J. Paxton

𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 → j. paxton

pairing: jules paxton x fem!reader type: fic request: none warnings: nah, just fluff!

prompt/trope: none!

summary: jules and y/n have a movie night after winning a game. word count: 1.16k

"Did you see that last goal? I don't think I've ever seen a goalie jump so high and fail so miserably!"

Jules and Y/n were practically bubbling after the win against the Chiswick girls' team. They'd had the best defensive record for years now, and they'd beat them. The most brilliant thing about it was that it hadn't even been close! It wasn't even a question of if by the second half. Nothing made Jules happier than winning a game, and nothing made Y/n happier than Jules being happy.

"I'm home, mum!" Jules called into the house as they shut the back door behind them. Y/n's brother had given them a ride back from the game and Y/n had her overnight bag at her side, soccer bag in the other hand.

Jules's mum appeared in the kitchen, dressed in bright pinks and blues from head to toe. To put it lightly, she looked a bit absurd. Jules's mum loved bright colors. She never ceased her hobby of buying bright outfits for Jules that she'd never wear. Right then she looked like she'd stepped out of a paint store after having neon paint thrown over her. She looked surprised. "Y/n! You're here as well?"

"She's spending the night, remember?" Jules said, setting her back down by the door.

"Oh." her mum said, looking between them with suspicion for a moment. "Well then. Would you girls like anything to eat?"

"Nah, thanks mum. We're probably just going to watch a movie, and then maybe the game?" Jules looked to Y/n to confirm and she nodded.

At the mention of the word game, Jules's mum looked disappointed. She was never perfectly content with Jules's love of football. She was just about appalled when she found out that women's games were broadcast on television. It meant Jules could actively pursue her love of sport on and off the field. "Just...take off your shoes before you track dirt into the house."

The two girls nodded, slipping off their shoes. Jules peeled off her jersey (earning her a side eyed glance from her mum) and grimaced. "We need a shower." she joked.

At the word "we," Jules's mum jumped like she'd been shot, but by then Jules and Y/n were too far up the stairs to notice.

Two hours later, Jules and Y/n were sat in the living room with matching wet hair, half-watching a horror movie Jules had put on. They were more interested in talking about the game - and in the box of pizza on the table in front of them.

"She practically handed the ball to the other team. Joe was livid." Y/n recounted the moment when she looked over and saw their coach fuming over a pass made by one of the girls on their team.

"It's so odd, Lily's been playing so well lately too." Jules nodded. "I think she said her boyfriend came to the game—maybe that threw her off?"

Y/n shrugged. "Maybe. I wouldn't understand why, though."

"Come on, really? You don't think having the person you're dating in the stands wouldn't freak you out a bit? I think I'd want to show off as much as possible." Jules laughed. "Maybe she was thinking so hard about showing off for him that it messed up her play."

Y/n frowned as she got up off the couch to get more water from the kitchen. "I dunno. I guess I can't really imagine being with someone who doesn't play soccer. I mean, I don't think I could date someone who knew nothing about it. It's practically my life when school's out."

"I think I know what you mean." Jules hummed. "Dating anyone at all seems like too much sometimes. Especially with my mum, who throws boys at me whenever we're at one of her dinner parties. It's like she's trying to marry me off to the most eligible suitor or something."

Y/n walked back to find Jules sprawled on the couch on her back, eyes glued to the TV as she took up all the room. Y/n sighed a laugh. "Thanks for leaving me a spot."

"Well, come here then." Jules said, holding out her arms.

Y/n gave her a look and Jules rolled her eyes, beckoning her again. "Come on, there's plenty of room when you look at it vertically."

Y/n laughed at that, but she couldn't ignore how quickly her heart was beating. Jules, on the other hand, seemed perfectly cool and collected. To be fair, Jules was always an affectionate person. Whenever either of them scored a goal in a match they would always be found leaping into each other's arms, occasionally knocking each other over and laughing hysterically. It drove Joe mad, but they loved it. It was like a tradition.

But this? It was something different.

"You're mad." Y/n mumbled, but she set her glass of water down and walked over to Jules anyway. Shakily (but composed enough to hide it), she fell into Jules's arms, laying her head near her collarbone. Jules wrapped her arms around her, sighing into her hair. "See? Cozy."

Y/n laughed quietly, but she couldn't quite get over the fact that their legs were tangled together and her head was tucked in the crook of Jules's neck so comfortably. God, she really hoped Jules couldn’t feel how fast her heart was beating.

“Jules.” Y/n spoke suddenly, almost startling herself.

“Yeah?”

Y/n looked up at Jules. “When you said dating anyone seems stressful, did you mean anyone?”

Confused, Jules laughed slightly. “Er, yeah I guess so. What d’you mean?”

“Well, we never really talk about guys, right? I mean…it just never really seems important to either of us. And…I dunno, you just don’t seem super interested in all that.” she said, then quickly added: “I’m not either.”

Jules frowned. “I guess not.”

By now Y/n heart was practically in her throat, thumping so hard she could practically feel it in her skull. No, she was sure she’d offended Jules. That was it. “Jules, I–”

Before she could finish the sentence, Jules leaned down and pressed her lips to Y/n’s. It sucked all the air from Y/n’s lungs, a cold wash of shock going up her spine. There is no way this is real.

In an instant it was over. Jules pulled away, and Y/n looked up at her with her mouth slightly agape. For a moment Jules panicked, wondering if she had gone about this completely wrong, but then Y/n moved up so that she was straddling Jules’s waist and kissed her again. This time Jules was the one caught off-guard, but she kissed her back like she had planned it all along. 

When she pulled away, Y/n looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Is this too much?” she asked quietly.

Jules smiled. “Not at all.”

Author's Note: If there's one universal experience I know about, it's Bend It Like Beckham being a gay awakening. I simply will not ever get over this movie!!!! Nor do I want to!!!!!! I hope you enjoyed this fic, I've loved Keira Knightley's character in BILB for so long it was crazy to me that I'd never written a fic for her! Enjoy this one, loves!

AWW THANK YOU SO MUCH! And no worries, I totally understand!

hiiiii hazel!! i absolutely adore your writing and i was wondering if i could get a small blurb for wednesday addams with the dialogue prompts "we make a pretty good team."

thank you so much! have a lovely lovely day <3

heyy honey!! congratulations on 200 <33 and I love love ur idea but I'm currently not taking requests!! maybe in the future I'll definitely write this 🫂 and I think u are one of the most talented writers on here! 💋

different ― c. fisher

SUMMARY: For your entire life you'd been hoping that one day, somehow, Conrad Fisher would look at you as more than just a friend. Who knew all it would take was a shiny piece of metal through the side of your nose?

PAIRING: conrad fisher x fem!reader WARNINGS: mentions of piercings and blood.

You had been going to the beach house at Cousins your entire life. Your mom, Laurel, and Beck had been a trio ever since they were nine years old. They'd dressed up as the Powerpuff Girls, Donna and The Dynamos, and every possible trio costume you could imagine throughout the years. They went their separate ways, had kids, and lived their separate lives. But every summer they all found their way back to Cousins. You found your way back. To the beach, to the house, to your best friend Belly, and to the boys.

Steven was Belly's older brother ― smart and annoying as all get out. And then there was Jeremiah the jester. He was a sunbeam in human form the way he was always laughing and smiling and being the life of the party. To be around Jeremiah was to be happy. And finally there was Conrad. Not much to be said there; but, somehow, also everything.

Conrad was the oldest, and the only one younger than you was Belly ― and that was only by less than a year. But because of that, Conrad only ever looked at you like a little sister. And as you two got older, that label started to bother you. Maybe because you stopped seeing him as an older brother. Maybe even more than a friend. And that was the issue ― his perspective never changed.

But you didn't need to worry about that. Summers in Cousins were about having fun. And that's exactly what you were here to do.

Your mom's car pulled into the driveway, giving you the first chance to breathe in the salty beach air. You found yourself smiling ― real smiling. The kind you don't notice until it's already there.

The front door opened and Susannah stepped out, a giddy smile on her face. "You're here!" she shouted, throwing her arms out. Things like that were very Susannah. She was theatrical and fun and sweet. That was what everyone loved about her ― especially you.

She wrapped you up in a hug the moment you stepped out of the car. "Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed, holding you tightly.

"It's good to see you too." you responded, smiling and taking a deep inhale. She always smelled like Chanel perfume, the kind you always begged your mom to get you. She always said no and told you you'd never use it, which you had to admit was true; it was Susannah's trademark.

You looked over Susannah's shoulder and saw that everyone had already gotten there ― Steven, Belly, and Laurel stood on the porch by the stairs. Jeremiah appeared in the doorway a second later, a smile stretching onto his face as he bolted down the stairs to you.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and let go of Susannah so she could hug your mom. The moment you did he scooped you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "You're back, loser!" he shouted, almost like he was letting the entire neighborhood know.

"I can see that." you said with a laugh.

He set you back down, scanned your face, and frowned. He had found the nose piercing you had gotten over Christmas break. "Oh my God. What is this?" Jeremiah exclaimed, messing with the shiny object.

You laughed and cringed away. "Hey, stop! You're going to get it infected."

"I'm sorry, I'm just freaking out a little here," he laughed, "You look like a badass."

"I bet you cried like a baby while you got it though," Steven said, appearing at Jeremiah's side to pull you into a hug.

"Yeah, and it gushed blood like a fountain," you said, making a silly face and mimicked your nose pouring blood. Steven cringed away in disgust while Jeremiah laughed at him.

"You do look cool though," Belly said, giving you a hug too.

Belly let you go and, all of a sudden, there he was. Conrad stood a few feet behind the group in a hoodie and shorts. Same old Conrad. For a moment, the breath caught in your throat and time seemed to slow as you waited for him to say something.

But, as usual, Jeremiah beat him to it. He grabbed you by the shoulders as if to present you to Conrad. "Look at this! Our little Y/n is growing up so fast." he said, faking a sob. You elbowed him lightly in the gut, rolling your eyes at his antics. Now is not the time to be reinforcing the concept of 'little Y/n.'

Conrad's head tilted as he noticed the piercing. "It looks like you got a shiny piece of metal stuck to your face."

Very anti-climactic. So you just shrugged and played it off with another laugh. "Sounds weird when you put it like that, but, yeah, sure."

Another moment of awkward silence. You fiddled with the hem of your shorts.

"Aaaaaaand she looks amazing! Now that we've got that covered, let's get you guys settled in." Jeremiah said, taking a suitcase from your mom and pecking her on the cheek. Classic Jeremiah. He disappeared into the house with your stuff and you followed, not noticing as Conrad Fisher's eyes followed you through the doorway.

It had been a few days and Conrad had yet to say a word to you. Jeremiah had warned you over text that he had been especially moody the last couple of months, but you hadn't been expecting total radio silence. It was off-putting. When you were younger, you and Conrad would spend the entirety of dinner kicking each other under the table while the moms yelled at you to stop. Now he just stared down at his plate and didn't speak unless spoken to.

You would have been angry if you weren't worried. He'd quit football, something that he was really good at, and he seemed not to take interest in anything anymore. You'd walk into a room and he'd walk out, like he couldn't stand being around you anymore. It stung.

That night you laid starfish on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, running through the same monologue you had been repeating to yourself the whole week: what did I do wrong? With a huff, you got up, forcing yourself out of the spiral and into the closet, where you rummaged through your drawer of swimsuits until you found your favorite polka-dotted one. You traded them for your pajamas, grabbed a towel, and headed downstairs.

And, as you headed into the backyard for a late night wade through the pool, you discovered you weren't the only one with the same idea. Conrad sat at the edge of the pool, holding a smoking joint between two fingers. You both paused, noticing each other at the same time.

Then, you spoke. "Probably smart not to smoke in the house," you said, heading towards the pool, "although Laurel could probably catch you through the window."

He didn't respond, but he didn't protest as you sat down next to him. "And hey, what's this whole tough guy act you have going on, huh?" you continued.

"What?"

"You know, the whole brooding, emo thing you have going on. Where you don't talk to anyone and act like everything is a waste of your time," you said. "I still remember the Conrad that taught me how to add fractions and how to skateboard without breaking an ankle."

He blew out a puff of smoke. "That was years ago, Y/n."

"I know," you nodded. "I just wanted to remind you that you were nice once. And fun, too. And now you're like this whole other person that ― "

"This is about me being different?" Conrad asked, his voice rising slightly. "You're the one who showed up with dyed hair and a nose piercing."

Your eyebrows raised, an involuntary scoff escaping your lips before you could stop it. "Seriously? This is about my nose piercing? Look, if it makes you feel any better, I got it while I was drunk at a party in my friend's bathroom. Does that make you feel better, Conrad?"

"That's it, though. It feels like last summer you were putting seaweed in your hair and calling yourself George Washington. And now you're getting drunk at parties and piercing your nose?" he paused, his voice suddenly becoming solemn. "I always knew that things would change. I just never guessed it would be you."

You paused. This wasn't at all what you were expecting. But he was right ― you had changed, whether you noticed it or not. "Okay, so I've changed. Why does that give you an excuse to avoid me like the plague?"

"It doesn't. I'm sorry," he said, and you believed him. "I've just spent my whole life looking at you like...like little Y/n, the kid who dives for hermit crabs and makes kingdoms out of sand castles. And now you're different."

You hadn't noticed your breathing quicken, or your hands starting to shake. "Good different?" you asked, feeling your heart start to pound in your chest.

Conrad turned to you, his hand reaching up to the side of your face, his thumb reaching up to brush over the piercing on the side of your nose. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Good different."

𝙒𝙃𝘼𝙏'𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙄𝙏𝘾𝙃 ?

𝙂𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙄𝙀 ! she/her. nineteen. bisexual. writer. student. taurus.

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𝙏𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎

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𝙍𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙎

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Okay but can I get a Wednesday x reader on how her and Wednesday argue when it gets really bad💕 maybe reader walks out and they both make up after giving each other space

𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 -> w. addams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi yes???? I love this so much?????? Healthy relationships?????? Thank you so much for your wonderful words???? But seriously I love this kind of angsty fluff stuff fr...this is how I survive in this cruel, cruel world HAHA. Also I'm pretty sure I've used the phrase "thaw her frozen heart" in a Wednesday fic before, but oh well! I'm a sucker for stuff like that. Hope you enjoy this one! I'm really proud of this :') (Also peep the little gif paragraph break thingie I made on Photoshop...I'm a little too proud of it...)

PAIRING: wednesday addams x gn!reader WARNINGS: arguing

ARGUING WITH WEDNESDAY ADDAMS IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. She's as sadistic as they come, even when not mildly discontented (which in Wednesday Speak is as close as you can get to happy), and she never backs down from a fight. And, though a lot of Wednesday's sharp edges become a bit dull around you, that doesn't mean that she'll let you win an argument.

"You can't just endanger someone's life because they bother me, Wednesday!" you shouted. That particular argument was nasty — while you and Wednesday fit together seamlessly most of the time, she occasionally did things that you just couldn't agree with.

This time Wednesday's target had been Leah. Leah was one of the Scales, and one of the more insufferable ones at that. For the past week or so, Leah had for some reason chosen you as the target of her constant torture. She tripped you during class, used her siren song to make you humiliate yourself in front of the school, and on one occasion even managed to push you down the main staircase without anyone around her seeing. Wednesday had seen, of course. Wednesday always saw.

So she concocted a plan: she sent Leah a fake letter in her boyfriend's handwriting, telling her to meet him at a very specific location in the woods near Nevermore. As expected, Leah took the bait and made her way deep into the woods after dark. Instead of finding her boyfriend there, she was met with a pack of hungry wolves — and she quickly noticed that someone had sewn raw meat into the pockets of her clothing.

Leah returned to school half an hour later — out of breath, scratched around the ankles, and terrified. Wednesday watched her return with a smug grin — all it took was one look at her and you knew instantly this had been her doing.

Wednesday hadn't really expected you to be pleased (she had made peace with the fact that you two had very different moral codes), but she certainly hadn't expected you to react like this. "I only inflict pain upon people who deserve it," she said, her monotone voice never wavering in resolve, "and Leah deserved it."

"You don't get to decide that!" you said, rage curling your hands into fists.

"Would you rather be pushed around and ridiculed for the rest of the semester?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat constricted and tears rushed to your waterline before you could get a word out. You paused, taking in a breath and willing your voice to steady. "I don't need you to fight my battles, Wednesday. If you can't respect that, then..." you trailed off, not quite sure where you were going next. Then maybe this isn't going to work out. You stopped yourself just short of putting the end in sight, not wanting to say something you didn't really believe and might regret later. Instead, you bit down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. You blinked the tears away as you took one last look at Wednesday's stoic face and walked out, slamming the door to her dorm room behind you.

Wednesday watched you go with a bitter taste on her tongue — and not the kind she liked. You had had your arguments in the past, but you had never walked out on her. Unlike Wednesday, you were a stickler for talking things out right then and there, clearing the air before things got too ugly. But this time it had been too much. She had been too much.

Thing crawled onto the desk, having heard the entire argument. Wednesday turned sharply. "What do you want?" she snapped.

"I hope you're going to fix this."

"Why? Clearly they don't care enough to stay and have it out. Why should I be the one to piece things back together?"

Thing said nothing, but sat there in a way that said, Really?

Wednesday grit her teeth. "You're very passive aggressive for a hand."

"You're one to talk," Thing tapped back, "and ouch. Don't you think they might've needed some space?"

Wednesday paused. She hadn't thought of that, actually — not that she'd ever let Thing know that. "Fine then," Wednesday conceded. "What do you suggest?"

And, for once, Wednesday took someone else's advice.

She gave you the space you needed. For the next day and a half you received total radio silence from Wednesday. She still took her seat next to you in class, but she kept as far away from you as possible and didn't attempt conversation — not that Wednesday could ever endure small talk.

Eventually you were so unnerved by her behavior that you spoke to her, leaning over and keeping your voice to a whisper beneath Thornhill's lesson. "Wednesday? What are you doing? Are you alright?" you asked.

"I'm giving you space," she said, not meeting your eye. The words sounded unnatural in her voice. "Thing suggested it," she added quickly.

You sat back in your chair, a perplexed crease forming between your brows. This was very un-Wednesday like behavior. You weren't upset of course, just surprised. Not only at the fact that Wednesday was willingly giving you the space you needed, but that she actually took advice from Thing. It made your heart give a little flutter as you attempted to focus back on the lesson.

Wednesday never paced, but she had never been closer to doing it than she was that evening. She skipped dinner with the intention of writing her novel, but found herself staring at a blank page, unable to write a thing. Rain pounded the large stained glass window on the opposite side of the room. She had never suffered from writer's block before. This was excruciating, and not in a good way. She let out a slow breath, and finally something snapped. That's it.

She got up and strode to the door of her dorm with the intention of meeting you in the courtyard and demanding that you settle your argument from two nights ago, a crack of thunder scoring her sudden outburst. But just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, she heard a knock.

You stood out in the hallway, shivering and soaked with rain, your blazer wrapped tightly around you. The greeting you had prepared was quickly tossed away as you gave a sudden sneeze, a shiver running down your spine. You looked back at Wednesday and the words died on your tongue.

Instantly she pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you and getting one of Enid's fuzzy (revolting) blankets to wrap around your shoulders. Wednesday didn't often have these, God forbid, motherly urges very often, but again, a lot of things about Wednesday changed when she was around you. And the sight of you shaking in the cold on her doorstep was enough to thaw her frozen heart.

Once she was satisfied that you were slowly being warmed up, she stepped back, letting you dry the rain droplets from your cheeks and hair. Thing subtly crawled onto the desk and Wednesday saw it subtly sign out of the corner of her eye: "Talk."

Wednesday set her lips in a grim line. This was the part she always had trouble with. "Y/n —"

"I know you were just trying to protect me, Wednesday," you cut her off quickly. "I know that now, and I appreciate it. I didn't like what Leah was doing, and I know you didn't either, but I needed to try and figure out how to fix it in my own way first. I know that you want to look out for me, but I'm capable of fighting my own battles. I need you to tell me that you understand that."

Wednesday paused. And now she understood. This was what you had been trying to say the night of the argument — you just hadn't been able to get the words out right. Space. Space had allowed you to understand what you needed to say and what you needed to hear. Wednesday understood that now — and more importantly, she could respect it. "I understand," she said, "and I'm sorry."

You almost gasped. Wednesday rarely apologized for the things she did, especially to the people she did them to. But this was genuine.

She continued, "I don't regret what I did to Leah, but I do regret that it hurt you."

You nodded in understanding.

"I don't like seeing the people I love get hurt."

All at once you felt tears rushing to your eyes. Not the bad kind. You pushed them away with a hard swallow, sniffing. "I love you too, Wednesday," you said. "And I promise that if my way of fixing something doesn't work, you'll be the first person I call."

Wednesday felt a rush of something then, something that flushed in her cheeks and almost drew the corners of her lips up. She struggled to stifle it, but every glance at your rosy face made her that much more willing to surrender to it.

"Can I give you a hug?" you asked. You and Wednesday had reached a point where you could hug her without asking first, but you liked to get the clarification every once in a while.

Once you received a brisk nod, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her and enveloping both of you in Enid's thick purple blanket. Wednesday wrapped her arms around your waist, letting herself bury her head in your shoulder. She allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of being wrapped up with you, holding you tightly and knowing that you were together.

The storm continued to rage outside, but you two were warm and safe in the knowledge that, when you were together, there was nothing that couldn't be fixed.

Hi so wednesday addams promt 10,40

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oooooo first prompt exciting exciting!! Thank you so much, hope you enjoy it!

CHARACTER: WEDNESDAY ADDAMS — WEDNESDAY (2022) PROMPT #10: "Hey! Hey, it was just a nightmare. You're okay. I'm right here." PROMPT #40: Going to sleep

PROMPT #10 — FIC WARNINGS — NIGHTMARES, FEELINGS OF FEAR, PASSING MENTION OF MURDER

Wednesday often dreamed about murder, so when you woke up screaming it took her a second to follow.

She shot straight up from her stoic sleeping position (flat on her back, arms crossed over her chest like she'd been laid to rest in a tomb — what a dream), her dark eyes snapping open instantly to see you thrashing around and screaming in terror.

She shot straight up from her stoic sleeping position (flat on her back, arms crossed over her chest like she'd been laid to rest in a tomb — what a dream), her dark eyes snapping open instantly to see you thrashing around and screaming in terror.

"Y/n. Y/n!" she said, trying to wake you up. She swiftly dodged a flying fist that came her way and moved quickly to stop you from hurting yourself admist all the thrashing. Wednesday knew all about nightmares — she'd had the pleasure of having many throughout her lifetime — but something about the terrified look on your face tried to melt its way through her frozen heart.

"Hey!" she said, and you stopped thrashing, your eyes widening when you realized you had woken up. You looked around yourself, eyes scanning the room, the bed, and then finally turning to Wednesday. When you saw her concerned look, the screams melted away and they were replaced by hot tears rolling down your face. And, to your immense surprise, Wednesday wrapped a comforting arm around you to pull you closer. "Hey, it was just a nightmare. You're okay. I'm right here."

For a moment you allowed Wednesday to hold you as the fear faded away. Then, processing, you were so thrown off by her comforting words and tone of voice that you nearly giggled through the tears. "If I didn't know any better, Wednesday, I'd think you were a big softie sometimes."

Wednesday stayed stoic as she brushed a hand through your hair. "Tell anyone about it and I'll become your worst nightmare."

PROMPT #40 — HEADCANON WARNINGS — NONE

Going to bed with Wednesday is a one-of-a-kind experience.

For example, her nightly skin routine consists of merely powdering her face in order to further "emulate the dead."

It's not very often that you can force a sheet mask onto her, but you try your best.

Okay, it only happened once, and it was only after you said that the sheet made her look a little like Jason Voorhees. Then she agreed to keep it on for a few minutes.

Also, Wednesday likes it cold.

Like, morgue freezer cold.

So you always bundle yourself up in blankets and sheets whereas she only needs one to sleep comfortably through the night.

She also likes to keep it pitch dark, so all blinds are drawn tight and all lights are turned off

Now Wednesday likes to sleep on her back with her arms crossed over her chest like she's been... you know, buried.

But if you're the cuddling type, she'll maybe allow you to rest a head on her shoulder. If you're lucky

And if she's in an especially good mood, she'll wrap an arm around you.

All in all, going to sleep with Wednesday is always dark and cold, just how she likes it.