#edit: it was 2am and i couldn't find the right words

[faeriedotboo]

There's something so special about seeing older men romancing each other on TV, even if it causes angst and heartbreak.

[missmonsters2]

—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been taken from right under Wednesday's nose. Finding you is a given, but it's really a question of who is saving whom. Wednesday shouldn't be surprised that she's complete entranced by the sight of a fallen faerie.

Warnings: canon level violence. long villain monologues. Enid & gang doing their best.

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Note: just two killer gfs 🫶 also i can't believe the next chapter is the last one 😳

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Part Eight

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Ambedo: Noun. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details—raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life, a mood whose only known cure is the vuvuzela.

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Wednesday touches item after item in your studio. She holds whatever Thing passes her and tosses it when nothing happens. Wednesday knows she can't force a vision, but that doesn't stop her from trying. Her hands run along the ground, trees, and furniture. 

Something—anything in this forsaken room should give her a clue as to what happened to you or where she could find you. 

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even. 

Wednesday doesn't need to turn to know who it is. She grabs one of your books, gripping it with force, willing a vision to happen. When it doesn't, Wednesday tosses it aside. "What is it, Enid?" She asks, her voice flat but frustration laced around her tone. 

"I've got everyone spread out and looking around," Enid updates. "I texted Ajax, and he's got some of his friends out searching too."

Wednesday merely nods tersely. 

"I'm going with Yoko to search, but I just wanted to tell you something before I left," Enid bit her lip. 

Wednesday turns, her eyes boring into Enid's with a dark intensity that her roommate is both used to and still finds unsettling. "Go on."

"I—" Enid sighs lightly. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone else in case I was wrong, but I'm pretty sure now. I can smell someone else in here. The scent is stale like yours and Fae's, but it's a little stronger, more recent."

"Who else was in here, Enid?" Wednesday demands immediately. While certain people knew you had a studio, no one except Wednesday knew where it was. 

"Um," Enid murmurs, her brows furrowing. "That guy—the one who's always around Fae. Yoko said his father is an alumnus here. Harry?"

"Henry," Wednesday seethes, her eyes flashing and jaw clenched.

"Yes, him!" Enid exclaims. "Yoko and I are going to see if we can find him, but if we can't..." The words drag, but Wednesday already knows the truth of it. 

If they couldn't find Henry, then they'd found their culprit. 

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Enid: can't find him.

Enid: roommate says he hasn't seen him at all today and said he's been barely in his room. He usually apparently only returns around 1 to 2am lately.

Enid: I'm gonna search around in my wolf form with yoko. She'll text u with my phone with any updates.

Enid: also the black fuzzy blanket you had earlier in our room is gone. Did you take it?

Wednesday doesn't reply and clicks her phone to turn off the screen before putting it back into her pocket. 

1 to 2AM was when the two of you finished your nightly meet-up.

Wednesday definitely didn't move the blanket. Her eyes look back to the blanket in question. She recalls you telling her that Henry was a psychic who could create things. And based on what she's deduced so far, he could materialize his mindscapes into reality, but it seems that anything taken out of his mindscape couldn't last for prolonged hours if he wasn't focusing on it. 

Wednesday has touched everything inside this studio, and nothing has conjured a vision. It leads her to believe that you weren't taken in your studio. She exits and begins to look around. 

The first thing she noticed now that she was not blinded with rage and panic when she first searched for you was one of the tree trunks partially rotten. It was hard to tell with it being so dark, but Wednesday could spot the strange shape of the rot. She walks over to it and finds a single black feather resting on the ground directly underneath. 

Wednesday bends down to grab the quill of the feather, and the live wire shredding at her skin comes forth.

Wednesday sees you walking out of your studio. The day has rewound, and the sun is only starting to set. 

You look happy, with a serene smile and a single feather in your hand. But only after a few steps out do you tilt your head and refuse to take a step further.

Wednesday can hear it from your perspective. The way the wind oddly ruffles the leaves. There's a certain discomfort in her spine. 

"Who's out there?" Wednesday watches you call out and place the hand on the tree trunk. "You can't hide from me in the forest and whatever trap you've set, I can sense it."

There's a moment of tense silence, but you refuse to budge. 

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree. 

Henry steps out, and you relax slightly but keep her hand on the trunk.

"Henry," you look confused. "Why are you following me?"

"Well, this is annoying," Henry sighs. "You didn't notice the mindscape of your studio, but now you won't step into the new one I made? I wonder if it's because Wednesday's energy is so intertwined with the studio one I made. You lower your guard down so much when she's around," he hums. 

You look wary. "What do you want?"

"I want you to follow me," Henry smiles, but his eyes are hidden, and you can't determine his full expression. "Quietly."

"What are you talking about?" You frown at him. 

"Your wings," Henry says in a cavalier tone. "I need your wings. So, I need you to come with me to Crackstone's crypt so I can perform the ritual there. I still have some things to prep, but if you go to meet with Wednesday for your date, I'll miss my chance and the sap wont be potent anymore."

As you step back, you narrow your eyes at him, full-on in defensive mode. You're opening your mouth to say something, but Henry pulls out a small blowgun and shoots a needle that lands right into your neck. 

You stagger, hand at your neck to pull out the needle, and you instantly know it's made out of draeconium. You slump to your knees first before falling onto your front completely, groaning. 

Henry approaches with a syringe filled with a cobalt teal liquid. He steals you away, and all that's left is your feather and the rot you placed in the trunk.

Wednesday returns to reality, her hand on the trunk and the grip of your feather in her other hand. She pulls out her phone, typing a quick message to Enid before she takes off.

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt. 

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The room was dimly lit by candles. Where Crackstone's crypt used to be now stood a giant rectangle stone table. There were inscriptions carved into the table, and Wednesday knew immediately that it was a ritual for your wings.

Wednesday's eyes lay upon your limp form lying in the middle of the table. There was a chained collar around your neck bolted to the table. It was only long enough to likely let you sit up, but no further than that. She can see your body rising and falling with each breath, and there's a sense of relief. She's about to walk to you and wake you up when someone steps out of the shadows.

"I didn't think you'd actually find us."

That lanky, stuttering boy. Except he wasn't stuttering now. Wednesday's uncontrollable rage simmers inside her, but she tempers it. She needs to be rational if she wants to save you. 

Henry's long fringe normally covers his eyes, but tonight, they're pushed out of his face, combed stylishly over his head. It was no wonder that he covered his eyes, Wednesday thought. They would draw too much attention with their pale silvery glassy look. His eyes lacked pupils, but Wednesday was sure they were why he had such powers. 

"Of course, I'd find you," Wednesday sneers at him. "Only a moron would come back to Crackstone's crypt. How unoriginal."

Henry smiles at her, and it's utterly disgusting. "I suppose after your glory stories of last year, I expected you would and that you'd come here stupidly alone."

"I don't need a group to make you wish you were never born," Wednesday's face was stoic. "What exactly can you do? Your little tricks won't work on me now that I know what you can create. It's not real."

Wednesday takes a step closer, but Henry pulls out a knife. The blade was a pale pearl white with ridges, and the handle was made from wood. There was no doubt it was made from draeconium.

"Move any closer, and I'll plunge this right into her," Henry threatens. "I only need her alive, she doesn't need to be unharmed."

There's a moment that Wednesday hesitates, thinking about her chances. She has a knife in her own boot that she could use to cut his throat. But Wednesday eventually decides against it as she doesn't know where he might stab you and if it'll accidentally be fatal. He looks like an idiot.

Wednesday's eyes trail to you. Even though you're unconscious, your wings are slowly appearing from your back, unfurling slowly, and you haven't moved one bit. She eyes the chain in detest and wills you to wake up to no avail.

"I know her wings are injured, but I'm pretty cautious," Henry sighs but doesn't relax his form as he turns to point the knife at her. "I can't risk her potentially flying."

"What did you do to her?" Wednesday demands, her stance tense as she keeps a distance from the boy. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"She won't," Henry shakes her head. "I know she's told you about how draeconium sap can cut her wings out, but they can do so, so much more."

"Makes me wonder why she didn't tell you. Maybe she doesn't trust you as much as you think." Henry smirks at her. "Draeconium petals can be crushed into a powder and mixed into a liquid that will put faeries to deep sleep. It's poisonous and makes their body numb and unable to control their movements."

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

"How did you find out where we were?" Henry narrows his eyes at her. "I hear you're a witch, but I have yet to see you do anything amazing. If anything, you're insufferable."

"Thank you."

"You're always hanging around her, hovering like a goddamn vulture," Henry huffs. 

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," Wednesday raises her brow. 

Henry rolls his eyes. "I thought for sure her fae abilities would catch me following her around. At first, I couldn't get too close without her constantly turning around and nearly catching me. Before you started to get closer to her, I was trying to figure out for weeks where she was going every single day and night."

Henry smiles lightly at her. "The night you followed her after the siren's party, she heard both you and I were following her. But for some reason, she dismissed it and kept going. Your presence has always masked mine perfectly."

Then he smiles haughtily at her, his eyes filled with malice. "Thank you, Wednesday. Because of you, I was able to get closer to Fae without her noticing. And since then, the two of you haven't even noticed you've been in and out of my mindscapes for months."

Wednesday thinks back to the night she first followed you to your studio. You had turned around, and Wednesday thought it was her, but it was probably Henry you'd sensed. But her presence distracted you, and you kept going. 

She thinks back to Parents' Day and how she couldn't find you anywhere. She had gone to her room first to change before looking. Yet, you told her you'd been in her room waiting for half an hour.

Wednesday recalls the time you came to meet her, saying you just came from seeing Henry, but he couldn't conjure anything. But he had, and you just couldn't tell you were already experiencing it.

Wednesday thinks back to the day before the Poe Cup Race and how the three of you had been standing in the hallway. She had heard footsteps, but when she turned around, it was just Henry sitting at one of the arches. Those footsteps were probably from the outside of the mindscape. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth, keeping her mouth shut as she looks around the room for anything she can use. Her phone is in her pocket, and she can tell Enid has likely been sending her messages incessantly by the sporadic vibrations. Wednesday hopes that Enid will call her so she can try to pick it up, keeping it open in her pocket before she starts spouting things that will tell Enid where she is. 

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"This is weird," Enid mutters. "This is the crypt, isn't it?"

"It should be," Xavier looks around. "Something feels off, though."

Yoko is walking around, her glasses are off, and she looks up to see the moon. "This isn't right. Something feels wrong," Yoko says as she turns to the group. "This moonlight feels synthetic. It's making my eyes hurt."

Bianca looks around. "Henry was a psychic, right? What classes was he taking?"

"Um," Enid thinks of some of the classes they shared, but it was generic. Then she snaps her fingers. "Oh! He was taking psychitech! You know, the class where you can use your psychic powers to build things."

"What if this is one of them?" Bianca suggests as she looks back to the group. "What if this is what he could build? Fake rooms?"

"How the hell are we supposed to get out of this? It looks way too real," Xavier sighs, rubbings his face. 

"Let me try calling Wednesday," Enid pulls out her phone and dials. It picks up after the 4th ring, and Enid almost shouts into the phone when voices are already coming through.

"—couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

"Hold on," Enid says quietly, putting the phone on speakerphone. "I think Wednesday picked up, but she's with Henry right now."

The group listens to him speak, gauging the story with tense interest. 

"That's weird," Enid whispers. "It's quiet, but I can kind of hear an echo now."

"Hey Enid," Eugene whispers as he looks at her. "You put flowers in the Crypt when we came back to school, didn't you?"

Enid screws her brows in thought but nods when she remembers. "I did in the corner...to remember Rowan."

"What flower did you put?"

"I put a potted tristeria in there because they don't require any care. I didn't want to come back to look after it."

Eugene smiles. "I think I know how we can find our way in." He summons a single bee. 

"As long as there's pollen in there, this bee will find it." 

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"So?" Wednesday raises her brow at Henry. "Aren't you going to reveal your grand master plan? What your wish will be?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because cliche villains like you can't help it," Wednesday drawls. "It's why you're all so embarrassing. You think you're so clever and the need to show your cleverness to someone overrides any smart brain cell in your head to be efficient."

Henry looks at her contemptuously, but he looks up through the open sunroof and realizes the full moon isn't in position yet, and he has time. 

"I'm an only child," Henry begins to talk.

"Here we go," Wednesday mutters under her breath, rolling her eyes.

"My father was an alumnus here. We come from a long history of psychics and old money, so coming to this school is really the only choice. My father eventually graduated and married another socialite. You know, the type that's well-bred and genetically compatible to produce another strong psychic to pass on the legacy," Henry continues to point the knife at Wednesday but waves his other hand whimsically to emphasize his point.

"Except," Henry sighs, like the next part will be tragic. "The well-bred socialite turned out to be barren in the womb. Oh, whatever will they do? How will they pass down this enriched legacy? They need another psychic to pass it down to!"

Henry smiles like a bright idea comes to his head. It looks unhinged, which Wednesday would normally find charming, but Henry's face disgusts her to her stomach.

"Of course, the only answer is to find a surrogate. Secretly, of course. It's too shameful to let anyone know. And that means our lovely little couple finds an outcast struggling to make ends meet three states over. She's barely got any psychic abilities, but she's better than nothing, right?"

Wednesday's listening, but her eyes are taking in his stance. He doesn't stand like he has extensive combat abilities like she does, and she's confident in her odds there. 

"The couple promised riches. They promised a better house and food that wasn't stale and enough money to let her live her days out comfortably. But our soft-spoken, poor outcast says she can't agree. She loves children, and if she were to have a child, she'd want to be able to see her visit that child. The couple relents, and an agreement is formed."

Wednesday stares at the room around her without moving her eyes. This was real, wasn't it? There were limitations to Henry's powers. How many rooms could be kept active, how long he could keep them engaged, and the objects inside the mindscape can't stay outside for prolonged periods.

Henry must've brought you here because he couldn't mimic the magic residue that surrounded this crypt. 

That meant the surrounding area of his crypt would be made up of mindscapes so no one could find them.

Wednesday wonders if Enid and the rest of the group were currently lost in one of his mindscapes, and they were closer than she thought.

"Everything seems fine at first," Henry's voice interrupts her thoughts. "The pregnancy goes without a hitch, but on the day of her birth, there were complications, and she passed away soon after. Still, she gives birth to a lovely, healthy son. All should be well, right?" The way Henry says it is filled with sarcasm.

"But what should be filled with fulfilling days is just scorn. The well-bred socialite can't love a son who isn't really hers. His eyes are a constant reminder that he's someone else's child. She doesn't want to hold him, touch him, or even look at him if she doesn't have to. The father has great expectations, but when his son can't achieve them, he's distant. They don't tell him the origins of his birth, so the child is left to believe his parents just can't love a disappointment like him."

Great, Wednesday thinks, another idiot with mommy issues. "That was entirely uninteresting and cliche," Wednesday stifles a yawn, annoying Henry.

"Yes, but I'm not quite done."

"Hurry on then. I'm considering dying might be better than listening to the rest of this."

Henry sneers at her but continues on. "The child thinks he's just unloveable. That it's just the way he is, and that's why his parents cannot love him. Until one day, he's rummaging through his father's study in hopes that there's something there that could help him strengthen his psychic abilities."

"Let me guess," Wednesday drones. "You found a letter from either the doctor or the coroner about the day your birth mother had you but your father had her killed right after."

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs. 

"Yes," Henry looks miffed that his plot twist was ruined. "The doctor injected nightshade into her IV, and because she was poor, her death was never looked into after the report the doctor gave."

"So?" Wednesday raises her brow. "What are you going to wish for? Your birth mother to come back so someone might love you as pathetic as you are?"

"I'm going to rewind time," Henry reveals, scowling at her. "I'm going to go back in time and kill Tyler before he can awaken as a hyde."

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "That mongrel is already behind bars and rotting. Even if you rewind back time, he's not going to awaken his hyde for you. He has severe mommy issues just like you do, and you don't seem like the motherly type."

"Not to kill my parents," Henry snaps. "For me, for my life at Nevermore. Everything was perfect before Tyler came along."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What the hell do you—"

"If Tyler didn't come along, Miss Thornhill would still be here and she'd be focusing on me!" Henry shouts, gripping his knife tightly until veins become visible on his arms. 

Wednesday's eyes scrunch up in disgust, her head bobbing back with disbelief. "You're doing all this for Thornhill?" Her tone hides none of the contempt she feels. "Are you an absolute imbecile? Thornhill was using Tyler because she hates outcasts. She hates you too, you stupid—"

"That's not true!" Henry thunderously shouts at her. "Tyler and I were different. She cared about us but she chose Tyler because he was stronger! I'm different now! I can help her achieve her goals and we will be happy after."

"No," Wednesday curls her lip at Henry. "You were her puppet until she decided you were useless and Tyler could help her kill everyone. You do realize that was her goal, right? You'd only be kept alive until she decides she doesn't need you in her normie world."

"Shut up!" Henry's red in the face as he roars at her, stomping toward her. 

Wednesday hardens her stance, bending her knees slightly to keep her grounded. She blocks Henry's attempt to stab her before using her other elbow to dig into his sternum. It makes Henry stagger back, coughing, and grip his chest, but he hangs onto the knife. He recovers quickly before he moves back towards her, swinging the knife back and forth.

Wednesday dodges, but Henry extends his arm, and it nicks her cheek. The cut stings, and Henry grunts as he tackles her to the ground. He meant to stab her in the neck, but Wednesday moved her arm just in time and stabbed the outside of her bicep. Wednesday grunts in pain when he rips it out. 

His height difference gives him the advantage, and they're rolling on the ground. The force of the tackle made the back of Wednesday's head slam into the ground. She can feel a warm liquid dripping down the back of her head, but she doesn't let it stop her. 

Wednesday knees him in his groin, which makes him drop the knife, roll onto his back, and hold the tender area with a groan. Wednesday quickly kicks the knife away and gets on top of him, punching him in the face before she wraps her fingers around his neck and squeezes.

Henry is struggling and wheezing, his hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to rip them away, but Wednesday's grip is firm. She can feel his Adam's apple giving, and she squeezes tighter. 

Henry flails around, winding the back of his hand, and punches Wednesday in her temple. He wore a ring that dug into Wednesday's skin and ripped it open. 

The force and cut of it make Wednesday dizzy, and she's forced to let go as she staggers to the side. Henry is gasping for air but immediately scrambles for the knife. He has a cut on his brow from where Wednesday punched him, and his neck was wrung red. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Henry shouts, enraged as he grabs the knife. 

Wednesday is still lying on the floor, holding herself up on her elbow as she is holding her temple while her own blood coats her hand. 

The noise is deafening, and it makes you breathe deeply. 

You begin to stir, your fingers twitching. The sound of your leg moving grates against the stone table.

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction. 

"How did you..." Henry starts to say.

"Don't...touch her..." your voice is raspy and lethargic as you slowly sit up.

"Don't move," Henry threatens, grabbing the collar of Wednesday's shirt and pressing the knife against her throat. "Don't move, or I'll slice her neck open!"

Wednesday is staring at you. It's hard to see your eyes with your head tilted down and your palm pressed against your eye.

"How the hell did you wake up?' Henry seethes. "The draeconium should've kept you unconscious even when I started to cut your wings. You shouldn't have fought against it. This would've made all of it less painful."

The chain rattles as you move your palm away and look up at them. Wednesday could feel Henry tense, and she could understand why. 

Your eyes have transformed, and they were completely pitch black—even your sclera. You looked more like a demon than a faerie, and Wednesday felt her heart skip. She's entranced, eyes unable to look away. 

"I'm a high lord's daughter," your voice rumbles quietly, your eyes narrowing on them. "I'm a night faerie. You think I wouldn't be trained to have resistance against draeconium poison?"

Henry's jaw clenches, and Wednesday can't tell for certain, but she's pretty sure your eyes drop to look at the knife against her neck. 

"Let her go," you demand. "Let us both go, and the worst that will happen to you is an expulsion."

Your voice isn't threatening in any way. It's almost calm, and Wednesday almost scoffs that you'd think this psychopath would listen to you. 

"Expulsion?" Henry laughs. "The second Weems learns what I did, there's no way I won't be going to jail. My parents might just execute me out of shame."

"You could probably use your last meal to request to see your beloved Thornhill first, if she even agrees to see you," Wednesday mutters. The knife presses further into her neck threateningly. A thin slit of blood drips down from Wednesday's neck.

"There's only one way I'll let her go," Henry looks at you warily, trying to bargain. "Your wings for her life. I'll tie Wednesday up as leverage but the second I have your wings, I'll let her go."

"Only a moron would believe that," Wednesday drones, her face impassive. 

"She can't wait that long," you argue back, ignoring Wednesday. "She's losing blood in her arm."

"It's not fatal," Henry shakes his head. "I'll let you seal the wound up, but if I don't have your wings before the moon moves from the highest point in the sky, I will kill her."

"Don't bargain with me," you warn him, but your delicate tone doesn't scare Henry at all. 

Henry glares at you. He's losing his patience as he presses the knife further into Wednesday's neck, and she can feel it cut into her skin more. "There's nothing you can do but accept my bargain. You're lucky I'm even offering to let Wednesday go. I could kill her right now and still take your wings—"

Your eyes, filled with nothing but darkness, flash dangerously at him.

"Shit!" Henry suddenly curses, tenses up, and Wednesday sees his eyes cloud over. She knows that he can no longer see the way he's frantically looking around. She moves her head back, so the knife is no longer pressed against her neck. 

You suddenly spread your wings to their full span. Your wounds rip open, and blood rapidly rushes down, soaking your fingers and staining the stone table. They fill in the carved inscriptions but pour over onto the ground. 

You flap your wings, rising. The chain initially resists, but with another flap, it breaks like a measly string. 

You're hovering in the air, held up by your wings. Blood coats your shirt and cheek when your wings flap, splattering blood everywhere. 

It's terrifying how much blood you're losing, but Wednesday can't help the hitch of breath in the back of her throat. 

You look like a fallen angel. Like you fought tooth and nail before heaven cast you out.

You force your wings to their full wingspan and flap them with a reckoning force. The wind you create is so powerful that it forces Henry to fly back. He collides with a pillar, his body arches from the impact, and he gasps painfully. He drops the knife and falls onto his knees, coughing. 

You swoop down towards him, standing in front of him as you grab the collar of his shirt with both your hands, pressing him against the pillar to hold him up as he can't even stand. Henry is sure you've broken his ribs. 

"Lucky?" You snarled before seething at him. "Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday looks down at her hand, covered in blood and soaked feathers that fell when you flew over her. The air is hard to breathe after your wings disrupt the air, almost like she's choking. 

This was what her vision meant. 

How utterly useless to figure it out now. 

All Wednesday can smell is blood, all she can hear is your breathing and the sound of your wings. Your voice—raspy and rumbling—is all she can hear. Even when she closes her eyes, the image of you in the air with your bloodied wings is imprinted—burned into the back of her eyes. 

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

"Say, Henry," you say, and Wednesday feels a chill down her spine in the calm and light way you say it. "What do you think would happen to you if I dropped you from 1500ft? Do you think you'd die, or do you think you'd survive and just become paralyzed?"

"Please—" Henry whimpers, begging. He screws his eyes shut despite the fact that even if they're open, he can't see anything but pitch black. It's just instinct at this point.

"Let's see who's really lucky," you tell him, pulling him from the pillar, your wings fluttering. "You or me."

You're about to take off when you feel your shirt being tugged at. 

You look over to find Wednesday standing, parts of her temple crusted with dry blood while fresh blood pouring down a line. 

Wednesday is looking at you sternly, her brows furrowed deeply while hiding something else she is feeling—desperation. 

"Don't fly," she demands you, her voice serious. "If you fly, you'll lose too much blood and you won't make it."

You merely stare at her, and Wednesday wonders if you can even hear her.

"I'm okay," Wednesday tells you quietly instead. "We both are." She turns her head to look at Henry, who looks like he has passed out from the pain in his ribs. "He's done. He can't do anything anymore."

The words seem to reach you as you loosen your grip, dropping Henry, and he falls to the floor on his side. 

You turn to Wednesday, blood dripping drop after drop from the end of your wings. 

"You've ruined your wings again," Wednesday scowls at you, and your lip twitches. "You fool, they will never heal at this rate."

"They will," your voice was raspy. "I just need intensive care for the rest of the year."

Wednesday keeps her scowl at you, and you smile weakly at her.

"Thank you for coming to find me," you tell her, your voice lulls Wednesday.

"Of course, you were late," Wednesday relaxes her face as she looks over your wings. As much as she hated to admit it, this was out of her hands, and they needed the nurse.

You smile sadly, and it looks strange with someone whose eyes are completely black. "I missed our date."

"Stop with the look," Wednesday orders. "It's unnecessary. I can always plan it again."

You look happy, then. But you also look extremely tired. The black from your eyes fades and after a couple long blinks, they become normal again. 

"Thank you for saving me," Wednesday eventually says, her features looking soft as they gaze at you. "Even if you were stupid enough to ruin your wings."

You chuckle, but it's weak. You lift your hand, almost hesitating to touch Wednesday's face since your hands are coated in blood. But Wednesday leans into it, letting it smear her cheek.

You're so warm, and it's comforting to Wednesday. It was a sign you were alive. 

Making sure you paid for making her feel wretched over you would have to wait because all Wednesday can do right now is be thankful you're alive.

You lean towards her face, your lips hovering over hers. 

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands. "Ever. Especially without me."

You smile, and it brushes against Wednesday's lip. 

"Are you threatening me with a good time again?" you murmur. "But okay, only because you have such a way with words."

You're about to close the distance, but you slump against her instead, passing out.

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening. 

Suddenly, Enid burst through the room. Well, first, it was a bee, and then Enid.

"We're here! I'm going to wolf out and beat that motherfuc—oh, you guys already won."

The group follows quickly behind Enid, taking in the gory scene.

"Jesus Christ, Addams," Bianca scowls at her. "Did you make Fae do all the work? What happened to the Addams that held someone hostage to torture them?"

Wednesday doesn't respond to the comment, merely passing you to Enid and Yoko to carry. "Take her to the nurse quickly."

"It'll be faster if I carry her in my wolf form," Enid says. "Let's take her outside first."

"I can do some first aid to hold her over," Bianca follows. "Let's get her near the river; I can use the river water."

They all take a moment to stare at you. 

"I didn't know she had wings," Yoko comments. "They're beautiful."

"If rumors of her wings go around, I will—"

"Obviously, we're not going to talk about them, Addams," Bianca rolls her eyes. "You don't need to threaten our lives."

Wednesday shrugs. 

"Let's just get going," Enid starts to move. Everyone begins to follow except Xavier. He stays and lingers around Wednesday.

"You need medical attention too," Xavier glosses over her, specifically the wound in her arm. 

"I'm fine," Wednesday brushes him off, turning around to stare at Henry on the ground. "You should go help them."

Xavier follows Wednesday's gaze. "I can help you carry him back."

"I'm not bringing him back," Wednesday monotones.

Xavier sighs. "Wednesday, I know what he did was horrible and he should die for it, but you can't kill him. Weems might—"

"I'm not going to kill him either," Wednesday interrupts. "You should leave."

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

Xavier hesitates for a moment before letting out a frustrated sigh and turning to leave the room.

Something scuddles into the room, and Wednesday turns to see Thing.

"There you are, Thing," Wednesday says. "Let's see if your scalpel skills improved."

PART 10

[jinnaga]

[TEASER] CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT — JJK.

PAIRING jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE smut, fluff and angst 😁 (she's an all rounder yall!)

SUMMARY Law school was an extremely competitive environment so you didn't really have the luxury to get to know a person on a deep level to have a romantic relationship with them, and so, you've been feeling lonely these past few months, having this urge to just... feel something from another human being. Maybe you're looking for love, a fling, a dalliance of some sort, but with your BAR exam coming, you can't exactly date – no, dating someone is gonna add to your long list of problems, put another weight to the stress and pressure you're already carrying and you can't risk the drama it entails... but when your best friend proposes an idea of a situationship to you, you didn't think it sounds too bad.

[THE FOLLOWING DETAILS ONLY APPLY TO THE FIRST PART OF THE SERIES]

ESTIMATED W/C 10k 😐 might be more though because im still finishing up one scene and haven't really edited anything yet soo

WARNING(S)/MISC best friend!jk, very sexy software engineer!jk <<3 (i always imagine him going to college as a compsci major and it makes me dizzy every single time😵), law student!reader (or rather, a graduate in law since she's already reviewing for bar in this story), features the rest of the bts babes and some of the 97liners, fwb!au, vmin are boyfriends here <3, talks about silly crushes and sex, oc has a nipple piercing raaahhhh, explicit smut in the forms of: oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex but protected 👍🏼, boob sucking lol, praises ?? hmm and i forgot the rest. other misc includes: jk being a dog dad ♥️ (we FUCKING LOVE YOU BAM!), oc suffering from bar reviews, tatted jk sighs, also have i mentioned that jk has a.... lot of piercings in this story? 🤨 anyways that's all i can rmr from what i wrote i'll add what ive forgotten when i post the actual first part! (ps don't forget to imagine in the soop s2 jungkook except his hair is longer like this)

POSTING DATE nov 24th on wednesday, 2am kst

NOTES hey guys very excited to share this with you all 😁 this will be a 4-part series and i hope you will look forward to it!! [update: taglist is closed!]

TEASER W/C 0.5k

CLICK HERE FOR FULL FIRST PART!

He's quiet for a while, then he looks at you. "You want me to be honest with you?"

You're taken aback by the placid tone of his words and his eyes never leaving your own as he spoke them. It somehow makes you feel a little nervous. You try not to gulp too visibly. "O-of course."

The corners of his mouth stretched, as if amused by the way you stutter to such a simple question.

"Can I ask you something first, then?" He asks, and although still hesitant, you nod. Jeongguk continues, "Do you find me attractive?"

The question was so unpredictable that you couldn't possibly hide the shock on your face. He raised his eyebrow, waiting for your response, but nothing came out from you so soon like he expected.

It makes you think. Do you find Jeongguk attractive?

Of fucking course. Duh!

Literally, who wouldn't? On the outside, he's disgustingly handsome, sometimes it makes you pissed how attractive he is, got a body that's just the right buff and big… He's also tall, and the full sleeve tattoo around the entirety of his right arm and piercings on both his lip and brow really add to his naturally oozing charm. Beyond all that superficial aspects though is his kind heart. Jeongguk is, above all, a really good person. Someone you can confide in, someone you can count on. He's someone who has a funny and warm disposition. He's confident in a way that's not bordering on arrogant, just very good at carrying himself that it's… somewhat – okay, not somewhat – it is sexy and hot that he just knows.

On top of that, he's intelligent as hell. Jeongguk is a software engineer in this big tech company hence why he's also rich. He literally has this big ass, grossly priced apartment in Gangnam (where you currently are, by the way. You say it's grossly priced because you know it's expensive as fuck, you're not about to lie and say it's overpriced as his place is really something) because his job pays him well and he's great at it.

He's the total dream guy if you have to be extremely honest and truth be told, if he wasn't one of your closest friends – probably your closest friend – you would've hit on him a long time ago.

"Yeah," you tell him sincerely because there's no point in lying.

There's a grin on his face when he hears your answer.

"I'm glad because I'm about to tell you that I find you attractive too."

You can feel your heart doing a flip or two inside your ribcage, but you ignore the feeling right away, rolling your eyes at him just to prove a point. "Are you saying that because you don't want to embarrass me? It's fine, you can be honest with me."

Immediately shaking his head, Jeongguk stares at you in a way that makes you think he's a little offended with what you said. For what though, you have no idea.

"No? I know you know you're pretty. It's a common fact among friends and people you don't know personally."

There's a rush of heat that spreads throughout your cheeks at his compliment. He sounded like you shouldn't even be questioning it too, nonchalant in a way, but you're not really good with compliments so you try to get a way out.

"Really? Is that your type?" You raised a brow. "Pretty girls?"

Your joke backfires.

With a playful smirk playing on his lips, his answer was an instant, "Yeah."

all rights reserved. jinnaga © 2021.

[fairytales-of-yesterday]

My Lonely Days Are Through

A/N: okay so I finally wrote a fic! this is my first fic in like,, 4 years or so? so be gentle with me I guess lmao

I am pretty content with this though! I'm soft as hell so,,, here we go :)

@gardnerlangway this one's for you, lovely

(no editing we die like men)

A yawn escapes your lips as you stretch out and then curl back up. Tim's heart flutters as he watches you rub your nose, your brows furrowed. You're currently curled up on his couch, fast asleep. It's a typical Friday night for the two of you, one spent together. After meeting Tim when you started working in the museum a few months back, the two of you had built up a routine around each other. You would eat lunch together on your break, stay after hours working and keeping each other company, you would even go grocery shopping together on weekends. Today was no exception to your intertwined schedules. Upon leaving the museum for the day, you had grabbed a late dinner and ended up back at his apartment. You had started the night working, but the stress of the week and your recent lack of sleep had taken its toll, and you dozed off relatively quickly after 2am hit.

The soft light of the television dances colors across your face as Tim looks on in complete adoration. Your eyelashes cast tiny shadows on your cheeks as your chest rises and falls steadily. You had borrowed a shirt and some shorts from him, you both agreeing it would just make sense if you spent the night, and his eyes couldn't help but wander to where the tshirt had ridden up to expose a bit of your stomach. His breath catches in his throat as he finds himself thinking about what it would feel like to hold you there. What it would feel like to just have you close. To run his hands along your soft skin and-

"Okay wow, Tim." He quickly looks back at the bright screen of his laptop in order to rid his mind of these compromising thoughts. But, as his eyes make their way back to you, he runs a hand through his hair and breaths a quiet laugh. "I really do have it bad, don't I?"

He quickly covers his mouth though as he sees you slightly stir, not wanting to wake you. He had seen the effect the last week had had on you, his heart slowly falling more and more as each day you seemed to become a little more quiet, a little less peppy, and a little less yourself. The project you had been working on was one you were very passionate about, but it had become quite the endeavor. Though you had been thrilled to take it on, the universe had not been on your side, with people forgetting to follow through with their promises, paperwork getting mixed up, and even artifacts getting misplaced for a bit due to the lack of a proper cataloging system when the museum first opened. It nearly broke Tim's heart to see you become so unhappy with something that had made you so ecstatic before. He had done all in his power to keep you smiling, with funny stories, bad jokes, and any help he could offer, but you couldn't help still being discouraged. He had even mustered up the courage to give you a little kiss on the forehead as he left your office at one point, and the smile it brought, along with the blush that rose to your cheeks, was definitely worth the ten minutes he spent panicking over whether or not he should even attempt it. Just the memory of your flustered face makes him grin.

A small whine draws him from his thoughts. He looks up to find you rubbing your eyes and slowly pushing yourself to a sitting position. He tries his best to maintain his composure as you sleepily pull down your shirt and run your hand through your hair.

"Good morning," he chuckles quietly. You look at him in sleepy confusion before realizing what happened.

"Oh nooo," you groan, putting your face in your hands. He laughs a little louder this time, scooting over on the couch to bump your shoulder with his. You smile into your palms, your face flushing pink at the contact. He bumps you again, drawing your face away from your hands. Peeking through your fingers, you can see the soft but wide smile on his face.

"Have a nice nap?"

It's teasing, but you can see something resembling concern in his gaze. You just nod in response, running a hand through your hair. "I don't think I've ever seen you fall asleep this fast," he cautiously approaches the subject, "have you slept this week?"

The laugh that escapes you in response only makes his concern grow. He asks again, softer this time, and you look up at him with tired eyes.

"I uh... I think I got ten hours this whole week."

"Ten?"

You wince slightly at his tone, cursing yourself for not adding a few hours to make him feel a bit better.

"But that's like... two hours a night! You've gotten ten hours of sleep this whole week?" You can't tell if it's shock or sadness in his eyes. Maybe both.

"Eleven if you count the nap I just took?" You joke, trying to calm him a little. "Tim, I'm okay I promise, I've been through a lot worse, honest."

"Worse?!"

Okay, so that didn't help. But before you can say anything else to try and defend yourself, he wraps you up in a tight hug. You tense up for a second, taken by surprise, but quickly you melt into him. You don't even realize you've started crying until you hear Tim trying to comfort you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," you hiccup into his shoulder, tears beginning to stain his shirt.

He rubs your back slowly, quietly shushing you, and telling you that it's absolutely okay, and you have nothing to apologize for. You shiver at his touch, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in. You stay like that for a few minutes, you trying to stop your ragged breaths and the tears spilling from your eyes, him rubbing your back, occasionally switching to run his hands through your hair, whispering words of comfort. However, eventually you pull away with a pitiful laugh.

"Sorry about your shirt," you whisper, trying to simultaneously brush your tears off of his shoulder and wipe your eyes.

"Hey, it's completely okay. I know this week has been rough. You have every right to be upset. But, it's over now, okay? Next week'll be better, yeah? I'll make sure it is."

He's relieved to see a watery smile grace your lips. No, that's an understatement. He's almost on the verge of crying himself, never having seen you in this state before. He brings his hands up to cradle your face, wiping the still falling tears with the pads of his thumbs, somehow not noticing the deep shade of red you're turning. With his hands still around your face, he tilts your head so you're looking up at him.

"Now, what do you say I pop some popcorn and you turn on something you like?"

A breathy laugh escapes you and you nod, not really trusting your voice with him this close to you. You can see the masked worry in his features as he smiles, and you mentally kick yourself for stressing him out. But, that thought leaves you as he stands up, giving you a chaste but firm kiss on your forehead. You're eternally grateful that he goes to the kitchen immediately after bc you can't stop the blush that rises to your cheeks.

"Dear god, that boy's gonna kill me," you whisper, wrapping yourself up in one of the blankets that had been resting on the back of the couch.

You start to flip through the channels, eventually landing on a documentary, and you hear a chuckle behind you. You turn to find Tim with a bowl of popcorn in his hand, looking at you in what you could only describe as fond adoration. You flush again, and he laughs fully now, plopping down beside you. You lift the blanket, inviting him in, and he gladly accepts, scooting over close enough to bump knees with you.

You fall into a comfortable silence, both of you enraptured by the bright images on the tv. Every now and then your hands brush when trying to reach for popcorn, and you mentally curse yourself for getting so worked up over cliches, not knowing that Tim was doing the exact same thing.

You're the first to speak.

"Thank you."

It's a quiet whisper, accompanied with a shoulder bump. He bumps you back and gives you a lopsided grin.

"It's the least I could do."

“What?”

“Y/N, you've spent the last few months I've known you being so amazingly kind to me. You bring me food, you save me seats in meetings, you laugh at my jokes, you-”

You cut him off very seriously, “Okay they're good jokes, Tim.”

At that he laughs, breathlessly.

“Not good enough for you to cry in the middle of a meeting! I was trying to be quiet and you almost spit your water everywhere!”

Now you're both laughing, remembering that stupid planet joke and how you just about died of embarrassment, and before you can think or stop yourself, you say it.

“God, I love you.”

It's like all the oxygen leaves the room. Both of you are immediately gasping for breath, as if the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Before you can sputter out an apology, anything to make things go back to how they were before you blurted out what had been your most well-kept secret, Tim manages to get out,

“You… you what?”

His eyes are wide, and you're sure yours are as well. You're in love with him. You're in love with him. You had never even said it to yourself before. It had always just been little sighs, thoughts of him basically all the time, or little whispers to yourself about how bad you've got it. Never an outright, ‘I'm in love with Tim Murphy.’ No, the first time you said it just had to be right to his face.

You start to say ‘sorry, no, wait,” to say, ‘hold on I shouldn't have done that,’ but then you stop. And you look at him. Tim. Tim, with his sweet words and his brilliant mind. Tim, with his adorable laugh and beautiful smile that he had come to trust you with. Tim, with his tight hugs that make you feel safer than almost anywhere else. Tim, with his strong arms and gorgeous face and Jesus Christ his HANDS are just about the hottest things in the world like oh my god the things he could- you've gotten off track. The point is, you don't want to apologize. You don't want to take it back. You love him.

So you say it again.

“I love you.”

And then it's quiet. He looks honestly shell-shocked. You can almost see his gears turning behind his eyes, trying to figure out what to say after that. Immediately, your brain jumps to the worst possible scenario, and you begin to backtrack.

“I'm sorry. Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I just- you're so lovely, but you can completely ignore any of this just hap-”

And then he's kissing you. It's a short kiss, just a sweet, small one, but you're out of breath when he pulls away. You open your eyes to see him in a similar state, his face completely flushed. But he quickly finds his voice.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that.”

All you can do is laugh, still trying to remember how to breathe.

“The feeling is mutual.”

He blushes and gives a bashful smile, then hesitates again, opening his mouth, then closing it, once more unable to speak. However, he manages to regain his composure enough to ask,

“Can… can I kiss you again?”

Not even bothering you answer, you close the gap between you. You feel Tim smile against your lips, and you can't help but do the same. You don't know how it happens, but somehow you end up on his lap, straddling him. Your hands are on his chest as your lips move in sync, slowly, but desperately. Passionately. His hands make their way into your hair, and you whimper quietly into his mouth as he gives it a slight tug. Your face heats up immediately, but you just keep going, pretending it didn't happen and hoping he missed it. He definitely heard it though, and you feel him smirk against you.

Shit, that's hot … everything he does is hot.

You roll your hips experimentally to retaliate, still on top of him, and the moan that leaves his lips is one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. It goes straight to your core, and you let out a groan yourself. You start to roll your hips once more, desperate to draw that sound from him again, but his hands come up to your waist and stop you. You can see he’s panting, and his hair is all disheveled.

“Okay, as much as I want to do that, and I really wanna do that,” he pauses as you giggle, “you just told me that you got 10 hours of sleep this week. I promise we can continue another time, but right now, you need to sleep.”

You pout, knowing he's got a point.

“Okay, but only since you promised.”

He helps you off his lap, letting you use him as support, and gently guides you to his bedroom. He makes a big, dorky show of tucking you in, making sure you're comfortable, offering to make you a glass of water. Finally, he gives you a soft smile, says a quiet goodnight, and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Your face immediately flushes, and you whisper a soft goodnight back as he turns to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He turns around, confused.

"The couch?"

You give him a grin, suddenly a bit shy, and wordlessly lift up the covers next to you. He stares at you for a moment, still sporting that confused expression, and then suddenly it's like a lightbulb goes off in his head.

"Oh. OH! You want..?"

You giggle sleepily at how flustered he is. Just a few minutes ago you were about to rip each other's clothes off, and now he's getting stuttery about sleeping in the same bed as you.

"I hope you like to cuddle."

At that, he smiles sheepishly, and nods without a word. You watch as he changes into pjs, his boxers and an old band tshirt, and it takes all your willpower to not start anything again. After turning the lights off, he slides into bed next to you. There's a moment of hesitation, a moment where it seems like he can't quite decide what he wants to do, but then you feel him move closer to you, and suddenly, he's holding you. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and you can feel his smile against your skin. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, and you turn to press one into his hair. You both sigh, more comfortable and safe than you've ever felt in your life.

"Goodnight, Tim."

"Goodnight."

A beat.

"I love you."

You smile.

"I love you too."