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SPEAK NOW | Wednesday Addams × Tyler Galpin · wednesday (TV 2022)

CHAPTER 2. will you have me? will you love me?

.☘︎ ݁˖

summary. 2 years later, 4 semesters have come and gone, and the annual Rave’N dance is tomorrow night. after refusing to attend the previous times since her first with Tyler, Wednesday is reluctantly convinced by Enid to attend the dance for a second time. little does she know that someone is awaiting her once she arrives.

word count. 1,445.

warnings. slow build; no dialogue.

tags. inspired by music.

authors note.

I wanted this “mystery character” to be a surprise but with the tags & details in this chapter, there was no way I could keep it a secret. . I know it was probably obvious, but a writer can dream.

His heart was pounding in time with the sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Every passing second had his thoughts stumbling over one another. With the crisp breeze that whipped through on occasion, he was able to keep himself from actually being sick.

For weeks now, he had promised himself he would meet his first love again, on this very night. The one whose viper gaze hypnotized him like no other – like strange yet irresistible, constructive therapy. The only one whose scent weakened his ability to front without falter – like a geode rock being broken to reveal its crystal heart within. The one whose personality aligned with his as did her way of articulation led the way for his own to match – like a compass needle’s true north. This was his time, his moment, his chance to repair the damage done by his hands and his heart. After rehearsing over and over again, he knew he could not turn back. Either he would take action now or not at all. And since he was already at anxiety’s doorstep, he was pretty much at the point of no return now.

It had been two years since he saw her, talked to her, looked her in the eyes, and kissed her. It had also been two years since he had betrayed her, forsaken her, and attempted to be responsible for her murder. Altogether, he spent two years dwelling on every little thing – the high, the hurt, the shine, the sting of every little thing. And now, two years later, he was standing among the shadows in a black suit and polished shoes, going unnoticed by the passing Nevermore students. Alone, nervous, and in need of a miracle.

But even after every day, every night, and every minute in between, it all felt like it just happened yesterday.

The night he was strapped down in the back of that speeding van, he went from a resting state to a raging fit. The moment he tore free and disappeared into the daring woods, he became a lone wolf. The morning he came home to his father, he was weakened by the lack of manipulation from his deceased master. And all the long days leading up to this moment, he was lost. Transitioning between the lives of a normie and outcast, he had resigned from his barista title, been admitted into a psychiatric institution to endure various testing and observations in exchange for a prison sentence, and enrolled in online schooling to finish his educational studies.

But with every event, he felt more and more astray.

His appetite was up and down as his emotions ranged from fire to ice – his mood swings struck him at any unexpected time which would either end up in him being unusually consoled or having his head bitten off by his sheriff father. Nothing seemed right. Everything felt wrong. He would try this and fail at that. He could distract himself from his own mind but not for long. Pacing, thinking, running, breathing – everything that he did to keep himself from losing in his own warzone just did not satisfy his mind and body. He needed something… but what? A therapist? A genie? A prayer? No. He needed something – someone – more…

A raven. An angel of darkness. A gothic goddess… Wednesday Addams.

She was his backbone, his cornerstone, his head start, his rugged heart. The lone thought of her lashed out at him harder than any threat, insult, or whip could ever dare. The forever-etched-vision of her lured him into a pool of submission. The countless memories of her monotone, satirical voice posed as his muse to keep him focused… aware… and sane.

As if she was his master. And he, her slave.

The thirst for blood, desire to attack, and temptation to maim and maul had been vanquished and, instead, traded for distinct needs of heed, acceptance, and trust. The monster that had been raised from the start was reborn into a new breed of beast – one of twisted sanity and settled power. He had grown ill at the thought of ripped flesh and horrific, blood-curdling screams. For as long as he had been back home, he had not transformed into his outcast specialty nor did he want to. There was no point or reasoning to do so. There was no one to beckon, command, or tame him. No one to brainwash him into committing homicide and putting them on death’s row, if not 6 feet under. No one to force him to become what he was not fully accustomed to controlling: what he did not want to be notorious for – a vile, heartless, corrupting monster. Without his initial ringmistress, Marilyn Thornhill, his chains had fallen off. He was free as a stallion running through the night – silver and responsible for himself, alone.

Now, he had his sights set on one thing. Every night came with a dream, and every day began with a chase. The visions of the young raven appeared to him in countless dreams. The voices of his inner-self bonded him within an indestructible cage, begging for a light to guide him out… begging for her. Those dark, icy eyes and striking, black nails. Her soft, pale skin and long, ebony hair braided in two. That sharp, sarcastic tongue and stone-cold heart. He was so involved with her in ways that he could not describe – brave and relentless. Sweet and defenseless, he knew… Over and over, again and again, it did not take him long before he realized that she was the one. She was his answer – his one and only true north. Like a lock and key, she had become the new master of his inner demon lying dormant within.

She did not know it, but she would. After this very night, she would know.

But with that came everything in his head – the questions that crowded his mind, leaving him blind. After everything is said and done, will she believe him? Will she still have him? Will she still want him? Will she ever forgive him? Will she even love him?

Only time would tell…

Taking yet another breath to steady his nerves, he tugged on his dress shirt at the collar. Every passing outcast had his green gaze focused and attentive. Knowing his former date, he figured he would be looking for the same monochromatic aesthetic and magenta lips that blessed his vision two years prior. He was anxious yet eager to see his first love. He was ready yet afraid to witness her reaction. He was collected yet a complete mess at thinking of what this outcome could turn out to be. But now was the only time to take his chances, he had drilled that into his mind already.

Couple after couple and group after group entered through the dance’s illuminated entrance arches and he began to second guess his orchestrated plan. But a familiar beanie followed by blonde hair got his hopes up. He recognized the psychic’s friends under the twilight color scheme of this year’s Rave’N – both dressed in varying shades of violets and blue, the gorgon sported a solid-colored, conservative attire while his werewolf date sashayed close to his hip in an ombre gown, dazzled with twinkling sequins and a bow-tied waistline.

And there she was. Tailing them with her straight posture and unique gait. The beauty he had come to seek out was right in front of him. Spellbinding, mysterious, and utterly enchanting as ever.

If he was honest, her looks almost had him convinced that she was a completely different person and not the one he had come for — her hair, dress style, and evening gloves stunned him in the most captivating way. She looked like herself yet so different. He knew she was 18 years of age but damn… was she taken out of her comfort zone. Knowing her, he could only imagine the fight she put up with her roommate to get herself in such a stunning arrangement. Obviously, the other had won and here she was, looking absolutely perfect tonight.

Then her viper gaze happened to look his way, and he found himself locked in. Frozen and hypnotized, there was no breaking the contact. He was completely bewitched.

The chattering of the school was drowned out by the beating of his own heart. His blood rushed beneath his skin, churning and coursing and racing with his spiraling nerves. After all of the pain, anger, fear, despair, longing, isolation, planning, and remorse. One look was all it took. Not a word nor touch. Just one glance his way.

And Tyler Galpin was lovestruck all over again.

#wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #tyler galpin #jenna ortega #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing blog #short story #not my gif

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thornedclover · 5 days ago

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SPEAK NOW | Wednesday Addams × Tyler Galpin · wednesday ( TV 2022)

CHAPTER 1. i hate the crowds, you know that.

.☘︎ ݁˖

word count. 2,805.

warnings. slow build.

tags. inspired by music.

authors note.

this is a 3-part short story initially inspired by Taylor Swift’s song betty from her folklore album. i hope whoever chooses to read this enjoys it even if it is pretty slow.

Enid slumped her shoulders with a slightly frustrated groan. “Ugh, why not?! You haven’t gone in two years! It’s the one night of the year where everyone can let loose and have a good time.”

Not bothering to turn around to face her roommate, Wednesday kept her eyes to her typewriter as her voice carried over the clicking of the keys. “What’s the point? I’m not interested in spiked punch and disco balls. Besides,” she paused to slide the roller back to the far left. “I’d rather not partake in self-torture by wearing heels and a suffocating envelopment of a dress.”

“I thought you enjoyed torture?”

“I do. Just not the type that makes me actually want to kill myself.”

Not buying into her reasons, Sinclair sighed. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Once you get in there, you’ll completely forget about what you’re wearing.” Her mind flipped back to the year of their first Rave’N together as roommates. “You wore a dress and heels last time, and you looked so killer in them! You literally screamed ‘bad bitch icon’ on the dance floor!”

But Addams maintained her divided attention. “Precisely. Why would I subject myself to another night of useless pain and attention? It’s unsettling. One time was more than enough. I didn’t want to go two years ago. Why would I have even the slightest intention of going now?” Her dark eyes flickered from the keyboard to the manilla paper being scripted with black ink. “Rumor has it that it’s practically a breeding ground for germs and the perfect setup for erotic, teenage antics to thrive.”

Within the last couple of years, there was talk that the dance had been spiced up by typical adolescent behaviors. Simple yet idiotic jokes being played among the attendees, make-out sessions in the restroom, and the occasional down and dirty dancing that would illuminate the dance floor in competition with the flashing disco lights. Who would ever want to miss that?

A twitch of her eyebrow accompanied her following remark of sarcasm. “I’d be better off sticking pens in my eyes than witnessing something so overrated.”

Instead of keeping up with their argumentative conversation, the werewolf calmly paced over to her roomie’s desk and turned to face her, leaning on the table for support. “Please, Wednesday?” Her crystal orbs sparkled with hope and a hint of beseech. “Can’t you just try to do something other than go to class and stay locked away in here, writing another novel?” When she received no reply, she twisted her lips in an indecisive way. There had to be something more to the psychic’s refusal. The excuses she had stated her case with did not make complete sense… for her, anyway. Generally, she was not bothered by those sorts of things; she would just ignore them more than anything. Other than possibly walking in on vampires fanging in a bathroom stall, she would not have to dance or linger within the crowds if she preferred not to. Although it was highly encouraged, it was not required. Additionally, this upcoming dance, like all others, would serve as a getaway – a chance to disassociate from the world and all of its normie nonsense for one night. That is what the Rave’N was for, after all – a place for outcasts to be themselves and enjoy their lives as anyone should. So, what was eating at her that made it such a hassle to go?

Then it hit.

“Is this about Tyler?” She searched for the other’s gaze. “Do you not want to go, because he was your date to your first Rave’N?”

Wednesday expressed an irked, nasal sigh before finally breaking the connection with her typewriter to look at Enid. If she was honest, she was right. Since Nevermore cut all ties with the nightrunner, she had never let his name fall from her lips. There was no point. No reason. Nothing left to say. Nothing more to feel… Or so she wanted herself to believe. He was the mystery. The animal that lurked under the forests’ trees. The monster that attacked numerous, innocent souls and robbed them of their right to live. The Hyde that came to be known as the prized culprit of Jericho. He had become damn-good at leading her on only to abandon her at the hands of death, before he desired the thrill of ripping her apart himself. A cunning trickster trained by a manipulative mastermind. And the only boy she had ever grown to catch feelings for. That was who Tyler Galpin was.

It was true. She liked him, crushed on him, and found herself in a tailspin on which side of her to listen to and which path she wanted to follow. But after keeping her guard up and steering clear of any happenings of romanticism, she willed herself to take a chance on him. She had trusted him, and he drew scars upon her heart.

She should have known better.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” questioned Sinclair, reading the raven’s countenance like a book. “Look, I understand. I know it came as a real shock, but…” She glanced down in hopes of softening the upcoming blow. “You can’t hold on to that memory forever. I know it’s hard to let go, because he was one of the few people you trusted. I know you miss him-”

But Addams snapped back at her right then and there. “No, I don’t. And I haven’t developed an emotional hellscape to dwell in either.” She watched her roommate lock eyes with her again before continuing her reinforcement, sharpness still striking her tongue. “Tyler was a conniving pawn that bowed to his master like an obedient dog. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A puppeteer that fazed everyone to believe he was nothing but a common, innocent normie.” She narrowed her eyes to dispel any possible doubts the blonde had. “Grieving over something like that is nothing shy of pointless.”

But it was not pointless. She missed him. She had fallen into a hellhole of indeterminate emotions at the thought of him. Whether she believed it or not, he had left a scab on her heart that would bleed every now and then when she lost herself in her adolescent biology of oscillating hormones. Never did she think she would fall for someone, but then he came in and wrecked her plans that were laced in solitude. Now, she was forever haunted by his green eyes and calm, attentive voice. It was unusual and, quite honestly, uncomfortable. But that seemed to be her life nowadays. Go figure.

When the she-wolf picked up on her side of the dispute, she traded her tone for a softer pitch. She knew Galpin was the reason for her behavior towards the topic, but she decided not to push much further into the matter. “Well, even if you do… your secret’s safe with me.” She saw Addams take a quick glance away prior to carrying on. “I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Tyler was the first guy you’ve ever liked, right?”

The psychic sighed her usual sigh and sat back, crossing her arms.

“So, it totally makes sense,” she shrugged. She would know – as a teenage girl, herself, and being involved with social media, it was common sense that it was only natural to experience such feelings that her roomie, although denying it, was currently enduring. Even after two years have passed.

Then a light smile threatened to break her sentimental moment as she put her palms on the tabletop behind her to have her shoulders shrug up. “To be honest…” She tilted her head to the left. “It would be weird if you didn’t feel this way.”

This only made Wednesday maintain her cold stare and signature frown.

“Sooooo…, with that being said…, how about you make a new memory with me tomorrow night? One that you won’t forget? In a good way?” While Enid watched the other’s eyes shift down almost in a debating manner, she attempted to use the act of persuasion. “We can go tomorrow and find you a completely different look. Something that’s still a statement but doesn’t look like your first dress’s twin sister. There’s no way you’re going to wear something without a sense of variety.”

It took everything in the raven not to completely shut her roomie down. Despite everything, she did not have any interest in presenting herself at the all-cracked-up-to-be dance as it was. Why would she? She did not even have a date to attend with. Maybe it would be good for her to make a memory out of tomorrow night to try and repair the damage done? Even if her heart would never mend. Even if it would not change the past. Even if it would not make Tyler fade from her reminiscence. Maybe it would prevent talk from spreading around regarding her captivation in a mental jail cell of hormonal imbalance because of a particular barista formally employed at the Weathervane. Maybe she should just swallow her pride and go forth with herself as if she had moved on from her first semester at Nevermore. Maybe she should just care less and be careless.

Forgive and forget is what they say… but she never knew how hard it could be until she came face-to-face with it beginning at age 16.

Giving herself a thoughtful blink, she collected herself enough to meet the other’s face. The more she balanced her choices, the more she figured that one way or the other, they both had their cons. Whether she stayed or went, there was no telling what the outcome would be. All she knew was that Sinclair would keep digging periodically until she uncovered what had been hidden behind her nonchalant, icy front. What was the point of letting her push and push until she lit a match and triggered a domino effect of emotions? Sentimental performances were never her strong suit anyway.

“I’ll think about it.”

The following evening came within a flash. The night of the Rave’N had come at last.

All mirrors in the dorms were occupied with boys tightening their ties and girls perfecting their hair before meeting up with their dates to sashay their way through the Rave’N’s entrance. Come every year, this would be the night of nights – the dance to rival all others, the moment to brave and shine, the winning ticket to someone’s love story.

Well… all except for Wednesday.

After revisiting the idea over and over and over, she had finally allowed Enid to win her over late the previous night and ‘partake in self-torture by wearing heels and a suffocating envelopment of a dress.’ Dread still preyed upon her, but she was forced to overlook her biting temptation to drop everything and stick to her guns. She had decided to do this on behalf of her roommate – Sinclair never asked for much and she definitely meant well with every word that struck her tongue. With everything they had been through, the bond they had constructed over time, and all of the hell she had put her through countless times, she could, at least, return the favor this once.

In retrospect, how bad could it actually turn out to be?

Slipping on her heels, the psychic stood from her bedside and paced over to the mirror to double-check her final look before Enid came knocking at the door for departure. But when she stepped into the reflecting portrait, words could not even begin to explain what she saw. Except for a single phrase that seemed to speak deeper than she could feel.

The girl in the mirror… she has lost her damn mind.

Her pale skin was complemented against the black tulle orchestrating her gown along with the opera gloves encasing her arms. The daintiness of her clavicle was accentuated by the strapless design as it practically put her shoulders’ elegance on a pedestal. From the style chosen by Sinclair, with advice from Yoko, her raven hair had been unraveled from its signature twin braids only to be twisted up into a messy chignon with a blend of hair clips and pins. Her bangs kept their framing cut while longer tresses were separated out of her bun to dangle down for a charming, chic rendition. Never had she ever styled her hair close to anything like it was now… But that was what she got for permitting her roommate with creative liberty. From the bodice’s fit, her waist was sure to also catch eyes and tempt complimenting tongues with the way it highlighted her svelte physique. Past her waistline and down, an A-line skirt concealed her lower-half, hovering a few inches above the ground due to her high heels cutting its contact short. Head to toe, she was just as she thought 2 years prior – unrecognizable, ridiculous, a classic example of female objectification for the male gaze.

And she was… she really was. In the most prodigious, exotic, astounding way. She was truly something to behold. Even as an Addams… Even as an outcast.

The longer she stared at the foreign beauty in the reflective surface, the more of an internal mess she became. How could she let herself do this? How could she have let herself be transformed into something so enthralling and so… fictional? Bewitching as she appeared, the reveal was almost enough to have nausea set in – this was not her. It was not her style, and did not come even close to fitting in her what-could-be or ‘in another life’ fantasy… if she had one, anyway. But the strangest thing of all was… she actually looked like she belonged to someone – dressing to impress a Romeo desperate for his Juliet. Outdoing herself in preparation for an unforgettable occasion. But everything she could possibly be perceived as was not what it seemed. Her enchanting sorcery of head-turning looks served for one, single purpose that no one but herself and Enid knew: the intent to dethrone the rule that Tyler Galpin had over her was to be carved in stone and executed. Whether it would actually work or not was in her power, her mind, her heart. Although black, it did bleed the same color red as every other being walking the earth. And, oh, how nauseating that was.

How nauseating it all was.

Releasing a bothered sigh, Addams turned away before several more knots could tie themselves into her stomach. She had definitely stepped up her fashion taste for the prior dance, but it felt more like a pole-vault going into it at 18. Like the first time, it was more than enough but then some. God, this felt so out of her element. Thought after thought attacked her brain, manifesting an urge to back out of this entire scheme, but, luckily, she was saved by a knock at the door that echoed off the room’s walls.

“Wednesday, let’s go!”

Forcing herself to snap out of the trance, she opened the front barricade to have wide, sparkling blue eyes and a snowy smile napalm her.

“Oh my God, shut up! Gothic femme fatale who?! You look absolutely amazing!” The werewolf looked over her roomie before adding, “Yoko and I did such a great job! You’re really going to stun everyone tonight. Like, jaws are going to drop through the floor.”

Still having the vision of herself burning in her mind, the raven kept a straight posture with natural sarcasm lacing her words. “If you mean ‘great job’ as in making emetic eye candy out of me, you’re not far off the target.”

“Oh, come on,” replied Enid, completely brushing off the mordacious counter. “You look fabulous, and the dance is going to be fire.” When she did not see a change in Wednesday’s attitude, she was pressed to try further reassurance. “If you’re that worried about being out of your comfort zone, just stick with me and Ajax. We weren’t planning to go crazy this year anyway, since he’s still getting over his cold. I mean, we might dance a little, but we’ll probably just hang out.”

The other merely responded with a quick glance away.

“Well…,” the she-wolf started with a warm smile prior to nodding her head back towards the hall behind her. “Are you ready?” Being so caught up with the psychic’s complete presentation, she almost forgot she had left her date waiting at the bottom of the staircase.

Swallowing her pride with a grain of bitterness, Addams let the words fall from her magenta lips. “As ready as I can be.”

And each step she took after that – through the hall, down the stairs, and out the doors to the awaiting party – led her to whatever may lay in her fate’s devious, inexorable hands.

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #tyler galpin #enid sinclair #writing blog #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short story #jenna ortega #not my gif

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