#wednesday imagine

[poisonlove]

la maledizione degli Addams²

Pairing: wednesday Addams X reader

Wednesday had been avoiding you, deliberately ignoring the itch she felt every time you were near, focusing solely on her investigation. Though it pained her to avoid the deep connection with her soulmate, her determination to solve the mysteries surrounding her took precedence over any emotion. Her investigations had paid off: she had discovered a secret library that led her to the book with the missing page about Rowan (luckily after the Poe Cup), and she had followed her leads into the woods during Outreach Day, finding the lair of the monster and planning to visit it with Eugene.

But unfortunately Enid had dragged her to the Raven.

Wednesday had chosen to use Tyler as a scapegoat. The normal boy, attracted to her, represented a useful resource for her goals. She knew she could exploit his interest to focus on her investigations while distancing herself from Galpin.

But when she saw Eugene with his backpack ready for their excursion, a pressure tightened in her chest. The disappointment on Eugene’s face was palpable, an expression that struck Wednesday in an unexpected way.

"Don’t go into the woods," she told him, her black eyes fixed on him with an intensity that sent chills down his spine.

"We'll go after the party. Stay close" she added.

At the entrance to the ballroom, the itch she had felt grew more intense. Without thinking her eyes began to search for you among the crowd. There you were. A burning fire ignited inside her and in an involuntary gesture she clenched her jaw, producing a crack that revealed her growing frustration. The sight of Yoko, your dance partner, only fueled her irritation.

Damn curse.

The Addams curse that she had always considered both a blessing and a burden now amplified her feelings, making each moment even more painful.

The image of Y/N laughing and enjoying herself with Yoko struck her like a blow to the heart. A pang of pain spread through her chest as if her soul was being torn apart. Every smile from Y/N, every glance exchanged with Yoko felt like a mortal wound.

Wednesday found herself caught in a tearing conflict: on one side was her untamed nature pushing her to keep her distance; on the other an overwhelming desire to get closer, to reconnect with you even if it meant facing vulnerability.

Her gaze involuntarily shifted to Yoko.

The vampire with her charming smile and relaxed demeanor only amplified Wednesday's frustration.

"Damn it," she thought as her hands tightened around Tyler's arm. She wanted to run away but she knew she couldn’t. Her soulmate was there and despite everything, the urge to move closer was undeniable.

Yoko chuckled softly as she noticed how sparks were crackling around your body. You could control lightning. Likely due to the intensity of Wednesday’s gaze, Y/N turned away from Yoko and directed her eyes in Wednesday's direction. By some twist of fate, you were the only two girls in the entire school wearing black dresses at a party where white was the required attire.

Enid's figure suddenly appeared at the entrance, blocking Wednesday’s view of you.

Damn.

"Wednesday! Oh my God, you look amazing!" the blonde exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. Enid was wearing a beautiful white dress with a touch of purple makeup on her face.

Strange.

Wednesday’s gaze shifted to the girl’s date.

"Strange choice for your date," she murmured in a flat voice. Her eyes shot a cold glare at the mayor's son, the leader of the trio that had tried to attack her twice.

The boy shuddered.

"Oh... he came to make his ex jealous, and I wanted to make Ajax jealous," Enid said with a shrug.

Her eyes darted to Tyler.

"Tyler! Are you Wednesday's date?" she asked in surprise, her blue eyes studying her roommate with intensity. "Yeah," the normal boy scratched his head, clearly embarrassed.

"I’m going to get a drink," the curly-haired boy added, leaving her alone with Enid.

"You know, I thought you’d come with Y/N," the blonde said casually, "You two... I don’t know... have great chemistry," she added with a small smile.

A shiver ran down Wednesday’s spine at the mention of your name.

"It seems to me she's having fun with Yoko," Addams murmured with venom, her eyes scanning toward your figure.

Despite the discomfort that enveloped her Wednesday launched into the dance. Her movements were distinct, rigid yet fluid, her hands tracing sinuous precise gestures, her steps seemingly defying the rhythm of the music itself. But during one of those turns her hand accidentally brushed against another’s.

As soon as the fingers touched a jolt of energy shot through her body like thousands of electric shocks sliding across her skin, like invisible spiders crawling in her stomach leaving her paralyzed for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat and her head tilted back in an almost unnatural movement, her eyes wide open toward the ceiling.

A vision struck her with the force of lightning.

The world shattered around her, the party lights vanishing and transforming into blinding flashes. Screams and distant voices echoed in her ears overlapping in an indistinguishable chaos. Among the flashes she glimpsed Crackstone, his menacing figure looming like an impending shadow. Then, like a distorted image, a wedding: black dahlias, a black dress, hands united in an eternal bond all enveloped in a disturbing aura.

Wednesday's body was as rigid as a tightly drawn string, her hands stiff by her sides, every muscle tensed under her pale skin. Her face was twisted in an expression of pure terror as her breath came out in ragged gasps.

And then, everything faded.

The vision dissolved leaving her shaken and trembling, her head still thrown back. Slowly, she tilted forward again as her eyes refocused on the ballroom now again wrapped in the dim lights and chaotic movements of their schoolmates. But the sensation of disorientation persisted, like an echo of the vision that still throbbed in her temples.

She felt something warm on her shoulders and realized it was your hands, steady and sure, supporting her. You had moved closer during her moment of weakness, your Y/C eyes fixed on her with a mixture of concern and alarm. Your expression was tense, your breath quick.

The curse.

Her body seemed unresponsive for a moment, her legs still unsteady. She felt a strange, dark current flowing between the two of you, as if physical contact had been the catalyst for a force that had awakened within her.

"Are you okay? It looked like a vision," you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern. Your tone was low, meant only for her, as you tried to understand what had happened.

Wednesday took a deep breath trying to regain control over the turmoil inside her, but she clearly felt the effects of the curse coursing through her veins. An invisible tension tightened her chest, pulling her forward, almost as if she were compelled to move closer to you. She took a step forward closing the distance between you and her gaze locked determinedly onto yours.

"Yes... I was dancing with Tyler... then I had a vision," Wednesday said in a flat tone, her dark eyes tracing every detail of your face trying to grasp something she couldn’t quite understand.

"Tyler left," you responded, your voice breaking slightly as if admitting that truth cost you more than you wanted to show. Then you clenched your jaw, your expression hardening and in that moment Wednesday swore she saw a flash behind your irises, a reflection that seemed to conceal a storm.

A question crossed her mind like lightning: were you jealous?

Without thinking Wednesday’s hands moved sliding from your shoulders to encircle your neck. The skin beneath her fingers was warm and she felt a shiver that shook her from within like a fire igniting in her chest and consuming her from the inside. She felt... overwhelmed, as if the tide of sensations enveloping her was pulling her underwater leaving her breathless. Her heart pounded in a way she had never experienced before, a frantic and unfamiliar rhythm that muddled her thoughts.

The itch that had overwhelmed her before was gone.

Instead a heat consumed her and pushed her closer to you, as if the simple touch of her hands on your skin was the only thing keeping her upright.

Maybe it's because we touched? she thought for a moment, her mind tangled between logic and instinct searching for an explanation.

"Wednesday, I..." you began, your voice hesitant, almost fearful, as if you were afraid of the reaction you might provoke.

At the mention of her name on your lips Wednesday barely stifled a moan, a low sound escaping from her throat and echoing deeply in her chest. It was as if the sound of her name spoken by you held a different weight, an intensity that made her bones vibrate and burned inside her. Every fiber of her being sensed that this was different, that there was something strange and unstoppable between the two of you, a force she couldn’t fully understand but could not ignore.

"Cara mia" Wednesday whispered, her words almost too intimate, laced with a subtle darkness that sent a shiver through you. Her hands around your neck tightened pulling you closer with a determined hungry strength.

Your cheeks flushed red, a blush that Wednesday watched with hungry eyes.

For a moment the world around you seems to disappear, dissolving into the silence that exists only between the heavy breaths that bind you together. Her mind is overtaken by a primal desire and all she wants is to taste your lips, to feel the warmth of your mouth on hers. She realizes that she wants to consume you whole as if that were the only way to quell the fire burning inside her, as if that were the only way to make you hers.

For the first time she understands what drove her parents toward each other with such intensity. Why Gomez could never stay away from Morticia, why every gesture between them seemed to almost defy the rules of propriety with their passion. But that thought blends with something else, a deep disgust for herself, for how quickly she has yielded to this impulse abandoning her rigidity and her ideals just because of a single touch from you.

Just as this internal struggle rages, a cold drop hits your cheek followed by another that slides down your nose tracing a scarlet path. The sensation of something wet and viscous on your face breaks the moment and when you look up, a red rain begins to fall, like blood pouring from the ceiling, staining your faces and clothes.

Chaos erupts around you.

The other students begin to scream, pushing against each other in a desperate attempt to escape the ballroom. Bodies collide and stumble in a frantic rush, slipping on the floor now covered in blood. The lights flicker on and off in a pulsing rhythm amplifying the panic.

But you remain still, trapped under Wednesday's gaze, her lips curling into a wicked smile. The urge to run her tongue along your cheek to taste you mixed with the blood overwhelms her.

Suddenly a body crashes into her, shoving her violently to the side. Wednesday whirls around, muscles tense, fists clenched ready to retaliate against the intruder. But right in that moment her gaze goes lank and another vision seizes her, ragging her into a spiral of confused and painful images.

She sees red boots stepping on the ground, staining themselves with the dark red that flows like a river. And then a familiar face distorted by the pain caused by the beast's attack:

Eugene.

[lacy-oh-lacy]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

♡ Wednesday Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You just broke Wednesday's brain. 

The black and white stripes on the sweater you stole made for an apt mirror of her juxtaposing thoughts. The half of her affronted and the half of her in awe.

"What are you wearing?" 

The intensity in her dark eyes would make most people shrivel, it didn't even stop you from breaking into a grin.

"A sweater." 

She recognised the 'sing-song' nature of your tone. You were teasing her.

She hated when you did that, or at least she hated her total inability to reprimand you for doing it.

"I can see that, but don't you have any of your own you could be wearing?" Her voice wavered, and just like the heat blooming across her face, she couldn't tell if it was because she was frustrated or flustered.

"I do, but sweaters are so much better when they belong to someone else." 

Her eyebrows creased. A rebuttal formed in her mind then faded as you added, 

"Seriously. You should take one of mine some time."

Her stomach flipped. 

'Butterflies' was what you had called the sensation when she described it to you in a panic after your first kiss. 

Apparently, the little pests hadn't died yet.

"Pass." The word was harder to force out than she'd like to admit.

As if she'd even be caught dead in one of your entirely too colorful sweaters... No matter how soft they were, or how delicately your scent lingered on them.

Or how much she'd love to see you even a fraction as enamored as she felt right then.

[house-of-lovin]

be mine?

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: You and Wednesday have a reputation to uphold. Is it worth it?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Profanity. haven't written in a long time so its probably trash.

Note: Where Wednesday is a lovestruck fool and I just really wanted to write about it.

Word Count: 5.4k+

Preview: 'The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relish in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers.'

“Wednesday, I have to go…” You mumbled, disconnecting your lips from the girl.

“Mhmm.” She mutters back agreeing but continues tightly gripping the back of your neck with her cold hands.

“Enid and Thing are gonna be back soon.” You say breathlessly against her mouth, trying to gather some semblance of control of the situation. But let’s be real here, you lose all sense of self-control around the Addams girl.

“We’re…gonna…get…caught.” You mumbled through her hot open-mouthed kisses. God, you’re an idiot for not picking her up and throwing her on that bed.

“Wednesday.” You pull away, slightly pushing at her shoulders. Dark, blow-out pupils meet your own, the two of you – breathing hard. Her blinking is unfocused, clutching you tight to steady her breathing.

“What?” She blinks once again, this time looking into your eyes.

“Enid and Thing?” You remind, fondly amused at her tousled appearance. A sign that she allowed herself to lose herself in your presence. Wednesday would rather be caught dead than not have everything be to her liking. So, for her clothes and usual twin braids to be undone and disorderly made your head feel a bit woozy. You take the time to fix the mess her fringe had become as your breathing evens out.

“Right… Yes.” Wednesday untangles herself from your touch and your body’s reaction was instantaneous – already cold from losing contact with her, craving it in silence.

You and Wednesday caught yourself in the midst of a secret. You’ve been dating? Fooling around? Hooking up? You haven’t exactly talked about it, but it’s been going on for about two months now and none of your friends had caught on.

See, you and the Addams had quite a reputation; forming a rivalry of sorts. It was well-known around the school that you and her did not get along, like at all. You both always compete to outdo and outrank each other; whether it be in class, extracurriculars, or for no reason at all. Your friends often caught you two bickering over some trivial matters, engaging to rile each up then eventually escalating to points of threats of bodily harm – which is when your friends would have to step in and physically separate you two.

Before this… situationship, the only similarity you two had was your friend group, who knew to never leave you two alone for fear that the arguing and tension would boil over and you two would finally fulfill threats of harming each other.

Once you had a common goal to achieve, after being paired up for a school project; You and Wednesday found each other more than... decent. A deadly argument and kiss later, an undefined relationship blossomed.

“Come back tomorrow night. Enid is sleeping over at Ajax’s dorm, we will have the room to ourselves.” Wednesday says, murky, lust-filled eyes flickering to your mouth as she takes her thumb to smudge away remnants of her lipstick on your lips.

“Can’t get enough of me already?” Smirking, unable to resist teasing the girl.

“Please, as if you were not the one who was practically begging me all day to sneak away with you.”

Eyebrows rising to your forehead, “Me?” You retort in disbelief. “You kept making your eyes at me.” Gesticulating with widened eyes to emphasize your point.

“What eyes?”

“You know, the eyes you make at me when you wanna get down…” Wiggling your brows at the insinuation while hers bumped together in displeasure.

“I don’t make those eyes.” She grits, “And don’t call it that, ever.” But she pursed her lips in annoyance because her desires were so easily read by you – it made her black heart thud harshly against her rib cage; turning away from you to hide the tint of redness painting on her cheeks and ears.

She hated how easy it was for you to bring these emotions out of her, it made her want to vomit.

“You may go now.”

You chuckled, deciding not to push her buttons and point out how adorable you thought she was. You reach over and peck her cheek from behind. “I’ll see you later, Wednesday.” The raven-haired girl was more than glad she was facing away from you so that you didn’t see her cheeks reddening even more.

You make your way out of her dorm, smiling to yourself. You couldn’t keep it at bay even if you tried; overwhelmed with a fuzzy feeling that Wednesday always manages to make you feel. Keeping your head down, you walk down the hallway and away from her room.

“Y/N?” A voice called out, breaking away from your daydreaming.

“Enid! Hey.” Your eyes slightly widened, “what are you doing here?”

“I live here?” She responded with amused confusion, racking her eyes over your figure. You were looking slightly dishevelled, fidgety.

“What are you doing here? You live on the other side of campus, and it’s almost curfew.”

“Um… Wednesday.” The werewolf’s brow upturned at the mention of her roommate, curiosity sparking in her.

“Something about a lead in her investigation.” The lying was nothing new to you; having been doing it for months now since starting your relationship with the Addams girl.

Enid continued eyeing you, not completely believing Wednesday would ask you for help, but also knowing her roommate. That girl would never let a petty dispute derail her progress on an investigation. So it was plausible at best.

As Enid continues to observe you, she sees a tiny smudge of colour on your shirt collar and on the skin under. A shape of lipstick, she deduces. “Oh alright! Well, I’ll let you get back to your dorm. I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

Letting out an internal sigh of relief that you didn’t set off too much suspicion from the werewolf. You smile widely and give an acknowledging nod, “Goodnight, Enid.”

Enid continues to watch as you walk away and eventually out of her eyesight when you turn a corner. She skips to her room with a slight pep in her step, opening the door widely to scan the room for her gloomy friend.

Her gaze lands on the Addams typing at her typewriter. “Good evening, roomie.”

Barely sparing the werewolf a glance, Wednesday regards her friend with a simple, “Hello.”

For a brief moment, silence takes over the room and Wednesday can practically feed Enid swaying on her feet from behind her. Her roommate obviously wanted to say something. “Spit out whatever you feel you must say, Enid.”

“What did you and Y/N get up to tonight?” The mention of your name made Wednesday straighten her already perfect posture; back stiff and strained.

“Y/N was having trouble with our previous lesson in Botany. I offered to tutor her, she clearly needed it.” The goth lied with ease; imperceptible to most, fooling almost anybody – perhaps even Enid, if she didn’t just catch you two in a lie.

“Weird. That’s exactly what she said when I saw her.” Wednesday's features fight to remain impassive. For a moment she wonders if you had slipped up and exposed the secret.

“Well – not weird, ‘cause why would it be weird that she said the same thing? Ha, anyways I’m gonna go get ready for bed now.” Enid excused, and with a turn of her heel, leaped to their shared bathroom; smiling widely in secret.

Wednesday decides to ignore her roommate's rambling not sure if she wanted to divulge the details of her odd demeanour.

– – 

Granted, You and Wednesday got along more often these days it still didn’t stop the fact that you were both stubborn; annoyingly so. Whilst the arguments were not as vicious as before, you and the goth still definitely loved to get under each other’s skin. 

You think it gives Wednesday the excuse to be more aggressive and take out her frustrations on you – not that she ever needed an excuse.

So the next day, when Enid leaves her herbology class and down to quad to meet her friends she wasn’t expecting you and Wednesday to be at each other’s throats again – Now Enid wasn’t expecting love and rainbows and crap from you two but these last two weeks have been surprisingly calm and cordial, after what she found out last night she deduced it’s because you two have finally recognized that you two are true love! 

Which leads Enid to her confused present self.

The werewolf took a weary glance around the table – the group caught in the middle of an impending warzone. It was like walking onto incoming traffic, really. Just an accident waiting to happen.

Enid takes a seat next to Yoko, who – even with her sunglasses on – can be seen with slight fear in her expression. “What is it this time?” She whispers to the vampire.

“Our roommates are at it again.” She explains, “I think Y/N accidentally spilled her elixir on Wednesday’s bag in potions class – well, it started off as that. Now we’re at threats of violence.” Yoko rolled her eyes behind the frames; slightly torn between being scared or fed up with you two.

Down the table, your and Wednesday’s argument continues to ensue.

“I already said I was sorry! What more do you want from me!” You scowl, eyes burning with annoyance – already fed up with her incessant nagging.

“Perhaps I’ll cut off your tongue as punishment and use it as a sponge to scrub away your sorry excuse of potion off of my belongings!” She threatens, her brown orbs turning darker than you thought was possible.

Wednesday is certain her journal and notes were ruined because of your clumsiness. This is what she gets for pairing up with you; your mere presence distracted her which caused her to absentmindedly place a flask too close to your elbow – you can guess what happened next.’

You mildly gulp in fear at her tone, but your pride trumped any terror she can inflict. “Kinky… but I’m gonna have to give it a hard pass.”

“You are insufferable.” Wednesday retorts, crossing her arms – aggravation clear as day on her face.

“And you’re not as scary as you think you are.” Smirking when it breaks the tension. “Actually, you’re quite adorable, knowing all I know about you.” Your voice drops an octave as you lean closer on your elbows; discreetly eyeing her up and down; your words heard only by you and Wednesday.

If looks could kill, man, you’d be six feet under.

“But seriously, I said I was sorry. If you don’t want the apology, you don’t have to take it. But that’s all you’re getting from me.” With that, you left to stand and gather your things then turn to walk away.

Wednesday doesn’t miss the dismembered hand scurrying to keep up with your pace as you made your way back inside – Thing will surely pay for his disloyalty. Though deep down she couldn’t exactly blame the hand, her bag slightly reeked from the inside – thanks to you; no way Thing’s vainness allows for his soft, supple skin to touch such a surface.

For a moment, Wednesday sits there in silent fury, watching as you walk off. Clenching her jaw, she swallows her pride, gathers her things as well and chases follows after you.

Enid and Yoko, along with the rest of their friends who were watching the show, let out a sigh of relief as the goth girl left. The seemingly thick tension around the table dissipating.

“Um… should someone maybe follow them? You know – cause they might actually kill each other this time.” Xavier reasoned, wearily glancing in the direction Wednesday followed you in. “Just not me, please! Not after last time.” The boy visibly shivers at the memory.

“Ugh! I’ll do it.” Yoko relents – but Enid is reaching for her arm before she can stand.

“No!” Everyone turns to look at the werewolf’s sudden outburst. “Just leave them be, they’ll be fine.” She reassures.

“I don’t know Enid, it seems kinda bad this time.” Eugene cuts in, apprehensive.

“It seems bad every time! But we can’t always play ‘referee’ here. Let’s let them settle their differences on their own.” That seems to convince everyone else as they relent and decide not to follow you two. Enid prays her suspicions about you two are correct – even though she’s 80% sure already. Because she cannot be caught in the middle of your fighting again.

– – 

The rough tug on your hair has your head jerking sideways away from the softest pair of lips you’ve ever tasted – face almost smacking the shelf in the tiny closet the Addams girl had dragged you in.

Wednesday’s lips violently nip at your throat; sucking, biting, tugging, releasing, then soothing with the coolness of her tongue. It has you throwing your head against the wall in a groan but her grip was tighter, preventing any sort of movement as she continued her assault on your neck.

“Shit – Wednesday.” You slump against her, tightening your grip on her waist when she bites down even harder at a particularly tender spot.

“That hurts.” Squirming as she continues to suck at the spot, the pressure turning into pain until she finally relents – releasing the skin with a ‘pop’ sound. Your hand instantly clamps down to ease the thudding pain.

“It’s supposed to.” Was all she said before she tenderly grabs the back of your neck to slot your lips together; this time much softer; way too soft for someone like Wednesday Addams.

The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relist in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers. Her gentleness has your mind in a cloudy haze. When she finally pulls away, she’s reaching for your cheek, caressing it in the softest manner – something Wednesday didn’t even know she had in her. But that’s what you do to her – make her do things she didn’t think she was capable of.

You stare into her dark orbs with a lovestruck look that you hope doesn’t seem too obvious.

Unbeknownst to you, Wednesday finds herself caught in a similar trance.

“It still stings,” You pout, hoping to gather some sympathy points. Wednesday merely rolls her eyes before grabbing your wrist – still painfully clutching your neck – lowering it.

She eyes her creation with a smirk; her mark is big, the innermost part already turning purple, covered by a ring of angry red skin – pride swells in her chest at the sight of you marked by her. The bruise would surely be a tough one to cover up.

Instead of Wednesday’s usual quip, you were pleasantly surprised when all she did was lean down to carefully and tenderly kiss the spot, rubbing a cautious thumb over it while blowing a cool breath to ease the swelling skin. All you could do was stare at the top of her head with heart eyes as you swooned. It was pathetic of you really – that one girl managed to make you weak at the knees with a simple touch – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. No, not when Wednesday Addams is in your arms, touching you, like that.

When Wednesday pulls away, she looks at your, still, pouting lips and connects them in another soft kiss; unwinding the pout. When she pulls away, she stares up into your eyes, “Better?” She asks so sincerely and your heart just about expanded five times its size at her tone.

You nod slowly, a soft smile tugging on your lips in appreciation for the goth’s affection. “Way better.” You pepper kisses on her jaw. Then, you pat her ass twice and give it a squeeze as you relinquish your hold on her waist.

“We should head back out. I’m pretty sure we already missed the first half of class.” You smirk cheekily, keeping your hand at its landed destination.

“Take your hand off my bottom, Y/N.”

“No thanks.”

She sighs irritably though she still hasn’t made one move to take your hand away from her ass. Actually, she seems rather comfortable still being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Why must you ruin every moment?” She murmurs in defeat.

“We were having a moment?” She huffs irately at the way your head tilts to the side when you ask the question. You were bewitchingly attractive even with that stupid smirk on your lips, but even still, Wednesday refused to swallow her pride this time – so she wills herself to pull away.

You let out a hearty chuckle, grabbing at her waist again to bring her even closer so you can plant a long kiss against her lips. Wednesday’s reaction was – as it always would be – instantaneous as she reciprocates the kiss when her hand finds its home on the nape of your neck, pulling you close.

“Seriously though, we need to leave.” You say when you finally, for the last time, pull away.

“Fine.” She untangles your mess of limbs to grab her backpack that was hastily thrown on the floor, slipping it on. “I will see you at lunch.”

“Mmm, nope. Detention.” You remind, and she huffs at remembrance. Why must you always get into trouble – not that Wednesday can speak but at least don’t get caught… as much.

“Don’t worry baby, we have tonight remember? Detention can’t keep us apart.” You foolishly try to wiggle your brows.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, walking over to the door handle, “You are insufferable. Call me that again and I’ll truly chop your tongue off.”

“But you love that–” the door shuts. “–about me.”

– – 

“That was not scary.”

“It’s not supposed to be scary. It’s a parody of scary movies. They’re making fun of it.”

“Then they should not title it ‘Scary Movie’. It sends the wrong message to its audience… I should burn your copy of all five installations of this abomination.” You chuckle amusedly at her statement kissing atop her head.

The night had been a success. You and Wednesday had spent the evening watching a healthy dose of a variety of films, mostly horror as it was the only genre of movies Wednesday can stomach. You had cuddled, kissed, had sex; it was perfect. You lay there in utter peace, tangled up in bed together; no sense of where and which pair of limbs starts and ends.

It was nice having the evening to yourselves. Between classes and sneaking around your friends, you two don’t get many moments like these often. You made sure to cherish and appreciate them more. It made you feel like you were in a relationship. Even though you two haven’t exactly defined what this is – you find yourself simply appreciating the mere fact that you are the only person who gets to do this with her and that is more than enough for you. 

And now, you both laid there – dressed in nothing but underwear and each other's shirt – Wednesday leaning her head on your chest as you twirl a strand of raven hair. Both on the precipice of sleep, the warmth radiating from your tangled legs becoming a gentle tug to give in, with the TV playing aimlessly in the background as an aid.

Just as Wednesday nestled her face closer to your neck – about to follow suit and doze off, she hears the sound of footsteps and keys jingling. Wednesday springs into action, startling you awake with a hand on your chest. She gives no verbal warning before she’s shoving you by the head under her thick duvet covers.

The door swings open followed by footsteps and your eyes instantly widen. “Hey, Wednesday.”

“Enid. Yoko.” Wednesday greets while you’re mentally freaking out about both of your roommates being so close to the truth.

“Yoko just tagged along with me to grab an overnight bag for my sleepover at Ajax’s,” Enid explains, grabbing her things.

“Ouu! Scary Movie! Didn’t think you’d like these. Cute hair by the way!” Yoko points out excitedly,

“You know of this abomination?” Wednesday inquires, choosing to ignore the other comment.

“Yeah, Y/N made watch all of them when she first moved in. It’s like her favourite or something.” They truly were.

“I’m not surprised, they’re awful. Of course, she would like these.” If she could see your face right now, she would see how offended you are by that statement. The nerve!

“So then why are you watching it?” Enid asks bemused.

“It was a recommendation from someone.” 

“Huh… alright. I’m slightly offended you’re taking recommendations 'cause I’ve been begging you to watch The Great British Bake Off with me.” Enid squints, playfully glaring.

“I did not have a choice in the matter.” She mutters under her breath, only for you to hear. Wednesday discreetly wacks your hand away when you hit her thigh in jest.

“Anyways… speaking of Y/N.” That makes you and Wednesday stiffen, “have you seen her? ‘Cause after classes, she came by the dorm and hasn’t been back since. Enid and I have been in there all night. No signs of her still.” Yoko inquires with a mysterious lilt.

“No. I have not.” She lies smoothly like she always has.

“Oh really? ‘Cause after the bag incident we saw you follow her. Oh man, please don’t tell me you killed my roommate, it’s so hard to find one you actually like.” Yoko rambled, lost in her own thoughts. Enid had to forcefully lay a hand on her shoulder, Wednesday surely doesn’t miss the exchanged silent look between the two friends.

Could she – could they know? The Addams is nothing if not attentive, she was never wrong.

“Chill, Yoko. What she means is have you seen Y/N? We’re just worried.” Enid slid in and took the lead, plastering on a smile but it looked more like a grimace.

“ I followed her, merely to argue some more, then we parted ways for our next class. I did not see her again after that.” Wednesday answers with half-truths, your make-out session during second period did start off as an argument until it wasn’t.

“Alright…” Enid relents.

She knew better than to try and break Wednesday down. That girl was like a brick wall of information. She could probably trick a polygraph test. Enid should’ve gone to you first – if they could find you. With a goodbye, Enid tugs Yoko along and out the door. Wednesday waited a few more seconds, using her heightened hearing to see if the pair had actually left. Only when she was sure, did she pull you from under the covers.

“Jesus Christ, I felt like I was gonna suffocate.” You gasp, flinging yourself on your back as the high of almost getting caught begins to wear off.

“You would have been fine.” She side-eyed your dramatics.

“We just pulled a Chandler and Monica in London, babe.” You joked, grinning childishly at her. The goth’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at the reference.

She pinches your side with a firm clinch and you groan flinching away. “I do not know what insipid pop culture reference you are citing and I said don’t call me that.”

“FRIENDS?” All you get is a blank stare.

You sigh in defeat – remembering who you were talking to. “Nevermind that, do you think they know?”

“Yes.”

‘Fuck.”

– –

Wednesday was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. She was the human embodiment of the ‘DANGER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION’ sign – and people warily did so.

You and Wednesday have not had alone time, not since your last close call during movie night.

She and you had agreed to keep things ‘chill’ and ‘slowing down’ which meant cutting your already reduced time together to practically non-existent, at this point. Wednesday finds herself deeply regretting agreeing to the foolish agreement. She hasn’t been alone with you in two weeks and Wednesday is growing distressingly annoyed. 

Your period of separation has made Wednesday realize that she finds herself always wanting to be around you – slowing down, be damned. Because if slowing down and hiding this relationship you have with her meant more of this strange, painful feeling in her chest then she wants no part of it. The pressure is fleeting but it always comes back when the goth sees something that reminds her of you; in these last two weeks, it seems you have plagued everything in her surroundings because the goth simply cannot rid her thoughts of you.

Wednesday doesn’t think she can do the hiding and sneaking anymore in favour of keeping up this enemies/rivals facade.

Why torture yourselves by keeping apart from one another?

She fumes at the thought of how idiotic you two have been – she was mad, mostly at herself for not seeing it sooner. She supposed it may be healthy for her to acknowledge her fear of love; romantic love no less is a contributing factor to why she hasn’t spoken about what your relationship means. Because Wednesday Addams doesn’t do love.

But now as Wednesday furiously clanks at her typewriter’s keys; her usual graceful and fluid motions were anything but as her heart physically constricts at her last interaction with you – her beliefs could be swayed.

You two were sitting in botany class, doing well to avoid Enid and Yoko’s watchful eyes. It seems the pair have taken it upon themselves to start their own investigation on your and Wednesday’s relationship – lurking around your guys’ shoulder, always watching.

They were close to your scent that night, so you needed to throw them off your trail.

Hence the period of separation, but none of that mattered anymore because you were rejecting her, again.

Wednesday sees you sliding a haphazardly ripped paper with new writing, it read:

“im sorry u know i still cant come over. still too risky :(“

Wednesday’s aggressive typing catches up to her when she realizes she’s made an error; pressing an incorrect key. She clenches her jaw at the mistake and the memory of your rejection.

She reaches out to grab the stack of fresh paper that was laid out in advance but realizes she had used it all up from her previous mistakes. You have been the reason for her scatterbrain tonight and it seems her disorderly is catching up to her. She never makes a mistake during her writing time.

Wednesday pushes her chair back, standing to make her way to the closet to grab more paper. She glances a brief look at the clock on the wall, noting the time. It was late evening and the friend group should all be at your and Yoko’s dorm by now.

After your last class with Wednesday – where you dejectedly rejected her invitation – your friends all hurriedly made Friday night plans. They came up with an evening at the Weathervane and then a movie night at your and Yoko’s dorm; they insisted Wednesday tag along for the event but with her increasingly irate mood she knew she would not be good company.

She didn’t miss your pleading glances at her as if to say ‘please come’. Wednesday is not sure why would want her there anyway, seeing as you and her still had a facade to keep up and that you haven’t made a single advance towards her in the last two weeks.

She bitterly looks away from the clock at the last thought.

Wednesday steps into her closet, making swift steps to the cabinet she knew had more of her typing paper, but her feet stumble at the sight of your shirt absentmindedly thrown over some of Wednesday’s clothes. She must’ve chucked it there after changing in the morning.

The goth reaches out to grab the fabric, bringing it up to her nose to smell the comforting scent – it was fading, terribly so. It felt like you were fading, it had been two weeks after all.

Wednesday screws her eyes shut in annoyance at the two words; two weeks, a sour reminder of her time apart from you.

With that overwhelming agitation rumbling in her chest, again. Wednesday thought: enough. Dropping your shirt where it was found, her heavy boots clunk against the old hardwood floor as she leaves her room. She makes the familiar trek out of Ophelia Hall and to the fastest way to your dorm.

She thought of the fury of demands she would hurl at you, once she pulled you away from everyone. She doesn’t exactly know what those words are going to be yet – and footing stumbles at the thought. All she knows is the pressure in her chest is growing uncomfortably painful and the only remedy she can think of is you.

Before she knows it, she’s reaching your door, bringing a tightly-wound fist to the surface banging down; loud and hard.

It took a few seconds, but there you were, opening the door with a confused frown on your face and Wednesday’s semi-rehearsed fury of words toward you was gone. Behind you, she can see your guys’ friends all pretending not to be watching but failing miserably.

“Wednesday? I thought you said you didn’t want to hang. Did you change your mind?” It was Enid who calls out from her spot inside the room.

“No.” She responded immediately, but she was still only looking at you; unable to break her stare. You were looking at her with such a concerned gleam in your eyes as you took in Wednesday’s dishevelled appearance from her trek over here. The goth’s heart skips a beat. No one has ever looked at her like that before.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You sprang into concerned questioning, allowing your act of hostility toward her to slip away. Suddenly the space between you and Wednesday as you stand on opposite sides of the threshold feels too far.

Abandoning all rational thinking and consequences that may come after, Wednesday reaches forward and grabs at your waist – knuckles in a tight-white grip around your shirt. She’s pulling you out into the hallway, lips pressed together in a frenzied but gentle manner. Your hand gingerly cups her jaw, as your body surrenders to the familiar feeling of her kiss – the door slamming shut behind you, no doubt giving your friends a snippet of the show.

You can kind of hear excited screaming and loud talking behind the door. But you tune that out and focus on the girl in your arms.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against hers, trying to swallow shallow deep breaths.

“What was that for?” You ask breathlessly against her lips.

Her gaze turns soft, gulping before starting, “I could not go any longer without having you near. These last two weeks have been agonizing. Being alone, without you was torture – and not in the way I usually enjoy. It was… debilitatingly painful to exist without you. I wish to never experience it again.”

You were the human embodiment of heart eyes right now.

“So, please. Don’t do that again.” Wednesday pleads with – she’s sure – is the most pathetic expression right now; desperation clear as day. But she can’t bring it in herself to care anymore. No, not when she brushes a soothing thumb to your lip and you react with a giddy smile.

“What about what the others might think?” Nodding towards your room – which has seemingly quieted down; if you didn't know any better, you’d say your friends had their ears up against the door, listening in.

You were practically already putty in her hands but figured you’d tease and ask for good measure.

Wednesday briefly glances at the door; scowling in thought. When she looked back at you, she was shaking her head with a frown.

“I don’t–” She hesitates, gathering her thoughts, “–I do not care about what anyone else thinks… I just want you.”

And with the softest doe-eyed look, you’ve ever been given, your heart swells ten times its size. You reach forward to slip your tongue in her mouth to bring her in for another searing kiss that you hope encompasses all you feel for the other girl.

You pull away for a breath, gasping as you say, “Be mine.”

She whispers a hoarse, “Yes,” as she tugs on your bottom lip with her teeth; nodding slightly; noses bumping together.

You hear a thud from behind the door at Wednesday’s response.

On the other side, Yoko and Ajax have caught a fainting Enid in their arms.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.45

Summary: Wednesday has no idea where you ran off to after your little argument. What she finds is nothing short of horrific.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, delusions, fairly graphic violence, murder, consequences of dismemberment Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

It had been an entire night since you had left the apartment, and Wednesday still hadn’t heard from you.

Not that she was entirely surprised considering you had forgotten your phone on the kitchen counter. But you had always come back. There were nights you had vanished for hours, but you always came back. She couldn’t recall a night you had left the apartment and not come back, or at least warned her of your prolonged disappearance.

The nature of your disappearance was also a concerning factor. Wednesday was never really one to put the blame onto someone else, nor to deny her own fault when necessary. In all fairness, your reaction to discovering her visions wasn’t entirely uncalled for, aside from one simple fact.

She had genuinely believed you were aware of her ability.

You were correct; after so long, how had you not known? Yet everyone else had known of her visions. They hadn’t necessarily confronted her about it, but they had known. Was it truly so wrong for her to have assumed you had known as well? Would it have been so far-fetched for her to believe you had known of her visions and simply hadn’t felt the need to bring it up?

No, she didn’t fault you for your reaction, but she couldn’t ignore the hurt you had caused. It was no comparison to your own, considering you were under the impression everyone had lied to you. But she didn’t find it enjoyable to be accused of such a thing when it had never been her intention. She had never wanted to lie to you, not even from the beginning. There was no chance she ever would have told you, of course, but it didn’t change the fact.

And now you were, for all intents and purposes, missing.

Wednesday tried to be patient once morning came around. An entire night of silence was unusual, but she supposed you had had an argument. While she certainly hadn’t used the time to reflect and grow angry (instead moping around and feeling sorry for herself, which was a foreign feeling), you most likely had. It was forgiven, of course, and all you needed to do was come back home so you could both move on.

When midday rolled around, her patience was waning. What could you be doing that would have you gone for so long? Surely there was nothing more important than coming back home, correct? So why were you still absent? She knew she had upset you, she was well aware, but that didn’t mean you needed to run away like a petulant child.

As the sun started to set, and the main room of the apartment dimmed with the light, Wednesday fell victim to the worry she had shoved down after your vanishing act. You were nearing 24 hours of being gone; something entirely unheard of. Preposterous even. And you had proven time and time again that you were capable of keeping yourself alive (by questionable means on occasion), but she wouldn’t deny the reality of the world.

Something was out to get you.

It had been very much in character for Wednesday to hide things from the friend group in the past. Since you had come around, any and all secrets had been laid bare and, as disgusting as the truth was, she had been open with everyone. But it never occurred to her to inform someone that you were still gone, or that you had even left at all. Eugene was still in hospital, Enid was mostly recovered but still terrified, and Ash was most likely being fussed over by Bianca for having shot something. How could she burden them with something that in all actuality was an overactive imagination.

Oh no. She was openly considerate. How very well dare you.

Consideration for her friends aside (she could hear your teasing now; “Friends? I knew you liked them”), she wasn’t sure what to do. Should she wait for you? After the current amount of waiting, the thought of continuing that course left her feeling empty and hopeless. Her brain ran through countless options, none of which helped her current predicament.

Not that any plans would have mattered too much considering she was still missing a vital piece of information.

She mentally rattled off the list of locations you could have frequented. The floor was worn in the place you normally paced, and Wednesday was doing her best to leave her own wear and tear. Pacing always seemed to help you think, so perhaps it actually worked. Her boots were loud against the wooden floor; so very different from the haunting silence of your own steps.

The longer she paced, the more frustrated she became. Nothing was coming to light and she didn’t know what else to do. The pacing was useless. Sitting and waiting was worse than a waste of time. A roil of emotion bubbled up in her stomach as she stormed off and grabbed your phone-

-the forest was gone, instead replaced by a house that she could recognise even from her single visit. Wednesday had never been downstairs in your parents house, instead only exploring a few rooms upstairs when she came with you, but she recognised the tile.

The image flew from her mind as quickly as it appeared, but it was all she needed. Without warning or hesitation, Wednesday all but ran out of the apartment (just as she had the night before). It had never occurred to her to tell anyone; to let anyone know that she was leaving. Or that you had disappeared after the woods fiasco the previous night. Or even that she had been so inadequate that she had forgotten to tell you such an important aspect of her life.

It was a decently lengthy trip to get down to DC. Thanks to you, however, Wednesday was incredibly well versed in using the bus to get to her destination. A talent that she was surprisingly proud of. If anyone had told young Wednesday Addams that she would be proficient in using public transportation, she never would have believed them.

It was as if she had simply blinked and ended up in front of the door to your parents’ house. The startlingly white wood was a sharp contrast to the overly large and intricate brass knockers hung high in the middle. In another time, she would have possibly taken the time to admire the decoration. After all, the craftsmanship of the piece was worthy of the Addams family name (almost).

The metal was cool against her palm as she swung the heavy knocker against the solid doors. The sounds they created resonated both inside the house and outside, leaving an increasingly satisfying hum through the air. Behind the door, underneath the deep bass of the knockers, footsteps slowly stomped their way closer. The door opened, and the blinding light grew from the now-open doorway.

Wednesday felt her heart stutter.

“Hey, Willa,” you said in a raspy voice.

A stunning array of blood trailed across your face. Strands of hair were loose, hanging limp and heavy with the dried sticky mess. The Addams ring faded into the thick coating on your hands, ending around the middle of your forearms. She couldn’t remember the exact clothes you had been wearing when you had left, but this? It was nothing more than a mangled, somehow both stiff and wet mess of cloth.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you said. Your smile was a stark contrast to the blood splattered across your skin. A few splashes dotted your teeth.

“I-” the words caught in her throat. There were so many things she wanted to say. She settled on, “You vanished.” The words clawed their way past the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, mi amore,” you answered, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Blood smeared across the startling white wood. “I forgot my phone.”

She nodded. Your body was lax; exponentially more than… well, than almost the entire time she had known of your very existence. Wet and sticky hands were tucked carelessly into pockets. If your eyes had been any more hooded, she would have assumed you were asleep where you stood. Each and every laugh line on your face was gone.

Your eyes didn’t glow.

“I came to bring you home,” Wednesday said softly. Always soft; only for you.

The corner of your mouth ticked upward. “Stay for dinner,” you said as you reached out for her hand. Your fingers were slick. “We can go home after.”

Inside the house was silent; Wednesday didn’t need to step foot past the entryway to notice. Your parents were rather selective in their words and actions, but it was nonsensical that they would be so incredibly quiet. The abnormal fact of your presence should have exacerbated the reaction, not enforced it. You remained in the doorway.

“Please?” You asked in a voice so soft, Wednesday wasn’t sure the word had come from your mouth. And how could she possibly say no?

She took your hand; it was cold, and she felt dirty. You squeezed once, and the ring you placed on her finger lightly pressed into her skin. Behind her, your leg stretched backwards, pushing the door closed with an eerie click of the lock. The only thing she could hear was the rumble of the aircon hidden in the elevated ceilings.

Wednesday felt a light tug on her hand, and she veered sideways until she was all but leaning into you. Seemingly on instinct, your wing moved to cover her. Motes of dust sifted down and fell on her nose. She did her best not to sneeze.

“I need a little help with dinner,” you said, “but then we can eat.”

You pulled her past what she assumed was the dining room. Her eyes were drawn to a small patch of discoloured wood outlining the doorway. A barely noticeable spot, but when caught in just the right light, it was obvious. As if someone had grabbed a paint brush, dipped it in the colour closest to the doorway but not quite exactly, wrung most of the paint out, and dragged the brush across the fine grain of the wood.

You didn’t let her dwell on it.

She didn’t believe she had ever been to the kitchen in your parents’ house, which wasn’t saying much considering she had hardly been to your parents’ house. It looked vintage (not the real vintage, simply a cheap imitation), but was, unsurprisingly, as blindingly white as the rest of the house. Each and every appliance, from the things brought out of the drawers to the range hood over the stove, was an obnoxiously shiny silver. It was as if it had never been used, aside from the dishes currently cooking.

“Give me just a minute,” you said, leaning down and placing a sticky kiss on her cheek before walking over to the pan on the stove.

She wondered if her skin now sported a dark red lip stain.

“They’re behaving tonight,” you said. You didn’t turn around, and Wednesday slowly moved from where you had left her.

She walked toward the island in the middle of the room; a stunning marble that was surprisingly the only good thing in the entirety of the house. It was a mess; littered with cutting boards and various remnants of whatever ingredients you had been using. On the corner closest to her, she noticed a few drops of red that appeared to have been hastily cleaned.

“Obviously dad and I aren’t good,” you continued to talk, “but he didn’t call the cops on me, so.” A shrug. “That’s a win.”

You continued to stir, and Wednesday continued to move so slowly you would never notice. Or you shouldn’t have. On her third step closer to the fridge, you turned your head. Your gaze alone was enough to nail her to the spot, cementing her bones together until she was stiff; far too reminiscent of death itself.

“Can you grab the salad?” You asked with a polite smile. “I’m almost done.”

Say something, Wednesday thought. Even a single word is better than this silence. But she couldn’t. No word, no noise, not even a breath left her mouth. You didn’t seem to notice. You turned back to the stove and kept stirring, and talking, and Wednesday didn’t hear a word of it. She simply continued to the fridge.

Her own hand covered the bloody print on the handle as she pulled it open. It was cold and dry, she had no fear of it sticking to the palms of her hands. Not like what had remained on your own skin. Inside the fridge was entirely unremarkable. The salad - which looked rather delicious, she would admit - was front and center on the middle shelf. The glass bowl was cold as she grabbed it, and the door shut with a satisfying hiss before she placed the bowl on the island.

“It’s just nice to be together again, you know?” You said, and Wednesday remembered she hadn’t heard a single word you had said. “Like a family.”

Wednesday’s finger tapped on the glass. “What of Momma and Pop?” She asked. Your stirring slowed. “What of the ones who raised you?”

The stirring came to a horrifying stop. Her eyes were glued to the back of your head, then your cheek, then your eyes. Those eyes which she would know so deeply within her soul, she could pick them out in all of heaven or hell. Eyes that had been dull and unassuming to the occasional passerby, but that had sent a chill down her spine. Eyes that were glowing once again like they should have been.

“Of course they’re family,” you said in a tone much more like yourself. A tone Wednesday had fallen for. “They’ve always been my family.” Your eerily cheery faux disposition had all but vanished as you looked at her. She saw you.

And just like that, you blinked and the glow faded back into a dull imitation of yourself. You didn’t smile, not exactly, but the worry that had momentarily etched itself into your forehead had been erased. You looked calm. Far too calm for the amount of blood covering your skin.

“We should go see them later,” you said. Your shoulders lifted dramatically before falling with a silent exhale. “I think this is done.” You glanced at her over your shoulder briefly. “Give me one sec and we’ll go to the dining room.”

The dining table was huge, accentuated by the measly five plates that sat around the perimeter of the stunning wood. Only five. Two seats were empty, and two more were filled with sights that Wednesday didn’t think she could have imagined even in her most demented nightmares. In the fifth seat, Wednesday saw the near-perfect reflection of herself.

Dread crept through her veins. She had told you the night before that her visions weren’t fact; that was true. There had been numerous times she had been outright wrong in her visions. After all, one of those visions had seen you remaining little more than an acquaintance. It had been horrifically, wonderfully wrong.

But some of them were accurate.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said. You were already holding the sides in separate dishes, one in each hand. “And don’t forget the salad.”

You walked before her without looking back to ensure she was following. That was wrong. Nonetheless, Wednesday grabbed the faintly condensation-covered bowl and followed your eerily silent footsteps. Her eyes remained glued to your feet; they were bare.

“Our first family dinner,” you said softly as you disappeared into the dining room. “This is gonna be great.”

Wednesday turned the corner.

Instinct should have relaxed her grip on the glass, allowing it to slip through her fingers to crash to the floor. Her pulse skyrocketed. A single bead of sweat tickled her neck as it rolled down her skin. The glass warmed under her touch, but it didn’t drop.

“You can set the salad by mom,” you said with a soft smile.

That was the last place she wanted to set the bowl. The sight itself was worse than her vision could have ever created. You stepped in a puddle on the way to the other side of the table, leaving sticky footprints in your wake. Horror crept up her throat when you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the gaunt, hollowed-out cheek of your mother. It hadn’t been long since Wednesday had seen your mother last; warm, professionally animated, cautiously talkative.

Alive.

Wednesday was a cold person. It was how she had been born and how she lived. If she had to put it into words, she would say it was an Addams family gift. The ability to face the weather head-on without the slightest fear of having to wear something other than the usual Addams gothic fashion. She was very well aware of the fact that the rest of the population was nowhere near as blessed as they were.

Your mother looked as cold as an Addams.

“I remember your last words to her were,” Wednesday exhaled shakily as she struggled to turn away, “unkind.”

“Well yeah,” you said with a nervous laugh, “they were.” You readjusted your jaw. “But we actually talked it over, so.” A simple shrug and smile. “We’re good now.”

The smell reached her senses when she was close enough to set the glass on the table with a subtle *clink*. Not quite nauseating, but well on its way. Cold, dark, empty eyes stared at her. That horror clawed its way higher again. Her stomach twisted into knots as realisation dawned on what they looked like. Or who they looked like.

“You can sit by mom,” you said with a far-too-cheery disposition. “You haven’t really met dad yet so I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Your father was… arguably in worse shape than your mother. Or, she supposed she should say: she’d rather face your mother if given the chance. His new fleshy wings were a grotesque imitation of yours. As if they could hear her, your wings twitched before you situated yourself in the seat directly opposite her.

Wednesday lowered herself into the chair. It was sticky.

“Where’s Mabel?” Wednesday asked. The kind-faced maid had been on her mind from the moment she had entered the dining room. Accompanied by inhumane levels of dread.

“I sent her home,” you said with a shrug. “She should get to see her son too.” Your eyes glowed for a second; one blink and it was gone. She almost missed it.

Something creaked. You didn’t move, but Wednesday’s eyes flew to the side. She could still see your mother (and attempted to keep the nausea at bay at the sight), but she was drawn to the picture frame at the end of the table. A picture of Nicky, young and happy with a smile that was an exact copy of yours. His picture frame, at the very head of the table, was all she needed to see to know your mental state.

You sighed, and slowly she turned to look at you once again. There was a serenity on your face as you looked around the table, stopping on every person before settling on her. There, surrounded by the unsettling corpses of your birth family, you looked at peace. The faintest glow was behind your dull eyes and almost, just almost, you were what Wednesday would consider happy.

The realisation crashed upon her like a burning house.

“Would you like some wine?” You asked, pulling Wednesday back from the cliff of her thoughts. “Dad got some of the good bottles from the cellar.”

The blood on your hands had long since dried. Each movement as you reached across the table to grab an unopened bottle (a good vintage indeed) resulted in the dried mess flaking off piece by piece. The smallest piece lodged itself into the ring on your finger.

Wednesday shook her head in the negative.

“Expensive wine is kind of gross,” you said as you finished pouring the liquid into your father’s glass and set it back on the table. “I guess I never developed the taste for it.”

You kept talking. To your father, your mother, Nicky’s picture. Pausing for appropriate amounts of time before continuing the conversation. That little worry line between your brows that was so prominent on weekends or evenings after not talking with your family was erased as if it had never been there in the first place. Looking at you alone, she could see the vision.

“Wednesday?”

She blinked once. You were looking at her with the slightest tilt of your head and the dullest eyes she had ever seen. They stared into her soul, searching for something she couldn’t comprehend. The usual abrupt flow of warmth she got from looking at you was terrifyingly absent.

The nausea grew with the smell wafting in her direction. 

“Nicky asked you a question,” you said.

She had heard no question. Of course she hadn’t, it was simply a picture in a frame. His hospital gown was almost entirely out of frame, but if you knew what to look for it was obvious. His eyes were closed; they hadn’t been open in a decade. You were looking at the frame as if he was sitting in that very chair, enjoying the meal that you had painstakingly made and yet hadn’t even bothered to touch.

“What was the question?” She asked. It wasn’t the first time she had talked with a corpse. Or perhaps it was a ghost? A spirit, maybe?

You smiled the way you normally did. “He asked if you’re enjoying your first family dinner.”

Oh. Of course he had asked that, how preposterous for her to have believed any differently. She should have known what your dead, ghostly brother had asked her. Your eyes stayed on her, and your body gave nothing away. Not even the smallest indication that anything was amiss.

She wished she had gotten to talk with your mother before… her demise.

“It’s-” Wednesday looked at your parents’ mutilated corpses and the delicately plated meals in front of them “-acceptable.”

You nodded and took a sip of wine - from the glass in front of your father - before looking back at the picture. Wednesday could only imagine what was going on in your head at that moment. Perhaps all the trauma had finally broken you. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you had been saying you had heard things, seen things, that you yourself felt like you were going insane.

“Told you,” you mumbled.

Your fork pushed things around on the plate in front of you, but not once did you eat it. The black polish on your nails, which Wednesday had graciously (eagerly) painted, was chipped around the tips. From the elbow down, your arms looked like they would be better suited to some sort of demon.

Or perhaps an Addams.

As you continued to talk to no one but yourself, Wednesday tapped her foot. Every time she picked it up, she could hear the sticky sound it created before she placed it back down gently. You didn’t turn to inquire about her actions. Why didn’t you inquire?

“Oh shit,” you said, pulling Wednesday once again out of her thoughts. “Nicky’s right.” Your eyes rolled. “I forgot Casey and Devan.”

“I’ll get them,” Wednesday said immediately. So quickly, in fact, that she didn’t initially recognise the outburst as her own.

You looked at her with nearly-glowing eyes. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your dinner,” you said.

“I insist,” she continued, standing up from her chair.

If she inhaled the rising stench one more time, she truly felt she would lose her nerve. Who would have thought? She didn’t easily forget the autopsy date you had set up for her back in Nevermore; one of the most romantic things you could have ever done. This, however… something about this wasn’t right.

You stood up far slower than she had. Patient, deliberate movements. You expertly maneuvered away from the fleshy monstrosity beside you. Nothing else dripped onto your clothes, and if it hadn’t already been stained, she would have been amazed by the impeccably white shirt that she hadn’t remembered you wearing. Each step was precise until you were standing in front of her.

Your eyes were glowing.

“I can get them,” you said softly. “I want you to have a nice night.”

She should have flinched when your dried, itchy, blood covered hand rested on her face. More flakes came off as your thumb rubbed lightly against her cheek. It wasn’t preposterous to assume you had been either witness or perpetrator to the scene she was standing in the middle of. Fear would (and should) have been the most prominent emotion pounding inside her chest.

It wasn’t. All she felt was the warmth of your palm. The spreading warmth in her chest as your eyes roamed her face the way they had back in Nevermore. You were both back in the Addams mausoleum, dancing around your feelings until, for the first (and certainly not the last) time, she felt your lips upon hers. Your wings, ever dusty and protective, wrapped around you until you were both alone in the little cocoon she had come to love.

“You look beautiful tonight,” you said.

Wednesday exhaled harshly through her nose when you leaned down and she finally felt your kiss. Your lips were chapped as usual, and you tasted metallic. She should have been hesitant. But with your wings around her, blocking out the rest of the world, she put it to the back of her mind. Your nails lightly scratched against her cheek, grounding her in the most Addams form of love. She-

-a sharp prick in her abdomen was quickly followed by an inferno.

Her breath caught in her throat. Hands instinctively went to the source of the pain. They were met with a small handle. Your hand never left her cheek. Your wings didn’t part. She looked up and saw the dullness in your eyes once again.

“Stay here,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get Casey and Devan and be right back.”

You leaned in for another kiss that she couldn’t focus on.

“I love you,” you said before finally pulling back away. Your wings parted, and the blinding lights did nothing to distract her from the pain.

Wednesday staggered backwards. She reached out for a chair and felt the back, but when she attempted to sit, it moved. The floor rushed up to meet her, and she let herself fall to her back in the sticky puddle of blood that she was now contributing to.

Her hands gripped the knife handle tighter as the front door clicked shut behind you.

[fandomnerd9602]

Enid in her werewolf form approaches Y/N…

Y/N: who’s a good girl?

Her ears perk up…

Y/N: who’s my good girl?!

Enid’s tail wags happily and she leaps into their arms…

Y/N: I love you so much, my wolf

Enid howls happily…

Wednesday: bad dog. You’re supposed to attack Y/N. But good girlfriend.

[cabispace]

Valentine secret

Bianca about Wednesday : I bet she can't be good at everything, like I'm sure she's a bad kisser

Enid absent-mindedly on her phone : No she's not

Bianca, Enid & Yoko : ...

Yoko : Enid, what happened on Valentine's Day ?

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— a study in demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, a/b/o dynamics in werewolves and demons, penetration, G!P!reader, it's demon girlcock OKAY, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink, knotting, all characters are aged-up

summary: an unfortunate turn of events leaves wednesday with a very frustrated, very needy oni demon on her hands. what kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn't take care of her beloved?

word count: 4.5k

a/n: jesus christ, look at those warnings. this fic is a whole declaration of war. i went feral. i have nothing to say for myself. hope you enjoy

The first thing you feel when the annoying buzzing of the alarm pulls you out of your peaceful slumber is the immense heat of your body and the ache somewhere in your lower belly. A groan leaves your throat before you can even blink your eyes fully open, and you blindly reach for your phone to turn the screaming noise off.

You sit up on your bed and squint at the sunlight that streams through the tiny slit in the tightly shut curtains, opening a small calendar app that’s designed specifically for the creatures of your kind – and with a huff you realize your rut is coming in two days.

Damn it. You’ve completely forgotten about it. That certainly explains the aggressiveness and mood swings you’ve been having for the past week.

You open a new text message, sent from your girlfriend at 5:30 AM – not exactly an early riser, but definitely the type to pull an all-nighter on a school night – wishing you the most dreadful morning. You smile to yourself, and the smallest thought of her seems to be enough to motivate you to get out of bed and start the day despite the uncomfortable feeling stirring in your belly.

Thank all the gods almighty – Larissa Weems, especially – that it is still a non-uniform week at the Academy. Sitting in class with that tie wrapped around your throat like a noose would’ve killed you.

You rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a tee and a pair of jeans, changing hastily, before your gaze falls on a particular item of clothing that definitely doesn’t belong in your closet.

It’s a black baggy zip hoodie, the one Wednesday constantly wears when out of class. It’s a surprise she has forgotten it at your place – your best guess is she must’ve left in one of your sweatshirts instead.

The fabric feels smooth in your grasp. Warm fleece lining. A bit abrasive on the outside.

Just like her.

You lift the hoodie to your face, burying your nose in the softness and inhaling.

Smells just like her, too.

Without a second thought you put it over your frame – though a bit more of a tight fit, it’s still slightly baggy on your shoulders – and zip it up, pulling the hood over your head to take another small whiff of the familiar scent.

That should get you through the day, you think.

And it does. For the first half of it, at least.

You take an extra suppressant pill during lunch, but skip the meal, opting to spend the free time in the quad to ventilate your head.

It feels better. Much, much better. Even though you don’t get to see Wednesday at the canteen.

You’re back inside for your last period – maths, and your mind gets too busy with the complicated equations and formulas to worry about the hormones running wild in your body.

You’re half-way through a very fucked-up problem with roots and sines before a strong aroma suddenly fills up your lungs – an omega’s pheromones, you realize, wide-eyed.

An omega who is in heat.

You lift your head up, giving the students around you a quick once-over – and your gaze meets a pair of golden orbs, a pretty girl with pink plump lips and fiery-red hair tied into a pony tail watches you with interest, her chin propped on her palm. As soon as you make eye-contact, she gives you a smile, revealing a small, adorable gap in the front row of her teeth.

You shake your head and smile back politely before turning back to your paper, but the rest of the class feels like you’re trapped in a suffocating cage of hot arousal that smells of yellow fruit and washed laundry.

As soon as the bell dismisses the students, you hastily pack your bag and bolt out of the door, desperate to lock yourself in your dorm room and just take care of this stupid predicament you’ve found yourself in. You’ve never been more grateful for the lack of a roommate.

“Hey, (Y/n).”

You stop and turn at the sound of your name being called, although the voice is quite unfamiliar – too melodic and gentle to be anyone you know.

“Hey, uh...”

It’s the redhead from maths. She watches you expectantly for a few moments before her face falls slightly, “It’s Dina! I was with the Black Cats last year. We met at the after party? The one Yoko hosted?” She sounds almost offended at the fact that you don’t remember her.

“Oh. Oh, right. Dina. Sorry. I’m really bad with names.” You smile apologetically.

“It’s fine. I’d be surprised if you remembered me, actually. This academy holds way too many ginger werewolves,” Dina chuckles, and falls in step with you to continue walking down the hall. “So, you up to anything right now?”

“No, not really. Just hoping to get back to the dorms and sleep my awful headache off. Been bugging me all day.”

It’s only a half-lie – your temples are still throbbing like crazy, and the pheromones you’ve smelled in class did nothing to help your case.

The werewolf tilts her head, pursing her plump lips, “Hmm... That’s too bad, because, actually...”

The smaller girl suddenly grabs your hips and pushes you – unprepared, you stumble to the side and right through the door of some random classroom. Barely able to catch your balance at Dina’s abrupt movement, your hands grasp at her forearms, desperately trying to steady the rest of your body.

“I was thinking I could help you relieve that pain of yours.”

She looks up at you, tilts her chin up slightly. The smell of citron and fresh linen suddenly fills your nose.

The same one you’ve felt in class.

The omega in heat.

Fuck.

The werewolf in front of you settles with pumping her pheromones at you wildly, her palms flitting from your hips down to your thighs, slowly closing in on your center – you do nothing to stop her, your own hands reaching behind you to grip the edge of the desk. Her eyes are glinting red now, slitted pupils never breaking eye contact with yours.

She presses her nose against your scent gland, and you feel her grin against your neck.

“I don’t smell an omega on you...” Shit. Of course Wednesday’s hoodie doesn’t smell like anything but her usual dark resins and woods scent. As much as it is alluring and recognizable to you, it’s not pheromones. “You haven’t mated with one yet? That’s just criminal... An alpha like you should spend all her ruts with a pretty omega impaled on her cock.”

You take a sharp inhale through your nose, feeling yourself throb treacherously at her words. Dina giggles softly, pressing her lips to your jaw, her mouth now inches away from yours.

“You know…” she starts sultry, voice heavy with unadulterated lust in a way that only an omega’s can sound to the ears of a rutting alpha, “I’ve never taken an oni’s knot before…”

You feel the werewolf squeeze your thighs, bare her claws in a sharp movement, “I wonder what it feels like.”

Your head is heavy, cloudy – you’re practically unable to resist, tusked mouth hanging open with small puffs of vapors fluttering out. The urge to bend the small werewolf over the desk and pound her into the wood feels even harder to resist, too.

An unpleasant feeling rattles through your chest, unbearable and disgusting. An image of dark-brown eyes and soft lips painted burgundy flashes through your mind.

You feel like you’re going to puke.

“No,” you rasp, pushing the werewolf away. “Get off me.”

Before the startled girl can retort, you stumble out of the classroom and slam the door closed, turning the key that has been left in the keyhole by some clumsy substitute.

You stumble for a moment, lifting a clawed palm to grasp at your head that has suddenly turned cloudy and heavy, and make your way towards the ladies’ restroom.

She must’ve felt the rut closing on you, and her own heat triggered it prematurely.

With shaky hands you pull out your phone, opening the messages app and texting the first person that comes to your clouded mind.

enid

bro you gotta ditch

it’s an emergency

i just stumbled into a girl

uhh dina?

she’s from ophelia hall

anyways i think she needs… help

yk

from a fellow omega wolf

i think she hasn’t been taking her suppressants

for some fucking reason

and yk it’s not like me to live a lady in distress

but i really had to dip

i was doing her a favor by dipping actually

i locked her up on the 2nd floor

202

i really had to leave

Pressing your back against one of the bathroom stalls, you wait anxiously as three gray dots dance on the screen.

The device dingles in your hands.

oooohh

its okay

i gotchu

u should totes find weds tho

im sure she can help u out ;))

You hide your phone in your pocket and open the tap to splash your face with cold water. It eases the flush of your face, but doesn’t calm the raging beast inside.

Your fingers grasp onto the edges of the sink tightly, almost making the marble crack.

As you walk through the corridors and up the stairs of Ophelia Hall, the only thought that occupies your mind is Wednesday. Wednesday and her dark eyes and her lips and her touch and the beautiful curve of her slender hips and everything that is your mate.

You don’t bother knocking, urgently swinging the door open.

And there it is. Your (f/c) sweater, no doubt one of her monochrome striped shirts under it.

Your palms are sweating. Claws digging into your pant legs, tusks into your lip.

The small ravenette turns in her seat to look at you, her fingers stilling over the keys of her typewriter.

Her braided hair looks pristine and untouched, her posture unmatched, the image perfect even when out of public sight.

“Ma bête,” she addresses softly, brows slightly raised in question. “You’re back. And you look… a trifle uncomfortable.”

Does she not know? There’s no way she doesn’t. Such details could never slip Wednesday’s unhealthily constantly alerted mind.

“Is something wrong?”

Fuck. Of course. There it is, that cruel glint in her eyes. You should’ve known.

She wants you to say it.

You shift on your feet. The temperature is becoming almost unbearable.

“I’m…”

Wednesday watches you, tilts her head just a tiny bit forward — dark, haunted eyes deadpan, staring you down, her jaw tightening slightly and relaxing in a way that is barely noticeable but has your gaze flicking down to the enticing slant of her neck.

“I’m… in a rut.” You admit, finally.

Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly — her posture straightens even more, the glint in her eyes turning dangerous, “Oh.” Yes, oh, as if she wasn’t aware. “Why are the suppressants not working?”

Should you admit that the small encounter with the horny omega has sent your hormones spiraling?

Wednesday is by no means a normal human, yet her nose lacks the capability of sensing alpha pheromones. Nevertheless, she can read you like a book, and she probably was aware of your coming rut long before you were. She simply likes abusing the knowledge.

“It must be bad then, if it has you reduced to such a pathetic state,” the goth tuts, drumming her fingers against her desk. “Pure torture, isn’t it, bête? I wish I could help you…”

Wednesday turns back to her paper, shrugging noncommittally, “Unfortunately, it is my writing hour, and you know how much I would detest an intervention in my schedule.”

You whine as the drumming of her keys resumes – like a kicked puppy, you turn to reach for the doorknob, prepared to return back to the restroom and take care of yourself to the thought of your ever-so beautiful and unyielding girlfriend.

Wednesday’s fingers still on the typewriter.

“But I suppose… We can reach a consensus.”

The legs of her chair scrape against the hardwood floor, and you turn to find Wednesday standing next to the desk, palm resting on the back of the seat invitingly.

“Come here.”

You’re beside Wednesday before the whole command can escape her mouth, and she gives a small, amused huff that almost has you howling and gnawing at furniture, then gestures at the chair, “Sit. Unbutton your pants, underwear off.”

You reach to do as told, pulling at a pant-leg to finally discard the constricting garment before the ravenette slaps your hand, “Just the button and the zipper, (Y/n). Do not make me repeat myself.”

You gulp and take a seat at her desk, tugging the elastic of your boxers down to free the hard shaft.

The dark, intense gaze Wednesday is watching you with makes you blush and throb, excitement and arousal mixing with the slightest of embarrassments only her presence can induce.

“Good girl,” she hums, circling the chair like a hunting lioness. “I will allow you to be inside me, just this once. I will not allow you to touch me in any other way. If I feel any movement, internal or external, you will be punished. And by no means are you allowed to cum. Not without my permission. Are the instructions clear, beast? Nod your empty little head if affirmative.”

You nod with a small whimper at the derogatory words, though they do nothing to soothe the aching hardness between your legs.

“Good, good. Well, since the terms are settled, I shall get started.”

Before you can respond, Wednesday steps closer to the desk, slightly flipping her skirt with a quick movement of her hand and letting you catch the smallest of glimpses of her pretty pussy – the show is over before you can marvel though, and the seer sits on your lap, your length pressing against her lower back.

Like this, with no distance left between you, her scent is encompassing your whole being. No pheromones can compare to the way Wednesday smells, the rich, woodsy notes of a forest soaked in rainwater luring you in as you take a small inhale.

You bite back a growl, but a small noise of frustration still manages to reach the ravenette’s sharp hearing.

“Quiet, beast.” She scolds, her tone of voice far from playful, and reaches to straighten her skirt carefully, flicking the non-existing dust off the garment in a graceful movement of her palm.

Then, before you can downright keen with impatience, the same hand moves behind to wrap around your hard member, giving it a squeeze so light it is almost torturous –  Wednesday lifts her hips and presses the head against the warmth of her entrance.

That first contact feels like electricity and fire in your belly, worsened when you feel your cock split her lips open, stretching her taut around it, and the smallest worry that you might just not fit passes through your rut-clouded mind.

Then again, Wednesday might not even be merciful enough to sheathe you fully inside her, but the thought of being too big to be properly seated in her cunt is tantalizing and excruciating at the same time.

A small, relieved sigh escapes Wednesday’s lips –  the sensation of being filled up with you is like no other, and she can’t help but relish in it despite her aggravation. She takes her time, feeling every inch push deeper inside her and stretch her out, the thick shaft splitting her open, then her thighs press into yours and she stills completely.

If she had to, the goth would put all the time and work in to stretch herself out with your girth, to take all of you inside her like she was molded just for that single purpose. It’s not like Wednesday has something to prove to anyone – or maybe she has, to you, that no one else at Nevermore could take you so well and make all your resolve, might and dominance provided to you by nature, or by gods, or by whatever entity has created such a delectable beast as you crumble under her and make it natural for you to submit to the seer.

And oh does submissiveness look good on you, too – or at least it sounds good, if your heavy breathing mixed with quiet whines hitting her ear is anything to go by.

Wednesday is reminded of her goal suddenly when she feels your hips buck instinctually into her, and the ravenette has to hold back a sound of pleasure at the movement, because she can’t fight how incredible the pressure feels, making her velvet walls flutter. She’s still holding the reins when she tightens her pussy around your throbbing dick purposefully, a trace of a small smirk on her plush burgundy lips at the needy and wanton groan that escapes your mouth.

That was a good enough treat, she thinks. Now to the sticks.

Wednesday kicks you in the shin with the side of her loafer, pulling you out of your pleasure-induced trance and making you flinch.

“Move closer to the desk, beast. I need to be able to reach the keys in order to type.”

You grunt, shuffling the chair closer with your weight, nudging Wednesday’s body forward, and the slightest shift makes you hiss — she slides a few inches up your shaft before she’s at the base again, seated nice and snug, her thighs resting on yours. Your hands fall to grapple at them, and you receive another painful kick.

“No. Hands off. If you are unable to control yourself, I will shun you out.” Wednesday scolds, though has to hide the effect the feeling of your claws curling around her have, and fails. Her voice sounds more breathless than she has intended.

She has a hard time admitting to herself how torturous this is for her, too. The seer sneaks a glance down to where the thick shaft splits her open, so tight she can practically feel it throbbing against her clit. A small bead of precum runs down, skirting one of the throbbing veins.

Wednesday’s restraint is laudable.

“Messy creature,” she murmurs, her tone surprisingly soft, before the paper in front of her takes over her attention again. Straightening her back, the ravenette goes back to her writing as if she’s not full of demon cock right now.

You try to focus on the rapid clatter of the keys, on the way Wednesday’s elegant fingers dance over the typewriter, maybe try and catch a glance of the words the girl is printing on the paper. Anything to pull your mind away from the tight warmth hugging your aching cock, from weight of the small body pressed against you.

The demon inside of you is raging, howling, salivating between huge tusks. The monster is not as prejudiced as the fellow oni of your clan are – it doesn’t care if it’s another demon or a human you’re nestled inside. It demands the frail body pressed against your own is filled up and bred, demands the goth takes all of you, stretching around your swollen knot before it's barely able to slip inside.

Not just any body. Or some omega. Wednesday. Wednesday who isn’t even a part of that animalistic system, but the beast begs for more, wants all of her more, more with each passing second.

A growl mixed with a whimper escapes your mouth – you have no idea what to do with your hands, so you press them into the edge of the table on either side of Wednesday’s typewriter, claws digging into the dark wood. The involuntarily display of strength has the small female tightening around you with a gentle hitch of her breath, making you groan.

“Wednesday,” you rasp through clenched teeth. “I can’t. Please. I’m losing control.”

“O-oh, are you?” The goth inquires mockingly, hoping you don’t take notice of her slight stutter.

“Mhm,” you nod dumbly. “Wanna take you so bad. Wanna fuck you full of me.”

Wednesday can’t fight the way her pussy constricts around you again, though the determination not to lose control remains, strong as ever. She abandons the keys to reach a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful of (h/c) locks to pull and make you meet her gaze, “Whose is it, (Y/n)?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, making Wednesday’s frown deepen – a hint for the right answer comes in the form of the seer’s hips lifting and rocking back down, the friction making you hiss.

“Answer me.”

“Yours.” You swallow. “Yours, Wednesday. Every- every inch is.”

“Good. Good girl.” She coos, easing her hold on you to rake her short nails down the back of your neck, making goosebumps litter your body. “Bed, beast. Now.”

A low growl rumbling in your chest and vibrating against her back is the only warning Wednesday gets before she’s lifted into the air sharply.

In a rough, barely controlled movement you stand up so fast you topple the chair over, flipping the girl with ease and walking a couple of steps to press her against the bed, the ravenette’s cunt still snug around your shaft. A clawed hand reaches for a pillow hastily to cushion Wednesday’s head, the last resemblance of caring gentleness in your actions before you pull out to the tip and buck back inside.

Wednesday’s head snaps back, mouth falling open in pleasure as you pin her down into the mattress, fucking hard into the welcoming, tight warmth of her pussy. Despite the dynamics of oni demons still being fairly alien to Wednesday – not as alien apparently, as she knows the frequency and signs of your rut better than you do and isn’t opposed to using it against you – she now seems to understand the appeal of being absolutely destroyed by an alpha that omegas in heat are so partial to.

As delectable as the thought is, it rekindles the spark of possessiveness that she thought has almost been extinguished. The goth wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling your bodies flush together.

Hers. No one else’s.

Not some other depraved omega girl’s so desperate to get a taste of you.

“You foolish brute.” She pants as if it’s your fault you seem to be irresistible to other women, voice trembling slightly, her breath completely pushed out of her lungs with each of your thrusts. “You better make good on your promise and breed me like a good alpha should.”

The monster inside you roars at the proposition that is so obviously supposed to be taunting. Your palms slide down the girl’s waist, thumbs brushing against the protruding hipbones to dip into the supple flesh sitting low under her navel, holding her tightly, almost hard enough to bruise and match the brutal pace of your hips rutting into Wednesday, your cock splitting her open deliciously in a toe-curling sensation that has Wednesday’s head falling back against the dark pillows.

The sight under you has you growling savagely – your tongue lolls out to lick a thick stripe up the exposed skin of the ravenette’s neck before you bite down, huge tusks clasping around her throat and keeping Wednesday in place completely, her pulse wild against the rough surface of your muscle. Her pussy constricts around your cock, clamping down hard in an attempt to keep the thick shaft buried to the hilt every time you pull out and quivering when you slam back inside and fill her up enough for the tip to kiss the entrance of her womb, never letting the small female catch her breath.

The lustful fog of ardent fervor clouding Wednesday’s brain doesn’t numb her to the sensation of a swelling at the base of your shaft nudging against her opening every time your hips meet hers. It threatens to push in, catches deliciously on Wednesday’s clit with each thrust and she can feel herself getting painfully close.

But she will not. For the sake of the one thing she wants more than anything else, the goth will deprive herself.

“Knot me.” She rasps into your ear, her feet pushing into your lower back to urge you deeper inside. “Mia bestia, mia alfa. Dentro. Ven dentro di mi.”

You’d have no clue what she has just said on a normal day, and you have zero idea right now, buried eight inches deep inside of her, but the breathless, desperate pants of Italian have you turning feral. In one last brutal thrust the knot slips past Wednesday’s tight lips and inside, stretching and filling her so thoroughly and impossibly delicious it has her eyes rolling into the back of her head. A spill of wetness from her own release rushing forth as she clamps down on your cock lubes her aching walls, helping the bulging slide in firmly.

Your lips gravitate to hers, pulled to her like a magnet, and you growl into her mouth as your cum spills hotly, taking up any remaining space inside the small female and her walls ripple, begging for more. Wednesday's arms tighten around your shoulders and legs squeeze around your hips to keep you close.

You throb with sated completion, press lazy kisses to the seer’s brow and flushed cheeks, and watch as her eyes flutter open to meet yours, her chest heavy with steamy breaths.

“Too hot, huh?” You ask, jaw slack slightly.

Wednesday gives a weak nod, and you reach to tug the sweater off her shoulders, then unzip her skirt to slip it down her pale legs, leaving the girl in just her striped shirt. The newly exposed skin provides better contact for you to revel in – you purr in satisfaction and move to join the seer on the bed, careful not to crush her, and maneuver her small body in your palms to pull her on top of you.

Wednesday huffs but doesn’t resist, nudging at your neck with her nose and pressing a soft kiss to your jugular in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

“How did you find out?” You murmur, lifting your hands to start undoing one of the ravenette’s loosened braids leisurely.

“I have my ways.”

You hum at the vague reply, now certain that the disembodied hand following you around the whole day wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks, “I hope you know I had no intention to lie to you or anything. You just- you didn’t exactly give me a chance to speak.”

“Your explanation wasn’t necessary. I’m well aware of what happened.” The movement of the seer’s plush lips tickles your skin pleasantly, her voice now void of its previous detachment.

You smile softly, finished with unbraiding her hair, your fingers threading through the silky raven locks, careful not to give an accidental tug. Wednesday closes her eyes at your touch, and the tranquility of the moment has you feeling like a cat basking in warm sunlight, despite the object of your passions being a complete opposite to it.

“I’ll have to consult Enid on the topic of which herbs are the deadliest to werewolves.”

“Wednesday.”

[lowkeyerror]

Chasing Extinction

Wednesday Addams x Vampire! Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Ch. Notes: Multiple parts, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, aged-up characters, potential ooc Wednesday, blood, lmk if I missed anything

Summary: As a child, loss showed you how disappointing humanity could be. As a teen you learned the importance of relationships. As an adult you learn how uncomforting success can feel. It's not until reconnecting with Wednesday in order to try save the Vampire race that you finally feel real purpose, direction, and romance. (BASED ON THIS)

An: ... Chat I couldn’t wait I'm sorry it needed be let free so here is part one. There will be another part at a date in the near future. Hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Also at the bottom of fic is the symbol mentioned if you want a visual aid.

Series Masterlist

At heart you were a skeptic. The world was bleak, and you refused to place your hope into it. That ideology alone saved you from emotional weaknesses time and time again. You didn’t believe in people, as you learned at an early age, the only thing people were proficient at was causing disappointment.

Your mother and father loved you in their own ways. You remember tender touches from your mother, a caregiver at heart. She was always so careful with you, fearful that you might break.

Your father kept a lot of his emotions to himself. You rarely had a grasp on the kind of individual he was, but you knew his embrace was filled with warmth. You’d like to think all of the things he didn’t know how to say, he conveyed with a hug.

You loved your parents, but humanity did not. They were afraid of what they could not understand. All they saw was a group of monsters: Vampires that were a threat to them and their families. Their motivations didn’t matter to you. They had orphaned you without any hesitation. In that moment you learned disappointment.

After the loss of your parents, you were placed with your aunt. Your mother’s younger sister, perhaps too young to raise a child. She tried her best with you, but it was hard. Neither of you were quite certain of the roles to play in each other’s lives. She was a skeptic too, a woman who trusted no one, but herself. All she could do was instill in you her way of thinking.

She taught you about the dangers of attachment. Life had a way of being of cruel, according to her. She taught you how to protect yourself, not only with your hands, but with your brain. Without her there was a chance that you wouldn’t have survived the way you had.

It was easy to be skeptical when you were alone. When there weren’t many people like yourself around it was easy to not trust anyone. It was harder at Nevermore.

The school was filled with outcasts. People who could relate to being mistreated by society. On a more intimate scale, there were other Vampires at the school.

It was the first time you realized just how many of you there were. It was also the first time you realized how lonely you were.

You weren’t a social person by any means. The other Vampires learned that quickly. The only person who didn’t seem to mind was your roommate, Yoko. While others pushed to discover the workings of your personality, Yoko didn’t.

Her indifference eventually piqued your interest after months of harassment from the others. You let yourself question her one night in your dorm.

“Do you not care to know anything about me?”

She put her phone down before answering you, “Are you suddenly in the mood to share?”

“You’re the only person here that hasn’t tried to pry into the details of my personal affairs,” you deflect slightly.

“Here, it’s easy for some people to forget how cruel the outside world can be to us. They forget that our lives are at risk in most places. I know what it can be like out there and I understand what that can mean. So, I get why you're not so eager to share, it’s probably not anything you want to remember.”

Her words resonate deeply with you. It was like they were pulling something inside of you that made you want to tell her. It was the first time you felt that way, so you listened, “When I was a child, my parents were killed by the normies. I learned then that people couldn’t be trusted. Putting trust in others only leads to disappointment. After my parents died, my aunt became my legal guardian. She reinforced my beliefs and in part, is the reason why I’m not too keen on socializing.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

There was a pause. Something in her tone told you she had more to say. You didn’t know if it would be beneficial to continue the conversation, but you had already made it this far.

“You wish to say something else?”

She didn’t answer immediately, “Would your parents want you to experience a life without any companions? Living with no one to trust and no one to rely on sounds miserable. Especially when you consider how long we live. You may not understand it now, but finding the right people is usually worth the disappointments it takes to get them.”

You ponder on her words. The memories you had of your parents played in the back of your mind.

“I suppose that makes sense,” you spoke softly.

“Not everyone can be your friend, but that doesn’t make them all your enemy.”

You nod in understanding, “I’d like to call you a friend, Yoko.”

For a long while Yoko Tanaka was your only friend. She was popular amongst your peers, meaning being around her outside of the dorm meant being around her friends. She gently pushed you to socialize a bit more. While you weren’t exactly an open book some of Yoko’s friends became your friends.

Enid was a bit much initially. You didn’t judge her energy or the bright colors. She was a very vibrant person, which you had to get used to. Underneath all of that excitement, Enid was one of the most caring people you had ever met. It seemed to be second nature for her to care about the people around her. She was fiercely protective of her friends and that included you. You trusted her the same way you trusted Yoko.

“I wish you'd let me paint your nails just once, Vampy.”

You and Yoko were situated in Enid’s room for a sleepover. The blonde was currently painting your roommate’s nails. She had been trying to persuade you for a while. You always declined her offers.

“I don't like it when you call me that. If you agree to retire that name, I will let you paint my nails,” you sighed internally, preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

Enid let out a squeal of excitement, quickly abandoning Yoko to get closer to you. Her hand reached for yours without hesitation. She began analyzing your nails, her file ready in the other hand.

“What’s your favorite color Vam- Y/n?”

The immediate slip up made you laugh a bit, “Red, dark red like-”

“A blood bag, very cliché Y/n,” Yoko interjected.

Enid glared at the other Vampire, “Yoko don't ruin this moment. This is the first personal thing Y/n had shared with me.”

“It’s just a color,” Yoko argued back.

Enid shook her head dramatically, “No, it’s Y/n’s favorite color.”

Yoko looked at you with her eyebrow raised, “Would you tell our pup another piece of information so she could let this color thing go?”

You think for a moment, trying to find something about yourself that you think Enid would be satisfied with.

“My birthday is in February.”

“O-M-G, are you an Aquarius or a Pisces? I totally get Aquarius vibes from you. Things are starting to make a whole lot of sense. I wonder if our signs are compatible for friendship. Do you have Costar? You should download Costar.”

She rambled on about horoscopes until she finished your nails. After that she took your phone and downloaded Costar, making sure to send herself a friend request.

The only other person you made a connection with at Nevermore was Wednesday Addams. In some ways she reminded you of yourself. She was very intelligent and very private. Wednesday wasn’t someone who loved being the center of attention, she just often found herself at it. Her pride would not allow her to run from it.

It wasn't something that was outwardly apparent, but Wednesday was an adventurer. She craved a challenge, which she would never find in a schoolbook. Wednesday needed a case to crack.

“Have you ever thought of getting revenge on the people who murdered your parents?”

“Wednesday! You can’t just ask her-”

You cut Enid off, “Sometimes, but it wasn’t just one person. It was an angry mob, so I’d have to find them all first.”

“Finding them sounds like child’s play. I could probably do it in an afternoon,” Wednesday offered up her services.

You shook your head, “I wouldn't feel vindicated. Even if I killed them all, it wouldn't be enough. They robbed me of something truly priceless.”

You kept your eyes focused on the window. Watching students engage with each other on campus. The question created a thick emptiness in your mind.

You didn’t see the way Enid glared at her roommate. Nor did you see the slight displeasure on Wednesday’s face as realized her question was potentially insensitive.

Enid was careful to wrap her arms around you from behind. You tore your gaze from the window to turn into her arms. Enid had deciphered some time into your friendship that you preferred physical contact when it came to being comforted.

“My question was inappropriate, forgive me,” Wednesday spoke flatly.

Enid let go of you, getting ready to unleash a hurricane of words onto the girl in black.

“I think it’s quite thoughtful of you actually.”

“Huh, how?” Enid questions.

You look into Wednesday’s dark eyes, “That was Wednesday’s way of offering to help me get revenge on the people who wronged me most in life. It was a friendly gesture.”

Wednesday looked away from your intense gaze.

“Oh, I get it now. That’s sweet of you Wends, we’ll practice on the delivery next time,” Enid’s mood did a 180.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, “There is nothing sweet about me. I was just trying to put my expertise to use. I beat Crackstone and the stalker, I’ve been terribly bored lately.”

Wednesday and Enid went back and forth for a while. You simply watched the converse once again getting lost in thought. Your eyes scanned the raven-haired girl. Your mind wandered to places it had never explored before.

Yoko had explained crushes to you before. It was in simple terms; terms that felt too simple for the strength of the feeling. It was an intense yearning that you fought against at every opportunity. Having a crush on Wednesday sounded like something trivial, a waste of time.

You knew how the girl felt about romance. She wasn’t interested in it; in fact, the thought repulsed her. Yet as you learned from Yoko, you don’t get to choose. The feelings act on their own with disregard for social etiquette.

You valued your friendship with Wednesday and did not wish to ruin it with your romantic feelings. So, you promised yourself to never reveal them.

“What are your plans after graduation, Y/n?”

The question from Enid abruptly removed you from your own thoughts, “I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Does nothing interest you?” Wednesday let some genuine curiosity slip through.

You shrugged, “What is the monetization of an interest, if not the death of a hobby? There are many things I enjoy, but finding my life’s work has proven to be quite difficult.”

Enid was excited to chime in with her opinion, “I think you could be a writer, like Wednesday. You’re into classical music too, maybe a composer?”

“You have been more than competent as a detective during our investigations,” Wednesday gave you a rare compliment.

“I enjoy all those things, but how do I know if they’re worth pursuing? What if I’m not successful at any of them?”

“I loathe this expression, but perhaps it will be useful to you. You must ‘follow your dreams'. If you are passionate about something, you can use that to push yourself to successful heights. Success is not unilateral; it looks different for everyone. Though in the eyes of the law my investigations are fraudulent, I count them as successes because I know I solved those cases. I simply do not care what they have to say, because I know the truth.”

You reflected on her words before a sly smile took over your features, “If I got a bestseller before you would you take it personally?”

“Competition fosters creativity.”

-Many Years Later-

You wrote under a pseudonym. At first it was to hide your shame if you became a failure. As you began to garner an audience you kept it to sustain your private life. Much to your surprise you actually did make the bestseller list. In fact, you made it multiple times. Wednesday had still gotten there first. Her semi-autobiographical tales of Viper De La Muerte were beloved by many.

It turns out she was right when she said that competition fosters creativity. It seemed as if the two of you were always battling for that number one spot on the list.

Lately you have found yourself in a creative slump. There are too many distractions around, you can’t put pen to paper like you need to.

“I think I want to go out of town.”

You sit across from your aunt, while the two of you eat dinner.

“Where?”

You sigh, “I’m thinking about renting a cabin for a few months. I need to focus on my writing, and I can't do that here.”

“Y/n our numbers are dwindling, and you want to go live alone in the forest? What if something happens to you?”

You knew that this was an inevitable conversation, “Amdis I’ve already booked the cabin. It’s not too far from Yoko, so if anything goes wrong, she’ll be able to help me.”

The woman’s eyes flare red, “And what of the murders?”

“Conspiracy often plagues-”

She cuts you off, “You know better than anyone else that there is no conspiracy when it comes to the hate in the heart of humanity. Did you forget what happened to your parents?”

Her comment causes you to slam your fist down and rise from your seat, “Don’t you dare make such claims. I carry their loss with me in every step I walk, I see them when I look into the mirror, I hear them when I speak. How can I forget them, when I carry a scar, which lets me know that I should’ve lost my life with them?”

“Y/n I-"

“Just as no one came to save my parents. It’s impossible for me to save our people. I can’t live my life in fear of death because that’s not what they would’ve wanted!”

Your eyes burn into the woman. It was as if there was lightening storming behind your red irises.

Amdis relents, “I’m not saying that I expect you to save everyone kid. I just want you to be mindful of what is happening to people like us. The hunters are getting out of control, and the only safety we have right now is in numbers. I can’t stand to lose any more family.”

You sit back down. The gravity of your aunts words weighs heavily on you. You take a moment to see her not as your aunt, but as a person. The woman who lost her older sister, who could’ve denied you entry into her life. She was 18 and suddenly tasked with taking care of a 9-year-old. She had done everything for you, sacrificed so much to be the person you needed her to be.

“I know, I’m sorry for being inconsiderate. Your worry means everything to me. It’s just- this is something that I must do. You taught me how to protect myself, now I must ask you to trust that I've retained that knowledge.”

“You’ll check in with me every few days. If you miss a single day, I’m coming out there,” her tone stays stern, but you begin to smile.

“Understood.”

Yoko picked you up from the airport and offered to take you up to the cabin.

“How’ve you been bestseller?”

You sigh, “Uninspired.”

Yoko laughs, “I was hoping to hear about something outside of your career.”

You search for something to share, “My life is only divided into two categories my career and people I care about. Enid’s been sending me a lot of recipes lately; she said she wants to make me some blood brownies.”

“The brownies are fucking delicious; you should definitely take her up on that.”

You nod starkly, “Maybe I’ll host a little get together once I’m settled in and have gotten enough work done.”

The other Vampire nods, “You could invite me, and I'll of course bring Divina, Enid will bring the brownies, and last but not least Wednesday.”

“She’s probably busy being a modern day, more fashionable version of Sherlock Holmes. If she’s not doing that then she’s for sure drafting a book about it.”

Yoko shakes her head in disbelief, “And you’ve still got that teenage crush on her.”

“I do not.”

Yoko plays along, “Fine, then how’s your dating life?”

You blink a few times, “I have yet to find a substantial partner that piques my interest or matches my drive."

“Because you aren’t looking for anyone that doesn’t have the name Wednesday Addams.”

You roll your eyes, “Give it a rest Yoko. We both know that Wednesday doesn’t wish for romance.”

Yoko quirks an eyebrow, “Is that so? I’ve heard otherwise from Enid.”

“What do you mean?” The words spill quickly from your mouth. You try to regain some of your nonchalance, but Yoko sees right through you.

“I mean Enid has told me that Wednesday has had many romantic encounters. Passionate love affairs, burning romances, quick flings, you name it she’s experienced it."

You feel your jaw clench at the information, “Good for her.”

“Don’t be upset little bat. I also know that they never last. Enid tells me that none of them really understand Wednesday. They think they can change her, but-”

“Wednesday doesn’t change for anybody.”

Yoko agrees, “Precisely. Wednesday’s affections are often lackluster to many people. Some want grand gestures and proclamations, but that just isn't her vibe you know?”

“I know.”

The trail to the cabin isn’t too far into the woods. Yoko was able to park right in front of it. It was a cozier looking space than you had originally thought. The cabin was big but packed with well-loved furniture and knick-knacks. The most important accommodations for you were the TV, and internet.

Yoko helped you bring in your things and unpack.

“Ok, I’m going to visit every Friday.”

“You don’t have to check up on me,” you tell her.

She pulls you in for a hug, “I know, but it’s nice to have you around. It would be weird to know you’re less than an hour away and not come to visit.”

“You’re worried,” you mumble into her shoulder.

Her hand caresses the back of your head, “A lot of us have been going missing lately. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You sound like Amdis."

Yoko’s voice is soft, “Your aunt has every right to be worried. Call her, let her know you made it. I’ll text you when I get home.”

With one more squeeze Yoko exits the cabin leaving you alone. The quiet washes over the area and you let out a large breath.

Your eyes drift over to the typewriter you brought. Usually, you author your stories on your laptop, but you brought the typewriter to draw extra inspiration.

Before you attempt to write, you call your aunt like Yoko instructed. By the time the call ended Yoko had texted you that she made it home safely.

You sat in front of the typewriter just thinking. The pressure was building. There was a finality in writing on a typewriter that wasn't there when you worked digitally. You’re somewhat forced to be more intentional with your words. Which was the main rain you had brought it in the first place.

It feels like forever before you type your fist sentence. Slowly, but surely you begin finding a rhythm and soon enough you’re loading in another sheet of paper.

A text message a few hours later is what finally breaks your concentration. You assume that it is Yoko or your aunt, but you're wrong.

Wednesday: Enid tells me you’ve taken up shelter in a cabin in hopes of ending your writer’s block.

You: I have and it's working quite well actually.

Wednesday: With all of the Vampire killing going on, you find locking yourself up some in a cabin to be safe?

You: Not you too 😒. I’m fine, Yoko lives close by and I'm very capable of defending myself Addams.

Wednesday: If you’re put in a position to have to defend yourself, that just shows that you didn’t take the proper methods of precaution.

You: I assure you; I have taken every possible precaution.

“Have you really?”

You scream and jump at the same time. Your hand places itself over your shallow beating heart.

“What the fuck, Wednesday?”

The woman eyes you up and down, “Vulgarity is new for you, Y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before."

Your phone rings before you can question your old classmate. You pick it up hearing Yoko’s slightly panicked voice at the end, “Are you alright? I heard your heart rate like triple.”

“I’m fine Yoko, just have an unsuspected visitor.”

“Who?”

Wednesday makes her presence know, “Hello, Tanaka.”

You can nearly see the other Vampire smiling on the other end of the line, “Addams, very interesting. Well, call me if you need anything baby bat, I’ll talk to you later."

You say a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. You turn your attention back to Wednesday. The last time you saw her was a little over a year ago at some party Enid was throwing. She hadn’t changed much; in fact, she hadn’t really changed much of her aesthetic since Nevermore.

Her attire was still all black. She still had her two braids. She might’ve been an inch taller and maybe her tan was a little darker, but she was essentially the same.

“How did you find me and why are you here?”

Wednesday walks around observing the cabin with each step, “Well I mentioned that Enid told me, that girl can’t keep any details to herself. She said you’d be staying close to Yoko, and this is the closest available cabin to her. I thought I would have had to search more, but I got lucky with this one.”

“Okay… but why?”

“Is it so strange that I want to catch up with an old friend?”

You look at her incredulously, “You wanted to see me, so you tracked me down and broke into the place I'm staying at? Try again.”

“I’m investigating the increasing amount of murders in the Vampire community,” she reveals.

“Oh.”

Wednesday begins to explain, “As you know the unprovoked hunting of Vampires has been illegal for quite some time now. Yet this year alone the number of bodies belonging to the immortals have been found at an alarming rate. A lot of Vampires are afraid that they might be next. With terror comes two paths avoidance or violence. Neither has ideal conclusions for the Vampire race. To avoid would be to possibly become extinct and the violent route means a war. Someone must put a stop to it before it goes too far.”

Hearing the reality of the situation from Wednesday feels more bone chilling than when your aunt or Yoko mentioned it. The last war between the Vampires and the human race had ended horribly for both sides. So much death that both sides eventually relented to peace talks. Those talks laid a lot of foundation for not only Vampire rights, but also the rights of many supernatural beings. Another war wouldn’t only affect the Vampires, but all relations between humans and supernatural beings would be up in the air.

“Another war would cause complete and utter chaos,” you say.

Wednesday agrees, “It would be the end of peaceful relationship between the naturals and the supernatural entirely.”

“What does any of that have to do with me, Wednesday?”

The brown eyed girl bores into your eyes, “My pride has learned to take a backseat over the years. I understand now that I cannot do everything on my own. The stakes of this investigation are the highest that I’ve ever come across. I require assistance from people I trust to ensure this matter is properly dealt with."

“You need my help,” you summarize her words.

“Yes. I’m currently making my way through my list of allies. Enid suggested that I recruit former Nightshades.”

Your eyes drift over to your typewriter, “Has anyone else agreed to this?”

“Enid is in, she’s in the process of convincing Bianca, Ajax, and Ken. I’m here for Divina, Yoko, and you.”

The pressure of this decision weighs heavily on you. Choosing to stay and write your book rather than fighting for the rights of your people seems ridiculously selfish. On the other hand, willingly agreeing to put yourself in the middle of a potential war didn’t sound much better.

“I need a drink.”

You enter the kitchen, locating the bottle of blood wine you had brought with you. With a wine glass and corkscrew at the ready, you’re pouring yourself a hefty glass.

Your sipping from glass at an eager pace before refocusing your attention on to Wednesday, “Do you want a drink?”

“Bourbon, neat,” she steps into the kitchen.

You sit your glass to begin making Wednesday her drink.

“I never pegged you for a dark liquor type of detective, it’s a little cliché.”

She’s quick to shoot back, “And a female writer with an affinity for wine isn’t?”

You wince playfully, “Touché.”

When you hand her the drink she continues the banter, “Your typewriter is an antique, Royal Magic Margin from 1938. Impressive."

“Amdis got it for me as gift after my first bestseller. I only really use it when I have writer’s block otherwise, I'm on my laptop like everyone else.”

“Though I’ve embraced most technology I still prefer my typewriter. It feels more satisfying when I can physically see all of the pages,” she shares.

You nod, “Understandable.”

The two of sit in silence as you nurse your drinks. You keep running through scenarios in your mind of how this all will turn out. Even the good outcome for the supernatural beings didn't necessarily mean a good outcome for yourself. Anything could happen to you along the way.

“I know that what I’m asking you to do is a lot, but I assure you that I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think you were capable.”

Your finger plays with the rim of your empty glass, “Do you have any leads, evidence, or plans, or would we be going into this completely blind?”

“I have a few leads and pieces of evidence. I have the ghost of a plan, but I can’t finalize anything until I know my allies. For now, the plan is to gather a team to bring to my residence in order to create a feasible plan of action,” Wednesday explains.

You bargain with her, “If you can convince Yoko, I’m in. I don't want to be the only Vampire around if we're going to be facing hunters.”

“Fair, I was wondering if there was any potential in getting Amdis to join in as well,” Wednesday propositions.

You frown, “You know my aunt doesn’t play well with others. If I tell her that I’m getting involved in something like this she will personally track me down and drag me off to the furthest corner of the Earth.”

“Right, well then we shall wait for one hour and then I will drive us to Yoko's,” Wednesday says matter-of-factly.

“Why are we waiting an hour?”

Wednesday kept a deadpan look on her face, “For the drinks to metabolize."

An hour later the two of you are making the drive to Yoko’s house.

“How have you been fairing?” Wednesday keeps her eyes on the road as she speaks to you.

“Fine and you?”

You see the woman’s shoulders drop a bit, “I never imagined you’d give me such a scripted answer, Y/n. I thought we were years past formalities.”

Her words startle you. This is a side of Wednesday that you are still getting to know. You’re used to her being more nonchalant with the feelings of others.

“Sorry, it’s just my most given answer. I don’t know how I’m doing. I’m a successful writer, but I’m suffering with writers’ block. That doesn’t even really matter when my people are being slaughtered though does it?”

“I think we’re approaching the age where we don’t know what matters anymore? Everything blurs together and starts to feel the same. Success doesn’t seem as important as we thought it was when we were younger. We are going to save the Vampires and avenge the ones that have been lost. Then maybe we’ll be to appreciate the triviality of our daily struggles,” Wednesday answers you completely.

You find yourself staring at her side profile. There’s a hidden vulnerability in her words. You don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but you question her anyway, “Have you been uninspired lately?”

“Uninspired, unmotivated, and bored. Not just with writing, but with the detective work too. I’ve thrown myself into my work since I was a child. Though I’ve seen the heights of success, they weren’t as tall as I pictured them to be. I suppose it’s like, I’ve grown larger than my dreams, and now I find myself… unsatisfied.”

“Then why take on this case?”

The woman licks her lips for a second before taking a quick glance at you, “It’s personal, isn’t it? I’m not a Vampire, but you are as well as Yoko. I can’t sit around and do nothing, as the people that I’ve worked hard to care about lose everything. Like we said earlier, this problem could expand beyond Vampires. My best friend is a Werewolf. Nearly every person that I tolerate is a supernatural being. I refuse to wait until it’s too late to act.”

A small smile takes over your features, “Noble as always, Wednesday.”

She scoffs in faux agitation, “Still trying to paint me as some kind of heroic figure.”

“Well maybe if you’d stop saving the day, I’d let it go,” you tease her.

“I don’t save the day; I simply follow leads and clean up investigations.”

You answer with sarcasm, “Of course, and it’s not like you take these events and turn them into bestselling novels where the protagonist is a reflection of yourself.”

“How dare you drag Viper De La Muerte into this?”

You laugh at the menacing tone behind her words, “Look, I thought we were done giving scripted answers. You, Wednesday Addams are one of the most heroic people I've ever encountered. Stop being stubborn and treasure the compliment.”

She parks the car before turning her full attention to you, “Perhaps I have some of the qualities of a hero, but I refuse the title. I’m more than the mysteries I solve or the books I write. There are plenty of times I was less than hero like.”

The both of you exit the car. You mumble to yourself, but she still hears you, “Spoken like true hero.”

You ring the doorbell and wait for Yoko to answer. It takes less than a minute for her to open the door.

“Baby bat, already out of the cabin so fast? And you brought a friend too. Long time no see, Addams.”

Yoko steps aside to let you in. The two of you enter and subsequently follow her into the living room.

“I’ve come to ask a favor of you, Yoko,” Wednesday gets straight to the point.

Yoko eyes you for clarification, “I think it’s best she speaks for herself here.”

Wednesday tells Yoko the same thing she told you. The Vampire did not interrupt once. Her facial expression stays neutral as she takes on the information and what is being asked of her.

“That’s a big ask Addams,” Yoko says once she’s heard it all.

“I’m aware, but we would be the only thing standing between an all-out war,” she reasons.

Yoko sucks her teeth, “And Divina is needed as well?”

“Ideally, yes.”

She’s silent for a few minutes. There’s a slow tension building in the room as you wait for her answer.

With a huff of annoyance she agrees, “I’m on board, Addams. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t at least try?”

Wednesday turns her attention to you.

“Fine, but I’m too young to die Wednesday,” It’s as much a joke as it is the truth.

“I would give up my life before I’d let you lose yours.”

Her words seem to suck all of the air out of your lungs. It’s the way she says it, in that way only she can. She speaks these passionate words as if they are fact. They’re common sense to her but seem like an alien language to you.

You say nothing, just sit there trying to keep your face from showing how flustered you are.

“Anyway… should I wake up Divina and pack our things now?”

Wednesday nods curtly, “The sooner we leave the better. It’s a long way to my residence.”

-At The Addams’s Estate-

Wednesday had not been exaggerating about the nearly 8-hour drive to her home. The property was just as unique as the members of the Addams’ family.

“Enid should be here somewhere with the others. You can sit your bags by the door Lurch will take care of them,” Wednesday instructs the three of you.

You all follow her through the home. As you get closer to the rest, you can hear Enid chatting away.

“Some things never change, do they?” Divina nudges Yoko.

The Vampire smiles, “The day that Wolfie has nothing to say, is a day I truly fear.”

When you enter the kitchen area you are met with a plethora of familiar faces. Enid is having a very animated conversation with Bianca. While Ken and Ajax are speaking amongst themselves.

The blonde let’s out shrill yell when notices your arrival. She’s quick to envelope her oldest friend in a hug, “Yoko, I’ve missed you.”

Enid’s grip is something fierce but Yoko hugs her back regardless, “We just saw each other last week, but I missed you too Wolfie."

Divina and Enid exchange quick pleasantries before the siren makes a beeline for her twin.

When it’s your turn Enid can’t help but to lift you off of the ground. It startles you a bit, but you let out of laugh, “You’re a lot stronger than I remember, Enid.”

“It’s a wolf thing, Vampy.”

You groan at the nickname, “I could’ve sworn that we agreed that you wouldn’t call me that.”

The blonde shrugs, “I don’t recall. Wednesday do you recall?”

“You’re asking her because you remember that she was there,” you point out.

The corners of Wednesday’s lips turn up slightly, “We all have unfortunate nicknames given to us by Enid. I believe it is a form of endearment. Though ‘Vampy' is not ideal, it could be worse.”

“See you could stand to learn a thing or two from Willa,” Enid beams.

“Don’t push it,” Wednesday threatens, her stoic expression returning to her face.

Enid concedes, “Understood.”

Wednesday snaps her fingers getting the attention of the room, “We all know why we have gathered here. As much as I would love to dive right into all of the details surrounding the event, I feel as though it would be beneficial to make sure everyone is settled in first. Get reacquainted with each other, try to enjoy this time. Tomorrow we will begin the real work.”

The traveling likely was weighing the abilities of the group. Most of them completing a full days’ worth of travel just to get to the home. Trying to rally them at this point would be a waste of time.

Upon hearing Wednesday's words, the talking picks back up again. Everyone is engaged in a conversation. Wednesday sees this and takes that as her cue to try to leave the room.

You stop her, “Leaving your guests already?”

“Enid is a much more entertaining host than me. She’s familiar with the home so she should be fine,” Wednesday tries to justify her exit.

“Where are you going?”

Wednesday fixes her posture slightly, “If you must know completing a nearly 16-hour drive back and forth is quiet tiresome. I was hoping to get some rest.”

Your eyebrow raises in amusement, “My god, I’ve seen it all. The Wednesday I grew up with would never admit to actually needing sleep.”

She rolls her eyes, “I said rest, not sleep. The two aren’t always synonymous.”

“Well, I could use some rest too. I've been traveling technically for two days straight.”

Wednesday extends her hand out for you to grab. You stare at it cautiously before slipping your hand into hers.

“I’ll show you to the room,” she begins dragging you through the house.

You wonder if she took your hand, so you'd be forced to keep up. It could be a precaution about you getting lost, her home was big, so it made sense. Maybe she remembered your affinity for physical touch and was trying to offer you comfort.

The last thought made you blush. You were grateful the woman was in front of you as to avoid her seeing your face.

She opens a door to what you assume is the room you’ll be staying in. When she closes it behind her, she starts to speak again, “Because I’m not regularly used to accommodating such a large number of guests, rooms will be shared. You and I will be sharing if that is alright.”

“This is seeming more and more like Nevermore by the minute,” you joke, though on the inside your nerves are failing you.

“Would you like me to get the tape?”

Though her tone doesn’t reflect it, you can tell she’s joking, “It’d only be for your benefit Addams, I don’t mind being close to you.”

“Good to know,” she says it to herself more than to you.

The room is large, you can tell it’s somewhat of a masters suite. It doesn’t surprise you to see that there's a bookcase situated against a wall. Near the shelf there’s a medium sized black couch that you could picture the girl reading on.

The bed in the center of the room is large, you assume it’s king sized. It feels silly to picture Wednesday laying in that huge bed alone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you that according to Yoko, Wednesday doesn’t spend her nights alone. It's in that same frame of thought that you realize there’s only one bed.

Wednesday heads over to the couch, “You will take the bed.”

You shake your head, “I can take the couch, this is your home.”

Wednesday counters, “And you are my guest.”

“Don’t be stubborn Addams.”

Her gaze meets yours aa little fiercer than usual, “I thought last name basis was just something between Tanaka and I, but it seems to have rubbed off on you.”

You crease your brow, “Abrupt change of subject don’t you think?”

She shakes her head a bit and the emotion leaves her eyes. She reaches for a book off of the shelf, burying her face in it, “Take the bed, Y/n."

“Old habits die hard I see,” you comment, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What are you referring to?”

You purse your lips, “The way you avoid discomforting topics.”

You can see her jaw twitch from your place on the bed. For a moment, you think you overstepped.

She keeps her focus on the book, “I’d prefer if you’d just call me Wednesday.”

You keep your eyes on her, “Well, Wednesday, I think your bed is quite large. Too large for just one person, in my opinion. I see no reason for you to take the couch, when there is ample space on the bed.”

The statement makes her sit the book down on her lap, “You would be comfortable with that?”

You fight the urge to look away from her, “I wouldn't have suggested it if it made me uncomfortable.”

She gets up from the couch and hesitantly makes her way towards the bed. She sits on the side opposite of you, leaning her back against the headboard. You follow her lead and get comfortable. You lay flat on your back, pulling out your phone for entertainment.

You attempt to fight the urge to fall asleep. However, between the traveling and the softness of the mattress, you lose.

Your light snores pull Wednesday out of her book. She takes in your sleeping figure, analytically. Her thoughts roam freely in her mind as she watches you sleep.

She wonders if the rest of your skin is as soft as your hand. Wednesday wonders if you have laid in bed like this with anyone else. She wonders just how close she could get to you without it b being inappropriate.

The truth of the situation pokes at her. Yes, this case was foundationally important to her. She hadn’t lied in trying to get you to her home, but she also wasn’t entirely truthful. Wednesday didn’t like knowing what was happening to Vampires and being so far away from you. In her mind the closer you are to her, the easier it is to keep you safe.

An aggravated sigh escapes her. After all these years and her futile attempts to move on, she finds herself just as enamored with you as she was at Nevermore.

Now here you were, in her bed. Yet romance couldn't even be considered with such important things at hand. Wednesday had to stay sharp, to keep her focus on the task at hand. This was likely the biggest investigation of her career, potentially the last one she would ever do. Failing here meant failing you, and everyone else she cared for.

Though it was unlike herself she tried to stay optimistic. She refused to believe she had gathered you all to put you in worthless danger.

With her book long forgotten, she attempts to rest her eyes as well.

“I’m using this as blackmail one day.”

“They aren't even that close together.”

“That’s what Photoshop is for Yoko. You're looking at an Adobe certified editor.”

Your eyes open just enough to see Enid and Yoko conversing at the entrance to the room.

“Just take the damn picture Enid, before one of them wakes up.”

You sit up right in the bed, startling the women, “Too late.”

You yawn, sighing in satisfaction when your bones crack.

“We were just-”

“Being weirder than usual and taking pictures of us in our sleep,” Wednesday answers, sitting up in a similar fashion to you.

“Jesus, you guys are the creeps! Who wakes up like that?” Enid replies, completely deflecting on to the women sharing a bed.

“What do you want?” You ask them, your voice echoing as you wipe your eyes.

Enid rolls her eyes, “Relax Vampy, we just came to say dinner’s ready. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours already.”

“Ok, we’ll be down in a minute,” Wednesday tells them.

“Take your time kids,” Yoko says, pulling Enid along with her.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the last of your tiredness out of your body.

“I’m going to shower before I go down, you don’t have to wait for me,” Wednesday gets out of the bed.

Your body almost melts at the thought of a shower. It’s as if the word itself makes you untense.

“A shower sounds nice,” you say aloud.

“Though I’m aware of the dire state of the climate crisis-”

Your face turns red, and you cut her off, “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean together. I just meant in general.”

You marvel as you see color paint her cheeks "Oh, yes, that does make more sense. Down the hall, first door on the right there’s another bathroom.”

The two of split off into your separate showers. You find each other at the top of the stairs heading to dinner together.

You never pictured Wednesday in relaxed apparel before, but she stood beside you in a pair of black pajama pants and an oversized shirt. It looked like the clothes would swallow her up.

“Were you expecting something more elaborate,” Wednesday speaks, noting your lingering gaze.

“Maybe, but I like this.”

She heads down the stairs without another word and you follow behind her. Once you get to the kitchen table you take a seat next to Yoko while Wednesday sits at the head of the table.

“Enjoy your nap baby bat?” Yoko says suggestively.

“Do enjoy having 2 fangs?”

Yoko laughs, “How unusually violent of you.”

You roll your eyes, “Unusually? Have you forgotten the way I was when we first met.”

“All talk, no action,” Yoko argues back.

“Ajax, do you recall when I broke your nose?” You call him out, trying to make a point.

He sighs poking at his nose, “I do, it’s been a little crooked ever since.”

“Well, if you hadn’t stood up Enid, your nose would be straighter,” you remind him.

“Hey, I accidentally turned myself to stone.”

You shrug, “Should’ve led with that.”

Bianca laughs, “You didn’t even give him a chance. It was definitely on sight.”

Ken adds on, “No literally, and she just walked over him when he was on the ground.”

“It was kind of like a hit and run, except she slowly walked away,” Divina thinks out loud.

It’s nice to laugh and joke you still can. It feels like something you’ve been missing lately in your life. The sense of community that you have here surrounded by your friends is warm.

It's not that you isolate yourself from others. You make it to their parties or gatherings for special occasions, but it’s not often. It’s also not everyone like this. Though you wish the circumstances were better, you’re grateful for this, as you don’t know when it will happen again.

After the meal, you head back to the room. You aren’t tired, in fact you feel focused. With your laptop in hand, you sit on the couch. You take this moment to begin recalling things that might be important for the investigation. You think over the historical content that you know about Vampires. Strengths, weaknesses, previous war efforts, and enemies, anything that might help for tomorrow.

You’re familiar with the 6 W's of investigating, so you assume that’s where you’ll start tomorrow. You had some theories based on what you had seen and known from your aunt, but you couldn’t confirm anything without Wednesday’s evidence.

It made sense for this to be a group of hunters, but with the volume of deaths and missing cases, it was improbable to believe they were working alone. Killing Vampires wasn’t an easy feat. They were strong and nearly immortal. Evolution had done the race good. Garlic had been minimized to an allergy, they didn’t combust in the sun anymore, and wood could not simply penetrate their skin.

Silver was still the deadliest of their weaknesses, followed shortly by magic, holy water, and finally the claws of a wolf. There were other things that made them vulnerable, but those were the main ones.

“Feeling inspired to write after dinner?” Wednesday enters the room.

“You could say that. I'm actually getting some of my thoughts together for tomorrow. I want to have everything I know readily available. That way when we start going into what you already have, I could potentially plug in useful information.”

Wednesday sits next to you on the couch, slightly leaning over your shoulder to look at what you have written so far, “Has there ever been a civil war amongst the Vampires?”

You nod, “Multiple times. The first one was about territory expansion. At one point the entire population of Vampires was in one place. Some people thought that it was necessary for survival, others believed that they should be able to go wherever they wanted. People picked sides and they fought against each other.”

“I’m going to assume the side who wanted to separate won.”

You shrug, “Kind of. That war technically led to us being discovered by humans. There was lots of commotion, you can’t necessarily hide a war. Once they were discovered the humans began trying to kill them. So, they had to make a truce to fight against the humans. There was a huge loss of our people, a loss that some argued could’ve been minimized if we all weren’t in one spot. After that any Vampire who wanted to stray from the coven was allowed to.”

“I see, and the other wars?”

You continue, “I only know of 2 more that were civil. The next one was about interspecies relationships, and the last time we fought it was about ethical consumption of blood. The quick version of events with the interspecies dispute was that there had been this obsession with being pure. Vampires were not allowed to mate outside of the race, regardless of who the other party was. It was challenged after our war against the Werewolves; as a number of Vampires had fallen in love with certain Werewolves.”

“The blood one was quite recent, correct?”

You nod, “I was alive for that one. Maybe 5 or 6 years old. It was probably the largest civil war we’d had; some people even believe we’re still in it today. We need blood to survive, but everyone was divided about where we could get that blood. Some people didn’t want to drink from humans as it is not the best for our image in their eyes. Others argued that drinking from animals could slowly kill the ecosystem. There was even more fighting when it came to how to obtain it.”

“Who won?”

Again, you shrug, “Like I said some people say this one is still happening. It ended in a sort of agree-to-disagree manner. There are technically restrictions about how much of any species that a single Vampire can consume but-”

“Not everyone abides by those restrictions,” Wednesday finishes your sentence.

“Exactly. What are you thinking about all of this in correlation with the investigation?”

Wednesday doesn’t hesitate to share, “I asked about in-fighting within the community because I believe that Vampires are in some ways responsible for these murders.”

You hold back a gasp, “You think we’re killing each other off?”

Wednesday points to a part in your notes, “You have it written out here that you don’t think it’s the hunters alone if it’s them at all. They don’t have the strength or the numbers to operate on a high scale like this. They have to be working with some non-human supernatural beings. Who better to help kill Vampires than other Vampires?”

“As much as it sickens me, we can't rule it out. However, you did say any non-humans, which could mean anything. We all know the history between Vampires and Werewolves. We also know that a noted weakness of Vampires is magic which could indicate Witches. I don’t think we can rule out anyone yet,” you reason with her.

Wednesday’s gaze softens as she looks at you. It’s as if she knows something you don’t. For a moment you can see her contemplating, in her mind.

“Do you know something I don’t,” your voice is delicate as you press for answers.

You can see her mask falling back into place, “I think we should talk about it tomorrow.”

She tries to get up from the couch, but your hand grasps her wrist, “Wednesday.”

She wishes she could ignore your plea, but it was impossible. Maybe if she was the teenager she used to be, she could shrug you off and stand her ground a bit better. However, Wednesday had grown up and knew that acting in that way would not benefit the relationship.

“Come with me,” she says, slipping her hand into yours.

You stand and walk with her out of the room. You walk down the hall, taking a turn before approaching a door. When Wednesday enters the room, you immediately realize it as her study. If the large desk in the middle of the room wasn’t a giveaway; then you’re certain that the evidence board on the wall would’ve given it a way.

The raven-haired girl waits to speak. She watches as your eyes scan the evidence board. It’s a mess of pictures, sticky notes, and red string, but she’s certain you can follow it.

The images on the board are disturbing, she paid close attention to your reaction to them. Pictures of people like you, but lifeless. Some bloody and gore filled, others with bones broken, and some just neat.

You study the pictures, perhaps longer than you should. Your brain is working overtime to find some sort of connection.

“There’s a marking on them. You can’t see it in the pictures, but it’s visible in person. I drew it, right there. I tried to look it up, but the only thing that came up was general Vampire facts. I couldn’t tell of this was some kind of branding or maybe an identity mark that Vampires have,” Wednesday breaks your concentration.

Your eyes flit over to the drawing. It was a circle with triangles around the inner lining, and in the center was a swirl. You recognize the symbol but can’t necessarily recall from where.

“I’ve seen this before.”

Your fingers reach out to trace over the symbol. As soon as they find the paper you feel a burning sensation in the middle of your back. The pain makes you grunt and crumple on to the floor. Blood wells behind your eyes and spills out as you cry silently.

Wednesday is by your side instantly. She tries calling your name and asking what’s wrong, but you can’t respond to her in the state of pain. She sees you clawing at your shirt and without hesitation helps you take it off.

In the middle of your back, she can see a scar forming. It looks like the outline of the symbol she had drawn. It was only the circle; the triangles and spirals hadn’t formed yet.

“Burns,” you manage to spit out. Your fangs come out without your permission.

Wednesday stands up frantically searching for something in her office that would help you. When she returns to your side you can hear her opening a jar of sorts.

Without much warning you feel her hand rubbing the substance on to your back. You flinch out of fear but are relieved when the burning sensation dies down significantly. As your breathing returns to normal, you attempt to sit up.

“Well, I guess we know it’s a brand now,” you attempt to joke.

Wednesday glares at you for a second. She wipes her hands off before reaching to wipe the blood off of your face.

“Nothing about this is funny. You have this circle on your back, we don’t know what it means, and you’re a bloody mess.”

You grab her wrist to stop her from wiping the blood off your face, “These are just tears Wednesday. I’m fine.”

She looks at you wildly, “You are not fine-”

“Wednesday, we have more pressing matters at hand.”

She shakes her head firmly, “They can wait. Get on the desk.”

You furrow your brow, “Excuse me?”

“Get on the desk so that I can properly examine the wound,” she elaborates.

It’s when you stand that you start to really process that you don’t have a shirt on. Wednesday politely turns and waits for you to follow her instructions. You do as she asks, laying against the cold wood.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Just be still.”

You try to relax as reality begins to crash down on you. Not only is there a partial brand stamped into your back, but the woman that you liked since you were a girl is tending to your wound. You’re laying shirtless on her desk while she examines you. This is both a dream and a nightmare.

She begins pressing down on the mark, but you don’t flinch from the touch, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Interesting,” Wednesday says getting a closer look.

“Does it look bad?”

“It looks… healed already. Last time I checked your kind isn’t fast healing.”

You stop her, “Well that’s not entirely true. Some Vampires, usually the older one have enhanced healing features to make up for their evolutionary disadvantages.”

“I want to try something. Sit up and give me your hand,” she says.

“You’re still just as bossy as you were when we were teens,” you say, but again follow her orders.

She huffs at you, “And you’re just as compliant.”

Her words shut you up immediately. You watch as she closes her eyes, both her hands firmly in yours. That’s when you begin to understand that she’s attempting to use her powers.

For a moment you feel her grip loosen before her grip becomes deathly and her eyes shoot open.

“What did you see?”

“You’ve seen it on a book at your house, it’s your aunts. Old brown leather, it looks like a journal but it’s thick like a book.”

You sigh, “You think we’re going to need that book, don’t you?”

Wednesday confirms, “Ideally yes, but we’ll worry about it later. I think we’ve done enough for today.”

You attempt to get off of the desk. Your foot slips on one of the loose folders Wednesday has on her floor. The dark attires girl is quick to try to steady you.

Her hands feel unusually warm against the bare skin of your sides. You feel her breath fanning over your collarbone. The fabric of her shirt felt soft, lightly tickling your chest.

There was a small tension building between the two of you. You could feel Wednesday’s eyes following a trail from your face all the way down your body. She did it so shamelessly, in way where it made you feel like a piece of evidence she was examining.

You don’t expect it when the back of her hand rests against your forehead, “Do you feel lightheaded, because you look flush?”

The way her eyes examine every corner of your face makes you want to melt on the spot.

“I slipped on your folder,” you manage to slip out.

Her hand drops from your forehead to caress your cheek, “I must clean in here before I let everyone in tomorrow.”

“Wednesday-"

“Can I ask you something Y/n?”

She says this while her hand finds a place on the small of your back, guiding you out of the room. You forget your original thought.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Are you aware of how cool and soft your skin is?”

You stumble over your words, “I- um-"

“It’s always been like that. As long as we’ve known each other, I mean. I remember the first time you put your hand in mine, to shake it. I’ve pondered over the years if the rest of your skin feels the same. Now, I have the answer.”

You’re in her room now. The door closes behind you, and her hand is still on your back. She leads you to the bed, and you still haven't found the words.

All you can manage to say is her name tentatively, “Wednesday.”

“Are you accustomed to sharing a bed like this? Does anyone of note know the comfort of your skin?”

“No,” you answer breathlessly.

Wednesday releases her own breath, “Good.”

You watch helplessly as the woman walks to the other side of the bed and climbs in.

“What was the meaning of this Wednesday?” You say as you climb into the bed.

She dares to get closer to you. There’s a small space between the two of you. Something you could close if you wished to.

“You’re captivating.”

“Is that something you say to everyone that's shared this bed with you?” You can’t help it as the snarky comment leaves you.

Yoko’s words about Wednesday’s escapades run through your mind. At first you doubted the validity of what you had heard, but with the way Wednesday was acting with you, it was starting to make sense. The suaveness of her words, the charm of her certainty, she could have anyone be putty in her hands.

“No, it’s not,” her voice held a sincerity in it that you weren't prepared to hear.

You lay flat on your back, scared to look into the Latina’s eyes, “I've heard about your romantic encounters.”

Wednesday sighs, you can feel her eyes burning into you something akin to the brand on your back, “Y/n, we’re adults rapidly approaching our 30’s. As a teen I could pretend not to be the slightest bit interested in romance. I could focus on my work. However, as I grew, and began to accomplish my goals, I realized that I wanted somebody to share it with. Not platonically, but intimately. So, I tried dating, is that a truly repulsive thought?”

“No, it’s of sound logic, just like everything you say.”

Wednesday lays on her back, turning her attention towards the ceiling, “Have I misinterpreted things between us? The tension, is it of another variety?"

“You haven’t. I’m just having a hard time understanding this.”

Her hand extends into the space between the two of you. Your hand falls into hers and your fingers interlock.

“I should’ve known the moment I met you that any other attempts at romance would be frivolous. I apologize for my timing, but with you here with me in this capacity, I could not help myself. I thought I would be able to keep these feelings buried like I did when we were younger, but the truth is Y/n, I yearn for you.”

“Wednesday-"

“No one has ever come into my quarters to lay with me. I’ve never brought anyone home, and subconsciously I knew why. None of them would live up to you. Your beauty, your strength, your humor, your passion; all unrivaled.”

You squeeze her hand, “Careful, you’re sounding like your father.”

“I can no longer afford to be careful. I am willing to risk my reputation if it means that you will entertain my pleas.”

“I always thought that one day I’d tell you how I felt about you, and you’d be kind enough to let me down gently. This is a lot to take in,” you close your eyes briefly.

“Is this something you want?”

Your eyes meet hers and suddenly they’re burning just as intensely, “Yes, but I am afraid. Wednesday, you brought me here to help you save my people. This isn’t Crackstone or some stalker, I could die. Hell, you could die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Why is it so easy for you to say that?”

As your head falls her hand lightly grips your chin forcing you to keep eye contact with her, “Because I mean it. Have I ever broken my word?”

“No, but-"

She moves closer, closing the gap between you. You feel everything slow as her thumb cascades across your bottom lip.

“I could argue you down with logic if I have to. My track record speaks for itself, but I don’t want to do that. I want you to trust me, can you trust me?”

You nod, internally shivering when her lips slightly brush against yours. Your breath mingles with hers and your eyes begin to flutter.

“I trust you.”

Wednesday moves hesitantly, but she’s basically already there. Your lips touch experimentally. She keeps getting closer until she’s on top of you. She’s straddling your waist with your face still in her hands. Your hands slide under her shirt to rest on her waist. She’s warm, warmer than you ever could’ve imagined.

You push her away from you a little as you work to control your breath.

“What’s wrong?” She looks for signs of discomfort or regret on your features.

You open your mouth, showing your fangs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wednesday slips her thumb into your mouth. You keep it open, feeling her touch your teeth. The pad of her thumb against the point of your fangs. She pricks herself and you know it immediately.

A single drop of her blood falls onto your tongue. Your lips enclose around her thumb as you suck lightly. Her blood is rich but bitter like an expensive chocolate.

You moan at the taste. Red hues swirling around as you taste her, “God Wednesday.”

She pulls her thumb from your mouth. Her chest heaves slightly, “I would allow you to drink from me until my knees were weak. As much as I desire that, I fear that if we go any farther it will becoming increasingly indecent.”

You nod, inhaling deeply, “You’re right, it seems like we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

She steals another kiss from you before she returns to her spot next to you. She tries to put distance between you two, but you pull her flush against you. Her back against your front. Your purposefully blow air against her ear.

“Where did you think you were going?” You chuckle in her ear.

“I thought we were giving each other space, as to not escalate our behaviors,” she murmurs.

It makes you laugh even more, “Can’t control yourself enough to lie next to me?”

Her arms overlap yours to keep them place, “I can. I suppose I forgot that you are someone who prefers physical contact.”

“We don’t have to cuddle,” you say.

“No, I like this,” Wednesday holds on to you tighter.

“Goodnight, Wednesday,” you whisper into her hair.

“Goodnight.”

You weren’t ready to wake up when you felt the warmth move from beside you in the morning. Your arms pat around the bed searching for the girl that had spent the night next to you.

You groan when you are unable to locate her.

“Go back to sleep it’s early.”

Instead of listening to the voice, you sit up and began to rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Where are we going?”

“I am going to clean my study, and you’re staying here,” she puts emphasis on the ‘I.’

“Let me help,” you say getting completely out of the bed and stretching your limbs.

You hear Wednesday sigh, “Your eyes aren’t even open.”

You open them slowly, adjusting to the new brightness, “Better?”

Wednesday rolls her, “Fine, but put a shirt on. We don't need everyone seeing your bra.”

You let a dopey smile play on your features before throwing a shirt over your head, “Jealous?”

“And if I were to say yes?”

You walk across the room to stand in front of the shorter girl, “Then I’d say you have nothing to worry about. Divina, Yoko, and Enid have all seen me shirtless before and none of them have been swooned.”

Wednesday glares at you, “Not funny, I recount Enid saying some rather interesting words about your body.

Your eyebrows raise, “Wolfie liked what she saw then?”

You could see Wednesday’s jaw clench, “If you would rather room with Enid that can be arranged.”

You shake your head, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Color dusts Wednesday’s cheeks as she looks away from you, “We’re supposed to be cleaning my study.”

You step aside and dramatically gestures towards the door, “After you.”

“After I practice my dental hygiene,” Wednesday says taking steps to her restroom.

“I’ll do the same and we’ll meet in front of the office?”

She nods and the two of you go your separate ways briefly before meeting in front of Wednesday's office.

It was as messy as it had been the night before. Together you work in silence to make the room more presentable. Papers that are scattered on the floor find themselves in neat stacks on her desk. Some of the books are returned to their proper home against the wall. You clean until the only mess that remains is your shirt from last night and a small bloodstain on the floor.

Wednesday picks up the shirt before you do, she examines it. When she holds it up there’s a notable hole in it, the shape matches the one of the symbols that was now etched into your back.

“Just how hot was it?”

When you get a glimpse of the shirt you frown, “I’ve never felt such an intense pain in my whole life. It felt like the sun was resting on my back.”

Wednesday keeps the shirt as evidence she you help her remove the stain from the floor. By the time you finish it’s actually a reasonable time in the morning.

You decide to go the kitchen and look for sustenance. Yoko, Enid, and Bianca are already there, seemingly making breakfast for everyone.

“Morning,” Enid speaks enthusiastically.

You greet them quietly, taking a seat at the table. Yoko brings you a slice of toast that’s covered in, what you assume is blood jam. You’re correct, and munch on the bread happily.

“Y/n did you have a nightmare or something last night?” The other Vampire questions, taking a seat next to you.

“I was going to ask the same thing, your heart was going crazy, and it sounded like you were crying,” Enid adds on.

“I think it’s better if I wait to tell everyone at once,” you mumble.

“Does it have to do with the investigation?” Bianca correctly assesses your hesitance.

Wednesday answers, “Yes, and let’s hold any further questions until after breakfast.”

You can see Yoko roll her eyes behind her glasses, “How come Addams gets to know and I don’t?”

“Yoko, we were together, so she saw everything. I’ll tell everyone once we’re getting ready to start working out the plan.”

One by one, everyone else appears in the kitchen. The chatter is low but fills the room all the same. Once everyone finished, Wednesday starts to direct them towards the office. As they file into the room Wednesday grabs your hand pulling you to the stand with her in front of the evidence.

“Last night after speaking with Y/n, about the history of in-fighting in the Vampire community, we came to this room to go over some of the evidence that I have gathered. During that time, I pointed out the pattern of this symbol on the victims. Though it did not photograph well, I took the time to draw it. When Y/n touched that drawing, it partially burned into her skin.”

You turn with your back facing them. You raise up your shirt to just above the scar on your back. A few gasps are heard with the reveal.

“That symbol belongs to the first generation of elders,” Yoko inspects the drawing.

“Do you know why it burned her?”

Yoko tilts her head to the side, “There was a story my parents used to tell me about it, but I always thought it was legend. The symbol was originally the crest of the first Vampires in existence. It goes back to the territory expansion, the elders wanted everyone to stay together. However, when it was decided that the others could leave, they wanted a way of being able to identify each other once out in the world. They took their symbol and filled it with cursed magic. It marked every Vampire that it could touch.”

“Does that explain why it’s on the bodies?” Ajax questioned.

Bianca answers him, “I doubt it, that story is probably hundreds if not thousands of years old. Most of these victims wouldn’t have been around back then, according to this board.”

Yoko adds on, “Bianca is right. After Vampires were allowed to migrate, it didn’t make sense for us to all follow one set of elders. So, everyone kind of started doing their own thing, finding guidance in the community rather than the original elders. Of course this upset them, they tried warning people about fighting against them. Eventually their need for control caused them to do some heinous things to other Vampires resulting in exile. Their symbol was banned and as far as I know they dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Is there a chance that these markings come from them?” Ken speaks up.

The group looks to Yoko and yourself for answers.

“It’s not impossible…” You begin to say.

“But as immortal as we claim to be, we can still die. The average life span is somewhere around 500-700 years. They would be pushing 1,000 if not older,” Yoko finishes.

“Did you have any suspects Wednesday?” Divina chimes in.

Wednesday begins to point to the evidence board, “There’s inconsistencies across the murders. They all look different, live in different areas, various ages, even the way they are being killed seems different in each circumstance. In some places I’ve found some typical Vampire hunter weapons, stakes, silver, matches. However, with respect to the scale of the crimes it is unlikely that they’re working alone.”

Enid begins to speculate, “So we think the elders Vampires are teaming up with the Vampire hunters? How does that work?”

“Well, the motivation is there for both parties. If the elders are still alive, they have to be powerful beings. Even if the hunters wanted to kill them, they probably couldn’t,” you offer her an answer.

“That or the hunters could be under hypnosis. So, they have no choice but to work with the elders,” Yoko adds on.

“So, what’s the plan Addams?”

Bianca’s question refocuses the attention on Wednesday. You all can see the gears spinning in her brain. This was tedious work, not something that could be wrapped up instantaneously.

“We’ll start by getting the book from Amdis. Then I have a few leads we can follow.”

It wasn’t a full plan just something structured enough to start. Things could develop and change depending on what you found in the book, so it made sense to keep things open.

You weren’t necessarily fond of bringing everyone to your house to collect the book, but it was the most efficient thing to do. That way you guys would be able to check out Wednesday’s leads together straight after.

You were hoping that your aunt wouldn’t be at the house when you arrived. It was a silly thing to hope for, you knew she was an introvert. Your key wasn’t in the door for 3 seconds before it was yanked open.

“Back from finding yourself in the woods already? Oh, and you’ve brought guests.”

You lead your friends into the house going straight to the living area. The book you were looking for should be somewhere on the bookcase. Locating it is easy; it sticks out amongst the rest. You’re scared to touch it, the burning sensation still very fresh in your mind. Wednesday can sense the hesitation from your side, she picks up the book, tucking it under her arm.

“We haven’t come to stay, I just need to grab something, and we’ll be on our way,” you call out to your aunt.

“On your way where exactly?”

Your mind goes blank, but thankfully Enid cuts in, “We’re going on a little friends vacay. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. With work and life and everything else, we just thought it would be fun to recapture some of that teenage magic before we forget what it felt like.”

“Well, this is more practical then locking yourself in the woods alone, I suppose,” Amdis states.

Your jaw twitches at the slight jab, “More inspiring to have my friends by my side.”

“One last question, where do you think you're taking that book?”

Your face drops with the question, “I’m just doing like you said, caring a little more about our people.”

Amdis crosses her arms over her chest, “I’m just supposed to take that at face value when you have the world’s most unnerving detective by your side? How do you even know that books about Vampires?”

“I have seen this symbol before, why are you making such a big deal of it?”

Amdis stares at you in disbelief, “Because you clearly think I’m some sort of idiot. You’re standing here lying to me like I haven’t known you, your whole life.”

“I’m not a child anymore Amdis, I don’t need you to babysit me. We both know you didn’t want to in the first place,” you shoot at her.

“Is that how you really feel? You want to lay it all out, fine. No, I wasn’t ready to become a parent at 18, but you were all I had. My parents were long gone, and my sister was dead. I knew what it felt like to be alone, to be abandoned, and I didn’t want that for you, Y/n. I sacrificed the little that I had for you, and I’d do it all over again because you’re my family and I love you. Yet, you repay me for my sacrifice with lies, deceit, and accusations. All because I care about you.”

The tension in the room finally explodes. Your friends watch you with careful eyes. Wednesday wants to reach out, but you move before she can. You find yourself sitting in a chair staring at your aunt, the empty expression on your face reminiscent of when you were young, and emotionally avoidant.

You lean forward with your elbows on your knees, trying to find the confidence in your posture. When you speak your voice betrays you, wavering with a soft timidity, “We’re going to stop the extinction.”

The anger vanishes from your aunt’s eyes, “What?”

“I’m going to help save our people, with or without your blessing. It’s dangerous, it’s risky, and perhaps it’s even a little naïve, but Amdis you were right, our people are dying. I’ve seen it and I just can’t stand idly by.”

She exhales audibly, “I’m going with you.”

“But-"

“Kid you’ve lost your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you go on a literal suicide mission without me. Besides, you’ll all be better off having an expert on your side.”

Bianca interrupts, “We were trying to get her to bring you along in the first place.”

You glare at the siren, “Fine since we’ve figured this out so graciously, I need a minute alone with my aunt. So, talk amongst yourselves and don’t break anything in my house.”

Your aunt leaves the room first and you attempt to follow her. A gentle grasp on your hand stops your briefly.

“Are you going to be alright?”

You squeeze her hand lightly, “I’ll be fine, Wednesday. It’ll be quick, just start looking through the book.”

You squeeze her hand once more before going after your aunt. She’s waiting for you in your room. You close the door behind you as the two of you stare at each other.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I just didn’t want you to try and stop me,” you admit.

“Kid, I know it feels like I’m getting in your way sometimes. It’s not that I don’t believe in you, because I do. You’re one of the brightest minds I’ve ever encountered. I've watched you succeed in spite of everything you’ve been through. I love you and I’m proud of you. I just- I don’t want to lose you too,” you see the tears begin to well in her eyes.

Though she stands defensively, you still make your way across the room to wrap her up in a hug. Her head falls onto your shoulder as you tightly hug her.

“I couldn’t have done any of it with you. You became the parent I needed you to be and I'm grateful for it, I love you for it. You’re not going to lose me, I promise,” you sway with the embrace.

Amdis pushes herself out of the embrace gently, wiping at her eyes, “Let’s go save our people.”

Upon returning to the living room Wednesday presents the book to Amdis holding it up a picture of a man.

“Do you know who this man is?”

“Ulysses Obrien, he was a secretary of sorts. He worked with the elders, even after the territory expansion. Why?”

Wednesday holds up her phone and a modern picture of a man that strongly favors the one in the book is displayed, “Because he’s my first lead.”

With the pictures side by side in front of you, the theory of other Vampires being involved in the extinction was becoming more and more likely. The fact you were looking at the historian of the elders was proof enough they could live that long. The thought of the power alone was intimidating, but you couldn’t run from it. You believed in it too much now; you were going to save the Vampires from extinction.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

What if instead of Wednesday being in the room when Bianca knocks on Xavier's door, he's cuddling with his new girl? Hides under the bed or closet or whatever

my taglists are here + you can requests here at any time

—

You rubbed soft circles into Xavier's waist where his shirt was riding up while slowly kissing. His sketchbook had been abandoned and kicked to the end of the bed, no longer of first interest. Despite being alone, neither of you had any further intentions.

Xavier hummed at your touch and leaned into you like the soft and needy kitten he was. You smiled and continued your caresses.

Your and Xavier’s relationship was completely unknown to your Nevermore peers. After his very public breakup with Bianca Barclay, Xavier didn’t want to flash his new relationship to everyone — especially Bianca. She didn’t call the shots and tried many times to get Xavier to take her back, but he refused every time.

Besides, sometimes things are better if you keep them just yours.

A knock on the door forced you and Xavier to break apart. You didn't want to, very comfortable entangled with him on his bed, but there was a possibility this was the house master passing for his evening checking.

Xavier pushed you into his bathroom in prevention and closed the door. The floor was still wet from his shower, but it wasn’t dirty like under a bed.

He tamed his hair a little and opened the door, finding a smiling Bianca on the other side. Slamming the door in her face was tempting, but Xavier didn’t want to make a scene.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her inside. ‘’You're not supposed to be up here,’’ he said flatly.

‘’Good to see you too,’’ Bianca snarked back.

‘’How did you get past the house master? Did you use your siren powers?’’

‘’Not while wearing this.’’ She touched her amulet necklace.

Xavier walked away from her, keeping a distance between them. ‘’What do you want, Bianca?’’

You could hear in his voice that his interest in her was completely gone, but she refused to bury their relationship. She kept searching for a spark through the burned embers to revive the flame. Unfortunately for her, Xavier was fueling another fire.

‘’I wanted to see how you’re doing. I’m sorry about Rowan. I know you and him used to be close—’’

Xavier huffed. The last time he heard her talk to Rowan was in fencing class and she called him lazy.

‘’Since when do you give a damn about Rowan?’’

‘’I care about you.’’

He couldn’t deny that. Although she made him doubt his own feelings for her, Bianca wasn’t an evil soul. She always cared about Xavier, whether they were in a relationship or not.

Bianca stepped up to him by his bed and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. ‘’We were good together, Xavier.’’

‘’Were we?’’ he asked, looking up at her. ‘’Or was that how you wanted me to feel?’’

The walls of the bathroom were thin enough for you to hear their conversation close to perfection. Thin enough to hear the lingering pain in Xavier’s words, still hurt by Bianca’s past actions.

‘’I made one mistake and you can’t forgive me—’’

‘’There is nothing to forgive. I just want to move on,’’ Xavier said, tired of going over the same things every time they talked. ‘’I broke up with you, remember? Now, please leave before the house master comes for bed-checks.’’

Regardless how sorry she was, the manipulation of his emotions was something he could never forgive Bianca. His whole life is controlled by his father in a way or another; the only thing Xavier has control over is his emotions and if someone take that from him, he’ll have nothing left.

She accepted her defeat and turned to leave, but on her way out, Bianca caught something on the adjacent empty bed. A jacket.

‘’Isn’t that Y/N’s jacket?’’ she asked, recognizing the clothing.

For a short few seconds, Xavier thought he had been caught. He found himself stammering while searching for a quick but good enough lie.

‘’She…she forgot it in the quad a-and I was planning to give it back to her tomorrow.’’

Bianca raised an eyebrow, doubting him. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow at the lake. Make sure to get enough sleep…or not.’’ Her blue eyes shifted to your jacket. ‘’I’m gonna crush you anyway.’’

After her departure, Xavier groaned. She knew you were there.

—

Wednesday taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n  @poppet05  @ell0ra-br3kk3r  @rhaenyraswife  @teaganthemorningstar   @aphex2winn @moompie   @ifevilwhyhot @oliviah-25 @spenglerslime @wetwilliam02 @yellowcupcakes @haileyismoo @theyslayallday @wrldofsage @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @toylewestinnyc @meme-queen-1999 @rottenstyx

[poisonlove]

You² | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

Wednesday hated Thornhill.

After that encounter in the library, she had done everything to avoid Y/N. Yet, fate seemed to take pleasure in her misfortune: a group activity paired her with the one person who made her feel the most out of place at Nevermore, making her realize just how unlucky she truly was.

After all, she was an Addams; she knew very well that luck was not on their side.

The activity involved collecting the Nightshade Bloom, better known as the Dreamshade Flower. It was an extremely rare plant found only in the Crackstone Forest. She had no idea where in the forest it grew, but she knew it preferred humid spots: probably near the waterfalls or in the Misty Glade.

"Are you sure it's this way?" Y/N asked, looking around with awe.

Wednesday stopped and turned to her partner, an eyebrow raised in disapproval. The question irritated her but when she saw the terror on the girl’s face, she decided to let it go.

"Of course, I'm sure," Wednesday replied in her characteristic monotone voice. She blinked and observed Y/N using her hand like a flashlight to navigate the darkness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," Y/N justified, her Y/C eyes scanning the surroundings before turning back to Wednesday.

A strange flutter gripped Wednesday's stomach, forcing her to break eye contact. She didn’t like this feeling at all. Experimenting with new emotions, especially ones she didn’t understand, was not her style.

Without saying a word, Wednesday resumed walking, her right hand holding the makeshift torch while her left brushed aside branches that slowed their progress. An unsettling silence enveloped the woods, and Wednesday was oddly grateful for it.

But, of course, Y/N had to break it.

"So... I haven't seen you in the library lately," Y/N began, trying to spark a conversation, a way to distract herself and learn more about the gothic Addams. She had done some research about Wednesday, but her name didn’t appear on any social media, which honestly disappointed her.

Wednesday made a strange sound in her throat.

"I was busy," she replied coldly. It wasn't a lie. She had indeed been occupied writing her story and avoiding the person standing in front of her. She had nothing against Y/N; rather, it was the absence of disdain that bothered her.

"I understand... Enid told me you write a lot... and that you're not exactly a social person" Y/N confessed with a hint of sadness.

Wednesday stopped, noticing how Y/N hesitated to push aside a branch, suddenly halting. Enid? Why were they talking about me? Y/N looked at Wednesday, confusion evident on her face.

"Why were you talking about me?" Wednesday asked, her voice sharp.

Y/N's cheeks flushed.

"Um... I'm participating in the Poe Cup  and she mentioned you... the only member I don't know," she admitted, embarrassment creeping into her tone. The flames in her hand illuminated her Y/C eyes, and Wednesday couldn’t help but think how strikingly attractive she looked in that light.

Quickly, Wednesday averted her gaze and turned away.

Y/N let out a sigh she didn't realize she'd been holding, falling back into step behind Wednesday. Addams pondered Y/N's words, especially the fact that she would be competing in the Poe Cup with them. Honestly, she didn’t want to participate in the tournament again, but the prospect of competing alongside Y/N intrigued her.

"Have you finished reading the book?" Wednesday asked coldly.

She enjoyed the interaction they were having, and a part of her desperately wanted to keep talking to Y/N. Yes, Wednesday Addams, the most antisocial girl at Nevermore, found herself wanting to engage with Y/N.

A huge smile spread across Y/N's face.

"Yes, it was really interesting and helpful for my research," she confessed excitedly, glancing at Wednesday, who observed her from the corner of her eye. The moonlight highlighted Addams' pale skin, and her perfectly arranged braids gave her an air of authority and glamour.

Y/N had developed a small crush on Addams.

"Good," Wednesday murmured in a sharp tone, diverting her gaze from Y/N.

A strange flush crept onto her cheeks, and her heartbeat quickened at the sight of Y/N’s radiant smile. Something was definitely off within her.

She unconsciously rubbed her cheeks.

"Have we arrived?" Y/N asked nervously, her fear growing. She had heard a couple of howls during their trek that made her skin crawl, but seeing Wednesday's calm demeanor made her decide—no, force herself—that everything was under control.

"Yes." Wednesday pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile.

It was the third time that night that her lips had inexplicably wanted to stretch into a smile, and each time she held back. She had to maintain her reputation as the gothic weirdo of Nevermore.

The fog enveloped their path, and Wednesday felt relieved to finally reach the Misty Glade. If they were lucky, they might find the damn flower in this area; otherwise, she would have to cross to the other side of Crackstone Forest toward the waterfalls.

Wednesday took off her backpack and pulled a small basket from inside.

"Can you recognize the Nightshade Bloom?" she asked, looking at Y/N. The latter nodded decisively.

Y/N walked opposite Wednesday, scanning the ground for any signs of light, hoping to spot the flower.

Meanwhile, Wednesday delved deeper into the mist, focusing on finding the blooms.

(...)

Wednesday crouched down and carefully picked the flower, trying not to damage its luminescent petals. She placed it in the basket alongside the others and walked toward another damp area. Half an hour had passed since the search began, and Wednesday felt increasingly uncomfortable in the oppressive silence.

Where on earth were you?

"Y/N?" she called loudly.

All she received in response was a howl. What if you were in danger? Wednesday gripped the basket tightly and scanned the surroundings, determined to spot you, abandoning her task of collecting more flowers.

Her feet moved westward as she squinted, trying to extend her field of vision, but the damned fog was too thick. A strange sensation settled in her chest, something that edged on fear. But she wasn't scared; she was... uncomfortable due to your silence?

"Y/N, if this is a joke, it’s not funny!" Wednesday exclaimed loudly, looking around with heightened vigilance. Her heartbeat quickened.

The worst scenarios flashed in her mind, prompting her to quicken her pace.

"Ahhhhh!" you screamed.

Wednesday's eyes widened, and she raced toward the sound of your cry. Something had gone wrong. The brunette increased her running speed, breathing heavily, a strange light contrasting with the darkness of the forest.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly upon arrival.

Y/N was sitting on the ground, an enormous smile plastered across her face as she held the Nightshade Bloom in her hands. Her Y/C eyes met Wednesday's, shining with pure happiness.

"I found my first flower!" she exclaimed, beaming.

Wednesday let out an exasperated sigh, and at that moment, she wanted to strangle Y/N with her bare hands. Had she run for nothing? Was it merely a scream of joy? Her expression softened as she watched you approach, curiosity written all over your face, your eyes sparkling as they scanned her basket.

"What? You’ve already found six?!" Y/N exclaimed in surprise.

Wednesday couldn't help but smile, a spontaneous and genuine smile that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. The dimples were evident as her lips curved, making Y/N wonder how something so beautiful could be so rarely seen.

Just like the Nightshade Bloom.

Wednesday felt relieved to see Y/N safe, and despite a part of her wanting to kill her for making her think the worst, another part couldn’t shake the memory of the enthusiasm radiating from her for finding the flower.

She would let this incident slide, simply because it was you.

[dontsh0vethesun]

jealousy’s a beautiful thing

masterlist

any ‘wednesday’ fic i do will be set at ‘nevermore university’ so the minimum age of any character will be 18

wednesday addams x reader

18+ : smut; fingering, thigh riding, knife kink, blood kink, choking, dom!wednesday, possessiveness, jealousy

inspired by this post

Wednesday’s eyes always find you when you’re in the room, whether it seems as though she’s paying attention or not - she is. Though she’s not one to be so outward with her displays of affection, it’s a way for her to know you’re close, that you’re safe and maybe she feels a slight warming in her heart at the way you laugh or how you furrow your brows intently with your nose in a book as she writes. 

But this watchful nature can come with downsides and it’s securely in Wednesday’s grey realm of feelings to be jealous, though she’d not felt it often until you it wasn’t what she would call unpleasant. The annoyance that makes her clench her jaw when someone hugs you the way only she should be allowed to. Or when her sights burn into lingered touches to your arm and it gives her ample motivation in archery practice, imagining the arrow burying itself in the heart of those that angered her. 

So Enid being your closest friend doesn’t always bode well, Wednesday knows just how much that girl loves hugs and though you’re not quite as cuddly you’re not one to shy away from some physical affection from those you’re closest to. 

It doesn’t usually annoy her this much but seeing you being flirted with earlier in the day whilst the two of you shared coffee at The Weathervane - she’d got you hooked on quads over ice - just added to her daily distaste. Then Enid interrupted you. 

Though she might not admit it, Wednesday’s favourite part of the day is the time you spend together. You read and she busies herself at her typewriter, checking in with one another with notes on what you’re doing. The quiet comfort was her favourite, she was often alone in her love of the silence. 

But your hour of quiet was dampened with the sunshine that is Enid Sinclair, a bounce in her step and a grin on her face after what Wednesday could only imagine to be a nauseatingly cheery afternoon with her friends. Instead of lounging on her own bed she stepped over to you, flopping down onto Wednesday’s bed with her head landing on your shoulder. 

You let her stay there, listening to her excited retelling of her day while your girlfriend tried to continue with her writing, sparing glances over at you every few minutes. She loved the way you smiled along with Enid’s ramblings and how you laughed lightly every now and then. But the arm you’d draped behind Enid’s back and the colourfully painted nails that fiddled idly at a thread in your jumper were much less appreciated. 

It made it difficult for her to type, cracking her knuckles in aggravation with the gritting of her teeth at the sight of you casually stroking your fingers through her pastel pink hair. She wanted to be the only one to be that close to you, the only one to be held by you, so close that your perfume is all you can smell. 

She’d had enough of it for today, you were hers and if you’re going to touch anybody it’s going to be her. 

“Don’t you have plans with that dreadful boyfriend of yours?” She spoke, turning in her chair to face where you both lay. 

“Nope. Well maybe later, he’ll probably text me soon - or I could text him or-“

“Yes. Text him.” She nodded, following her with her eyes as she grabbed her phone giddily and grinned at the screen. “I will never warm to the sound of your giggling whilst you text. It makes me want to bury my head in cement.”

You huffed a laugh at her words which she reciprocated with that slight smirk you love so much. 

“Well, luckily for you two I’m leaving. I’ve got a movie date with my dreadful boyfriend.” 

“At least you're self aware.”

“See you later - don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!“ Enid shouted smilingly as she left with waves goodbye from the two of you. 

“If we can only do what she does, what’re we left with? Crochet and pop music?” You muttered much to Wednesday’s amusement. 

“Perhaps we could paint each other’s nails and practice jumping up and down in excitement.” She deadpanned before turning back to her desk with a pensive glint in her eye. 

“There’s something on your mind.” You voiced, so matter of factly she was taken aback at how well you truly know her. 

“I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”

“Tell me.”

“She touches you too much.”

“Oh, I see what this is about.” You smirked. “Wednesday Addams, my ray of sunshine girlfriend, is jealous.”

“I am not jealous. I just don’t appreciate wretched humans admiring what belongs to me right in front of my face. If I didn’t have self control that drip coffee drinking imbecile would have received a fork to the back of his hand.”

“You do enjoy stabbing.”

“I should be the only one you cuddle with like that - I hate that word please never make me say it again. Seeing you so close to anybody other than me makes me want to swim with piranha, you are mine cara mia.” She’d inched closer and closer towards you with her words until she was kneeling beside you on the bed with her dark eyes focused on yours. 

“That’s practically the definition of jealousy, babe.” You laughed while the back of her nail traced over your cheek and her knees planted themselves either side of your body. 

“Jealousy or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine.” She returned with her lips ghosting yours and her palm cupping your cheek. 

Her kiss was firm and possessive, pent up annoyance from the day being let out with a nip of her teeth at your bottom lip. Her tongue licked into your mouth tasting faintly of black liquorice and her hand slid down to the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your throat in a way that only made you pull her closer. You grasped at the back of her zip up hoodie, pulling her hips into yours and her chest flush against you. 

Wednesday let you push the article of clothing away, letting it fall on the ground as your hand brushed over the skin of her bare arm. Her own hands pushed beneath your shirt, climbing upwards across your skin while the attack of her lips on yours never wavered, only stopping to rid you of the clothing. 

They returned to the line of your jaw, her breath warm against you, kissing a path to your neck where she sank her teeth into the flesh beneath your ear. She could feel the throbbing of your quickening pulse as she sucked a mark into your skin, soothing the sting with a soft lick of her tongue. 

“If you like being so touchy, I wonder how long you can go without touching me. Just how desperate are you?” She mused with her breath tickling the shell of your ear.

Her thumb swiped over your swollen lips as she looked down at you hungrily and somehow, in her mysterious fashion, she’d produced a shining silver knife, hand clasping the decorative handle. 

“I do find you rather captivating.” She breathed with the point of the blade tickling your cheek as she dragged it across your cheekbone and downwards to stroke across your jaw. “And silver looks so pretty with your pristine skin.”

You could only gawp up at her breathlessly with your mind hazy with the way she drank in the sight. And just as you went to lift your head to kiss her again she swiftly moved the knife with a disapproving shake of her head, flattening the blade against the thin skin of your throat, so dangerously close when you gulped. 

“Just how much do you want to kiss me, hm?” She asked you with the corner of her mouth twitching upwards, hovering her face mere centimetres above yours, just out of reach. “I can practically feel the thrum of your carotid artery.” She uttered and the way she grinned made it clear she knew it wouldn’t scare you, on the contrary, it filled you with an odd sense of macabre desire. 

You craned your head slightly with a sharp inhale of breath at the realisation of how close to the sharp metal you truly were. But she’s just so irresistible and her eyes just lured you in, plump lips pink from your kiss and her hair slightly messy from moments before. 

“I’d bleed for you if it meant I could have even one more taste.” You murmured, throwing out any care you once had in favour of lifting your head, failing to hold back the small moan at the back of your throat from the pleasurable pain as a drop of crimson red slid down to your collarbone from the cut of the knife. 

“Just when I think I couldn’t care for you more, you say something so morbidly poetic. Mi querida, made just for me.”

Her tongue poked out to slide through the blood and she hummed at the taste, pressing her lips to the wound with a suck that made your chest arch into hers and your hands tangle in her raven locks. 

“Shit, Wednesday.” You sighed at the feeling, shocked at how good it felt. 

When she pulled away her pupils were blown wide with lust and her lips were wet and coated in blood, a beautifully twisted sight that sent a rush through your body.  When she claimed your lips again you tasted the metallic flavour, her hands were strong on your waist and the scraping of her nails made you shiver until she palmed at your breasts through your bra. You’d never seen her quite so ravenous, so hungry for you that she opted for a slice of the knife through the fabric of your bra to pull it from your chest. 

Her fingertips pinched at your nipples roughly, the sensation made your hips lift into hers, grasping at her bare back beneath her shirt, pulling it over her head as soon as you could. You drank in the sight above you, beautifully pale skin clad in black underwear. 

Breathless kisses with smacks of lips was all that could be heard in the dorm room, heavy breaths and sporadic groans as it grew more heated with fumbling hands tugging at the waistband of her trousers. It was a flurry of movements as you both unburdened yourselves of the material, even less of a barrier between you and it felt so good to have skin against skin. 

You pressed kisses over her neck, down to her collarbone with your teeth grazing her skin as she sighed above you, dancing her hand down to nudge at the hem of your underwear before dipping down to stroke through your folds.

“If only I knew before just how riled up I could get you with a knife to your throat.” She whispered at the feeling of your soaked cunt on her fingers. She reveled in the way you moaned into the crook of her neck at the push of her digits into your pussy, curling inside you deliciously with a nudge at your sweet spot that made your hips buck upwards into her hand. 

Her thumb put pressure onto your aching clit, drawing circles over it with the twinge in your belly growing by the second and her svelte fingers wrapped around your neck dominantly. She squeezed away the breath in your throat and your eyes rolled back at the sensations washing over you, she watched your reactions intently, how your neck twitched with an inhale of breath beneath her thumb when she smeared the blood across your skin. 

And how your lips latched around her crimson coated thumb when it prodded at your mouth, licking clean the pad of her thumb with the iron taste on your tongue. Her cheeks held that flush of colour only you got to witness, a faint scattering of pinks from her arousal, from the feelings only you bring out of her. You’d not quite seen her like this though, staring down at you like she was starving - a predator at her prey. Her breath was shaky, a feral look in her eyes that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

It had sparked something in the both of you. Just the sight of you beneath her made her hips roll themselves over you on instinct, underwear covered cunt pushing over your thigh desperately just to try and relieve the ache between her legs. She could feel you clenching around her fingers, basking in the melody of your whines with small grunts of her own tumbling past her lips. 

She replaced the thumb in your mouth with her lips, so hasty and sloppy, neither of you able to catch your breath. 

You could feel how her actions were stuttering with how near she was to her release and you were too. You pushed your hand between you, moving the material of her underwear to the side to push your fingers into her soaked pussy, instantly swiping your thumb over her throbbing clit. It didn’t take much for the both of you to topple over into orgasm with moans into one another’s mouths, tongues swirling together in messy kisses as you rode through. 

The next few moments were quiet, waiting to be able to breathe again in a daze from what just happened. Perhaps bringing out the envy in Wednesday should be a regular occurrence?

“If you’re thinking about making me jealous again, don’t.” She rasped with her face hovering above yours and her body propped up on her forearms. 

“Oh, so you were jealous?” You grinned, brushing strands of hair behind her ear. 

“No, I wasn’t.”

[lacy-oh-lacy]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝

CW: Implications of sex but it’s left very vague. Aged up character.

Wednesday had reacted to you introducing safewords as well as you could’ve expected her to. Because she was (though she’d never admit it) putty in your hands she agreed to them on the spot. Yet, her skepticism of the idea had shone through.

‘Why would I ever want to feel safe?’ She’d asked.

Wednesday only realised when the word left your mouth that unlike herself, she did want you to feel safe. Very much.

Her heart thrummed violently, stoic face twitching with concern.

She pulled back from you after being frozen in place perhaps a bit too long.

She only realised when she tried to speak that her mouth was dry as ash, “…Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m okay, it was just getting to be more pain than pleasure, y’know?” 

She swallowed hard, as if she could swallow down the guilt gnawing at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Wednesday, it’s okay, it happens.”

You sounded honest despite the crack in your voice.

She reached towards you hesitantly. “Can I-?” 

Personally she’d rather have space in such a scenario but if you were anything like Enid then physical affection was exactly what you needed to feel better.

With your nod she sat beside you. She wrapped her stiff arms around you and relief flooded her when you leaned into her touch.

“You’re sure you’re alright? Would you like anything? painkillers? Water?” 

She didn’t understand why you giggled at her but it was wonderful to hear.

“No. Thank you but you’re doing enough.”

Wednesday wasn’t convinced, but if that was true and just holding you was enough she’d gladly keep you in her arms for a lifetime.

Wednesday Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[eufezco]

;Y/N'S CAMERA ROLL🪴🔪🌬️ DATING WEDNESDAY VERSION

enid s. version // tyler g. version

📸 —You look awesome guys!

Wednesday's breathing was heavy, showing how annoyed she was. It wasn't enough having her parents in Nevermore for the weekend but you also wanted her to take photos with them. —Oh, come on, your family is great. I love them —.

Gómez was more than pleased to take photos with her little storm cloud and you loved him because of how dedicated he was. You also took some photos of him and Pugsley, and Morticia and Gómez being really close to each other. At that point, Wednesday was about to explode.

📸 — You just love when she makes a ball of herself. Sometimes she does it because she needs to think and it helps her to meditate, other times because she's overwhelmed and needs to be on her own for a little while. But other times she does it because she's aware of how adorable you think she looks.

You'd be walking around Nevermore and find a small black ball sitting on the ground, with her legs against her chest and trying to hide from everyone. You'd put your phone out of your pocket and take a photo before approaching her and sitting by her side with your arms pulling Wednesday closer.

📸 — Photos when she's not paying attention. She could be doing anything and you'd need to take a photo of her because of how beautiful she looked. If she caught you, Wednesday would frown, not mad, just confused, and she'd ask you why would you do that.

She looked adorable with the cat ears, and she seemed so peaceful during her writing hour that you needed to capture it.

—Wednesday? —You called her after taking a photo of her.

She hummed.

—I love you.

Wednesday raised her head from the typewriter and her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. You couldn't see the expression on her face but you were sure that she was deciding what to do.

—I love you too.

📸 —Aw, you're literally pocket size.

She raised her eyebrows, not believing what you just called her. Wednesday Addams being called pocket size. —Give me your phone —. She stated and tried to take it off your hands.

—You are so small I could just put you in my pocket.

—Stop it. It's not funny.

You were enjoying the RaveN's dance with your girlfriend until some idiot had to ruin it. But covered in blood, Wednesday seemed to enjoy it more.

—Take a photo of me.

You frowned. —Are you sure? You're like soaked in blood.

—I know.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.42

Summary: While Wednesday is busy worrying about you, an unwelcome guests shows their face at the Addams Mansion. Wednesday is starting to wish you would lose your morals again.

Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: swearing, mentioned child abuse, racism against Outcasts, smut at the end (18+) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

The Addams Mansion was louder than usual with its new guests. Much to her surprise, Wednesday almost found it comforting. If you had asked her even just two years ago if she would have enjoyed the newfound sounds in the mansion, she would have thought the notion preposterous. Absurd even. Of course she wouldn’t have enjoyed the sounds, the mansion was her home. It was a sacred place that should be left untouched.

However, with your family around… at least they treated the old home as it deserved.

Even the youngest were respectful of the knick-knacks and artefacts around the mansion. They had only needed to be told once, and everything settled again. Sure, they would point out the ones they liked, but their hands stayed far away. Rooms that were off-limits to guests remained closed, and everyone was respectful of the… unusual habits of the Addams family.

The only one that remained unusual was you.

If Wednesday was being honest with herself, she was rather concerned about you. She hadn’t heard you say much after that night. By all accounts, you were more similar to Lurch in your communication; doing little more than grunting in acknowledgement of whatever was being said. You hadn’t even talked to Weems, who had shown up not even a day after the event to check on everyone. It was rather disturbing. And not in a good way.

At least there was an upside to the whole situation. Grandmama Addams had healed your arm with little more than a light scar over the skin. It was clearly a burn; that was impossible to erase. But there had been no need to go into a medical centre like the original EMT had mentioned. An Addams knew tricks no normie could comprehend.

There was nothing comfortable about talking about feelings, Wednesday knew all about that. She had trouble talking about her own, and you certainly felt the same. It didn’t take a genius to know that. But she wished you would talk with her. Share your thoughts, what you were feeling at the moment. Or at the very least what you were thinking for the past few weeks, seeing as you still had yet to tell her how you had known the house was going to catch fire.

“Would you pass the sugar, dear?” Mother asked you.

You grumbled and nodded once before pushing it over with your scarred hand. It was a stiff movement, and your brows moved ever so slightly at the effort. So, Wednesday thought, you weren’t entirely healed. You made no other indication of your discomfort and turned the page of your book.

“Daniel seemed quite interested in the atrium,” Mother continued. You hummed for her to continue. “He’s asked numerous times about specific plants.”

You still said nothing in return.

Mother looked at Wednesday over the lip of her teacup. If you wouldn’t even answer her small talk, how would they ever get you to speak? Even if you were having a small spat with Wednesday, you would always talk with Mother. Yet now, she was talking of your brother, and you wouldn’t even answer? It was borderline rude.

You were never rude to Mother.

“There you all are,” Weems said as she entered the reading room. “Everyone was a bit too quiet.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Mother said with a smile.

She did just that. Even you looked up from your book for just long enough to watch Weems sit down with her own cup of tea. It seemed everyone was indulging in caffeine. Everyone except for you, that was. You had opted for nothing more than a glass of water that sat untouched on the small side table.

Everyone resumed their activities; Mother and Weems were talking, and you were reading. Wednesday had her own book in her lap, but the words eluded her. How could she focus on a book when she was so concerned about you? How could you focus on your book? Were you not going absolutely mad?

She needed you to be okay. There was very little she could do to help, but she needed you to be okay. Perhaps you wouldn’t talk with her, but that wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? No, she could survive you not talking about your worries with her, as long as you allowed her to attempt to help.

A word of advice from Yoko appeared in her head. She looked over at you and watched you for a moment. There was very little emotion on your face, but she noticed you blinking a little longer than normal every time your burned hand turned the page.

She gave herself no time to doubt herself before reaching over and grabbing your good hand. It stiffened, but when she linked her fingers with yours, you quickly relaxed. Before she looked back down at her book, she noticed the slightest pull at the corner of your mouth.

Good. That was progress.

Wednesday was acutely aware of Mother and Weems’ hesitation before continuing their conversation. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach to know they were watching you both. Showing outward displays of affection was becoming less agonising, but there was something unsettling about knowing her mother and your mother figure were watching.

The prickling spiders were starting to crawl across her skin when something knocked on the front door. You didn’t look up, but Mother and Weems shared a look before Weems stood up from her chair.

“Shall I?” She asked even though she had already started walking toward the front door.

“Thank you,” Mother said with a small smile.

No one else paid any attention to what was happening. Everyone simply went back to what they were doing. What would it matter anyway? You were all aware that people only came to the Addams Mansion either based on a dare or had been invited.

“I don’t believe it’s wise for you to be here.”

Your attention was captured by Weems’ words. Wednesday would admit hers were too. There was a certain tone to the words, something that she didn’t think she had heard before. No, that wasn’t true, she had heard that warning tone before.

At Nevermore immediately after Nicky had died.

Wednesday’s mind was running rampant when you pulled your hand away from hers. There was almost no time for her to grab it again before you stood up. Mother sent a concerned look her way. It was a lucky thing Wednesday hadn’t had any tea, or she would have spilled it when she stood up.

Your body stiffened when you looked out the front door.

“I was hoping you would be here.”

That voice sent a shiver down every inch of Wednesday’s skin. By the slight shake in your hand, you felt the same. The closer she got, the more nervous she was. It was a complicated feeling for her. Very few things, and even fewer people, made her feel that way. She didn’t like it.

There was something comparable between your mother and hers. They both held themselves with confidence; something that you appeared to lack until you were in your mother’s presence again. However, there was a rather large difference between the two women.

Your mother always looked like she was out for blood.

“I was hoping to talk with you about something,” your mother said directly to you.

“I don’t believe that would-”

“-Alone,” she interrupted Weems with a venomous smile.

Very few people spoke to Weems in such a way, apparent by the way everyone stiffened at the harshness of the word. But that very reality was what seemed to get you out of whatever stupor you had drowned in. Behind you, your wings puffed up enough to make themselves known as you looked at Weems.

“I’ve got it,” you said in a soft yet confident voice. It was certainly a surprise to Wednesday, who had assumed you would sound weak after a large amount of silence.

Weems looked at you for another moment more. “Morticia and I will be in the study,” she finally said.

“As I said,” your mother said with the same sickening smile, “this is private.”

“Anything involving me involves Wednesday,” you said.

You and your mother stared at each other silently, and Wednesday felt like she was intruding on something. There was a history with you two that she knew very little about, but she knew enough. To stand there, watching your silent battle with nothing to say, was torture.

“Of course it does,” your mother finally said. She looked inside the mansion for a moment. “Won’t you be a dear and invite me in?”

“No.” You straightened back up and crossed your arms over your chest. “Say your piece and leave.”

Your mother opened her mouth to argue - she had stunning teeth, Wednesday noted - but quickly closed it once seeing the look on your face. Or rather, the lack of a look. Fear was the predominant look in your eyes when your parents were involved, but this? There was no reaction. You simply existed in her presence.

It was a wonderful look on you.

“Very well,” your mother finally said with a sigh. “I would like you to attend an event with me this weekend.”

“No,” you said quickly.

Your mother stood tall. “You will hear me out, Y/N.”

Fear flashed behind your eyes at the use of your full name.

“It’s a charity gala,” she continued. “For those with your…” she gestured vaguely between both you and Wednesday, “affliction.”

“We’re Outcasts,” you said, “not lepers.”

“Semantics, dear,” she said with a dismissive wave.

At that, you reached out and grabbed Wednesday’s hand. Hard. An ache spread through the bones of her hand as they were squeezed together unnaturally. The skin on your hand was tough, feeling closer to leather than skin. Truly a fascinating thing.

She squeezed your hand back to the best of her ability.

“After all the shit you’ve done, you want me to go with you to a gala?” You asked. “Just to make you look good?”

There was a red tint to your cheeks. Wednesday could hear all the words you weren’t saying. You killed my brother. You had me arrested. You abandoned me. Though she didn’t wish for a fight, she did wish for you to finally speak your mind. Let her know the hurt she had caused you all these years.

You didn’t continue.

“Your father is away, so you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with the restraining order,” your mother continued as if you were being nothing more than a petulant child.

“You’re not listening,” you said. “I’m not going.”

The tone underlying your words was all Wednesday needed to hear to know your next move. Your grip had loosened enough to ease the ache in her hand, but it stayed firm. Though she wouldn’t blame you, she knew you were done with the conversation. Nothing good could come from continuing to talk with your mother.

You turned around and started to pull Wednesday along with you.

“I heard about the fire,” your mother called after you.

You froze.

“Entire house burned to ash,” she continued. “A shame.” Your chest was heaving. “No longer having a home to call their own.”

The warmth of your hand in hers quickly disappeared as you turned on your heel. Wednesday’s feet stayed rooted to the spot even as she watched you walk up to your mother and stand over her. For the first time, she realised you were a decent amount taller than your mother. You could properly look down on her as she had no doubt you always wished you could.

In the background, the children could be heard playing in an unknown room.

“Don’t pretend you care,” you said quietly. Harshly.

“Oh darling,” your mother said with a smile that didn’t match her tone, “I couldn’t care less.”

“Then don’t talk about them.”

“I just assumed, perhaps wrongfully, that you would wish for them to have a home again,” she continued. The look in her eye was similar to yours. “A gift, if you will.”

You looked down at your mother silently. Oh, how Wednesday wished she could see the look on your face. She so very much adored when you were angry. There was a fire behind your eyes that lit something within her.

Then she started to think about the implications of your mother’s words. Would you allow her to offer such a thing? The reminder of your debt would follow you for the rest of your life. After all, you were still feeling indebted to her parents for the pendant you constantly wore around your neck. But with a home? She couldn’t even imagine the feelings it would invoke within you.

“Shall I continue?” Your mother asked.

You hesitated. Then gave a single, slow nod.

“If you accompany me to the gala, we will pay for the restoration of your little,” she hesitated, “family.” There was almost a sneer on her face, if Wednesday was reading her correctly.

“Are you blackmailing me?” You asked.

“Oh dear,” she laughed, “I’m not that dense.” Your jaw clenched. “It’s an incentive. A rather generous one.”

Your mother then stayed silent. A tactic, no doubt. It would give you time to consider her offer. Even Wednesday would admit it was a tempting offer. She and her parents had offered your family the same thing knowing they didn’t have the means to rebuild quickly on their own. It had been a quick rejection.

When it came to your mother, however…

“You’ll pay for the entirety of a new house,” you confirmed.

Your mother nodded in response. “Large enough for them all, in fact.”

“With the barn and stables.”

“Of course.”

“And nothing will ever need to be repaid?”

“It will be an act of charity.”

“And I can get that in writing?” You asked.

Oh. Oh, Wednesday could see the gears turning in your head. Once again, as she so often found herself doing, she thought back to those years she had believed you to be daft. Oblivious would perhaps have been the better word for it. Acting as if you were unaware of everything going on around you. On the rare occasion, even going so far as to act unaware of even the most basic aspects of life.

She used to believe you. After all, you were rather adept at playing off your intelligence. If she hadn’t been so tragically enamoured with you, life would have become far different than it currently was. She wouldn’t have had the pleasure of calling you hers. 

However, she knew better. She could see the ideas forming behind your eyes. No, they weren’t simply ideas, they were full-fledged plans. Wednesday desperately wished to have the ability to read your mind. What plan were you meticulously concocting?

“You may have it in writing,” your mother finally said. “I’ll draft it when I get home.”

“Oh no,” you said quickly, “I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

Finally, for the first time since your mother had appeared at the front door, you turned and looked at Wednesday. There was a fire in your eyes reminiscent of the burning house she had been forced to watch you run into. It was thrilling.

It was terrifying.

“Would you call Señor Moreno?” You asked with a smile that made you look just like your mother. “Mrs. Smith would like to draft an agreement.”

—---

Your discomfort was clear, but Wednesday rather enjoyed you in your current state. There had been few times she had seen you dressed well, fewer times since it had been a happy occasion. This was neither happy nor unhappy, so she took it as a positive. You looked rather stunning, aside from your wings resting uncomfortably underneath your clothes.

Not for the first time, her chest ached when you removed your hand from hers.

Listening to your mother fill you in on who was who was not on Wednesday’s to-do list. No, she didn’t truly care who these people were. What she truly cared about was the feel of your warmth beside her, enveloping her in something she had learned to crave. Something she could only receive from you.

“Come on,” you said softly, far closer than Wednesday had believed. It was unsettling.

She loved when you were unsettling.

With her arm looped through yours, she walked with you around the overly crowded room. A ballroom of sorts, she supposed, not too unlike the one in her own house. The difference was this one was bright and filled with straight-laced professionals. Her house was more often than not filled with criminals and unsightly characters for miles to come.

This was a far more concerning environment.

Every beat of Wednesday’s heart grew stronger the longer she watched you in what would have been your natural habitat. Try as you might to deny it, you were rather skilled at talking up those that could owe you favours. For example, the senator’s wife. Though Wednesday despised it, you had her laughing and getting closer the entire conversation.

You were lucky Wednesday had promised to behave.

She was lucky you had promised to behave.

The longer she stayed by your side throughout the evening, the more she realised there was a side to you she rarely if ever got to see. The part of you that could be serious and prepared for business. It was fascinating to watch your expressions and tone match whoever you were talking with. Almost like a mimic, if she had to put a word to it.

Sometimes, if your mother was around, she noticed the most subtle accent to your words. You sounded just like her.

She would never tell you.

“This is Wednesday Addams.”

Your voice pulled Wednesday back into the moment. There was a man in front of you both that she didn’t care to know. With his horrific toupee and pathetic mustache, she mentally placed him as a wannabe politician. His black tuxedo was slightly dishevelled around the collar, and his buttons were off by one. How peculiar.

“Addams, you say?” He asked with a voice that betrayed him more than the pipe hanging out of his mouth. “I believe I know of your father.”

“How so?” She asked even though she had no interest in hearing his answer.

“We met at a ball many years ago, if my recollection is correct,” he said. A puff of smoke left his mouth. “He’s doing well, I presume?”

“Quite,” she said shortly. Perhaps if she made it clear she wasn’t interested in small talk, he would leave her be.

No such luck.

“Perhaps he would appreciate an invitation to our next ball,” the man said. “He can get proper connections in place for when you take over.”

Your hand on the small of Wednesday’s back twitched. Nothing serious, a minuscule movement. It was enough. Out of the corner of your eye, she saw the slight frown on your face. Nothing overtly noticeable. Not that it would have mattered, the man you were both talking to couldn’t be bothered enough to notice the change.

“The Addamses are old money,” you chimed in, “there’s no need to take over.”

“Of course, of course,” he mumbled. A puff of smoke escaped from between his lips. “In that case, you must take that advice,” he said as he gestured toward you with his head. “You’ll need the good graces.”

Your hand twitched again.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said with a slight tilt of your head.

“When you take over your father’s company,” he explained. Your nails dug into Wednesday’s back. “After dear Nicholas passed - rest his soul - you became the beneficiary of the company.” He chuckled. “Perhaps they were keeping it a surprise until you came of proper age.” A wink. “Don’t let them know I told you.”

You pulled your hand away from her back. Quickly. You could not have made it any more obvious that you were deliberately putting space between yourself and everyone else. If you could have turned and ran, Wednesday was convinced you would have.

She couldn’t begin to imagine the things running through your mind. Not only had he mentioned Nicky - which she had learned would always be a sore spot no matter how much time had passed - but he had also told you something you undoubtedly had never wished to know. You looked like you had grabbed an electric wire and hadn’t let go.

“Are you alright?” The man asked in a tone that indicated he couldn’t have cared less what your answer was. Wednesday could appreciate the indifference.

“Quite,” you said quickly. “Just thinking.”

“Ah, of course, I could tell,” he said with a nod, “I’ve seen that face before.” Another puff of his pipe. “You look just like your father.”

That.

That was the final straw.

Wednesday could practically hear your sanity break at that simple sentence. Any semblance of control you had maintained throughout the evening vanished. Before, you had acted like you had been shot by the words. You would close off, become solemn in the wake of the conversation. Being told those words almost hurt you more than losing your brother.

But not this time. No, now you were furious. If you clenched your jaw any tighter, Wednesday was convinced the bones would have shattered. Her eyes fell to your hands before you managed to shove them into your pockets. They were balled into fists.

She wondered if it pained your superficially healed burns.

“I believe I need a drink,” you choked out. “If you’ll excuse me.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking off where Wednesday could no longer see you.

She was mortified.

How dare you leave her with people that, not only did she not know, but she didn’t care about? She had only agreed to accompany you because it would be a sleight against your mother. Not once had she agreed to be left alone with these people. Did you not know that she was not going to be good for your image? If anything, she would damage it more than it already was.

“I hope our dear Y/N is alright.”

She knew better. Wednesday really, truly knew better. But she couldn’t help herself. With a small exhale, she turned to face your mother. A polite smile was on her face and she looked rather nice, if Wednesday wished to say something positive about the woman. Not that she deserved it, but that wasn’t necessarily important.

You had her nose.

“Oh she’s splendid,” the man said, “just stewing on some thoughts. Right, Miss Addams?” He winked at Wednesday.

She felt the rare twinge of disgust in her stomach.

“I presumed,” your mother said. “Would you mind if I stole Miss Addams from you?”

“Not at all,” he said. He bowed his head, let out a puff of smoke, and turned around to start a conversation with whatever unlucky soul happened to be nearest him.

“Walk with me,” your mother commanded.

Silence was Wednesday’s best friend as she followed the older woman. She would admit, she had never believed she would find herself in this situation. Walking side by side with your mother - not the woman who raised you, but who brought you to life. It had seemed like a far-fetched dream, if not a full-blown nightmare.

She was ashamed to admit that she was… uncertain of how to act.

“You’re a rather brave young thing,” your mother said as she continued to meander through the party, waving to people when she saw fit. “Has our darling Y/N ever told you that?”

“I’m aware of my own strengths,” Wednesday answered. She reconsidered for a moment. “Yes she has.”

“Then we raised her properly.”

Wednesday opted to stay silent. It had only been a few moments of conversation, but she could fully understand why you felt a certain way about your parents. Was she aware of the ridiculous things she was saying? Did she truly believe that they had raised you? A foolish notion at best.

It was beyond clear that your true family had raised you. If she extended the definition of the word, Weems had even raised you more than the woman she was walking beside. You even called Weems a mother, which was evidence enough. Wednesday wasn’t one to get overly emotional, but she knew the difference between what your family had done to raise you and what your mother had done. The difference was glaringly obvious.

While you hadn’t told Wednesday much about your upbringing, she knew enough. Your mother had never been there when you cried. She hadn’t helped you with your homework, or encouraged your hobbies. It would be of no surprise to anyone if she didn’t know of your passion for climbing or boxing. She had left you to cope alone after not only a crippling car accident, but the figurative and, eventually literal, loss of your brother.

No, they hadn’t raised you, and even someone as emotionally stunted as Wednesday was painfully aware of it.

“I’m sure she’s told you rather horrid things about Marcus and myself,” your mother said, coaxing Wednesday out of her thoughts. “But everything we did was for her own good.”

Wednesday understood the anger you harboured for them. She herself was feeling that same anger well up within her chest. Not quite threatening to burst forward, but making itself known. Subtle, creeping into her veins slowly, like waves gently breaking on the shore. All it would take was one wrong move and those waves would turn violent.

“I believe you truly think so,” was all she said.

“Everyone she loves gets hurt,” your mother said. She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face Wednesday. “Or dies.”

“That’s improbable at best,” she said.

“You’d be wise to leave before you fall victim to that curse of hers.”

Something cold and damp settled into the bottom of Wednesday’s heart. It was… difficult to describe. Was your mother warning her, or threatening? She was unsure. The words themself were threatening, but her tone… she hadn’t prepared to hear that tone from such a woman. Not after what she had come to know about her.

“Not everything you hear can be taken as truth, love,” your mother said softly, far too soft for her own words. She was ignoring Wednesday’s silence. Or simply not caring.  “From what I’ve read about you, you know that painfully well.”

Wednesday turned to silence once again. She had nothing to say, which was a rather unusual experience. So far, she couldn’t properly think of a time she had been left without words. Or, quite frankly, even any thoughts. Skepticism was her friend, and your mother would not break her of such habits.

“There’s two sides to every story,” your mother continued. She looked out toward the crowd of people, and Wednesday followed suit. “This curse prevailed long before Nicholas.”

You had never told Wednesday of any incidents before Nicky. Though, if your mother knew about it, then perhaps you didn’t remember. Or you weren’t even aware in the first place. It indicated something that she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about.

Something that mixed together with everything she had seen as of late.

“We should get together one evening,” your mother said as she looked back at Wednesday. “Doubtless you have questions.”

She did. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she had numerous questions that continued to pile up with each second that ticked by. With how much your mother hated Outcasts, was her implication of a curse figurative or literal? If literal, were you truly cursed? Who had done it? At the very least, who had been injured or killed when you were too young to even remember?

Would you hate her if she agreed? There had been a few times you had mentioned, in passing of course, about regretting knowing little about your childhood. Whether from young age or potential trauma, you remembered less than you liked. If she had a chance to find those things out for you, would you be appreciative? Or would you be upset with her for talking with your mother so casually?

Would you hate her?

Her mind was running through every scenario possible. She wanted to tell your mother something; of what, she wasn’t quite sure. Wednesday’s lips parted in an effort to buy herself some more time when someone’s arm brushed against her shoulder. Just the lightest of touches, otherwise unnoticeable. It had been quite a while since she had last felt that electric shock spiderwebbing across her skin.

This was different.

Fire raced through her veins, creating an inferno in her chest that she desperately wished to smother. She could taste the smoke rising up from her lungs, scorching the back of her throat before settling into little more than a tickle. When her eyes opened, she saw vague shapes of the forest.

She was getting rather tired of the forest.

The birds were silent, and even the bugs had ceased to make their high-pitched calls. It was as silent as the grave. After witnessing the fire, this very setting rested heavy in her stomach. The only saving grace was the two familiar figures she saw standing underneath one of the outlines of a tree.

When they turned to face her, all comfort fled. Their faces were nothing less than mangled. Blood fell freely down their chins to the already-soaked dirt below their feet. Wednesday wanted to cry, to scream, to warn them of the creature looming behind them, but she couldn’t. She was silent.

Just like you on that fated night.

She blinked once. When her eyes opened again, the forest was gone, instead replaced by a house that she could recognise even from her single visit. Wednesday had never been downstairs in your parents house, instead only exploring a few rooms upstairs when she came with you, but she recognised the tile. The entire building smelled like you, in some odd way.

The dining table was huge, accentuated by the measly five plates that sat around the perimeter of the stunning wood. Only five. Two seats were empty, and two more were filled with sights that Wednesday didn’t think she could have imagined even in her most demented nightmares. In the fifth seat, Wednesday saw the near-perfect reflection of herself.

She had never imagined what her corpse would look like.

“I said don’t touch her.”

Your voice. That was your voice, which meant she was out of her vision. Her throat ached like she had been screaming for years. There was a dull throbbing ache in her stomach where one of the wounds on her corpse had been. But your arms were around her, holding her close.

The ache would subside.

“It might be wise to seek medical attention,” your mother said.

“This happened while she was with you,” you practically spat. Wednesday still hadn’t opened her eyes, but she could imagine the fury on your face. “I can be forgiven for not taking your advice.”

“I’d advise you not to make a scene, dear.”

Your mother’s tone left Wednesday feeling cold. Her own mother had never talked to her in such a way, even out of fear. It wasn’t a way a parent should ever talk to their child. Yet, your mother did it shamelessly in front of an entire crowd of people that had no doubt found their way around the three of you.

Her eyes opened quickly. Far too quickly, the lights from the room hammered nails into her brain. But all the pain and discomfort faded away when she met your soft eyes looking down at her in concern. You were rather beautiful, and just the thought brought a smile to her lips.

A smile?

Perhaps she had hit her head on the way down.

“Can you stand?” You asked softly.

Wednesday nodded once.

You kept your hands on her as you helped her to her feet. The floor felt a bit uneven at first, but with your arm wrapped securely around her waist, she felt no concern. Her trust in you was unwavering. You wouldn’t let her fall.

“You should take her somewhere quiet,” your mother said, against everyone’s better judgement. “It will help.”

You shot her a look, but otherwise stayed silent as you guided Wednesday through the crowd. Everyone parted, looking away in some form of almost-shame. They didn’t truly care. Elites cared for little outside of their own interests. And at that moment, getting the gossip firsthand was in their best interest.

There was no telling where exactly you were taking her. She didn’t care to know. If you were taking her somewhere, it would be safe. You had never intentionally led her into harm, and she knew you never would. You cared too much, and though it often got you in trouble, she loved it about you.

…

She had definitely hit her head.

When you opened the door and led her inside the darkened room, she didn’t initially check her surroundings. Wednesday was no fool, she would know if something was unsafe. But when you flipped the switch and illuminated the space, she was overcome with… confusion.

“The coat closet?” She asked, turning quickly to face you.

You were already pacing back and forth in the small - well, small for a room, rather large for a coat closet - space. Each step was harsh, purposeful. Behind you, your hands were clasped terribly tight, as if you were trying to prevent yourself from doing something foolish.

Perhaps you were.

“Did she hurt you?” You asked without looking.

“No,” Wednesday said softly.

You scoffed. “Probably the only thing she didn’t do.” The carpet was becoming worn into a path from your feet. “We never should’ve come to this stupid party.”

There were a few things Wednesday could have said, but she remained silent. It wasn’t often you would find yourself pacing, let alone in a closet. On those rare occasions, she had learned it best to stay quiet. Once you had gotten your thoughts and emotions out, you were lighter and could move on.

“I can’t do this,” you continued without prompting. “I don’t want to do this.” A turn on your heels. “I didn’t even want their name, let alone their fucking company.” The muscles in your arms tensed. “And apparently everyone is preparing for it. What happens when they find out I’m a fucking Outcast?” You readjusted your jaw. “He told me we shouldn’t have come.”

Wednesday perked up.

“Who told you?”

There was no sudden freeze of your movements, as was usual. No, your pace slowed until coming to a graceful stop. Each breath you took was calculated, steady. Strange. She had seen enough of your panics to know this was different. Wrong somehow.

“No one,” you said without looking at her. “Just… just a thought.” You turned slowly. “The voice in my head.”

“Your conscience?” She clarified.

You didn’t answer.

Wednesday didn’t like when you didn’t answer her. It left a gross feeling she couldn’t quite describe. The best description she could conjure was mud sitting at the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down. She didn’t like the feeling. It made her… well, almost sad.

It was possible you noticed her discomfort because, almost instantly, you walked over to where she was standing. Her entire body relaxed - for the first time that night - when your hands cupped her cheeks. There was something pleasant about your touch that never failed to ease any negative feelings trapped within her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked in a far softer voice. It was gentle and comforting.

She placed her hands on top of yours and nodded once.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” you continued. “We should’ve just had a nice night at home.”

Wednesday didn’t disagree. There were many more things she would have preferred to do than come to some gala that no one seemed to care about. You had come under the premise of a gala for Outcasts, but she felt it was a farce. None of those people cared about Outcasts, and they never would. It would have been a much better use of both of your time to do something else, something far more enjoyable.

An idea formed in her mind and she quickly looked up to meet your eyes.

“We can still have a nice night,” she said slowly.

“Wednesday,” you said with a tilt of your head. “You fainted and I’m plotting the death of my mother. You’d have to come up with something pretty… uh…”

Your voice trailed off once she guided your hands down her neck. There was almost a humorous joy to the way you went slack jawed at any indication of activities less than professional. And when she continued, fighting a shiver as your fingers brushed the side of her clothed breasts, you stared with wide eyes until your hands rested on her waist.

“Wednesday,” you whispered. Her name always slid off your tongue with a certain grace that she couldn’t find anywhere else.

“You need a distraction,” she said, “as do I.”

“Please don’t feel like you have to-”

“-I would like to,” she said quickly. 

She knew where your mind was going and, in any other situation, she would have agreed. You had both agreed long ago that this wasn’t something frivolous; it meant far too much to the both of you. It shouldn’t be used for inappropriate reasons and, under normal circumstances, this would be an inappropriate reason.

Even though it was surprising to her as well, she genuinely wanted this.

“We’re in a coat closet,” you said with a slight squeeze of your hands. It felt nice.

“I don’t believe it would be our most unusual interaction,” she said with the slightest tilt of her head.

You bit back a laugh. It was a beautiful sound. “Please don’t call it an interaction, it sounds… dirty.”

She felt herself moving backwards. Whether you were guiding her or she was leading, she couldn’t tell. All she could focus on was your fingers rubbing light circles on her hips and your face getting closer to hers. If she simply leaned up on her toes, she could kiss you.

“I can call it intercourse instead,” she offered.

The both of you stopped when her back pressed against the wall.

“I think that’s worse,” you said, your breath fanning across her lips.

She waited for the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

A rhetorical question at that point, you knew the answer. You had always known the answer. Wednesday reached forward to wrap her arms around your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. It was soft and clumsy. After all this time, you were still clumsy for the first few kisses. Before you, she would have found it ridiculous.

Now, she enjoyed it.

Outside the door, the sounds of footsteps on the tile came and went. It didn’t stop either one of you, quite the contrary, it made the situation all the more thrilling. Wednesday knew the joy you would find in it; she could practically hear your words. Two Outcasts fucking around their personal belongings? Sexy.

Her breath hitched lightly when you slipped your hands underneath her dress. It wasn’t salacious; it was rather decent, if she was being honest. You didn’t hike her dress up over her hips and take her right then and there. Rather, you kept her covered, the only indication of something going on being your hands underneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, mi vida,” you said softly against her skin as you pressed kisses across her jaw. “This will have to be quick unless you want to get caught.”

Wednesday was never a fan of what you and Enid - and clearly the rest of the world - called “quickies.” She was so selective of when and where she was willing to have sex that the thought had never appealed to her. Why dedicate such a short amount of time to something that required much longer? How was it enjoyable? Or even tolerable?

But, as she had noted throughout the night, she wasn’t particularly picky at that moment.

She nodded quickly. More footsteps could be heard outside the door. You were correct; she didn’t wish to be caught. The thrill was arousing, yes, but if it actually happened? There was no doubt in her mind that, though she wouldn’t care about their opinions, she would be mortified.

Your teeth pressed lightly against the pulse point of her neck as you smiled. If Wednesday stretched her neck just a little further, perhaps she could entice you to bite. There was something delectable about the feel of your teeth on her skin. As if you could read her mind, you lightly nipped at her collarbone.

It was a good thing you hadn’t completely enraptured her, or she would have made a surprised noise when you hoisted her up from the ground. Your hands held her by the back of her thighs until you pressed closer, leaving her trapped securely between your body and the wall.

Oh, she rather liked that.

Your unscarred hand moved, sliding softly against her inner thigh before brushing against her underwear. Her body shivered at the slightest of touches. It was humiliating. What was more humiliating was the smile on your face that she desperately wished would vanish.

“You’re already wet,” you noted.

She could kill you.

“The stoic Wednesday Addams is wet,” you said. Your fingers slipped underneath the flimsy fabric and she had to bite her tongue. “From a little makeout session in a coat closet.”

Out of all the times you could be condescending, you had chosen the worst moment. You chose the moment she was already going out of her comfort zone, but also, quite frankly, desperate. She finally understood the pleasure in quickies; it gave less time for words.

Wednesday would have told you to shut up right then and there. She would have stopped you simply out of spite. But her chance was ruined when you slipped two fingers into her with ease. Her head fell back against the wall as those fingers moved at a dangerously quick pace.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to finish. It was truly disgraceful how worked up she was. Had you known? Because she hadn’t. Wednesday had never anticipated ever being so close to a release with such little time. Perhaps it was you. You and your deceptively soft kisses on her neck. You and your nimble fingers that had learned long ago exactly what she loved. You and your damned thumb that never left her clit until she was so sensitive she could almost cry.

That warm feeling in her core didn’t build softly. It formed quickly with each swipe of your thumb, each thrust of your fingers that had her biting her tongue so hard she could taste blood. She managed to lift her head right when you pulled your own mouth away. Perfect.

Her lips pressed against yours before that feeling erupted inside her. It was different from all the other times. It was more intense, hitting her rather quickly instead of slowly cascading over the edge. Her nails dug into the back of your neck, but you didn’t seem to care. You simply held her closer, keeping your fingers moving in rhythm with her body until she could relax in your arms.

Footsteps came closer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against your lips, “I know it was fast, we can take our time at home.”

Wednesday didn’t have an answer just yet. She was still out of breath, trying to recover from the wave of bliss that had left her unable to properly function. But she could give you some form of answer; a soft kiss, nothing like what you had just done to her.

She felt you smile against her lips.

“Here,” you said softly as you lowered her back to the ground on shaky legs. “I’ll grab our coats, you take a moment.”

The moment you were gone, she felt cold. It wasn’t something she had ever admitted out loud, but she despised when you left her even if momentarily. She was fond of the warmth you gave her, both internally and externally. There was something special about it that evaded her verbiage. All she knew was she enjoyed it.

When she opened her eyes, she froze.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a husky voice.

You thumbed through the cash in the wallet. “I’m stealing.” You grabbed the wad of cash and placed the empty wallet back into the coat before moving on to the next one. “If I’m going to run a company one day, I should start getting used to it.”

Wednesday walked up to you slowly and waited for you to finish with what was currently in your hands. Once you paused, she pulled you down into a kiss. Slow, soft, good. You pulled back ever so slightly with a small smile on your face, and she just looked at you.

“I love you,” she said softly.

You leaned down to kiss her again.

“I love you too.”

[fandomsfanatic]

Can't hear you

Deaf Wednesday AU

Enid: wens, you need to stop leaving your old used knives everywhere!

Wednesday: When I leave things in certain places, I expect to return to them at a later time, in hopes that my narrow minded girlfriend won't move them from the spot I expected them to be in.

Enid gasping, moving infront of Wednesday : I am not narrow minded okay! You cannot leave thing all over the place-

Wednesday, taking out her hearing aid: Forgive me, due to my diagnoses of hard of hearing I am struggling to hear your argument.

Enid in sign language: You can't just Take your hearing aid when you hear something you don't like...

Wednesday closing her eyes:..???

Eenid: Wednesday!

[cabispace]

Deadly hers

Enid : Let's do some icebreaker questions to get to know each other better okay ? Wednesday, let's start with you, describe yourself to everyone in one word

Wednesday point at Enid : Hers.

Enid : I was expecting deadly but it work too

Yoko whispering to Bianca : New it, want my money now