws, and I'm not afraid to use them." Enid and Wednesday are at a standoff, neither side giving any leeway, before and guts and glamor could be spilled, the door to their room opens. It was a woman, slightly brunette hair with an, oddly normal flair in terms of most teachers.

"Good evening, girls. Oh, sorry about the mud. I wanted to make sure that Wednesday was settling in. Ah. Is this a bad time? I'm Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome." She said, the two girl momentarily halt their fangs.

"She's been smothering me with hospitality. I hope to return the favor...In her sleep." Wednesday said, which Enid eyes her, Thornhill reveals in her arms a plant, which was oddly black, devoid of color, or life.

"Well, here's a little welcome gift from my conservatory. I try to match the right flower to each of my girls. When I read your personal statement in your application, I immediately thought of this one."

"The black dahlia."

"Oh, you know it?"

"Of course. It's named after my favorite unsolved murder. Thank you." Thornhill looks taken aback by it but tries to keep her composure.

"Okey-dokey. Before I leave, I want to go over a few house rules. Lights off at 10:00, no loud music, and no boys, ever."

"What's the story about going into the local town?" Wednesday asked.

"Passes to Jericho are a privilege, not a right. It's a brisk 25-minute walk, or there's a shuttle on the weekends. The locals are a tad bit wary about Nevermore, so please don't go making any waves, or perpetuating any outcast stereotypes. That means keep your claws to yourself, and no smothering people in their sleep. Are we clear? Great talk." Thornhill leaves, letting Enid and Wednesday alone.

Jericho, the City housing Nevermore have a bit of a history, an unfortunate one at that. Wednesday is being taken to her therapist.

"Dr. Kinbott's office is on the second floor. Other Nevermore students swear by her. Perhaps afterwards we can visit the Weathervane for hot chocolate."

"Principal Weems, this feeble attempt at bonding is beneath you. And chauffeuring your students around is below your pay grade." Wednesdays cold and unfeeling attitude made the Principal a bit, unwary.

"Given your history, I'm sure you're intent on running away. I'm here to prevent that from happening. I wish you luck." Weems says, stopping at the Office. Wednesday enters and to the clean, porcelain white room of her new and kind therapist.

"I read the notes from your school counselor. Mrs. Bronstein." She Said.

"She had a nervous breakdown after our last session and had to take a six-month sabbatical."

"Go ahead and take a seat. How did you feel about that?"

"Vindicated. But someone who crochets for a hobby isn't a worthy adversary."

"Adversary? I hope we can forge a relationship based on trust and mutual respect. This is a safe space, Wednesday. A sanctuary where we can discuss anything. What you're thinking, feeling, your views on the world, personal philosophy."

"That's easy. I think that this is a waste of time. I see the world as a place that must be endured, and my personal philosophy is kill or be killed."

"So, for instance, when someone bullies your brother, your response is to dump piranha in the pool?" She asked, and Wednesday looks a bit pleased with herself.

"You know the old saying, "never bring a knife to a sword fight." Unless it's concealed."

"Point is, you assaulted a boy, and showed no remorse for your actions. That's why you're here."

"He lost a testicle. I did the world a favor. People like Dalton shouldn't procreate. I've answered all your questions." Wednesday stands up but is shut down.

"We're not done yet. Therapy is a valuable tool to help you understand yourself. It can teach you new ways to deal with your emotions. It can also help you build a life that you want."

"I know the life that I want."

"Tell me about it. Everything said in these sessions is strictly confidential. Do your plans involve becoming an author? I understand you've written three novels about a teen girl detective, Viper De La Muerte. Can you tell me about her?" She asked, and Wednesday shows a hint of her true feelings.

"Viper is smart, perceptive, chronically misunderstood."

"Any luck getting your work published?"

"Editors are short-sighted, fear-based life forms. One once described my writing as gratuitously morbid, and suggested I seek psychiatric help. Hmm. Ironic, isn't it?"

"How did you take that?"

"I sent her a "thank you."

Wednesday sends her "Thank You", which was full of mouse traps, heavy steel ones that can and will break bones.

"...I've always been open to constructive criticism." She says with her classic mundane expression.

"I'm glad to hear that. Because I was sent the manuscripts as part of your psych evaluation. The relationship I found most intriguing was that of Viper and her mother, Dominica. Why don't we dig into that? Part of this journey requires us going to uncomfortable places emotionally."

"I don't travel well. Would you mind if I use the powder room first?" She asked, The Therapist kindly obliged and Wednesday enters, and quickly begins to come up with a way to leave.

"Wednesday? Is everything okay? You can't hide for the rest of the session."

"I'm all right. Just preparing myself for our uncomfortable journey." She says, and sneaks out of the window. Entering a local coffee shop, she procures a ride to her freedom. As Wednesday sits at a sit in, she looks out the window to the insignificant lives of those in this town. And her eyes focus on a crow, perched on the window still, looking at her.

"Wednesday." A voice said calmly, she turns forward to (Y/n) sitting calmly across from her, she didn't even hear him approach. She looks back at the crow, which disappears.

"So, new in Town?" He says breaking the Ice.

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just say hello? I would say it's nice to see you but alas, I can't."

"For someone who's blind you're annoyingly focused on your surroundings."

"It's a benefit of being a monster, speaking of, I talked to Enid and she said you and her had a "Disagreement." About something." He begins, but Wednesday quickly shuts him down.

"The Glorified Personification of the 21st Century and I have opposing views, she didn't need to send her blind hound after me."

"Enid doesn't know I'm here, most don't know I'm here. I'm not here to fight you, Wednesday."

"Then what is it that you want from me?" She asks.

"I've heard of the things you've done before at your old school, all I ask that you don't hurt Enid. She, means a lot to me." He said, there was a ping from his coat and he pulls his phone out, Siri reads out a message, but Wednesday notices his phone case was pink, handmade with stickers, it's obvious it was made by a person with a much more, Feminine touch. It has the words "Bestie" bedazzled on it.

"Your phone case oozes insecurity and self deprivation." She said, and he turns his head towards her.

"I was a gift from Enid when I first came here, almost dropped my phone and she caught it, told me I should be more careful and, we just started talking. So she made this for me, Heh, always protecting me." He tilts his head up back at Wednesday.

"All I'm asking is that you is to be, well not nice but, just sociable to her, she's not a bad person. And she was really excited about you coming." (Y/n) explains, and Wednesday for a moment hesitates for an answer.

"I'll.. consider your request."

"Thank you—"

"Under one condition... you tell me what you truly are… i doubt your story of who you truly are.” she says. His attitude softens and he sighs, and he places his cane on the table.

"I'm not just a Fomorian, but a cursed one.. you know the Tale of Balor? The War Tyrant who's evil eye cursed whatever it laid its eyes upon, that's.. me. I'm Balor. Just reborn as a human thankfully, but the eyes still linger, but when your eyes can literally cause the destruction of the world, ...Drastic measures have to be taken. And my parents.." he continues, his voice getting a bit, somber.

"They Blinded you." Wednesday says, finishing the story.

"Thus the Tragic tale of Balor of Nevermore.." (Y/n) said, he couldn't see it, but he felt Wednesdays silence somehow, for a girl not lacking an arsenal of insults, she was quiet.

"Your Story...is tragic, they feared your power and tried to shut it down. You kept up your side of the Bargain so I will keep mine. I'll.. try to refrain from harming your Pet." She said, he sighs from her declaration.

"She's not my... whatever; thank you." He says, he turns to face the window.

"Some advice Wednesday, The Normies of Jericho, avoid Em, they don't see you as another human being, they see you as.. a "Freak." He said, while Wednesday couldn't see his eyes, she could feel the anger and spite forming from his words. Soon, the doors open from the Coffee shop to three teenagers, dressed as Pilgrims, they notice the Nevermore students.

"Hey, boys, check it out. Who's that?"

"Bro... Come on."

"What's a Pair of Nevermore freaks doing out in the wild?"

"This is our booth."

"Why are you dressed like religious fanatics?" Wednesday said, much to the Chagrin of the Teens.

"We're pilgrims."

"Potato, po-tah-to." She responds.

"We work at Pilgrim World." One said.

"It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide." She says, they approach Menacingly and (Y/n) stood up and tried to act peacefully.

"Cmon, guys there's no reason for us to act like this, we're just trying to enjoy our evening." (Y/n) said, the three scoff.

"The Freaks trying to weasel his way out of it." One said.

"Yeah, I don't think the Freak can see." Another laughs, and (Y/n) tries to keep his composure; leaning a bit on his Cane.

"Cmon, just leave us—" one, taking it too far sweeps his cane, forcing him to trip. He falls on his hands and knees and they laugh. Wednesday said nothing as they did, but she slowly stood up. Her glare catching the concern of them.

"It's fine.. Wednesday." (Y/n) says calmly, he takes his cane and stands back up, he walks over to the door, and with a swift motion, locks it. He turns to the boys.

".. Call me a Freak... One more time." He says, and they laugh at the blind one.

"Aww, gonna Cry? Call your Mommy? Or; are you gonna get your little creepy girlfriend to beat us up, better luck next Time, Freak." One said, they laughed once more, before the steel of the raven came went tying into his forehead, knocking him out, it's in the air and the other two look, (Y/n) comes running full speed, he jumps into the air, catches it and cracks another in the face, one begins to swing at him but he, with almost instinct, dodges and ducks each punch, before stomping on his foot, making him leap on one, he gut checks him with the steel end of the cane, he fails to one knee, gasping for air, he cocks back and swings, knocking him out as well. The three bodies lie on the ground, he adjusts his suit and uniform and walks to the door and unlocks it.

"Now, try and behave." He said, before the Sheriff, a gruffly man perhaps in his late 50s to early 60s.

"Tyler, the hell's going on in here?" He asked, turning his attention to the young man tending to the counter.

"They were harassing a customer, and he put them in their place." He said, the Sherrif looks to the young blind boy.

"This blind kid took down three boys? Did you help him?"

"Dad, I swear, I wasn't involved." Tyler says, and Weems enters as well; and looks Surprised to see (Y/n) and Wednesday.

"Apologies, Sheriff. These two slipped away from me. Come on, Mister Healy, Miss Addams, time to go." She says and the two begin to leave, before the Sheriff stops them.

"Wait a minute, hang on. You're an Addams? Don't tell me Gomez Addams is your father? That man belongs behind bars for murder. Hm...I'm gonna keep my eye on you." he says to them, and with those puzzling words, they leave, and Weems is more than miffed at them.

"Your first day and you're already on Sheriff Galpin's radar. Wish I could say I was surprised, and sneaking out of ground Mister Healy?"

"I caught the wrong shuttle; I apologize.. Wednesday found me and brought me to the cafe before we were accosted by those men." He said covering for her. "How kind of her." Weems said, somewhat buying the plausible explanation.

"What did he mean about my father?" Wednesday said.

"I have no idea, but a word of advice. Stop making enemies and start making a few friends. You're going to need them." Weems replies, their drive continues down to Nevermore, but slowly passing a car crash, a horrid one at that.

"Looks like an accident. I hope the driver's okay"

"He's dead. Broke his neck." Wednesday said, looking at the body. It's off How she could tell from the angle she had.

Night Falls upon Nevermore and while many of its students revel in the Darkness, some prefer to stay indoors with said activities. Such is Wednesday, who's haunting Cello tunes echo all throughout Nevermore, it especially reached the Ears of (Y/n), who stood at his rooms window, listening to the elegant but haunting tunes, and he had to get in closer. With a tap of his Cane, a crow bellows to his aid, he whispers into its ear and it flies off to the unknown. Wednesday ends her performance, and talks to someone.

"No, I don't really feel better. There's just something wrong about this place. Not just because it's a school." She says, and the taps of wood are heard, and Wednesday looks at the standing holding the music notes to a dismembered Hand, which was sown together. It somehow was, alive. Enid enters the Balcony as well.

"How the hell did you get that oversized violin out the window?" She asked and Wednesday turns towards her.

"I had an extra hand." She said deadpanned, and shows Thing.

"Whoa. Where's the rest of him?" She asks.

"It's one of the great Addams family mysteries." Wednesday said, and she hears the baying and howling of Werewolves in Nevermore.

"Why aren't you wolfing out?" Wednesday asks enid

"Because I can't." She says, she shows her growing finger nails, "It's all I got. My mom says some wolves are late bloomers, but I've been to the best Lycanologist. I had to fly to Milwaukee, would you believe it? Yeah, she says there's a chance I may never... you know."

"What happens then?"

"I'd become a lone wolf."

"Sounds perfect."

"Are you kidding me? My life would be officially over. I'd be kicked out of my family pack with no prospect of finding a mate." Enid says, holding back tears, Wednesdays looks off the balcony as well, seeing (Y/n) cleaning out a large bird cage.

"I doubt that, one mate would be walking into walls at the moment, I'm failing to see the problem here."

"I could die alone." Enid says.

"We all die alone, Enid."

"You really suck at this. Cheering people up." Enid says and cries, not able to hold it back.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm upset! Haven't you ever cried, or are you above that too?" Enid said obviously upset.

"It was the week after Halloween. I was six years old. I took my pet scorpion, Nero, out for his afternoon stroll, and we were ambushed. They wondered what kind of freak would have a scorpion for a pet. Two of them held me down and made me watch...while the others ran Nero over until... It was snowing when I buried what was left of him. I cried my little black heart out. But tears don't fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again. " Wednesday explains her story, and Enid, now seeing that she isn't some cold machine, feels for her.

"Your secret's safe with me. Still think you're weird as shit, though."

"The feeling is incredibly mutual. How would you like your single room back? You just need to show me how to use your computer." Wednesday said, which confuses Enid.

"Okay?.." she says and leads her in, after some basic instruction on "How To Internet." Wednesday is able to pull on a web chat with someone; the guy who ram the cafe, Tyler.

"Uh... hi."

"That's Thing. Is he, like, your pet? Look, I know Nevermore is ground zero for all things weird, but this is next-level. So, what happened to not wanting to be a slave to technology?"

"Desperate times. Are you still willing to help me escape?"

"After what happened today, I figured they'd have you in solitary."

"There's the Harvest Festival this weekend. Attendance is mandatory. I'm going to use it as a cover. If you're willing to drive me to the station, I can make it worth your while." Wednesday said, and Tyler obliges.

"I'm in. And no charge. Consider it a freebie."

"Why? "

"Cause I wish I was going with you. At least one of us will get out of this hellhole town."

The First day of the Weekend begins with the Harvest Festival, a crowning achievement for Jericho and their very urban and more down to earth festival of carnival and games. Wednesday and Enid stand before each other, watching Tyler argue with his father.

"Are you sure you can trust that normie?"

"I trust that I can handle myself. I don't want you talking to her."

"Well, good luck and safe travels." Enid offers a hug, much to the chagrin of Wednesday. "Still not a hugger." Enid walks away, leaving Wednesday to escape, but as she turns around, a crow watches from a building, and (Y/n) sits calmly on a bench, drinking a soda. And Wednesday can tell.

"The Fool is following me, fortunately he makes it easy to point out." She says and they walk off. He stands up to follow but with all the sounds, his hearing cannot focus and he must console them eyes of another, but even then, it's not enough to go on, he halts as he gets a hint,  Wednesday breaks off from Tyler and chase someone into the forest. He begrudgingly attempts to give chase, listening to the sounds and impacts, what caught him off guard were the horrid screams of death and despair, he picks up the speed.

"Wednesday?! Wednesday!" He yells, he halts as he feels himself nearby something, he slams his cane against a tree and like a sonar, it brings it all to a picture, and more importantly the corpse lying on the ground and Wednesday nearby.

"... Wednesday.. what the Hell Happened?" He asked, she takes something and walks over to him.

"We don't have much time, and I'd rather discuss this without a corpse nearby, as much as that upsets me." She says, and the Boy sadly agrees, on the balcony of her dorm room, he gets most information.

"A monster? That killed Rowan? But there aren't any in Nevermore I can think of, but why was Rowan attacking you? How does this all connect?" He asks pacing around.

"I will need to do some investigating on my own, I can assume you and I share a common goal now. You wish to keep your Pet safe. And I want to understand why I am tied into this all." Wednesday explains, (Y/n) stops and turns to her.

"Again, not my Pet, and her safety is important to me, just as much as yours Wednesday."

"I can take care of myself."

"Obviously... I Never Said you couldn't, but it's never wrong to have someone who wants to help you." (Y/n) says. "I'll help because you're in danger, and I don't want my friends in danger.

"We're Not Friends."

"Not yet.. so, what all has happened?" (Y/n) asks.

"Let's see. I narrowly avoided death twice, discovered that my father may be a murderer, learned that I could potentially destroy the school, and was mysteriously saved by a homicidal monster. As much as it pains me to admit, mother was right."

"Right about what?" (Y/n) asks, and Wednesday responds.

"This school. I think I'm going to love it here." She says and has the smallest smirk on her face.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Collective

- Part One -

Vincent Sinclair x F Reader x Asa Emory

Warnings: Violence, blood, threats, brief descriptions of gore

A/N: @quiveringdeer and her headcanon machine got me thinking about these two again, so I’ve given this piece from a few years ago a nice facelift. I hope to continue with part two soon!

~~

It’s mid morning when a man strolls into town, the unforgiving Louisiana heat already simmering on cracked asphalt. He’s maybe mid-forties, alone, and handsome in a rugged way, you’ll admit, in his work boots, double-fronted jeans, and plaid button up. Outdoorsy, you guess.

You watch him through the window as he cautiously surveys the area. When Lester had called to alert you to the newcomer, he’d sounded hesitant, or maybe uneasy. Whatever it was, it’s put you on edge already.

Sauntering out the door of Bo’s shop, you wrinkle your nose at the oppressive heat before forcing a sweet smile across your face.

“Hey there! You lookin’ fer Bo?” The twangy accent is easy to fake after so much practice. He turns to you, the cold look on his face almost tripping you up. Then, his dark eyes quickly dart from your cleavage to your face and you regain composure.

He’s only a man. Relax.

“So I’ve been instructed,” he responds to your question. His voice is deep and rich like bourbon. You’d swoon if you didn’t know he’d be roadkill before the sun sets.

“He should be back in about a half hour. Had to run to town fer supplies.” The man hums noncommittally, a displeased scowl on his face. He glances around again as you speak, studying each house in detail. His eyes are piercing, calculating. There’s intelligence there, beyond his gaze. He reminds you of Vincent.

You suppress a shudder. Best get him somewhere else before he starts looking too closely.

Plastering another smile on your face, you announce, “We, uh, have a pretty good wax museum here. I can show it to ya’ if you’d like. Keep ya’ entertained while we wait fer Bo.” The man raises an eyebrow, indicating he would rather do a million other things than look at some half-rate wax museum in this shit hole town. You can hardly blame him.

“Lead the way,” he replies, surprising you.

Alright then.

You must leave the shade offered by Bo’s shop in order to lead the man up the hill toward the museum. As you walk, he studies every building, like he’s searching for something. For other people, you wager.

Unease grows. You’re uncomfortable with this man who is obviously too smart for his own good, but you don’t have much of a choice. You have a job to do, a job that is the only thing keeping you from a knife to the gut and an eternity encased in wax.

Distract him before he notices too much. “What brings you to the area, Mister…?”

“Emory. Call me Asa.” He finally peels his gaze away from the surroundings to look at you. “Entomology conference in New Orleans.”

A bug guy, huh? Be dumb. “Entomology. Is that like, uh, snakes an’ stuff?”

“Insects,” he corrects tersely. You giggle and nod, like you hadn’t just insulted his field of expertise. You wipe your dripping forehead on the back of your arm, hoping he thinks you’re sweating from the heat and not from nerves.

Finally, you reach the museum. He pauses to give one hard look at the Sinclair house perched atop the hill before holding the door open for you. You thank him and slip inside, relieved to be out of the heat.

The museum is oppressively silent, a fact to which you can never grow accustomed. It’s a perpetual funeral, an unmarked grave commanding muted respect for its enshrined dead. You wonder if Asa feels it too.

That eerie, itchy feeling tickles the back of your neck and you know he’s close now, close enough to see you and Asa. Somewhere in the dark lurks Vincent, ready to dispatch the man at your side.

Clearing your throat, you motion to the first piece: The woman with her hand raised as if in greeting, frightful smile stretched across her face. “This is—

Your words lodge in your throat along with your heart when you’re grabbed from behind and pinned against the wall. The hand on the back of your head grinds your face into wax. Your cry of shock morphs into a choked inhale when the point of a knife is pushed to your throat.

 “You’re going to tell me what you have going on here or I’m going to open up an artery,” Asa growls in your ear. Panic surges through your bloodstream and you thrash, heedless of the knife that nicks your flesh. Warmth trickles down your neck and chest to soak into your shirt.

“P-Please don’t touch me, p-please, he won’t like it, please let me go.” You drop the fake accent as you beg, tears welling in your eyes, neck straining to look at the man behind you.

You freeze when a thumb brushes over the brand on your shoulder, your damned shirt having slipped down in the scuffle. Asa traces the white scar, the dips and curves of the embellished “S.”

“Interesting,” he muses.

“Don’t—

You both hear the approaching footsteps at the same time, quick taps that disturb the hush around you. Asa reacts first. He whips you both around and you shriek, snapping your eyes shut and bracing for impact.

The crowbar stops its downward arc inches from your face. A tremulous wheeze leaves your lips as Vincent leaps back and hunches down into a defensive position. He’s twitchy, agitated, the good eye behind the mask flicking to the hands on you, to your terrified face, to Asa’s calm expression.

Asa grips you around the middle, cool steel slotting under your chin. He walks you in a half circle so he’s no longer caged in by the wax wall behind him. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you allow yourself to be maneuvered, the pressure of the blade on your flesh more than enough incentive. As you move, Vincent’s own knife swishes as it’s withdrawn from its sheath.

You both come to a stop next to one of the statues, the one of the man holding his hat aloft. You expect to keep moving, but find Asa has fallen as still as the figure beside you. His head turns and you realize he’s closely inspecting the statue. Slowly, he brings you both closer. What’s he looking for…?

With a swift kick, Asa knocks the statue to the ground. The upraised arm and the man’s head crack when the statue collides with the floor, limb and skull bouncing and rolling away. Revealed to him now are the layers of real, human flesh, muscle, organs, and bone encased in wax, preserved for all time.

For a moment, everyone stands frozen. The severed head rolls to a stop near Vincent’s boots, but his eye remains firmly locked on the knife at your throat. Your breath leaves you in a shuddering exhale.

Adjusting his grip on the blade, Asa hums thoughtfully. With the toe of his boot, he tips the wax victim to get a better look at its grotesque insides. There’s no tension in his body, no change in his slow, even breathing. He appears completely unperturbed by this gruesome discovery.

Speaking to Vincent, he asks curiously, “Are they all people?” Cautiously, Vincent straightens, tilting his head suspiciously at the nonchalant question. “Well?” Asa presses, gripping you tighter, applying pressure to the knife until you squeak.

Slowly, the wax mask bobs up and down in a nod.

“Very unique,” Asa comments. He drags you back to the next scene, a man kneeling over a woman on a sofa. As he looks over the figures, he adds, “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow artist.”

Artist.

A fellow artist.

What…what does he mean?

“And this is your muse?” His tone is mocking now, the hand around your waist sliding up to your chin to give your head a teasing shake.

Vincent growls, his grip so tight on the handle of his blade his knuckles blanche. Asa chuckles quietly and squeezes your jaw so tight you whimper. Vincent moves to take a step closer, but Asa tips your head up with the blade, pressing the point to your fluttering pulse.

“You’ll get her back, but first I need a few things from you.”