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Fox - Chapter 5

Previously on Fox:

The boy peaks his head out from under the bed to look at the woman. Her eyes were dull, and her hair disheveled. She was wearing an American Air Force outfit, and the boy wonders why she is in Sokovia.

Seeming to notice the boy’s gaze on her, (Y/n), groaning in pain, rolls over and stands up, limping over to the bed. She crouches down in front of the bed, her muscles screaming in protest.

“Быть осторожным!” Look out! The boy calls and (Y/n) throws herself in front of the bed, shielding the two kids from the third shell.

3rd Person POV

But it didn’t blow.

“Oh my god,” (Y/n) murmurs staring at the words written on the side of the shell.

Stark Industries

It took two days to rescue the three from the ruined apartment.

Each shift in the rubble, (Y/n) thinks that the shell would blow, and (Y/n) was too exhausted to absorb more energy from another bomb.

(Y/n) and the twins - who told her - who were named Wanda and Pietro, had begun to bond over the two days.

It was a good thing that (Y/n) was able to speak Russian, because the twins were’re really fluent in English.

When the three finally are rescued, the twins wouldn’t leave (Y/n)’s side.

“Sammy!” (Y/n) calls out when she sees an African American man running towards her, wrapping her in a hug.

“(Y/n)! Are you okay?” Sam asks, looking his partner up and down for injuries.

Wanda leans up against (Y/n) for comfort, looking up at the large man in front of her.

“Who are these two adorable kiddos?” Sam asks, bending down to smile at Wanda who hides behind (Y/n).

“This is Wanda,” (Y/n) gestures to the girl, “And Pietro,” she gestures to the boy. “I think their parents died from the first shell.” (Y/n) explains and Sam stands back up.

“I feel really bad because I can’t take them home with me and they don’t have any parents,” (Y/n) murmurs to Sam.

“Where’s Riley?” (Y/n) then asks Sam and he looks down sadly.

“Some idiot shot him out of the sky on our last mission,” Sam says and (Y/n)’s eyes widen in horror. “There was nothing I could do,” Sam continues as if (Y/n) was going to be angry at him.

“Sam, it’s not your fault,” (Y/n) whispers as tear streaks down Sam’s cheek.

“(Y/n),” Wanda says, pulling on the hem of (Y/n)’s Air Force uniformed shirt.

(Y/n) turns around to see some men in black suits walking towards her, Sam, and the twins.

“Все будет хорошо.” It will be alright. (Y/n) tells the kids and they relax against her.

“Hello, ma'am, sir,” the man in front says to (Y/n) and Sam. “I understand that you were in the building when the shells hit?” the man asks (Y/n).

“Yes sir,” (Y/n) says respectfully.

“Are these you’re kids?” the man asks looking down at Wanda and Pietro.

“No sir,” (Y/n) answers, the twins gripping on tighter to (Y/n) as the man looks at them.

“We’ll, were here to take them somewhere to find a new home,” the man says.

“(Y/n), о чем они говорят?” (Y/n), what are they talking about? Pietro asks.

“Они здесь, чтобы отвезти тебя в новый дом.” They’re here to take you to a new home. (Y/n) tells the twins and they look up at her.

(Y/n) gets down on one knee and kneels in front of the kids, like she had done two days before. “Мы еще увидимся когда-нибудь,” We will see each other again, someday. (Y/n) tells the twins, a tear streaking down her dirt stained face.

Wanda looks up into (Y/n)’s gentle (E/C) eyes and jumps into her arms and (Y/n) hugs her tightly, tears silently running down the (H/C) haired woman’s face.

“Я тебя никогда не забуду,” We will never forget you, Pietro vows, gently pulling his sister off (Y/n).

(Y/n) wraps her arms around the boy, “Заботься о своей сестре, хорошо?” Look after your sister for me, alright? (Y/n) asks Pietro and he nods.

(Y/n) stands up and stands beside Sam as the men lead the twins away, both of them sending fleeting looks at (Y/n) over their shoulder as they leave.

Sam wraps an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulder and leads her towards a jet to take her back to America.

Word Count: 800 words

This one’s a little shorter, but I think I think the length of the next chapter should make up for it.

How are you guys liking the story line so far? I don’t think that I’ve ever seen anyone write an Avengers Reader Insert like this before, so I’m really excited to know if you guys like it.

The next chapter, heads up, is really freaking awesome!

See y'all!

Love,           Kaitlynn 😍❤️

I've got you (Yelena Belova x Reader) | Part 1

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: When you break up with your girlfriend she get's violent, you run out and end up at your best friend Natasha's house, but are met with Yelena.

Word count: 1177

Warnings: breakup, unhealthy relationship (shortly mentioned), slight violence (hitting) and I think that's it.

A/n: Welcome to a new mini series, I'm thinking it will be four or five parts. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

You were waiting for your girlfriend on the couch of your shared apartment. Today was the day, you’ve been working on what to say, you had to end this relationship. All it did was make you unhappy.

Finally you heard the front door being unlocked. You asked your girlfriend Kelly to come sit with you and told her that you weren’t happy anymore and that you wanted to break up. Instead of talking to you about it she got up and started yelling. You got up too, trying to calm her down. That didn’t work. Instead of calming down Kelly just punched you in the face.

That was the last straw, you ran for the door, grabbed your coat and left.

You ended up at your best friend’s house. You knocked on the door with tears streaming down your face. The door opened, it wasn’t Nat, but her sister standing in the doorway. You quickly wiped your tears away. You had met Yelena before, but you didn’t really know the girl.

“Uhm hi Yelena, is Nat home?” you asked, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. “No, sorry. She left on a mission, she should be back tomorrow morning. Is everything okay, do you want to come in?” The blonde asked opening the door further, definitely noticing your bloodshot eyes.

You walked in and plopped down on the couch, you kicked your shoes off and brought your legs up to your chest. Now Yelena definitely knew something was not okay. She walked over to you and put a hand on your shoulder, you flinched at the contact. Yelena pulled her hand away and quickly apologized.

She got up to make you some tea. Noticing how you were shivering on the couch. You had walked all the way from your apartment to Natasha’s, which was about a thirty minute walk, and it was really cold outside. She came back with two cups, gave you one and sat down next to you with her own.

The two of you sat in silence sipping your teas. Tears brimming in your unfocussed eyes. Yelena wanted to know what was hurting you, but didn’t want to intrude. Once you finished your tea, you put the cup down on the table.

“I-I couldn’t take it anymore” you said softly, tears now rolling down your cheeks “and then she just hit me” you cried out, leaning into Yelena needing the comfort. Yelena wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight “you’re safe now y/n, I’ve got you”. You cried into her arms, Yelena rubbing your back.

Once you felt a bit better you detached yourself from Yelena “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, we barely know each other” you say. “Hey look at me, you have nothing to be sorry about” Yelena ensures.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” you nod and tell her about how you had been unhappy in your relationship for a while now and how you wanted to break up. How you told Kelly and how she responded. You told her how you ran out because you were scared that she might hurt you again. And that you didn’t dare to go back. “oh no, you’re staying here. I know it’s not my place, but I’m sure my sister would say the same thing.” she said “Tomorrow Nat and I are coming with you to pick up your stuff.” You look at her with an appreciative smile “thank you Yelena.”

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” the blonde asked, you shook your head. I could make us some spaghetti, I think we have all the ingredients” she offered. “Spaghetti sounds good.”

While Yelena was making dinner you excused yourself to go wash your face in the bathroom. You came back wearing on of Natasha’s hoodies as you were still a bit cold.

You had dinner with Yelena, getting to know each other. It turned out the two of you had quite a lot in common. She told you she was staying with her sister for a couple of months, since the lease on her apartment was suddenly ended by her landlord. When dinner was finished you helped with the dishes.

“Do you want to watch that movie you talked about?” Yelena asked. You smiled and said yes. You had told Yelena about your comfort movie. The two of you settled on the couch, underneath a big blanket. Yelena started Netflix and put on Pitch Perfect. After finishing the first movie, Yelena started the second one. You started to feel tired and rested your head on Yelena’s shoulder. You dozed off pretty quickly after that.

Yelena wrapped an protective arm around your shoulder as she continued to watch the movie. She fell asleep before the movie ended as well.

The next morning around seven Natasha walks into her apartment, hearing loud noises coming from the living room. It sounded like a movie. She frowns, her sister isn’t much of a morning person so why would she be watching a movie at seven in the morning?

She walks into the living room to investigate. There she finds the both of you asleep under the big blanket with a movie still playing on the screen.

She grabs the remote and turns off the tv, since nobody is watching and the sound was way too loud. The absence of sound awakens Yelena. When she sees her sister with a confused look on her face, she gently takes her arm away from you. Placing you against the back of the couch, careful to not wake you up.

Yelena nudges Natasha to walk over to the kitchen with her. “What’s going on?” Natasha asks, still confused. As far as she knew you and Yelena had only met once shortly, so why were you here and cuddled up with her sister?

“She came here last night looking for you. She broke up with Kelly and when she did Kelly hit her.” Yelena explained. Natasha’s blood started to boil “is she okay?” Yelena nodded “yeah but she’s scared to go back, so I told her she could stay here and that you and I would go with her to get her stuff today.”

“Thank you for being there for her Yel” Natasha said with a smile.

You woke up from the chatter in the other room. You got up and followed the sound. When you entered the kitchen your eyes met with Nat’s, she walks up to you and gives you a tight hug. “Yelena told me what happened. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, are you okay?” She asks. “Yeah, I’m okay. And it’s alright, Yelena kept me company.”

“We’ll get your stuff and then you will never have to see her again, I promise.” Nat reassures you. “I know you want to kill her for hurting me, but don’t you dare get all assassin on her okay. I never want to see her again, but not like that.” You say in a serious tone, knowing your best friend all too well.

Main taglist:

@yellowvxbes​ ~ @xxromanoffxx​ ~ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​

Yelena x reader taglist:

@ailenepuff​

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my works! :)

I've got you (Yelena Belova x Reader) | Part 2

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: When you break up with your girlfriend she get’s violent, you run out and end up at your best friend Natasha’s house, but are met with Yelena.

Word count: 1180

Part 1 | Part 2

A couple hours later the three of you step out of Yelena’s truck, in the parking lot of your apartment complex. “Are you ready?” Natasha asks you. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With that the three of you walk into the building. In front of your door you grab your keys. Yelena sees how much your hands are shaking and offers to open the door for you. You give her your keys. Natasha walks in first, seeing your hesitation.

You are immediately met with Kelly storming towards you. Yelena steps in front of you so she can’t get to you. “Back off” Natasha scolds “we’re here to get y/n’s stuff and then she never wants to see you again, understood?” Kelly nods, actually looking kind of scared at the expression on Natasha’s face. “Good now, why don’t you give us some space. Come back in an hour and we will be gone. Yelena give her the key.” Kelly grabs the key and walks out. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Come on, let’s get your stuff” Yelena says, giving your shoulder squeeze.

You load up the trunk bed of Yelena’s car and your own small car. As all your stuff is now packed you get ready to leave. “Guys, I don’t think I should be driving” you look down at your trembling hands. “Here, give me your keys. I’ll drive your car back” Nat says holding up her hands.

You get into the passenger seat of Yelena’s truck, as the passenger side of your car is packed.

Back at Natasha’s house, the three of you unload your stuff and put it in the second guest bedroom. “why don’t you move in permanently?” Natasha says while putting the last bag of your stuff down in the room. “Are you sure?” you say, liking the idea. “Yeah of course, I love having you around y/n.” And with that it’s settled.

---

Hey guys, I have to head back to the compound. Fury just called me in for my debriefing. I’ll be back before dinner.” Natasha says grabbing the keys and her helmet for her motorbike. “Feel free to rearrange the room however you please y/n.”

Yelena asked if you wanted help unpacking, you thanked her for her offer but said you wanted to do that on your own. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room playing video games.”

You start to unpack your clothes first. The arrangement of the bedroom actually worked for you, so you didn’t have to move any furniture. You’d like to put on some shelves for your books and decorations, you’d ask Nat about that later. When you put everything away you head to the living room.

Yelena was so focused on her game that she didn’t hear you walk in. She’s playing some shooting game. “Take that, dipshit” she says under her breath as she shot one of the bad guys. You chuckle, which made her snap around. “Oh sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. I can turn in off, it’s kind of an aggressive game” the blonde say. “Oh no, it’s fine. Mind if I watch?” She doesn’t mind and you sit down on the couch, intensely watching the screen. “You’re good, can you teach me?” You ask after the screen showed that Yelena had won.

Yelena gave you a controller and told you what all the buttons did. By the time Natasha came back you were pretty good. You were both playing the game now and crushing the other team. Both cheering loudly as the screen told you that you won.

You see Nat walk in and smiled. “Hey, how was the debriefing?” Yelena asked knowing how much Nat hated them. “the usual” Natasha said settling into the arm chair.

“Wanda and I are going out for dinner tonight, you two should come along.” Natasha offered. “You want us to join you on your date with Wanda?” you asked with a confused look on your face. “Oh come on, it will be fun. Plus it wouldn’t be a date, just us having dinner with friends. She insisted I asked you two to come along.”

An hour later you step out of Natasha’s car in front of a restaurant. The three of you walk in, meeting Wanda at one of the booths. You each greet Wanda. Natasha hugs her girlfriend and kisses her cheek. Yelena gives her a hug. You give her a hug as well as you say “Hey Wands, good to see you again.”

You all order your food and drinks and start all kinds of conversations. “omg babe do you hear that” Wanda says with bright eyes “it’s our song! Come dance with me” Nat gets up and offers her hand to Wanda. Wanda gladly takes it and they walk over to the small dance floor a few tables away, swinging to the song.

“They are so adorable” you say looking at your friends. “Agreed. Never did I ever imaging little tough Natasha, dancing in a room full of people only having eyes for one person.” Yelena noted. You both kept looking at the happy couple. When a guy walked up to your booth “Ladies, I see you looking at the dance floor. Do either one of you want to dance with me?” he asked.

“Sorry, but you’re not really either of our type, so no” Yelena said. “Oh come on, how can I not be your type?” the guy tried. “hm how about the fact that you’re a guy and we’re both into women.” Yelena responded, earning a chuckle from you. With an “oh” the guy luckily gave up.

“Well, that was…something” you laughed. Yelena laughed with you. An idea popped into her head and she smirked “Hey I see you looking at the dance floor, do you want to dance with me?” she said as she stood up and held out her hand. “Hm well since I am into woman and you are a woman, how could I say no.” you put your hand in hers and she leads you to the dance floor.

Right as you step onto the dance floor the song changes to a slow one and the couples around you move closer together. “Oh eh, we don’t have to dance to this song” Yelena says, looking back at the booth. You step closer to the blonde “we don’t have to, but I would like to.” Yelena’s eyes meet yours as she steps closer to you as well.

You put your arms around her neck, she rests hers just above your hips. You dance in a comfortable silence, enjoying the music and each other. You rest your head on her shoulder. Her hands wrap around your back. Another slow song plays and you keep swaying to the music.

Once the song comes to an end you remove your head from Yelena’s shoulder. Your eyes meet, your head inches away from hers. You take a deep breath and step back “we eh we should head back to the table.”

Main taglist:

@yellowvxbes ~ @xxromanoffxx ~ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx ~ @wandanatvoid ~ @wandaswifeyforlifey ~ @marvelwomen-simp​

Yelena x reader taglist:

@ailenepuff​

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my works! :)

—ADRONITIS | One

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday's quite aware she has no people skills, but that doesn't stop her from wondering why she can't know everything about one person immediately.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 1.9k

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Adronitis: noun. The frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

Everyone who knows Wednesday can confidently say she's not a people person, and even Wednesday herself can tell you she's not. People are strange, annoying, emotional creatures that she's fairly certain she lacks a particular trait to handle. 

Of course, some individuals have unfortunately made it past her prickly walls. Her roommate and begrudgingly best friend, Enid, can be tolerated in longer spurts. Eugene is just another Pugsley, so she has to look after him. She supposes Xavier isn't dreadful to deal with. Now. 

Would Wednesday commit first-degree murder for them? Yes, but that's not the point. 

The point—what was the point? 

Wednesday internally huffs with annoyance. She's an articulate person, but lately, she isn't. 

Reluctantly, Wednesday's eyes trail to the side, where she sees her reason for inarticulation. 

"Ah, so this is why you're sitting in the courtyard today," Enid smiles innocently, but Wednesday can see the knowing look in her eyes and purses her lips in a scowl as her eyes return to her book. She's finally gotten her hands on Goody's spellbook, and she's been trying to finish reading it for weeks. 

But alas...she's been...distracted.

"I don't blame you," Enid sighs as she looks over to where Wednesday was just gazing. "Everyone's looking at our resident Faerie. I wish she'd sit at our table today."

Wednesday silently agrees but tells herself she didn't. But she did. It's been nearly a week since you've sat with their tiny group of weirdos. Heroes, but weirdos. 

Today, you're sitting with the fangs, and Wednesday just can't fathom why. She gets your little rotation schedule, but vampires were so overrated, and from the small conversations she's heard here and there—incredibly boring.

Who cares about their diet? Wednesday thinks they lack innovation if their only choices are humans or animals (because, quite frankly, another outcast could kick their ass).

Yet, you sit there, smiling serenely and nodding with genuine interest. You ask questions and laugh at their witless jokes, and it drives Wednesday crazy.

Wednesday doesn't understand your sense of humor. Although, no one understands Wednesday's sense of humor either. That's usually the pattern. Sometimes, it feels like you and she are two sides of the same coin. 

You're both very different at Nevermore. While you're both outcasts within the outcasts, it's not the same. Whereas Wednesday didn't understand people, and they didn't gravitate toward her, people seemed to argue for your time.

Hence, why you sat at a different lunch table every day. 

Wednesday's mind drifts as she frowns. There's little known about Faeries as they're usually recluses, and there are so few of them. Especially night faeries. 

But now, it makes her wonder. Are Faeries like sirens? Do they lure everyone in their proximity without choice? That would certainly make more sense on Wednesday, and it would explain her recent behavior. 

Wednesday frowns deeper. Principal Weems has already sternly told others that while the Faeries are extremely beautiful and charming, they have no such powers. 

So, Wednesday was at a loss. She was beginning to think this school was designed to be the bane of her existence. Unwillingly, her gaze drifted again, but this time, you turned your head simultaneously and caught her eye.

You smile soft and sincere but unobtrusively at her, and Wednesday looks away, her face impassive. 

It wasn't unusual. 

This was exactly how all her interactions with you went. Very often, no words are exchanged, but you smile and wave at her as you pass by in the hallways. You greet her warmly when you sit at their table or in class. 

"Your unhappy face is showing," Enid points out, a slight upward quirk on her lips as she bites into her sandwich.

"This is always my face," Wednesday deadpans. 

"No, it's not," Enid shakes her head confidently. If there's one thing Enid can say, she stares at Wednesday a lot, so she knows her roommate very well. "You tilt your chin down and glare through your eyebrows more than look through them. It's very protruding," Enid points directly at Wednesday's eyebrow and forehead. "See? Unhappy face."

Xavier is looking at her through his apple, using it to shield how he's holding back his laughter as he grins at her. 

Wednesday relaxes her brows, her eyes becoming less narrow before she raises her brow at Enid. "Then what face is this?" The werewolf ponders her roommate's face and then sighs like she's been chastised. 

"General distaste," Enid mutters, but then she brightens as she looks up. "Oh, Fae is coming over here!" 

"Why do you insist on calling her that when she has a name?" Wednesday asks. You never seem mad about it, and it's not like Wednesday would care if people walked around calling her witch instead of Wednesday, but it's another thing she doesn't understand.

"Hm," Enid hums. "I guess it just became a nickname when she came. I mean, I guess it's kind of weird to call someone by their creature name...should we try to come up with a new one for her?"

"Whatcha guys talking about?" You smile as you approach. You've got a grape lollipop in your mouth given to you by one of the shapeshifters. Xavier and Eugene move over so you can sit down, directly facing Wednesday. "Hi, Wednesday," you say her name so casually, staring at her until Wednesday nods in acknowledgment. 

She's tense as she grips the edge of her book tightly. Her eyes are steadfastly attached to the pages even if she's not reading them. 

"We're talking about how everyone started to call you Fae," Enid grins, her smile wide and excited, but then frowns. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

You hum for a long moment, a sound that Wednesday hangs onto. She can see you through her peripherals. You seem in deep thought, and Wednesday can't understand why it's taking you so long to decide whether it bothers you. She wants to tell you to hurry it up so she—they can have the answer.

"I supposed it started when one of the psychics saw me in person, and all he could stutter out was 'Fae' over and over," you shrug.

"Feeble-minded," Wednesday mutters, and you smirk at her, and now she's wondering what exactly that could mean. 

"It doesn't bother me," you continue on. "I mean, I guess it's fine since there are no other faeries at the school, but it might be confusing when there are. I can't exactly go around calling on a person wolfy when that could be any of the werewolves here."

They all nod, except Wednesday.

"We should try to find a new nickname for you!" Eugene exclaims, emboldened by your friendliness to him. "How about nightcrawler!"

"As enchanting as that is, I'm going to have to veto that one," you give him a wry smile. He slumps in defeat while Xavier gives in a pat on the back.

"Oh," Enid squeals excitedly, and Wednesday shirk and winces at the sound. "We could all try to find a new nickname for you until we get the right one!"

"And why should we if Fae says it doesn't bother her?" Xavier asks as he turns over and gives you what Wednesday believes he thinks is a boyish smile. 

"Spoken like a true simpleton," Wednesday cut in, still not looking up. "Will that be your new nickname?"

"Ouch," Xavier laughs, the insult falling off his back. Although, he doesn't doubt that's his contact name on Wednesday's phone. "Alright, I get it. Fine, the person who gets their nickname chosen gets Fae's number. How's that?" He looks over to you, and Wednesday snaps her head up, finally to look at you too. 

You seem pensive. Another thing Wednesday knows but doesn't understand. It's getting irritating with how many things are adding up that Wednesday wants to know now and can't. 

Nobody in the school has your number though they all see you on your phone as you stroll down the hallway. Wednesday has heard you turning people down when they ask for your number, citing how there've been too many requests, and the number of texts or calls you'd get would be too overwhelming. So, now it's been an unspoken rule between the school that no one gets your number if they cannot all have it. 

You peer over at Wednesday, and she doesn't flinch away from your gaze. She refuses to lose whatever staring game you've created.

"Okay," you acquiesce, staring at Wednesday for a moment longer before standing up. "I'll see you guys in class. I'm going to see if the shapeshifters have more grape lollipops. They're my favorite."

Grape lollipops are your favorite. Is it just the lollipop, or is it grape in general?

"Well, this should be fun," Enid bounces her seat before she looks at Eugene. "I'm going to have to say it's looking unlikely for you, bud."

"I have more ideas!" Eugene protests.

"Never accept defeat," Wednesday looks back at her book, inwardly frowning when she's still on the same page she's been trying to read for the last 20 minutes. "Would be an acceptable suggestion for me. Accept defeat in this case, Eugene."

There's more bickering at the table while Enid bumps her shoulder against Wednesday. "So? Are you going to try to come up with something and get Fae's number?" 

"No, it's a trivial matter. Why would I want it? The only time I ever use my phone is when you've dragged me into your 24/7 addiction and Xavier cries for my attention."

"I do NOT cry—"

"So, I have no need for it."

Plus, would you expect her to text you if she had your number? Would she even want to text you? Wednesday supposes it'd be an equal trade of information, so you'd have her number too. Should she expect you to text her?

Wednesday glances in her peripheral and sees you with another lollipop as you sit with the shapeshifters. You've got an apple in your hand, but you look at it blandly. 

Not a fan of apples, then?

Wednesday feels annoyance gnaw at her insides. It's not irregular for Wednesday to sometimes show interest in others. Knowing others is valuable information that can be used at a later date.

But why in the hell does it take so long to get to know someone? Why can't Wednesday just know all your deep, dark secrets first and then make her way out to the trivial things?

"What a shame," Enid sighs casually, looking straight ahead, but her eyes tilt to the side to stare at her gloomy roommate. "I think having a phone and texting is great! It's way faster to get to know someone over text since you can always be in communication. You know what else is a thing? At 2AM, people lower their guard down, and they're more likely to spill secrets."

Wednesday slams her book shut, standing up and leaving briskly.

Research is needed. Her father has few skills, but one of them is coming up with nicknames. That skill should undoubtedly pass on to her. 

Wednesday glances at you as she walks out of the courtyard. You look over at her and smile with a wave before turning back to your conversation.

Defeat is not in Wednesday's vocabulary. She will beat the constraints of time and know everything there is to know in haste. There will be victory, and it will be hers.

PART TWO

—MONACHOPSIS | TWO

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday has never cared about belonging somewhere. She does her own thing unapologetically. Yet, you’re over there, and she’s over here. It’s the first time she’s ever felt out of place.

Warnings: Jealous!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid enjoying it too much. Thing, the betrayer. Wednesday hating on Xavier, as per usual.

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3: Missmonsters2

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I really enjoyed writing this one. Soft 🥺

Part One

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Monachopsis: Noun. The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

There are very few things that make Wednesday Addams uncomfortable. She will certainly never let anyone know her full list, but there’s no hiding this one. Wednesday isn’t even sure what’s making her uncomfortable. 

It’s not the fact that she’s at a party held in the Siren’s common room. A part of her regrets letting Enid drag her to this, especially since the blonde left her almost immediately when she spotted her stoner boyfriend. But another part of her is thrilled by being here—because of you.

It’s slightly difficult to see you across. This party is not like the Rave'N Dance, chaperoned by adults and modest dancing. 

No. 

The lack of adults watching makes this a party of hormonal teenagers cramped in one space with dark lighting. The obligatory distance between people as they dance disappears, bodies grinding up on each other as the music plays so loud, Wednesday can feel the bass on her skin. 

So, it’s a little hard to see you across the room.

Wednesday clenches her jaw, her mind betraying her as she unwillingly wonders if she’s uncomfortable watching the sea of bodies—her peers—grinding up on each other or if it’s because you’re on the other side of the room, nowhere near her as you lean against the wall with a red solo cup in hand and talking to Bianca.

Even though you’re not following the masses in dancing, you look so mellow as you rest against the wall. You look like you belong. 

It’s too far, Wednesday distantly thinks.

You’re over there, and she’s over here. 

And for someone like Wednesday, who has never singularly cared about belonging anywhere, she feels—out of place. 

“Wednesday!" 

Arms wrap around her before she can move out of the way. It’s disheartening she’s so distracted, so clumsy, that Enid can ambush her.

"Enid,” Wednesday grouses, her brows furrowing as she tenses up but allows it in the end. 

“Sorry,” Enid pulls back, looking only slightly sheepish. “It’s just all so exciting! Why aren’t you joining in on the fun?”

Wednesday’s eyes peer past Enid’s shoulder to the mass of bodies. She can smell the sweat and practically feel the grime. “That’s torture,” Her eyes move back to Enid’s smiling face. “And not the kind I like.”

Enid doesn’t say anything; her eyes move to the side where the punch bowl is, and her boyfriend is getting her a drink of Yoko’s specialty virgin mix. His gaze finds her, and she waves at him as he gives her a warm smile. 

“I think,” Enid starts to say as her boyfriend returns to his task. “There’s something else you could do you might find fun.”

Enid is staring in the same direction as Wednesday, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. In the same line of vision, Xavier is sitting on the couch by his lonesome, looking broody as usual. 

“Keeping Xavier company isn’t my idea of fun either,” Wednesday dispassionately replies. 

“Not that!” Enid exasperatedly replies. “Go talk to Maleficent.”

“I see you’re struggling to find a new moniker.”

“It’s better than Xavier’s,” Enid mutters. “Besides, it’s not like we’re limited on tries. You’ve yet to come up with anything at all.”

Wednesday doesn’t reply to the comment. It’s not necessarily true, but everything she’s thought could be possible is strangely too…intimate. If she did inherit her father’s nicknaming skills, she cursed him for it. Of course, that skill would be limited to coming up with pet names. 

“Anyway, stop stalling,” Enid chastises. “Go save her from Bianca.”

“What makes you think she needs saving?” Wednesday’s eyes travel to your form again. You look perfectly content with whatever drivel Bianca is subjecting you to. 

Wednesday tries to keep her irritation in check. Bianca has been much more bearable since they saved the school, but the feeling of self-pity and rage plague her whenever she loses to Bianca still. 

Bianca looks over, smirking at Wednesday before she turns back to you. 

Wednesday is being plagued right now. 

Then, you’re looking at her. Your eyes look darker than usual in the oscillating lights. But still, as always, you smile sincerely but unintrusively at her. You give her a short wave before you turn back to Bianca. 

Something abnormal flares inside Wednesday’s stomach. Is she sick? Were her eyes being subjected to too many colors, and this was the reaction?

“Enid,” Wednesday calls her friend’s name with no inflection in her tone despite how uncomfortable she feels. “I’m unwell and not in the pleasant way. I’m going back to our room.”

“Oh no!” Enid immediately frowns, concerned for her friend, as she turns to face Wednesday fully. “What’s wrong? Are you catching a cold?”

“My intestines feel like they’re being wrung and twisted,” Wednesday reveals and then thoughtfully says, “It’s not as enjoyable as I thought it ’d be.”

“Why would you enjoy—never mind,” Enid sighs. “Was it something you ate or drank?”

“I eat the same thing as I do everyday,” Wednesday shakes her head. 

Enid hums as she trails Wednesday’s line of sight. Her eyes haven’t left your form once. 

“Did it come on suddenly?”

“Yes.”

“Is it still there?”

“Yes.”

“Is it better or worse?”

“Getting worse.”

Enid gently places her hands on Wednesday, being sure to move slowly, as Wednesday was still averse to having people touch her. Now, Wednesday was forced to look at her. 

“How about now?”

Wednesday doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes gaze down in thought before she looks back at Enid. “Interesting, Enid. It’s subsiding. Where did you learn this?”

Enid merely grins as she turns Wednesday back to her previous position. You were laughing at something Bianca was saying, and the way your head tilted back exposed the smoothness of your neck. If she strains her ears, Wednesday could probably even hear that melodic sound.

“How about now?”

“Enid,” Wednesday glares, the unpleasant feeling coming back immediately.

“Ah, well,” Enid releases her hands and places them behind her back. “Well, from my expert opinion, you’re not physically unwell. You have something called the butterflies!” Enid squeals. 

“Butterflies?” Wednesday repeats with a frown. 

“You know,” Enid grins. “The feeling you get in your stomach when you’re nervous or excited.”

“One, I’m never nervous,” Wednesday raises her brow. “Two, the only time I’m excited is when I’m winning, and others are suffering.” Wednesday’s eyes scan the room. “And the only one suffering here is Xavier and even that is merely amusing but not exciting.”

“Ah, well,” Enid smirks. “I guess you can add Faerie Berry to the list of things that excite you then.”

“That’s even worse than Maleficent,” Wednesday vacantly replies. 

“Ugh, shut up!” Enid scrunches her nose. “Just…just go talk to her!”

But Wednesday refuses. She already feels out of place, and you’re distracting her to the point where she can’t recognize the roar of her surroundings. 

Besides, the gruesome butterflies Enid so kindly (smugly) described to her was bound to worsen in your proximity. 

“I’m going back to the room,” Wednesday declares with finality. She doesn’t wait for Enid to try to convince her otherwise, turning on her heels and briskly walking away. 

The silence in her room loosens the tension in her shoulders, and she lets out a tiny puff of air. Wednesday changes her clothes, contemplating another night of playing the cello.

“Thing?” Wednesday calls out. It’d be useful if he could turn the sheets for her. But only silence answers her back. “Thing, you better not be hiding in Enid’s silk sheets again. You know it scares her if it’s unexpected and I won’t save you this time if she tries to throw you out the window.”

Wednesday takes a deep breath when she realizes that Thing isn’t in the room with her. Thing has been leaving and returning to the room at odd hours lately, and while she’s usually uninterested in what Thing is up to, she’s learned that he’s generally up to mischief that Wednesday ends up paying for.

Turning back on her heel, she leaves her room quietly and begins looking down the halls. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“I’m going to rip your nails out when I find you, Thing,” Wednesday pledges with quiet rage. She’s searched nearly everywhere and has yet to find any inkling of where he might be. She just finished checking the nurse’s office because Thing sometimes came in here to steal lotion.

Just as Wednesday’s about to go back to her room and see if Thing has already returned, something catches her eye at the corner. She carefully peers out the window and sees you stepping outside. You carefully look behind you, running your hand through your hair delicately before you walk off toward the forest.

Strange, Wednesday thought. She got a text from Enid that the party was still going on just minutes ago, and her roommate might not return for the night. Were you stepping out to get fresh air? Or were you meeting with someone? 

It doesn’t take Wednesday long to decide to follow after you. Her morbid sense of curiosity has won over, and quite frankly, following someone while at Nevermore has never failed to bring her something interesting. 

Wednesday takes her time; her footsteps light as she has to be careful when following you. Faeries have a keen sixth sense as you stop multiple times and turn around with a tilt of your head. She reminds herself that she’ll need to tell you that you need to listen to your instincts better.

Eventually, you stop in front of a tree. It’s as nondescript as it gets, blending in with other trees and the background. But you walk around it clockwise 2 times, then counterclockwise once before knocking on the truck 3 times before walking around the trunk clockwise. Wednesday expects to see you as you turn, but you don’t. 

Wednesday’s eyes gleam with interest as she steps out from the shadow and repeats exactly what you did. The scenery changes as she walks around the trunk clockwise the final time. For a moment, Wednesday thinks she’s having a vision, except it doesn’t jolt and incapacitate her like she’s touching livewire. 

The space before her has transformed into something Wednesday can’t quite describe. The air outside had been cool with the night taking over, but despite how it’s nighttime here as well, the air mimics the afternoon air of autumn. The fireflies are the only things that keep the place from total darkness other than the moon.

That’s all the time Wednesday has to take in her surroundings because something else captures her eyes, and she’s powerless to tear them away. 

You were sitting on the ground near a clear pond, and while the usual sight of you does ensnare Wednesday—this was different.

Obsidian wings hung from your back, initially held up as they fluttered before they dropped into a relaxed stance, the ends resting on the grass. 

And resting between your shoulder blades was—

Wednesday narrows her eyes.

Thing.

The way Thing jolted when he saw her jerked you into turning your head around. Shock was the first emotion to cross your face before you frowned, your wings tensing as they curled themselves around you protectively. 

You have never frowned at her before, and the sight of it curdles wretchedly in Wednesday’s stomach. 

“What is this place?” Wednesday asks, her curiosity winning over guilt.

“It’s like a studio…” you answer slowly. “Principal Weems let me have a private area created by fae magic. You can only pass through the veil by a sequence of actions.”

Wednesday nods, and then it’s silent again.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Wednesday finds herself saying, her face remaining blank to not betray how she feels. 

“Did you follow me?” You ask warily. 

Wednesday swallows. “I was—looking for Thing.”

You look at the hand on your shoulder as if you’re having some kind of silent conversation.

“Well,” Wednesday jerkily says. “Now that I see Thing is fine, I’ll go. I won’t speak about this matter.”

Just as Wednesday turns to leave, she hears your quick, but soft voice.

“No, it’s okay. You can stay…if you want.”

Wednesday turns back and feels a weird relief to see your wings have unfurled themselves from you back into their relaxed manner. You nod your head to take a seat next to you. It takes only a few strides to meet you, but as she sits down, Wednesday feels—out of place. Like she’s intruding on you and Thing.

Thing—that betrayer. 

Has he been sneaking out every night to see you? He very well knew that you were the object of her—curiosity.

And he’s been completely signless about you. 

“Sorry,” you say quietly. “I’m just not…” you sigh. “I get weird about people seeing my wings.”

“Why?” Wednesday deadpans as she stares out into the pond. “They’re a sight to behold. No shame in that.”

You give her a small smile but shake your head. “What do you know about faeries?”

“Very little, considering there are few books about your kind, and Weems seems unwilling to share anything except for the fact you don’t have anything like a siren’s song.”

“Why do you think I have something like a siren’s song?” You ask with a raise of your brow. 

Wednesday doesn’t answer.

You don’t seem offended by her lack of answer, merely chuckling as you pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. “The reason faeries are so recluse is because many of us have been hunted down for our wings.”

Wednesday turns her head to look at you, but you don’t meet her eyes. “Do your wings have magical properties?”

You nod. It’s quiet for a moment, and you seem hesitant by how your brows furrow before they relax. “If you can cut out both of a faerie’s wings, it can be used in a ritual to grant you one wish.”

Wednesday raises a brow, skeptical. “Any wish?”

You nod. “You’d be surprised how many of my kind have been slain for their wings used for depravity and then slain again to reverse the depravity done.”

But Wednesday’s face remains impassive since the idea that people are wretched and depraved doesn’t surprise her. 

“And what happens to the faeries that have their wings taken?" 

"They typically die,” you deadpan. “Faeries can’t survive without their wings.”

Silence falls over them again but only for a brief moment.

“Why did you tell me?” Wednesday asks, her eyes watching your face to catch any movement that would expose the truth. This was too important to reveal and left you vulnerable if Wednesday was interested in your wings. 

You turn to her, eyes trailing Wednesday’s face in the same studious manner. It’s strange how you can do something that is meant to be intrusive yet do it so unintrusively. 

“I think,” you say slowly, licking your lips to wet them, “you have no desire for your wishes to be granted in such a manner. It wouldn’t be satisfying for you.”

You look away, staring at the pond while Wednesday is left with the words to settle over her. 

“You are correct,” Wednesday nods. “I have no need for your wings. Anything I want, I can achieve by my own means.”

There’s a small upward quirk of your lips, and Wednesday’s stomach is being wrung and twisted again. She shuts out Enid’s accursed words.

“Why are you out here with Thing?” Wednesday’s eyes trail to Thing in an accusatory manner. 

You sit up straighter, turning your head to look at Thing on your shoulder. He taps his index finger on you impatiently, and you laugh lightly. Pulling out a small container and opening it, revealing some kind of salve inside, Thing applies a decent amount on his finger and crawls carefully over to your back. 

You adjust, moving to sit so that your wings face Wednesday, and she can see what Thing is doing. 

“Thing helps me apply medicine daily.” Your wings flutter slightly as Thing uses his middle finger to push away some of your feathers, and Wednesday catches what the medicine is for. 

There’s a deep, angry gash underneath your feathers. They don’t necessarily look fresh, but Wednesday can tell they’re slow to heal. The cut is long, disappearing under your feathers from view. It was clear you were earthbound and would be until the cut healed.

Thing applies the medicine gently and slowly, and Wednesday watches as your wings tense and quiver—in pain, Wednesday assumes. 

“I met Thing about two weeks ago in the infirmary late at night,” you reveal. “Previously, I would have to see the nurse every day to have this done. They make special provisions for me at night so as to not draw attention.”

Then, you were chuckling. “But I caught Thing trying to steal some of the special lotion the nurse keeps locked in the cabinets.”

The five-finger discount, Wednesday drawls in her mind. 

“I was a little surprised about a sentient hand walking around, but he’s quite sweet and it’s better than having the nurse pitying looks.”

Wednesday thinks you would’ve shrugged but refrained to avoid jostling Thing as he worked his way down and then to your other wing.

“Thing is happy to help for some dew drops—which is like magical faerie lotion. Very hydrating and makes your skin glowy.”

“Thing is very vain,” Wednesday dryly notes, and you laugh, despite a tiny jerk in your wings as Thing gets to a particularly tender area.

“What happened to your wings?” Wednesday asks, unabashed about it, as she’s never been afraid of the hard things. If you don’t answer, you simply don’t, and Wednesday won’t take offense. 

Thing finishes applying the medicine, dropping back onto the ground as you turn to face Wednesday. She watches as you wave your hand over a patch of grass, its moisture forming into visible drops of dew before they glow faintly and drop onto Thing. 

His skin does look shinier and glassy, Wednesday reluctantly admits. At the very least, she understands why Thing was keeping quiet about you. He seems to be rallying for his forgiveness as he scuddles to Wednesday to rest on her shoulder, bumping his knuckles against her jaw gently. 

Wednesday, though, isn’t in a forgiving mood. Especially when you look up at her with a melancholy smile. 

“While it’s true I’m weird about people seeing my wings because they’re hunted down, it’s also because I’m not fond of them either,” you tell her. “Night faeries are extremely rare. They’re different from the way they look to the powers they hold, and many of my kind believe they’re wretched beings—destined to bring calamity.”

Your wings expand as far as they can without inducing pain, and Wednesday doesn’t understand how there can be something so bewitching as your magnificent wings. 

But you clearly don’t see them that way.

“Black wings are the mark of a night faerie.”

PART THREE

oh my goodness. the parts where she was thinking of the hypothetical conversations and whether she was actually gonna say it or not kept me going. And like some lines being really good but I was like "Noo! Why didn't you say that??"

I really loved how accurate it was though! as someone who does do that kinda thing a lot, the 'trying to distract yourself from the thoughts but not working' isss horrible I must say. So glad Wednesday said something near the end, made me feel relieved :']

But your writing is so well, I'm staying up atm to read this series.

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away? 

Wednesday can only think back to that night. 

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about. 

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity. 

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill. 

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all. 

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be. 

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else. 

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance. 

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife). 

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late. 

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you. 

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams." 

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself. 

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls. 

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation. 

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room. 

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space. 

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission. 

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her. 

"Wednesday!" 

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain. 

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject. 

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven. 

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs. 

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts. 

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes. 

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly. 

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on. 

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind. 

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains. 

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette. 

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly. 

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room. 

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you. 

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets. 

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants. 

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops. 

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close. 

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly. 

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again. 

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation. 

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive. 

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows. 

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink. 

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek. 

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over. 

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?" 

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings. 

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship. 

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents. 

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind. 

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them. 

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable. 

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her. 

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger. 

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue? 

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable. 

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate. 

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling. 

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater. 

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker. 

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation. 

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood. 

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted. 

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels. 

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill. 

"Tickles," you mumble. 

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision. 

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here. 

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

the things that I'm noting down for now because I'm faaarr too sleepy to make a proper comment but I do hope you still enjoy having something like this instead (I am determined to read this)

| Wednesday calling Pugsley feeble and squishy almost made me laugh. I can see him being squishy. Is that weird? I don't know, I think it's cute 😭

| THE WINX CLUB NICKNAMES

noooo, I'm sorry xavier but noooooooooo

enid's nickname was questionable, but at least it rhymed?

...I feel like I know how Wednesday would be able to win the nickname contest and that's making me excited 👀

| fae 'escaping' to the school and professor weems being protective of her and being her legal guardian is so 🥹 but also ☹️

| "Why?" Wednesday demands. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because somewhere along the lines, you stopped asking me."

THAT LINE HIT ME.

Literally woke me up almost completely from how much that sentence meant and how it made sense.

The desperate questioning of wanting to know why Fae is avoiding Wednesday's gaze

And then the realisation and connection as to what she answers with, oh my god.

Perfection.

| "Unpleasant, wasn't it?" You say with a self-deprecating smile.

"Yes," Wednesday answers, swallowing.

You nod stiffly. "Then, for both our sake, stop-"

"But in a way that I favored," Wednesday cut in.

YOU'RE KILLING ME AND MELTING MY HEART AT THE SAME TIME HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE

—OPIA | FOUR

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: You've been avoiding Wednesday's gaze lately.

Warnings: Angst. Protective!Wednesday. The Addams Family reunion. Larissa is exasperated. Enid, the gossip queen. Thing, the chaperone. Xavier, gets no breaks.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I rewrote this chapter so many times but I think it definitely explores the most intimacy so far. Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺💘

Part Three

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Opia: Noun. The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable. 

Wednesday is agitated. 

To succinctly summarize, you have been refusing to look Wednesday in the eye as of late. 

It took a while for Wednesday to notice, perhaps because your back was always turned to her when she met up with you nightly to apply the medicine on your wings. And when that was finished, you kept your eyes focused on the pond while you talked. 

And for a while, your witty banter and intriguing anecdotes had kept Wednesday distracted. The more time she spent with you, the more she began craving something she couldn't quite place. 

Wednesday found herself enjoying listening to you talk about your life before Nevermore. Of course, she could tell you were avoiding talking about anything serious, but there was a small relief that there were good moments in your life as well. 

In turn, Wednesday shared anecdotes of her own childhood, tales of the times she had to rescue Pugsley because he was weak, squishy, and sensitive. Whereas other people had looked at her disturbed and passed judgment on her, you had grinned and laughed. 

Wednesday never minded the judgment from others, but she quietly admitted to herself that it was also pleasing to have someone enjoy her morbidity and harsh penchant for revenge.

So, maybe that's why Wednesday began to notice. Her discovery to see what your face looked like as she told her stories had led her to realize you've been avoiding eye contact. 

You made it seem like it wasn't on purpose, fiddling with flowers until they've been weaved into crowns or giving Thing manicures—he's been getting much too pampered between you and Enid.

But even when Wednesday called your name, you looked at her, but you weren't looking at her. It was like you were looking past her, like Wednesday couldn't even be seen by you, and she despised it. 

Wednesday detests people who can't look her in the eye. It was a sign of deceit, guilt, and secrecy. 

And Wednesday will be damned if she'll let you keep any more secrets from her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Oh my god, did you hear?" Enid leans her head forward at their table in the quad. 

Wednesday was reading her spellbook, her eyes occasionally trailing across the quad to where you sat with the faceless outcasts. You seemed very intrigued about learning how they communicated. 

"Hear what?" Yoko asks, adjusting her sunglasses. The vampire has taken to joining their table lately, and sometimes it would grate on Wednesday's mind to hear Enid and Yoki incessantly talk and gossip. 

"Ajax was telling me all about it this morning," Enid grins as she looks over to the stoners. "Apparently, someone changed one of the girls' bathrooms near the Gorgon rooms to nothing but mirrors. I heard that two gorgon girls walked in this morning and were stuck stoning themselves over and over."

"Shit, that's awful," Xavier frowns.

Wednesday smirks behind her book. 

"I wonder who would do that," Yoko casually comments.

They all look at Wednesday. 

"So, why'd you do it?" Xavier asks, resting his chin in his hand.

"Even animals know to have evidence before accusing someone," Wednesday flatly speaks, her eyes never leaving her book. 

"So," Eugene tilts his head with confusion, "you didn't do it?"

"I never said that," Wednesday's reply was uninterested.

Because Wednesday did do it. 

The investigation took longer than it normally would with her being distracted by you.  But finding out something so trivial, like who had hurt you, was child's play.

Wednesday had debated long about what to do. The idea of filling their rooms with tarantulas or poisonous snakes had first come to mind, but she knew it was almost guaranteed that Weems would discover it was her if the girls died. 

While she did save the school last year, it would be unlikely Weems would allow her to stay here if she did kill someone, as tempting it would be. 

Wednesday sighs lightly through her nose. It would've looked lovely on her record. 

But expulsion would mean being very, very far from you, and Wednesday couldn't have that.

At least—not before she at least found out why you've been refusing to look her in the eye. 

"Hi, everyone." 

Everyone's attention turns to you as you begin walking up to them. They greet you back, and Xavier, Enid, and Eugene are already throwing out the nicknames they came up with that week. 

"Tinker Bell!"

"Winx Club!"

"Bloom!"

"Eugene, that was literally just a rip off of mine," Xavier laughs. 

"Those are all terrible," you laugh along, shaking your head. "Are you guys just thinking of all things faerie-related only?"

"Well, yeah," Xavier blinks as if there couldn't be anything else. 

"Well, continue on then," you gave them a lopsided smile.

"Really? None of them?" Xavier sighs as he moves down his seat to let you sit between him and Wednesday. 

"Can you blame her?" Wednesday comments while turning the page.

"Oh, yeah?" Xavier raises his brow. "Let's hear what you've got then."

"And let you idiots ride off my coattails? I think not."

Xavier starts grumbling, and you chuckle. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you say softly, looking over at her. 

Wednesday looks up at you, but you start staring at her bangs as soon as she does. 

She glares. 

"Oh, hey, I think you've got some dirt on your back," Xavier says, his eyes squinting as he stares at your back. "Here, I got it."

Xavier lifts his hand and starts to descend upon your back when Wednesday reaches over and grabs his wrist, twisting it back. 

"Ah!" Xavier grunts. "What the hell, Wednesday!?"

Wednesday is holding up her book with one hand while holding Xavier's wrist in the other, glaring at him. "What are you doing, you oaf? Are you trying to dislodge her lungs from her chest?" She flings his wrist away, glaring at him while he shakes off the sting in his wrist.

"I was just trying to help," Xaiver mumbles, looking confused. 

Wednesday doesn't dignify him with a reply as she inspects your back carefully and does find dirt on it. "Were you rolling around in the grass?" Her tone is flat, but her lip is curled in distaste. 

Still, she carefully begins to brush the dirt off your back. It's a far cry from the hard pats you would've gotten from Xavier. 

"Maybe," you sound amused. 

"Christ, Wednesday," Xavier huffs. "Morgan le Fay over here isn't made of glass."

"It's a no to that one too," you shake your head. 

"C'mon!" Xavier groans. "You're not going to pick anything at this rate."

"You never know," you shrug, smiling. You look at your watch on the palm side of your wrist. "Class is starting soon. I'm going to head out." Turning your head to Wednesday, you tilt your head. "I believe your class is on the way. Do you want to go together?"

Wednesday nods jerkily, packing up her things. She doesn't say anything to the group other than giving a look and walking off with you. 

The walk down the halls is quiet, as it usually is. It's something Wednesday can appreciate that you never feel the need to fill the silence. But halfway through, you break the quietness. 

"I heard the bathroom near the Gorgon's dormitory was changed to mirrors," you say nonchalantly. 

"I see," Wednesday's tone betrays nothing. 

"My usual lab partners were absent as they were apparently stoned all day—over, and over, and over."

"How lucky."

You stop walking, causing Wednesday to stop as well. You face each other, but once again, you are staring at her ears.

"I told you it was an accident," you sigh. "She doesn't know my wings are hidden inside my back. No one does."

"Accident or not, she still slapped your back—and I don't care that it was meant to be jovial—hard enough to reopen your wounds," Wednesday snaps and then sneers, "What? Were her hands partially stoned when she patted you?"

You seem unsure of what to say to Wednesday. In the end, you sigh.

"Even though it was unnecessary, thank you." It's soft and sincere, and the gruesome butterflies are eating Wednesday's insides again. It probably would've been worse if you had actually been looking Wednesday in the eyes when you said it. 

"You're welcome," Wednesday says stiffly, and you turn to walk again. 

The silence resumes, and Wednesday is nearly so fed up that she's about to just ask you if she's done something wrong. But what actually comes out of her mouth is, "Are you looking forward to Parent's day?"

There's an internal frustration rising within Wednesday.

"I'm ambivalent," you reveal, your tone even. 

"I assume your parents won't be coming?" 

You chuckle. "Unlikely."

"Will you spend the day with Weems, then?"

"Maybe," you seem pensive. "But she'll most likely be busy talking to other parents. Are your parents coming?"

Wednesday sighs. "Unfortunately, yes. They'll want to know how I've suffered so far."

You chuckle. "They seem like horrible people."

"Thank you, they are."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Oh, my little storm cloud, how have you been doing?" Gomez coos as he walks towards her.

"Wednesday, you look positively pale," Morticia comments. "It suits you."

Wednesday brushes off the comment, feeling awkward but nods at her mother to acknowledge it. Her eyes then focus on Pugsley, and she accesses him.

"Pugsley, you look feeble and squishy as per usu—are you sniveling again."

"I missed you, too, Wednesday," Pugsley smiled. 

The four of them sit at a nearby table. Wednesday's eyes skim the quad, catching her various friends with their families. Enid seems to be getting along better with her mother, but Wednesday will always despise that woman. 

"Who are you searching for, Wednesday?" Morticia's voice drags Wednesday's attention back to her family, who are all staring at her curiously.

"No one," Wednesday answers flatly.

But her mother only smiles as if she knows Wednesday's secret, which utterly irks her.

"So, how have you been faring?" Gomez asks, his face genuinely eager to hear.

"Dreadful," Wednesday replies. "Not once has my life been put at risk, nor have I been accused of any murders. Not even a single stalker."

Morticia and Gomez gaze at each other for a moment before back at Wednesday placatingly. 

"It's...quieter than your first year here, but not every year may be filled with mayhem," Morticia smiled. "At least, not in the way you expect."

"What do you know about faeries?" Wednesday asks, changing the subject as it was intruding on a topic Wednesday herself wasn't prepared to talk about. 

Morticia and Gomez seem lost in their thoughts as they contemplate Wednesday's question.

"Why do you ask?" Morticia finally answers. "Is that who you've been looking around for?"

Wednesday doesn't answer her mother's question, but the lack of an answer is an answer in itself. Luckily, her mother is merciful and only gives Wednesday a knowing smile. 

"Not much," Morticia answers. "I believe we had only one ancestor who has ever visited a fae realm. They might've documented it somewhere in a diary."

Wednesday's eyes sparkled with interest. "Is that so? Do we still have it?"

"Perhaps," Morticia muses, her voice dragging at the end, and Wednesday felt herself tense. She knows that tone and already begins mentally bargaining.

"Alright," Wednesday says evenly. "What do you want in return for sending me the diary?"

Morticia tilts her head to the side, a black widow-like grin on her lips. "Larissa let me know that the next Parent's day will be when students get to go home for the weekend. I want you to bring your fae friend."

"Why?" Wednesday demands, her eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

"Because Wednesday," Morticia leans into Gomez, who puts her arm around her. "You rarely show interest in other people. Enid is a lovely girl, and I hope to host her one day as well, but she didn't have you sitting here asking your mother what I knew about werewolves."

"What makes you think my 'fae friend' will be available to come?" Wednesday shot back. 

Morticia doesn't chuckle in consideration for her prickly daughter, who was more likely than ever to say hurtful words now. 

"You've been looking around the quad, but your eyes haven't landed on anyone. If they're not here, then neither are their parents. And if that's the case, they'll be unlikely to show up for the second Parent's day," Morticia looks around the quad and then back to Wednesday. "It would've been nice to meet them today."

Wednesday says nothing about the last comment but contemplates her options. The idea of introducing her parents to you was dreadfully...uncomfortable. But the diary...Wednesday sighed an internal breath of defeat.

"Fine," Wednesday concedes. "I will ask, but I cannot control the outcome of the answer. I want the diary regardless."

"Agreed," Morticia nods.

"Alright," Gomez claps his hands together. "Why don't I catch you up on what Uncle Fester has been up to?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday feels a casual headache forming. 

The day was long, and her family had been one of the last few to go. While her relationship with her mother improved after resolving the Garret Gates case, there was still a limit on how much time she could spend with her before feeling like she was on edge. 

Although, Wednesday was pleased that her brother was faring better in school and no one was torturing him in fear his killer sister would come for them. It made her smirk a little. 

But now that the day has ended, Wednesday finds herself craving something—craving you. She checks her watch, but it's still too early in the day to meet up with you for your salve treatment. 

Wednesday runs her tongue against the back of her teeth in contemplation. 

Friends...you were friends, weren't you? 

Enid had confirmed it. With the consistent hangouts, shared stories, and occasional walking each other to class...that was friends, wasn't it?

So, if Wednesday wanted to see you earlier, she could. With that, she turns in the direction to start looking for you. You were nowhere in the quad, so Wednesday began to look for you in places you usually were. 

In the end, Wednesday could not find you. 

And she was angry.

First, you were avoiding eye contact, and now, you've hidden somewhere without saying a word.

When she finds you, Wednesday promised herself repercussions.

"Enid," Wednesday calls out evenly when she spots the blonde dragging her feet through the halls.

"Oh, hey, Wednesday," Enid says tiredly and then smiles. "Survived Parent's day, did we?"

"There was never a doubt."

"What's up?"

"Have you seen..." Wednesday drags and then shakes her head. "Did you happen to see—"

"I saw Faerie Canary a couple of hours ago with Bianca," Enid cut in to spare Wednesday. "Bianca's parents didn't show up either."

"Back to the rhyming, are we?" Wednesday doesn't hold back the unimpressed tone.

Enid only makes a face.

"Are they still together?" Wednesday asks.

Enid shakes her head. "I don't think so. I only heard bits of their conversation when I passed by with my family earlier."

Wednesday tilts her head, waiting for Enid to continue. 

Enid looks mildly uncomfortable as she rubs the back of her neck. 

"Enid," Wednesday's eyes narrow threateningly. 

With a sigh, Enid mutters, "This isn't the type of gossip I'm into." But then she focuses back on Wednesday and looks at her seriously. "Don't repeat what I'm telling you. Not only do I think Bianca will stab me with her fencing sword, but I don't think Fae will talk to me if this spreads around."

Wednesday nods, and Enid looks around. Satisfied that there's no one in sight, she leans in closer to say quietly, "Bianca was talking about how it was unlikely her mother would visit again after last year. Their relationship is strained and complicated, but Bianca said she knows her mother does love her and wants the best for her. Bianca said how every mother wants the best for their kid, even if they have a fucked up way of showing it, although it was between her mother and mine for winning an award for the way they went about it." Enid scrunches her nose at that.

Wednesday nods, unsurprised by the comment. 

Enid pursed her lips. "Well, then—" Enid huffs. "Fae just laughed, and then she said, 'Unless your mother's best for you is your demise, I think my mother has both of you beat on that.' I don't think she elaborated on it and left shortly after."

Wednesday was silent, her face furrowed as she thought about Enid's words. There was something uncomfortable nagging at her, and it was going to result in something Wednesday would despise.

"I see."

Enid nods. "If you find her, you didn't hear it from me, okay?" Enid gives Wednesday a look. "I also might not come back to the room tonight. I'm going to hang out with Yoko and Ajax."

Wednesday nods. "If you don't provide me an update at night, I will assume the worst and their murders will be the reason for my second expulsion here."

Enid smiles widely, doing her best to refrain from hugging her friend. "I will let you know I'm safe."

Without saying anything else, Wednesday turns and begins to head somewhere else.

Principal Weems's office.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Principal Weems," Wednesday calls after she knocks once and then proceeds to enter without waiting for a reply.

"Wednesday," Weems sighs deeply when she sees the gloomy girl. "How lovely to see you in my office. I assume your parents' visit went well?"

"It went fine. My mother was delighted to hear you weren't murdered and made a full recovery during the summer," Wednesday says bluntly. 

Weems tries not to roll her eyes, especially when she remembers Wednesday's concerned face hovering over her when she had been injected with nightshade.

"Yes," Weems says dryly. "Surviving was the highlight of my summer." Then Weems sighs. "What can I do for you, Wednesday? Are you looking for our resident faerie? I've been told about the contest for coming up with a nickname. So far, I've heard some...interesting suggestions."

"She told you about that?" Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Fae tells me about most things," Weems reveals. "But as her legal guardian, it's also my job to know."

"You call her Fae?" Wednesday frowns.

Weems smirks. "She actually quite likes it. I believe outside of her own amusement, Fae had her own hopes about the results of the contest." 

"What does that—"

"What can I help you with, Wednesday? It's getting late."

Wednesday clenches her jaw in annoyance but tries to relax, remembering her objective of coming here in the first place.

"I want to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth."

Weems nods. "I'll do my best."

"I'm aware that her parents couldn't visit today for her safety," Wednesday looks at Weems expectantly, who nods. 

"But I was under the impression that it was their judgment that it was too dangerous," Wednesday's face was impassive. "That's not exactly true, is it? She had said the more in contact they are with her, the more it exposes her location—which is true to keep other faeries away, but the full truth is this place is meant to guard her against her parents too, isn't it?"

Principal Weems sighed, looking both annoyed and impressed as she looked at Wednesday. "Well, since you've already figured out this much from what she's told you, I assume you'll find out soon enough because you're incessant and nosy." Weems rolled her eyes. "And I would prefer you don't alert the entire school as you do your investigations, so I trust what I'll say remains between us."

Wednesday felt her jaw tightening, her position staunch as she waited for Weems to come out and say something that would irrevocably change things. 

"Yes, it is too dangerous for her parents to visit," Weems confirmed. "But not because they deem it so, but because I do. I wasn't offered guardianship because her parents brought her here and requested it, but because she escaped and found me."

So few little things make Wednesday's heart beat faster. Usually, it's from excitement, but Wednesday doesn't feel the excitement from the words, 'she escaped.'

Wrong.

Wednesday had been wrong.

Wednesday is filled with dread, rage, and vengeful thoughts—promises. 

"As you know, night faeries are outcasts within their own group. Many people dread their existence, and some are even violent enough to take matters into their own hands before they believe calamity ensues," Weems's hands were tightly clasped together on her desk. "I will never allow her parents to step foot on these grounds because her mother was the one to try to cut her wings off." 

Wednesday turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's nothing like the frustration of not having your number when you're nowhere to be found. Wednesday considers coming up with some ridiculous nickname and forcing you to accept it the next time she sees you. 

There's only about an hour before she usually sneaks out to see you for your salve treatment, so Wednesday decides she'll play the cello to get her mind off things. 

It'll be difficult with the hot rage that beats furiously inside Wednesday's chest. Her emotions dictate she avenges you because that's the only way she knows how to show she cares. 

Wednesday opens the door to her room and finds it empty, as expected, with Enid not returning tonight. But when she looked out the balcony, she could see a silhouette of someone sitting on the railings. 

Immediately, Wednesday made her way over and opened the window to see you gazing at the sky, swinging your legs as Thing sat next to you. The noise makes you turn around, and Wednesday can't explain the immense relief at seeing your face.

"Where have you been?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I could ask you the same," Wednesday asks with a clenched jaw. 

"Around," you shrug your shoulders. "But I wanted to see you earlier than our usual time, so Thing let me in about half an hour ago."

"So, you've been here for half an hour?" Wednesday glares.

You nod.

She was going to break Thing's fingers, but the disembodied hand looked confused at Wednesday's irate behavior, and she had no choice but to let it go. 

With a deep breath out of her nose, Wednesday steps out onto the balcony and joins you in sitting on the railings. It was quite a far drop-down that guaranteed either a lifetime of being a paraplegic or death. 

It was kind of nice. 

"How was parent's day?" You ask softly, staring out into the view.

"I survived."

You smile. "Your parents and brother are refreshing. It looked fun."

"It was not," Wednesday immediately corrects you. "You saw?"

You nod. "For a bit."

It was silent for a bit before Wednesday spoke up again.

"I talked to Weems before I went looking for you." Wednesday looks at you, but you don't look at her. "She's spilled all your secrets."

You laugh, and Wednesday frowns.

"I told her she could tell you if you asked," you reveal, a quirk on your lips but still refusing to look at her.

"Why?" Wednesday demands. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because somewhere along the lines, you stopped asking me."

The words hit Wednesday in the gut, making her feel unwell and breathless. It was true, and Wednesday can't even remember when she stopped asking and started assuming. 

It was so unlike her. 

All of this leads towards something Wednesday knows will make her face a revelation she's not sure she's ready to. 

Still, Wednesday needs to ask because that's how mysteries are solved. 

"Why have you stopped looking me in the eye?"

There's silence, and despite how much Wednesday has loved it all her life, she wishes you'd say something now.

You grant her wish. 

"Do you know what I think about why you stopped asking me questions?" You ask instead of answering her question. You don't give her time to answer it, though. "Everybody has told me you've got an obsession with solving mysteries. But somewhere along the lines, you knew deep down your interest would continue even after you got your answers. That would mean you're vulnerable—and you don't want to be."

Wednesday felt herself clenching her jaw and fists so tightly she could draw blood from her palms. 

"So, when you asked me why I stopped looking at you in the eyes, it's because it’ll push you towards being vulnerable." As if to prove your point, you finally turn and look at Wednesday—really look at her, like she's been wanting for weeks.

You look at Wednesday, locking gazes, and Wednesday feels like she sees galaxies and constellations in your eyes. It's opening her up to your bottomless, gleaming pupils. It's invasive and vulnerable, but the thing is—Wednesday can't tell if you're looking into her or if she's the one who's looking into you. 

Wednesday thinks she sees something in you that you didn't mean to share, just as you saw something in her. 

You turn your head, almost ripping your gaze from Wednesday's. 

"Unpleasant, wasn't it?" You say with a self-deprecating smile. 

"Yes," Wednesday answers, swallowing. 

You nod stiffly. "Then, for both our sake, stop—"

"But in a way that I favored," Wednesday cut in. 

You slowly turn your head back, catching Wednesday's intense gaze. 

Wednesday's face somehow softened, her brows less tense and eyes less narrow. It was minuscule, but you noticed.

"I'm not good at this—whatever this is," Wednesday says quietly. "I will most likely devastate you at some point but for now, all I can vow is to ask you questions if you stop avoiding my gaze."

You stare at Wednesday, analyzing her face, and she wonders exactly what you're thinking. 

In the end, you chuckle. "Deal, but no questions tonight. My wings are sore, and I hear you're an excellent cellist."

PART 5

—AGNOSTHESIA | FIVE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: After the talk, things were going well, or so Wednesday assumed. You've been distancing yourself and Wednesday is forced to sift through her past behaviors to see why and comes to a realization that makes her violently ill.

Warnings: Angst. Jealous!Wednesday. Enid, has to spell it out. Thing, wants more dew drops. Xavier, rip.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: we're making waveEees (slow burn mode) 🥺💘

Part Four

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Agnosthesia: Noun. The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behavior, as if you were some other person—noticing a twist of acid in your voice, an obscene amount of effort put into something trifling, or an inexplicable weight on your shoulders that makes it difficult to get out of bed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Not quite, Henry. Try crushing the seed instead of chopping it; you'll get more juice out of it that way."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Yes, use the flat side of your knife, just like that—careful."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Well done, Henry!"

Wednesday slams her textbook down on the desk.

"Ow!" Xavier yelps, the tips of his fingers caught under the textbook. He yanks them out. "Jesus fucking Christ, Wednesday, my fingers!"

"Quit blubbering," Wednesday unapologetically tells him. "They are still attached to your body, are they not?"

"For now," Xavier grumbles, rubbing his bruised fingers. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"I don't have a problem," Wednesday's eyes briefly look at him before looking back at her own flask. "Why would you think that?"

This was her third time re-making the elixir. 

The textbook had said to cut the seed to extract the juice inside, but after Xavier nearly lopped off his finger the first time, Wednesday took over the second time. The only issue was that despite her flawless knife work, they could hardly squeeze any of the juice out from the seed's hard shell. 

Xavier was plucking at her last nerves with his suggestion to try again—as if the seed would suddenly get softer. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw. She should've declined to be Xavier's partner. Even Bianca would suffice better because at least she would feel no inclination about holding back on murdering Bianca when they finally got fed up with each other. 

But this was only an issue because—

"Because tooth fairy has refused to be your lab partner, like, what, 3 times now?" Xavier whispers.

Wednesday doesn't say anything, but her expression gets more contemptuous, her mouth pinched, and Xavier doesn't say anything more. She doesn't even comment on Xavier's horrible epithet that he's been sticking to despite your immediate veto. His only reasoning was that you had a nice smile, which Wednesday was inclined to agree with reluctantly. 

But it was true. It was a rather new development when you began growing closer to Wednesday, especially after they resolved the tension regarding Wednesday not asking questions. It was going well, or so Wednesday had thought. 

Now, you jumped at making sure someone else was your partner before the teacher would even finish telling everyone to partner up.

Looking up, Wednesday stares at the back of your head, willing to burn a hole through it so you'd look at her. 

You don't.

"That guy has been hanging around her often," Xavier comments, his eyes narrowing a little. "Pretty sure he's a legacy. His dad went here—Henry Morrison? Can’t believe he named his son the same name."

"Why are you telling me this irrelevant information?" Wednesday cuts in before he can say anything else. 

"Is it irrelevant?" Xavier smiles, though the corners of his mouth don't make it too far up. "Thought you, of all people, should know this: know any potential rival—lest you want someone else to swoop in."

'Rival?' Wednesday thought with confusion. She looks at the boy next to you. 

There was no way this lanky, pitiful, stuttering boy could be her rival. If she were to look at anyone as a rival, it'd be Bianca. 

The siren looked way too smug and haughty every time you spent time with her. Every time Wednesday caught a glimpse of you two, Bianca would have this aggravating smirk that would send Wednesday into a burst of rage that Thing would have to suffer through while she ranted. 

"How's psychitect going? Getting better?" You ask.

Henry nods eagerly. "I-I can almost make a fully functional mindscape. You should come to see it," Henry says with a shy smile. "Y-You have a free period during that time, right?" 

You nod with an easy-going smile. "Sure, I don't have much else to do, and it sounds pretty cool."

Wednesday purses her lips unhappily, stabbing the seed with the tip of her knife precisely, and Xavier moves his hands away just in case. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Wednesday—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm about to ask—"

"No."

Enid exaggeratedly pouts, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Wednesday..." she pitifully drags.

"Enid," Wednesday grits her teeth, holding firm. "No."

"C'mon!" Enid continues to plead. "One of the girls broke her arm! We're short a girl again this year."

"How tragic," Wednesday says without care. "But that, unfortunately, wasn't my fault. I applaud your efforts to torture me but I have no inclination to join the boat race this year."

"But don't you remember that satisfying feeling of beating Bianca?" Enid tries to entice Wednesday instead. "What was it that you said last year? A dark, vengeful spirit."

Wednesday raises her brow. "I have no additional quarrels with Bianca this year. I get my satisfaction from beating her in fencing."

Enid lets out a groan. She knows she's running out of options, and she's about to give up when something pops into her mind, and a mischievous smile that Wednesday doesn't like appears.

"Oh, well," Enid says with a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to ask someone else and risk losing to Bianca."

Wednesday narrows her eyes. "It appears so."

"And with Fae watching in the crowd, I bet she'll be so impressed with Bianca taking that trophy," Enid continues, astutely turning away as she says it, a smirk on her face. "Man, how embarrassing. I can't believe I'll have to explain to Fae that we lost because my roomie didn't want to get into the whole school spirit thing."

Enid sighs one last time as she sits on her bed, looking at Thing, who sits beside her. "Oh, well. I'm sure Fae will be thrilled to celebrate Bianca's victory."

Wednesday clenches her fist. She's not unaware of Enid's horrible attempt at manipulating her. It was tragically embarrassing on Enid's end but what was more embarrassing was that it was working.

The idea of you celebrating Bianca's victory was making Wednesday more sullen than she already was. 

So, for the second time this year, despite Wednesday's reluctance to win the Poe Cup again as it made her more similar to her mother, she was going to make Bianca burn with the taste of utter defeat. 

"Enid," Wednesday scowls. "It would be wise to sleep with both eyes open after the competition is over."

"I love you, too, Wednesday."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday is at a loss. 

Despite her attempts to ask more questions and discover what could possibly be the reason why you've been distant, you've stonewalled her. 

It is a very sickening feeling. 

"How could she do this to me, Thing?" Wednesday seethed at the disembodied hand as it was just the two in her room. "This is the second week she's cut our time short. That's 14 days, Thing. Our usual 38 hours a week have been cut down to a mere 15 hours."

Thing taps and signs.

"Why are you asking if I did something?" Wednesday glares.

Some more tapping.

"It's a fair assumption," Wednesday concedes. "But I haven't done anything out of the ordinary as of late. You must know how painful it is for me right now to admit I am at a loss."

Thing taps.

"And she has said nothing to you?" Wednesday glares suspiciously.

Thing taps more firmly, and Wednesday lets out a sigh through her nose and lets it go. Checking the time, she finds you'll be here any minute now.

As of late, you've been insisting on meeting Wednesday in her room at night instead of your fae studio realm. Enid seemed to catch on and was happy to hang out with Ajax or Yoko for an hour or two until you left.

It only served to remind Wednesday that it used to be four hours at your studio. Wednesday bitterly thinks you've done it on purpose because it was easier for you to leave her space than to make her leave your space. 

There's a knock on her door. 

Right on time.

Wednesday looks at Thing before glaring at the door.

"I will not accept defeat tonight," she ominously declares as she walks towards the door. 

When she opens it, Wednesday finds you smiling at her but there’s something about it that makes her feel disgruntled. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” you say in the exact same way you’ve said hundreds before. “Enid out again?”

“Of course,” Wednesday deadpans since not even Enid knows about your wings.

“Cool,” you reply before looking out the window. “Can we open the window? It feels a little stuffy in here.”

Wednesday looks at Thing, who scuddles to the window and cracks it open. There’s a slight breeze that makes you sigh with ease as you take off your sweater and sit down on the floor at Wednesday’s bed. 

There’s a momentary pause as Wednesday stares at the familiar sight of your back before your opulent obsidian wings slowly grow out, stretching as much as they could with a ruffle. 

They were healing quite well, Wednesday notes. Soon, you won’t need to meet with her every night for treatment. 

You still need to meet her now but you’re already distancing yourself. 

Wednesday feels self-pity, rage, and dour. She won’t admit it, though, as she pulls out the tub of salve and sits behind you. 

Your wings trill as Wednesday moves her fingers through the feathers.

The way you won’t even tell her it tickles anymore. 

“Did you enjoy your day today?” You ask conversationally and Wednesday clenches her jaw.

“No,” she grits out.

“Oh,” you seem surprised at the admittance. There’s a delay and Wednesday knows you’re debating on inquiring further, but you make up your mind. “Why?”

“Why do you think so?” Wednesday asks instead, her voice flat and unimpressed that you’d sink to playing stupid. It was beneath you.

You remain silent.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say, your tone even and unassuming. “Has Xavier finally tried to hug you?”

You’re lightly jesting to avoid the confrontation but Wednesday won’t have it. She applies the salve slowly, knowing full well it was making you antsy. Wednesday was going to drag out tonight so painfully slow, you were going to regret having ever been the reason for Wednesday’s dreadful days. 

“No,” Wednesday answers, “And I doubt he ever will if he wants to live.”

You laugh but it’s not very sincere. “I guess he could always ask Enid to pass along a hug for him.” You’re jesting again but there’s something in your tone that sounds bitter.

Wednesday doesn’t know what to make of the comment, so she ignores it since it’s not like you can see her glare right now.

“You’ve been partnering up with the lanky boy lately,” Wednesday shifts the subject, sounding flat as if it were just a mere observation.

“Henry?” You say confusedly but Wednesday doesn’t confirm or deny. “I mean, I guess,” you shrug.

“Why?” Wednesday demands, asking what she really wants to know.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why not? You and I are some of the people with the top grades. It’s obvious we’re adept and Henry needs help.”

“So, why must you be the one to help him?” Wednesday clenches her jaw.

It’s a miracle how gentle she’s still applying the salve despite how uncomfortably irritated she feels. 

“Why? Are you offering to help him instead?” You ask wryly.

“I think if he’s destined to fail, then we should not interfere,” Wednesday bluntly and callously reasons. “Is he not the same boy who first saw you and could barely get a word out, leaving you with such a dull sobriquet?”

“It’s just a class, Wednesday,” you dryly say, awkwardly shifting. 

Wednesday’s jaw is set tightly in place, and she feels utterly humiliated right now.

“I heard you’re joining The Poe Cup race again this year?” You say, changing the subject as the atmosphere was tense. 

Wednesday feels her body relax ever so slightly at the new subject.

“Yes, at Enid’s relentless and piteous begging.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Wednesday feels uncomfortable and she’s unsure why. 

“Have you considered joining the race?” Wednesday spits out to keep the conversation moving. 

“No,” you answer softly again. “Even though there are no rules preventing sabotage against other teams, Principal Weems and I agreed that my powers would be a very unfair advantage to fight against.”

Wednesday’s curiosity rules over all other emotions. She wants to ask exactly what powers you’re talking about when you suddenly stand up and Wednesday realizes that you could feel when she’s finished applying the salve to the end of your scars. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” you tell her softly as you turn around, making your wings disappear with an uncomfortable grimace. You put your sweater back on and zipped it up. “I have some assignments with my other project partners I have to meet up with. Catch you later?”

Wednesday is left sitting on the floor, seething with rage and defeat as you walk out the room, shutting the door with a resounding, sickening click. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid returns home from her date with Ajax, feeling joyous and charmed. She immediately spots Wednesday at her desk on her typewriter.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid sing-songs. “Did you have a good night?”

“It was fine,” Wednesday says sharply, which has Enid looking over to Thing, who signs to not ask. 

“O-kay,” Enid replies, taking off her jacket before sitting on her bed. 

Wednesday is typing aggressively on her typewriter, each push so hard it sounds punishing. 

“So—”

“Not now, Enid,” Wednesday icily cuts in, continuing to type as if she wanted to break her typewriter. “I need silence.”

Enid doesn’t reply, only letting out a soft sigh as she puts her headphones on and rests in her bed. She opens a magazine and Thing shuffles over to her to look along with her. The sad thing is that Enid can still hear Wednesday aggressively typing, but she ignores it knowing her best friend and roommate needs the time to cool down before attempting to talk.

The only problem is an hour and half passes and Wednesday is still typing as if the typewriter has personally wronged her.

Enid yanks off her headphones, closing her magazine before she slams both down on her bed. She frostily looks at Wednesday.

"Wednesday, this was cute and funny to watch the first two weeks, but now it's getting sad," Enid purses her lips at her roommate. "Stop moping and go fix it. And don’t play stupid, I know you know what I mean."

"Enid," Wednesday says with thinly veiled anger, her typing coming to a stop. "Whatever it was between us has clearly taken a nose-dive and hit solid concrete and died. It was nothing and I'm not affected by—"

"Wednesday!" Enid snaps, and it makes Wednesday close her mouth. Her bright roommate rarely snapped. "Stop dismissing your own feelings."

"I'm not sure what you're—"

"Oh, yes you do," Enid cuts in, and Wednesday wants to remind her that it is a rude habit. "Maybe your big brain hasn't caught on yet, but if you spent time looking at your behaviors and actions of late, you'd be able to get on the same page as the rest of us."

Wednesday frowns, glaring at her roommate, who glares back.

"I implore detective Wednesday to make an appearance and annoyingly obsess over the clues she's given to herself," Enid scrunches her nose. "I'll be at Yoko's and when I'm back, I expect you'll have come to the correct conclusion. I'm taking Thing as well."

Enid doesn't wait for Wednesday's reply as she turns and leaves the room with a resounding click of the door shutting. With her alone in her room, Wednesday initially ignores Enid's words, going back to sit at her desk and placing her fingers on her typewriter, but nothing comes to mind. 

After sitting in frustration for 10 minutes, Wednesday curses her blonde roommate as she contemptuously gets up and goes to lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's almost embarrassingly easy to think back to the beginning. Wednesday remembers seeing you for the first time and thinking nothing of it. It was only two weeks of your friendly smile and greetings, despite having yet to be formally introduced, that she noticed you more. And then she couldn't stop noticing you because you never endeavored to say anything more to her than hello, even though you were diligent in getting to know everyone else. 

Then, it was the slow desire to know every single thing there was about you. Wednesday was still mostly ambivalent about her phone, but she had wanted your number. It was the gruesome butterflies, the discovery of your secret place, and your wings that began to make this year thrilling.

Wednesday had never suffered through so many hypothetical conversations in her head—she had considered admitting herself as a patient to a mental ward rather than being the usual enthused visitor. 

It was easy to admit that, on some level, she thought of you as hers to protect and would carry out any revenge needed. 

But this was normal, wasn't it? Wednesday bargains. This could all be construed as friendship, the same as whatever she had with Enid—just with more curiosity. 

The foundation of that reasoning was pathetically shaky, she knew.

It was the smaller things that Wednesday analyzed. 

Wednesday thought back and reluctantly admitted there were too many times she's felt jealous and sullen because of you. She thinks about how she would take the long way to her class just to bump into you down the halls. 

The way she would ensure her nightly plans were left completely free to spend with you. Quite frankly, Wednesday planned her days around you, and if there was something she could not put off, then she was sure to include you. 

It was coming horrifyingly clear. Wednesday has always told herself she wasn't sure how she felt about you to give herself plausible deniability. But her own actions and behaviors have ratted her out. 

And it was such an outrageous revelation. 

Damn it all. Wednesday Addams was romantically interested in someone. 

How unfortunate. 

The door jiggles before opening, revealing her blonde roommate returning with Thing on her shoulders. Wednesday looks at the time and finds she's been lying in bed for an hour.

"So?" Enid drawls. "Did you figure it out yet?"

"Yes," Wednesday tightly replies, looking at Enid briefly before glaring back at the ceiling.

"And how do you feel?"

"Enraged." 

"Enraged?!" Enid's in disbelief but then sighs. "But of course you'd be."

Wednesday suddenly sits up. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't care.

"Thing," Wednesday writes a quick note, folding it before giving it to Thing. "Go deliver this."

Thing grabs it and scuddles off while Enid stares at her roommate with curiosity. "Are you going to go meet up with her?" Then, excitedly. "Are you going to confess?"

"The only thing I will ever confess to is a murder," Wednesday flatly says. "But yes, I will be meeting up with her and I will make her suffer as I have."

Enid winces, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Wednesday is silent for a moment before she says, "No. But I will be getting to the bottom of this, and I will come out victorious."

Wednesday puts on her boots and sweater.

"Are you sure she'll even meet up with you? What did you say in your note?"

Wednesday grinned wickedly. "I told her to meet me, or I would set fire to her forest until it was nothing but ash."

Enid sighs, turning to get ready for bed. "Good luck."

Wednesday doesn't reply, walking to the door. It is pathetic she's romantically engrossed in someone, but as it happened, she couldn't undo it. 

Therefore, as the object of her affections, she could not allow you to distance yourself without a sound, robust reason. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday makes it to your studio before you do, but she can hear your footsteps heavy with annoyance. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Wednesday?" She hears you huff. "Why the hell would you send me a note that you're going to burn down—"

"You've been avoiding me," Wednesday turns around and hisses, anger written all over her face. "Why?"

You’re stunned silent, shocked at the sudden confrontation and venomous tone from Wednesday. For a second, Wednesday thinks you won’t answer and turn around to leave, risking your little haven burnt to a crisp.

"I have not," you say slowly, rising to the challenge as you raise your brow at her. "We still see each other every night, don't we?"

"But we don't..." Wednesday pauses. "You don't..."

"What?" You tilt your head. "Spend all my time with you?"

Wednesday remains silent, her blood silently burning inside her. She's so filled with disgruntlement. It's always better to suffer the truth than to be blissfully unaware, but Wednesday wishes this entire realization wasn't her truth. 

"Should I start prioritizing you?" You say with no inflection, but it feels almost malicious. "I'd have never thought Wednesday Addams would demand so much of my time."

Wednesday would never, ever admit that something as silly as words could hurt her. They were just words, and she'd have to care enough to let them affect her. Even Enid's rare spiteful words were more of something she used to reflect on rather than let them dig at her. 

Yet, here she was, clenching her jaw and feeling her throat constrict. 

Wednesday clenches her fist. "This was a mistake." She turns around and starts walking away, feeling violently ill. She only gets a few steps away before you're chasing after her.

"No, Wednesday—wait," you grab her hand, and Wednesday absolutely detests the way it soothes her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Your tone is full of regret and sincerity.

Wednesday stands still in her spot a moment longer before she slowly turns back to you. You don't let go of her hand, and she doesn't pull away.

"Then, why?" Wednesday asks, even though she isn't in a position to accuse you, as she's the exact same when lashing out.

"Because..." you let out a deep sigh, holding Wednesday's hand more tightly. "Because I'm jealous."

Wednesday's eyebrows furrow. She is thoroughly at a loss. "Jealous?"

You shrug and then nod. "Jealous, upset, lamenting—whatever you want to call it."

"Of what, exactly?" Wednesday frowns. 

"Enid."

"Enid?" Wednesday is even more confused. "Why would you be envious of Enid?"

"It's not necessarily Enid as a person. I know she's your best friend," you sigh. "It's more of Enid as a concept."

"As a concept?" Wednesday raises her brow, prompting you to continue on.

You stare at Wednesday, studying her entirety with a focus that begins to make Wednesday uncomfortable even if she doesn't show it. 

"Everybody talks about last year," you reveal slowly. "Since I wasn't here, everyone is excited to share last year in detail."

Wednesday nods. Even her group talked about last year's events when you hung out with them from time to time. 

"The only thing I can think about when people talk of it is how different you've become," you say quietly. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I'm very aware of the fact that Enid was a big factor in your change."

Wednesday lets the words soak in, analyzing them before she nods in agreement. "Enid has left an enduring mark on me, and she continues to—do not repeat that to her."

You give Wednesday a wry grin. "Yes, Enid is..." you sigh. "She's warm like the sun—like basking under the rays. I can't blame you because I feel it in her presence too. She's genuine and bold. What you see is what you get, and you can't help but be charmed."

"I would say Enid is more like a fungus that grows on you and you have no choice but to be fond of, but continue on."

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you look at Wednesday, mirroring her impassive eyes. "I'm not like that."

Wednesday raises her brow. "And?"

You swallow, and Wednesday sees something dim behind your eyes. "I will never be warm like the sun, and what I show others will always be different—always a mask. Wednesday, despite you being grim, solemn, and interested in all morbidities, you're enticed by the sun and moved by its warmth." It was such a miserable smile. "And that will never be me."

You drop Wednesday's hand, and there's something so hollowing about it that Wednesday wants to tell you that you're such a fucking moron because the lack of your warmth is upsetting her. 

"Did you fall on your head when I wasn't watching?" Wednesday snaps at you, and you merely stare back at her. She grabs your hand back, almost crushing it to punish you. 

"Basking in the sun is only tolerable when you're sitting under the shade," Wednesday follows your ridiculous metaphors. "I will admit that Enid's warmth has taught me that while I enjoy solitude, it is a choice—not a condemnation."

"I will also admit that Enid has her whims indulged by me more," Wednesday rolls her eyes but looks at you sternly. "But so do you. I could argue I let you get away with more."

"Do I?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"If anyone consumed my thoughts and put me through such self-pity and suffering as much as you do, I would have already turned them into the next true crime documentary."

You can't help but crack a smile.

Wednesday looks at you, her eyes softening, and she evenly says, "It is easy to adulate the light." Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Show me your darkness."

You squeeze Wednesday's hand gently, and the tension in your fades, your shoulder becoming relaxed.

The anger subsides within Wednesday, quelling as she knows this stupidity is coming to its end and you will no longer be avoiding her. 

It comes to Wednesday suddenly how much emotional labor you put her through, and she's in disbelief that you think you aren't capable of changing her.

"You are..." Wednesday huffs with frustration. "Unpleasant."

You can't help but laugh. "You are, too."

"You already knew that," Wednesday plainly says. "I told you I would devastate you at some point."

"I wouldn't say I'm devastated," you smile amusedly at Wednesday's dramatics. 

"Nevertheless, this is still a mistake."

"And what a grand mistake it would be," you muse. 

"We clearly don't know what we're doing."

"I guess we just have to keep going until we do."

"Quite frankly, even if we do, we will still both needlessly suffer," Wednesday warns.

You hum, drawing Wednesday closer. Wednesday looks a little wary, but she allows your proximity. Her eyebrows are slightly tense as she gazes at you. 

"I heard your mother named you after her favorite poem," you say softly, your hand grazing Wednesday's fingers before you entangle them together. For someone who enjoyed the cold so much, her hands were warm. "Wednesday's child is full of woe."

Wednesday only nods slightly because moving too much would make her lips graze yours. 

The tension is so thick, Wednesday could suffocate in it. How lovely. 

Your lips graze against Wednesday, and she tightens her hands against yours when you pull away. You look at Wednesday's eyes so vehemently, and she experiences opia all over again. 

"But did you know?" 

Wednesday can feel your breath on her face.

"Love is suffering—and we get the honor of enduring its torment."

Your lips press warmly against the corner of Wednesday's mouth, and she finds you're veracious. What torture it is—and Wednesday takes delight in it.

PART 6

OKAY HISTORY'S BEEN MADE. THEY'VE KISSED. I'M GONNA BE MELTING IN THE CORNER FROM THAT LAST PART. 🥹

let's talk about the LOREEEEE thoooooooo

I'm scared of what's happened in Wednesday's vision. Is Fae gonna get hurt again?? the petal Wednesday touched was a draeconium petal. Or was it a flashback to when Fae's wings were hurt?Aaand you're making me lose my mind with the last sentence in that vision 🫠

—FLASHOVER | SEVEN

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds it's pleasant talking to you. There's a rhythmic back and forth, easy to follow along. So, why is it that you've been making bets and comments in your latest conversations that are way too emotionally charged for someone like Wednesday to know what to do with the static and friction.

Warnings: Competitive!Wednesday. Jealous!Wednesday. Competitive!Enid—she's gonna win that trophy again. Thing—should be getting paid honestly. Xavier—only knows losing.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: This is a little longer to make up for the short chapter last time 🤏 let the action begin! I hope you enjoy it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) also yes i did change part 6's graphic nobody say anything shh

Part Six

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Flashover: Noun. The moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you've built up through decades of friction with the world.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was the day before the Poe Cup race, and everyone was finishing the last touches to their boat. 

"Are you sure this is okay?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

Enid and Wednesday glanced at each other.

"No."

"Yes."

They say it simultaneously, and you give them an amused smile.

"I mean it's not, not okay," Enid explains to you. "I need to win this trophy a second time in a row, alright?"

Enid finishes polishing the last of the boat, waving the two of you off as Yoko comes in, holding a jumpsuit that makes Wednesday's lip part slightly and sigh. Placing her hand on the small of your back, she begins to push you to walk away.

"Aren't you going to stay and finish helping?" You ask curiously, though not resistant at all to being led away. 

"No," Wednesday drones. "I'm only entering as Enid is down a rower. My conditions were that I'm copilot again this year and that outside of giving my input and checking on the boat, I wouldn't be forced into their team-bonding."

You give her an amused smile, stopping as the two of you stand in the empty hall. Turning to face Wednesday, her eyes are alight with curiosity, even if the rest of her face doesn't show it. 

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, your smile lingering on your lips. 

The ravenette peers back at you, and you feel memorized by how long her lashes are. It takes you to then admire her smooth skin—even if it lacks life. Wednesday's lips are also supp—

"What," Wednesday drives you back to reality. Her eyebrows are furrowed, confused by your intensive study of her face and silence.

You bring the crook of your finger to your mouth, clearing your throat with a cough, trying to suppress the blood rising to your cheeks.

"I was just wondering if you're ever bothered about the fact that we're..." your voice drifts off as you think about the correct way to label the two of you, "involved, and you don't have my number. I have yet to hear even one possible nickname for me from you."

"Why?" Wednesday asks with a raise of her brow. "Are you offering it to me without?"

You smile with a shake of your head. "I'm afraid not," you say but don't look sorry at all. "Rules are rules, Wednesday."

"Rules are made to be broken," Wednesday pushes back. "If I had followed every inane rule since arriving at this penitentiary, everyone would've been none the wiser and perished."

"Hm," you hum, conceding with a nod. "I would argue more that despite your lack of knowing the rules, everyone survived."

Wednesday glares at you, and she's about to demand that you explain, but you cut in before she can say anything.

"I'm enchanted by rule-breakers, Wednesday, but only by those who know the rules well enough to break them," your smile is teasing, but Wednesday can't help but tense her shoulders and stifle her frown. She's about to say something when she spots movement from the side of her eye.

That lanky, stuttering boy. 

"F-Fae!" He started hesitantly but grew more confident when he saw you smile his way.

"Hello, Henry," you politely greet. "How are you today? Are you heading to the practice room?"

He nods eagerly. "I'm good, and yeah. I swear I can do something cool if you can come see it next time," he smiles shyly back but doesn't give you time to accept or decline. "Are you going to the Poe Cup race tomorrow?"

You nod. "Yes, Bianca has asked me to come cheer for her."

Wednesday bristles. 

"Will you be going?" You ask Henry.

He looks regretful as he shakes his head no. "Unfortunately not. My father's birthday is this weekend, and I'm picking out his gift rather last minute. I'll be heading into town mulling over what I could possibly get the perpetually unsatisfied man."

You look on pityingly at him. "I'm sure he'll be happy with what you get."

"Yes," Wednesday cut in. "If not, then get him something he will undoubtedly be miserable with."

Henry looks at Wednesday strangely while you try to hide your chuckle behind your fist. 

"Well, Henry, Wednesday and I better head to class. I'll let you know who wins the race." You wave him goodbye, and he happily returns it back. He looks at Wednesday, waving at her too, but she merely stares at him before turning away to walk with you. 

As they're walking, Wednesday can hear footsteps. There's a nagging feeling in her stomach and a pricking feeling on the back of her neck. She turns her head back to look at the lanky boy but sees him sitting under one of the arches of the hall.

The sight leaves Wednesday confused, but she turns her head back to you. 

"You're cheering for Bianca?" Wednesday asks flatly, leaving out any emotions in her tone that could reveal her feelings.

"Well, she did ask me very early on," you reveal, slowing your walk down as you're in no rush to get to class. 

Wednesday follows your pace, disgruntled by the sudden change in speed and your answer. "You have pledged your allegiance to the wrong side as I will be defeating Bianca for the second time in a row. Switch or you will taste defeat right along with her."

You lick your lips, trying to not laugh. "I don't know. Bianca mentioned she had a very strategic plan. It's possible she may win."

"Over my dead body. Thing is aggrieved with you."

"Thing isn't even here," you point out, laughing. "Alright," you grin. "Why don't we make a little bet?"

"And what exactly will the winner get?"

You look up slightly in thought before looking over to Wednesday. "How about the winner gets to plan the first date?"

Wednesday comes to a dead stop. She looks at you, a little wary. "First date?"

You nod. "I think we're due for our first one." You seem like you're going to say something else but pause for a moment before sighing. "Damn, we really have all of this backward. At this rate, we'll end up doing everything else before you get my number."

Wednesday mildly scrunches her nose, her lip curling at your comment. "Why on earth would I want to plan our...our..." Wednesday can't seem to get the words out. "A date," she forces out instead.

You smirk at her. "Because if I plan it, I might subject you to a night of snood-wearing, hair-braiding, nail-painting, 2000s romcom movies date night."

Wednesday's eyes widen, looking ghastly at the suggestion. Disgust is written all over her face, and it takes everything you have to not burst into laughter. "I thought dates were supposed to be enjoyable for both parties."

"I have to keep you on your toes," you say, trying your best to sound serious. 

They start walking again, and Wednesday's eyes flitter back and forth as she considers your words. "Would you really subject me to that kind of torture?" She doesn't know whether to hate you or be proud.

"No," you admit, unable to continue your charade. "But now you know there is an appeal to being able to choose the activities we do."

The two of you stop in front of the class door, and most people have already arrived. 

"Good luck in the race, Wednesday," you say softly, starting to walk into the classroom. 

Wednesday feels the tension in her ease at your well-wishes and soft tone. 

You look back at her with a brow raised. "And maybe next time, ask me earlier to come cheer for you."

Wednesday clenches her jaw, following after you as she snaps back. "Perhaps don't agree to cheer for the enemy regardless of how early she asks."

It's irritating when you can sense when there is and isn't a bite in her tone because you only turn around, giving her a smile that makes her own lips threaten to match.  

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The sun beats down on Wednesday, making her normally cool skin feel clammy under her catsuit. The race was about to begin soon, and Enid was yammering something to her, but she wasn't listening. 

Looking around, Wednesday spots you chatting with Bianca, looking impressed with the sirens' boat. Her lips purses mildly in irritation as she turns back to Enid.

"What's the matter?" Enid asks, but Wednesday doesn't give her an answer, forcing her to search for what could irritate her best friend and roommate. Enid finds it immediately.

"It's totally fine," Enid dismisses, trying to comfort Wednesday. "Once we win, faerie berry will be celebrating with you."

"You already used that one," Wednesday ignores everything else Enid says, "and it's foul."

"To you," Enid says, stinking her tongue out. "I'll have you know it made Fae laugh."

"What's the point of having the nickname if you're going to call her Fae anyway," Wednesday points out. "Admit it. You've run out of ideas."

"O-m-g, just shut up," Enid scrunches her nose at her roommate. "This is what I get for trying to comfort you while your girlfriend cheers for someone else."

"She's not my—" Wednesday feels the heat flare up in her cheeks, even if it doesn't show (thankfully). But Enid cuts her off and starts dragging her towards the canoe.

As they all sit in their positions: Wednesday and Enid in the middle, Yoko at the front, and another girl at the back. The crowd settles and they prepare to hear the signal. 

Ajax isn't participating this year, so there is no one to distract Enid. Or so Wednesday thinks, but Enid turns her head around and smiles at her boyfriend.

"Focus, Enid," Wednesday sighs. 

The gunshot goes off, and everyone begins to paddle rigorously. It's similar to how last year started off. Everyone except Wednesday is unaware of the secret siren lurking under the waters. The first boat is eliminated almost immediately. 

Wednesday finds it suspicious that Kent heads towards her boat despite knowing she has a net prepared. But she's not left with much choice and has Thing activate the first switch. 

Just as last year, the siren is caught in her net. When Thing comes back onto the boat, he describes how the siren slowly sinks to the bottom as he tries to claw his way out. Wednesday hums, her eyes continuing to focus ahead as she paddles.

They reach the halfway point, and when Wednesday looks, she sees you peacefully sitting at the edge of the wooden dock, your feet free of shoes and socks as they languidly dip in the water. 

You send her a small wave and smile at her, which she doesn't return. But then you also look at Bianca, who has also spotted you, and send her two thumbs up at being slightly ahead.

Wednesday rows more forcefully. 

When they reach the Crackstone's crypt, Wednesday runs off to grab their flag as she did last year. She's highly sure that Thing won't be able to distract anyone else from deserting their boat, so Enid and Thing will need to get creative. 

"Hope you don't plan on taking a cat nap this time, Addams," Bianca quips as she catches up to Wednesday. 

"Why not?" Wednesday monotones, not bothering to look over. "I did last year and still managed to beat you."

"That was beginner's luck," Bianca snappishly says before smiling. "Just like fencing."

"We'll see," Wednesday answers with finality before out-running the siren to the crypt. 

Xavier has already grabbed his flag, flashing Wednesday a cocky smile as he passes her. "I'm not losing this year, Wednesday!"

She doesn't pay him any mind as she runs up to grab their own flag. She grasps it, ready to run back, when something catches her eye from the side. Amongst the yellow and green leaves lay a single vivid cobalt teal petal. Leaning down, she goes to pick it up. The second her fingers touch it, her body seizes. 

Controlling her gift has become better over the summer, and she can stop herself from falling over, but she can't contain how it feels like livewire ripping at her skin, unnerving her. 

"Jericho grows these flowers—draeconiums. They're usually harmless and have a short bloom lifecycle."

"They bloomed under an eclipse."

"Poisonous sap—harder than any metal."

"It's the only thing that can cut off a faerie's wings."

Wednesday feels like she's choking. She sees blood coating her hands along with stray black feathers. Darkness slowly clouds her vision until it's all she can see.

"Did you think because I smiled at you that I was kind? That I wasn't capable of hurting you?"

Wednesday's eyes snap open. She looks around and finds herself still standing in front of the crypt, gripping the pole of her flag until her knuckles are white.

"Don't tell me you're winded." Bianca runs up, grabbing her flag and not even sparing Wednesday a glance. "Guess I should work you harder in fencing."

Wednesday doesn't say anything, beginning to run back to the boat. 

The voice was distinctly clear. After all, Wednesday hears it every day and even dreams about it sometimes. She hears it every night she applies the salve to your wrecked wings. The only thing that throws Wednesday off balance is the acid in the tone—in your voice. 

She looks at the creased cobalt teal petal in her other hand.

What was a draeconium petal doing on the island?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The second half of the race becomes tense. 

Kent seems to not have escaped from the net, which Wednesday found odd. He must've been hiding somewhere. 

Suddenly, the Amontillado team starts to sink, and Xavier lets out a big groan, slumping in the back.

"What did you do?" Wednesday asks.

"Thing and I switched it up this time. I distracted them and Thing drilled holes at the bottom of their boat," Enid wickedly grins just as Thing comes out from hiding under, dragging a cordless drill. "I bought that over the summer. It's waterproof!"

"How did you distract them?" Wednesday was curious. 

"My feminine wiles." Enid looks so innocent that Wednesday almost couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. 

Now it was just the Black Cats, and the Gold Bugs left, and it seems Kent decided to make his appearance known then, coming up to push the Black Cat's boat, steering them off course and towards the buoy. 

Thing throws himself into the water, swimming under the canoe towards the siren, who is smirking. Just as Thing is about to punch Kent in his face, another siren pops up from behind, securing Thing into a bag and pulling the string closed tight despite the thrashing.

Wednesday waits a few more seconds, but the answer becomes clear, especially when she sees two tails splash up briefly from the water. 

Thing doesn't swim back up from the water, and their boat is still being pushed off course forcefully. Wednesday turns on the second switch, which activates the harpoon spikes on the side of the boat. This year, they implemented a few more that would be underwater to deter sirens from getting close. 

It seemed while Wednesday expected Bianca to bring more sirens to assist her under the water, Bianca had also anticipated Wednesday knowing and preparing their boat to adjust. 

Therefore, the queen bee siren had prepared something unexpected at the very end. 

Their boat suddenly stops being pushed off course but then something worse happens. In the water, the two sirens work in tandem, swimming in rapid circles, and a whirlpool near the Black Cat's boat forms with speed, beginning to drag their unwilling boat toward disaster. 

"Paddle!" Enid screams, but it's useless. 

Thing was trapped under. 

It wasn't like he would die or anything, but there was no way his fingers would have enough strength to swim away from the forming whirlpool. He would be sucked in, swirling around until he likely hit the bottom of the river, exhausted and unable to swim back up. 

They were just past the halfway point. Wednesday had seen you as she paddled back, looking just as relaxed and languid. Now, you were peering furiously into the water as if trying to find Thing. 

Your head snaps up, locking eyes with Wednesday as she is being pulled into the whirlpool. She isn't too worried as she's an adept swimmer, and the most challenging obstacle would be holding her breath long enough to make it through to the end of the whirlpool and not slam her head at whatever was at the bottom, then have enough air to swim back up. She hopes her teammates are capable of doing the same.

If she didn't drown, she might try to find the opportunity to discover where Thing was trapped.

But then Wednesday watches you stand, loosening the tie around your neck, discarding it on the ground before you roll your skirt's waistband down several times and pull it higher up your body so the length is above your knees. Then, she watches you do a perfect dive into the river. 

The first feeling Wednesday experiences is apprehension because Wednesday doesn't even know if you can swim. Why wasn't that one of the things she asked you? 

But she only knows right now that there's a continuous rapid whirlpool, getting stronger by the minute. If you get sucked into that, and you aren't an adept swimmer, you will certainly, at the very least, drown. 

It would be okay for Thing and sirens, but definitely not creatures that needed air. 

Wednesday throws her oar back into the boat, ready to throw herself into the water, when Enid grabs her wrists and yanks her back down. 

"Enid!" Wednesday snaps, feeling that apprehension grow into something worse when you haven't popped back up for air yet. 

"You can't jump down there, you idiot!" Enid snaps back. "Unless your skin can absorb water and turn it into oxygen or you're hiding gills somewhere, you'll drown! Our best bet is to paddle into the moving downstream of the whirlpool and slingshot ourselves around and out."

"Yes, however—" Wednesday starts to argue but is cut short when the rapid current of the whirlpool and the pull of their boat suddenly begin to slow down. 

The look of confusion passes through everyone's face, especially Bianca's, as she paddles past Wednesday.

Eventually, the water is still again, and the heads of the sirens responsible for the whirlpool pop out of the water.

"Fuck!" Kent shouts with his hands to his eyes, rubbing them. "I can't see anything!"

The other one near their boat pops up, looking frantic. 

"Why is it suddenly dark?" She sputters, holding out her hand as she wades through the water, trying to find something. Her hand slaps against the Black Cat's boat, and she looks alarmed. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Are you blind?" Enid waves her hand in front of the girl's face, but there's no reaction. She even jumped at Enid's voice, not realizing how close she was. "It's very much still daylight out."

Wednesday looks into the girl's eyes but finds something amiss. 

The girl is still sputtering, asking for help, but Enid is more ruthless than Wednesday thought, especially since it seems like the siren's vision is slowly returning.

"Peace and love to you but goodbye!" Enid shouts as she directs everyone to start paddling. 

Wednesday paddles but looks to the side, where she sees an arm shoot up and grab the edge of the wooden dock. Another arm shoots out, and you're hoisting yourself up onto it. Thing is on your shoulder, and relief floods Wednesday's body. 

Wednesday locks eyes with you, catching you wringing the bottom of your dress shirt and skirt. You smile at her before mimicking the gesture of her paddling, telling her she should paddle faster. 

Turning back to the course, Wednesday puts her back into paddling. It seems that this year, Bianca learned her lesson, building her boat with deadly weapons, and prepared for the worst-case scenario of Wednesday somehow catching up.

Just as Wednesday paddles up next to the Gold Bug's boat with the spikes out, Bianca activates the harpoons from her boat, forcing them to keep their distance. The sirens have planted spikes around their entire boat to prevent the Black Cats from trying to get them on another side. With her team being stronger paddlers, Bianca gives Wednesday a victorious smirk as she paddles away.

But—Wednesday had banked on the fact that Bianca would grow smarter. She activates the third switch on the boat. A lid opens up at the bow of their canoe, and a small harpoon cannon rises. 

"Don't miss," Wednesday threatens Yoko, who waves her off dismissively with a hand and grabs onto the handles. 

"What?" Yoko smirks. "Do you think my eyes being in the dark with the sunglasses on would impede my perfect vision? I only bumped into a wall 6 times this week."

Wednesday doesn't comment back, mostly because Enid already seems too high-strung at this moment that she's confident the werewolf would kill her vampire best friend if the girl missed the shot. 

Yoko spends only a few moments aiming before shooting, the harpoon shooting out with force, piercing right into the opening hole of one of the spikes on the Gold Bug's boat. 

"See!" Yoko grins. "All that worry for nothing." Yoko presses a button to reel the harpoon, and as it yanks back, it rips a hole into the Gold Bug's boat.

Water quickly fills Bianca and her team's boat, and they're left bitterly watching the Black Cats row by them a second year in a row. 

The cheers are deafening as they return to the dock, with everyone jumping and screaming.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Enid screams, hugging Wednesday as the girl grunts with displeasure but allows it. "This better be the only highlight of my year!"

Wednesday finds it amusing before she turns and scans the crowd. She sees you in the far back, trying to not draw any attention to yourself. Your hair is still damp, but your clothes look relatively dry as you've been standing in the sun. Thing isn't anywhere to be seen, assumedly going back to the dorm room to rest. 

You're not cheering or clapping, but you're beaming, seemingly pleased at Wednesday's victory. 

"You're getting really good at this school spirit thing. I know you have no beef with Bianca this year, but you have to admit that it feels good to beat her again," Enid conspiringly whispers. 

Wednesday turns her head to look at Bianca, who is climbing out of the water, looking vexed. "Defeating someone always feels good," Wednesday smirks. "But it feels better when there's a reason to."

That's what her fencing rival gets for asking you to come and cheer for her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday knocks on the door of your room carefully. She's never been to your room before, but she does like how isolated it seems. The room is further down the hall, away from others.

"Come in." Wednesday hears the muffled voice on the other side of the door. 

Turning the knob, Wednesday enters to find you standing at your full-length mirror, drying your hair. You're in casual clothing, a sight that Wednesday is used to. Wednesday, herself, was wearing a striped black and white long-sleeved shirt and a black sweater over that. 

"Hey," you look at her through the mirror, smiling as you lock eyes with her. "Not going to celebrate with your teammates?"

"I told Enid I'd think about it," Wednesday says, recalling the same words she told the blonde last year. Of course, she had been thinking about it if you were there, but Thing brought her a note from you saying to come meet her after she was done celebrating.

Therefore, Wednesday opted to skip if you weren't going. 

You chuckle, not commenting on it. "Do you want some tea?"

Wednesday nods, looking down at the fuzzy black rug and a small round coffee table a few feet away. She strides her way around before sitting on the floor at the coffee table.

There are two mugs and a cordless electric kettle in the middle of your coffee table that you open up before grabbing a water bottle to pour its contents in. You shut the lid before turning it on, and the sound of water heating fills up the room.

Wednesday takes a moment to look around the room, noting how similarly plain it was like hers (her side, at least). The room was much smaller than Wednesday's, but it was obvious it was your room alone. 

You had little personal items, mostly photos you'd taken with your friends. Instead of a twin bed like everyone else, you had a queen-size tucked in the corner. Beside it, against the wall and in front of a window, was a long desk, enough for two people to work on it if they squished. But it was barren besides a laptop and a photo of you and Bianca and you with Enid and Yoko. 

At the end of your desk stood the full-length mirror. There was a reach-in closet on the opposite side of the room, filled with your clothes that hung neatly. A lot of them looked new and unworn. 

There was little walking room, but Wednesday found it comfortable. 

"You don't have a roommate?" Wednesday asks, even though the answer is obvious.

"No," you shake your head. "It'd be impossible to hide my wings with a roommate and I need to let them out every night or they'd be very, very sore. Not to mention how miserable I'd be keeping them for that long."

"It must be nice," commented Wednesday.

You shrug. "I'm used to it, I suppose. But sometimes I'm envious of the whole…" you wave your hand in a vague motion, "roommates thing. It seems nice."

Wednesday snorts derisively. "You say that without knowing Enid's habit for snoring and singing horrid pop music. It's hard to get work done sometimes."

You finish drying your hair, letting the rest of it air dry. You hang the towel on the mirror's edge before sitting down next to Wednesday, your shoulder bumping hers. "Well, you're welcome anytime here, even if I'm not around if you want some peace and quiet," you offer. "Usually if I’m here, I'm not doing anything much except on my laptop and with earphones in."

Wednesday fidgets with her fingers at your tempting offer. "I see you've fallen into the downfall of our age—technology."

You laugh, the back of your hand covering your mouth. It's such a melodic sound that Wednesday can't help but think of her vision earlier and the acid in your tone. 

Was it even possible?

The water finally finishes heating up, and you place the tea bags into the two cups before pouring hot water into them, sliding one mug in front of Wednesday, who nods in thanks.

"I will admit that I've fallen into binging Netflix shows or documentaries, and the occasional snooping of Enid's blog, but I can't say it's an addiction of mine," you reveal. "Fae realms aren't as modern as the outside world. We have things like electricity, heating, and plumbing but technology isn't as prevalent. It's more used for research than it is for entertainment."

"I see," Wednesday tilts her head at the information. She wishes her mother would hurry up with that goddamn diary. 

"I believe a lot of the younger generation is fighting for change but a lot of high lords are against it," you sigh.

Wednesday doesn't know what to say. She's not knowledgeable enough about fae realms to comment on it. But you change the subject before she can even attempt to think of an answer.

You turn to her, a crooked smile on your lips. "Congratulations on today," you say softly. "You were very impressive."

Wednesday shrugs off your laudatory. "Victory was only possible because of you," she acknowledges. She turns to you, narrowing her eyes. "You did something to those sirens. It caused them to be temporarily blind."

You nod. 

"Is that your power?"

You vaguely nod again, swaying back and forth as if that's only part of the answer.

"One of them, yes." You finally say. "It's a mild form of psychic powers. I'm not actually physically impairing their eyes, but rather clouding their mind, cutting off certain brain signals so that they think it's pitch black."

"I'm not really good at it," you hurry to say after, as if worried. "I don't have a lot of practice, and it can only last a few minutes at best."

"That is impressive," Wednesday genuinely compliments. 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and rub the back of your neck shyly. "Thanks," you mumble.

Wednesday senses your discomfort and decides to not push you about your powers for tonight. 

"I thought you were rooting for Bianca," Wednesday says quietly. "We had a bet, did we not?"

You tilt your head at Wednesday, almost as if you're confused by her words. And then you're leaning closer to her. 

Wednesday is impossibly still. The air suddenly feels electrically charged, sparks forming as the silence drags on. It was infuriating and intoxicating how you could turn the mood so fast.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, silkily, making the ravenette twitch. "Are you a competitive person?"

"Most definitely." Wednesday answers without hesitation and in a tone that almost seems proud. "I can be obsessive, single-minded, and I don't often lose."

"I'm not a competitive person at all," you admit to her, leaning closer. "I make bets all the time without a care if I win or lose them."

You had taken a sip of your tea earlier, and Wednesday could feel the heat of it on your breath. She could practically feel the heat radiating off your lips. 

"That's ridiculous," Wednesday tries to keep the steel in her voice, but she feels something in the back of her throat wavering.

"Is it?" You retort back quietly. "If I make the bets, I can tell you now that I'm winning either way."

The words take a moment for Wednesday to process. Her eyes focus, recalling the bet, and she feels her stomach knot. 

"I don't care who plans the date," you say the words out loud, forcing Wednesday to publicly acknowledge it. "Because in the end, we'll be having a date."

You smile, and it causes your lips to brush against Wednesday, and her eyes flutter close.

"Although, I do admit it will be fun to watch you attempt to plan a date that will entertain us both," you tease. 

Wednesday's eyes snap back open, glaring at you. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she raises her brow at you. "If I can't be sure to plan the best date, I may settle to plan the worst one."

"Worst?" You try to not laugh.

"It would end in tears…on your end. Uncomfortable displeasure on mine."

"And the best?"

Wednesday is silent.

You let the silence linger between the two of you, basking in the proximity of Wednesday Addams. 

"Want to make another bet?" Your eyes flitter up to look into Wednesday's gaze.

"Exactly what kind?" Wednesday asks. Given your revelation, she knows she should say no, but curiosity has always been Wednesday's killer.

Wednesday watches you observe her, studying every meticulous feature of her face as if searching for something. Wednesday is stiff, but she's leaning closer even if she doesn't realize it.

"If you stay completely still for the next five minutes, I'll refrain and wait to kiss you on our first date," you say, moving somehow closer to Wednesday's face, tilting her face more against hers. Your lips brush but never fully touch. "If you move, you have to kiss me right now."

Everyone knows that Wednesday can stay still long enough to make people believe she's dead. You must've known that, especially having listened to people telling you about last year's events. 

So, Wednesday thinks about what this bet is about. 

"If I make the bets, I can tell you now that I'm winning either way."

And regardless of the results of the bet, you'd get a kiss.

Wednesday swallows, feeling something strange happen to her by just your words. 

It's the kind of revelation that feels emotionally charged. It's a build-up of all the time she has spent with you and pathetically pined after you. 

Wednesday is a very competitive person. She detests losing. It brings pity, rage, and self-disgust.

Yet, because it's you, there's an underlying spark of trust in defeat. 

Wednesday Addams didn't mind losing to you.

Licking her lips, Wednesday moves her hand, grabbing the edge of your shirt at your stomach to anchor herself. She tugs, pulling you closer, and presses her lips against yours.

PART 8

this has me on a ledge holding onto my loudly beating heart for dear LIFE.

The way this sets the feeling when I read it just shows how amazing your writing is

—NIGHTHAWK | EIGHT

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: The Poe Cup race has long passed and Wednesday actively tries to ignore the bet she's made. She may have won, but why does it feel like she's been defeated? She may be able to ignore it during the day, but not so much at night.

Warnings: Wednesday laments over planning a date. Enid is exasperated. Thing, our lovely messenger. Xavier gets threatened with jail. Mother!Weems

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: Wednesday: I will threaten you with a horrible time—wait, no not like that.

Part Seven

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Nighthawk: Noun. A recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Why are you rearranging everything?" Wednesday asks, her voice dull but tinged with a hint of annoyance.

You look at her sheepishly. "Sorry, I know you're trying to write."

Wednesday sighs, letting the ire settle away. After all, this was your room. But Wednesday had taken your words about coming here for some peace and quiet last week seriously and brought her typewriter the next day to your room, and it's been there ever since. 

Wednesday actively doesn't think about what it could mean that she'd been moving her stuff over into your room slowly because, at the very least, she still goes back to her own to sleep at night. 

She actively doesn't think about anything to do with you during the day.

"Why are you rearranging everything?" Wednesday asks again, her face unimpressed with how you've shuffled your coffee table, the inside of your closet, and how you've been eyeing your bed as if it was next.

You purse your lips as if debating whether or not to tell Wednesday the reason, but when she pinches her eyebrows at you, her gaze becoming more narrow, you relent. 

"I thought it'd be nice to have more room..." you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck.

"You've already optimized the space to its full potential," Wednesday raises her brow at you. "You won't be getting anything more unless you start throwing away things and you own nothing like the miserable orphan you are."

You can't help but laugh.

"I was thinking of giving away the coffee table," you admit with a smile. "One of the gorgon girls in the woodworking class said she could make me an extendable coffee table that I could fit into my closet."

"Why have you asked her? It is doubtful her skills would be superior to mine."

"Because you're not taking woodworking and it would have to be an extracurricular activity to do outside of class, and I feel like there's more interesting things you could be working on," you point out, giving up on rearranging and sitting on your bed.

"Like what exactly?" Wednesday flatly asks, her gaze studying your fictitious nonchalant face. 

"Do you like horror movies?" You ask instead of answering Wednesday's question, which makes the gothic girl's mouth twitch in annoyance. 

"If you're asking if they scare me, then no," Wednesday answers succinctly, with a tilt of her chin. "But I do enjoy watching them if they're done well."

"Me too," you tell her. "I mean, they do kind of scare me but I also kind of enjoy the feeling because then that means the movie was good."

There's a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lip, too quick for you to see. 

"Which ones have you seen?" Wednesday asks, curious about what your tastes are. "Which ones terrify you the most?" Her eyes are glinting. 

"Not too many," you give her an amused smile. "Remember, I didn't really have access to the internet for entertainment, and I'm not really one for watching it by myself." 

You sit in thought, and Wednesday waits in anticipation. This was the kind of information that Wednesday had been waiting for because it was difficult to gauge what you were afraid of. 

"I think maybe paranormal movies?" You say, your tone lifting at the end like you were unsure.

Wednesday's face fell. "You're scared of ghosts?" She asks, thoroughly unimpressed. 

"Hey," you kick her foot lightly with your own. "How are you supposed to fight something that is already dead? They clearly already have the upperhand."

Wednesday lifts her hands and starts counting on her fingers. "Rituals, spiritual artifacts, using a psychic, destroy whatever is holding their attachment here, become a ghost yourself and—"

"Okay, okay, I get it," you laugh. "I still find them unsettling, though."

"Ridiculous," Wednesday scowls with distaste. "There are far more horrifying and interesting genres."

"Well," you say lightly, and Wednesday looks into your eyes. They gaze into her like they want to draw her in and send a secret message. "Guess you'll have to show me one of these days."

Wednesday wants to ignore the secret message. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You'll have to show me one of these days."

The words kept repeating in Wednesday's mind, torturing her while she tried to sleep. Usually, it'd be lovely, but Wednesday would've preferred that it was her nightly sleep paralysis afflicting her instead. 

Wednesday had successfully ignored the fact she had won the bet of winning the Poe Cup race. It makes her irate that she’s won yet she feels like she’s been defeated. At least during the day, she was able to ignore it. At night, it haunted her and cost her sleep. 

On top of that, Wednesday was still looking into what her vision could possibly mean. During the day, she spent all her time analyzing you, searching for clues that you might turn on her just like Tyler had. It would be just her luck to have it happen to her a second time. 

But while Wednesday could see something lurking underneath your mask to put on to others, and even sometimes hers, you seemed mindful about the pace to be close. It was different from Tyler, who constantly made it known exactly what he wanted from Wednesday and that he wanted it immediately. 

Wednesday had been snooping around, hoping to trigger another vision, but nothing had come; therefore, she was at a dead end. She supposes she could just bring the issue to your attention and hear your thoughts, but for some unknown reason, she was reluctant. 

"You'll have to show me one of these days."

Damn it all, Wednesday sighs with force.

The task at hand was overdue, and Wednesday wonders if you wonder if she'll keep her word and plan this...date. The idea of being thought of as someone who couldn't keep their vows was disconcerting and disgusting.

This was ridiculous, Wednesday thinks as she removes her covers and sits up. So utterly ridiculous.  

Wednesday Addams never backed away from a challenge, and she was most definitely someone who kept all her threats and promises. 

She grabs a piece of paper, neatly scribbling words onto it before she tosses the pen to the side. 

"Thing," she whispers, even though nearly nothing could wake Enid at this hour. The disembodied hand gets up from his resting place and scuttles quietly over to her. 

"Drop this off and bring me a reply," she tells him. 

He looks at the note and starts signing words to her.

"Yes, what's wrong with what I said? It is succinct."

Thing makes a show of being exasperated with her using his fingers but takes the note and scurries off. 

Wednesday doesn't return to bed, waiting impatiently for Thing to return with her arms crossed, her index tapping her inner arm. It's minutes before the hand returns with a note in return.

"Was she awake?" Wednesday asks, and Thing indicates that you were. He passes her the note.

Wednesday grins, but it looks maniacal.

'Are you threatening me with a date? I thought you'd never ask.'

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The sounds of Wednesday typing lull you through your headphones. It's a consistent sound, and the only break is when the sound of Wednesday returning the carriage as the page hits the end. 

It was late at night, and it was unlikely for either of you to go out again. Since it's just the two of you in your room, you have your wings out, carefully preening the feathers with your fingers. The scars were healing nicely, but any forceful exertion would make them split open again, and you were not keen on that happening. You're also pretty sure Wednesday would be disgruntled with you if you did as well.

"How are your wings?" Wednesday asks as she takes a break from her writing.

"Sore," you admit, ruffling them lightly. "I can't really stretch them without re-opening the wounds, and they're usually hidden inside my back most days."

"I've been meaning to ask how that works," Wednesday stares at you while you gently massage the sore areas, being very careful of how far your stretch.

"I wish I could explain, but I really can't," you shrug. "It's just innate in faeries to be able to hide their wings. How does it all fit? I'm not sure, really. Most likely evolution and fae magic."

You were really focused, seemingly annoyed with where you couldn't reach. 

"Do you want assistance?" Wednesday offers. 

You freeze for a moment, looking up at Wednesday. The idea of Wednesday's fingers going under the feathers and pressing her fingers carefully against your wing was...a lot.

"Oh, uh," you remove your fingers from your flight appendages. "No, it's okay."

"Why?" Wednesday raises her brow. "You're clearly struggling. Do you not trust me to handle your wings carefully?"

"No, no, it's not that," you correct immediately. You sigh for a moment, feeling the heat rise to your ears. "It's just..." you shift on the bed. "You know my wings are sensitive."

Wednesday nods. "And I will be meticulous."

"It's not that," you mutter, feeling warm. "You massaging them...touching them...like that..." your voice trails, and you feel slightly mortified. This was so embarrassing.

Wednesday seems to catch on immediately, and her back goes straight and rigid. "I see." Her voice is brisk.

"Yeah," you say quickly back. "It's, you know...just ticklish," you say to avoid the awkwardness, but you both know it's not quite that. 

Wednesday just nods, not pushing to offer her help further, but there is a curious look in her eyes. You don't dwell on it as you check your watch.

"Oh, shit," you sigh as you stand, gently brushing the last of your feathers with your fingers. 

"What?" Wednesday asks with a frown, watching your wings disappear. 

"Larissa is leaving for some conference. It's apparently a long trip and she needs to drive out tonight."

Wednesday recalls Weems mentioning her absence for the weekend and a group of teachers being in charge, but there was hardly a need for concern as it was the weekend.

"I have to go see her off," you tell Wednesday. "It'll probably be a couple of minutes. Are you going to stay here writing?"

"I will be finished in a couple of minutes as well," Wednesday says. "I will be returning to my dorm room for the night. I have preparations to finish."

"Preparations, you say?" A sly smile on your lips that Wednesday rolls her eyes at. 

Since that night after the Poe Cup race, there haven't been any kisses. Wednesday's still figuring out what to make of it all. You seem content with how things are, and Wednesday was slowly studying her own desires and how to handle them accordingly. Sometimes, Wednesday thinks it was easier kissing a serial killer.

At least with the serial killer, she didn’t have to do any date planning. But since she was, she was going to do every single part of it correctly and perfectly. Wednesday mindlessly thinks she’s probably been driving Enid insane and feels gleeful at the thought.

The sly smile turns soft, the rarity that only belonged to Wednesday. You lean over and faintly kiss her on the cheek, and your warm lips tinge Wednesday's cool skin. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

You leave Wednesday sitting in your room with a soft click of the door, heading out to the front gates. There are still some students wandering about, and you give them friendly, light smiles with a short wave of your hand as they greet you. 

Inwardly, you sigh. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I'm very serious," Weems gives you a stern look. "If there's anything wrong, you're to go to the nurse immediately. Don't think I've gotten over the last incident you had with the gorgon girls."

"I told you it was an accident!" You sigh almost dramatically. "They're nice girls! They're just...enthused...and strong."

Weems merely rolls her eyes but doesn't comment on it anymore. 

"I will only be gone for the weekend, I should be back Sunday night. It will be a short meeting."

"I know," you say, hiding back your sigh. "It'll be fine. I'm just going to be doing homework over the weekend."

"Right," Weems raised her brow, and an amused and wry smile graced her lips. "And by just doing homework over the weekend, you mean having a date with Miss Addams?"

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at Weems. "How did you know?"

Weems just makes some noncommittal noise before sighing. "My life seems to be fated to be entwined with the Addams family."

You look at her curiously, but Weems waves you off before she looks at you with a mildly uncomfortable look. "Do I need to give you the talk—"

"No!" You say immediately, cutting the principal off. Heat rises up your chest, burning the tip of your ears, and your cheeks feel hot. "It's—" you clear your throat into your fist—"it's fine. I'm good, I know."

Weems's face is slightly flushed red at the apple of her cheeks, and it makes you feel better. The two of you chuckle, letting it die into a comfortable silence. 

"I'll be home in two days," Weems repeats, softer this time. 

You nod. "Okay," your voice softer as well. It was strange, but you really did like having Weems around, despite Wednesday's grumbling about her. "Have a safe trip."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Saturday passed quickly, and Enid could not be more thankful. If there was one more annoying thing than Wednesday obsessively investigating things, it was Wednesday obsessively trying to plan a date. Her grim roommate was extra unbearable this entire week. 

Thing dropped off a note to you earlier today to meet in Wednesday's room at precisely 7PM with your laptop. While Wednesday executed her plan, Enid kept her company for most of the day. 

"I'm surprised you were able to actually cook dinner here," Enid says dryly. "I can't believe you made your own makeshift stove and didn't burn our entire room down."

"Controlled arson is child's play," Wednesday drawls. She finishes setting up a projector she's borrowed (stolen) from a classroom before setting down a blanket with some cushions. She looks at Enid. "Give me all of your pillows."

"What? Why?" Enid frowns.

"Because only I enjoy sitting on rigid and awkward angles that may give me back or neck pains later," Wednesday explains succinctly while she grabs the one pillow from her bed, tosses it on the floor, and then grabs a black fuzzy blanket.

Enid sighs, reaching for her pillows and tossing them onto the blanket. Normally, she might've denied her roommate the request, but it was clear that Wednesday was trying to make this the perfect date from the way she's been obsessing about it all week, meticulously planning and researching. 

It was endearing to watch, but Enid wouldn't say it out loud.        

"You will change the pillowcases and wash the old ones when I'm back tomorrow," Enid warns her roommate, who noncommittally nods.

Then Wednesday freezes. "You're not returning tonight?"

Enid smirks. "Nope. I'm having a sleepover with Yoko tonight." She then gives Wednesday a look. "I won't do it too often, especially since Fae has her own bedroom you guys can be doing your dates at."

"It's smaller," Wednesday mutters, even though she knows it would've been fine to do it at your place. But Wednesday chose to do it in their own room so that she could rely on Enid returning in the worst-case scenario where the date was a failure.

Wednesday checks the time on her wrist and finds she has no time to make adjustments now. It was 6:55PM, and you'd be arriving soon. 

"Leave," Wednesday dismisses Enid, who sighs at her roommate's callousness but still wishes her good luck as she goes to find her vampire best friend along with Thing.

Time ticks slowly as Wednesday checks to ensure the sea witch paella she made is still warm. She does a final review of all her preparations and stands near the door. 

Wednesday wouldn't describe herself as nervous, but she does feel an uncomfortable pressure in her chest and something twisting in her stomach.

It's nauseating and exhilarating.

7:00PM. 

Wednesday waits, telling herself that while it's annoying that people are not customarily on time, it's not abnormal. 

7:05PM.

You were late, but Wednesday isn't worried. You aren't typically late to things, but there's been an occasional time she'll catch you out of breath running to class or to their nightly meet-up.

7:15PM.

Irritated.

Now Wednesday is irritated with how inconsiderate you were being and plans to make you reiterate what you were doing every single minute to be late. She knows you know the time to meet was 7PM. When Thing dropped off her note to you, you also provided a note back saying, 'You have such a way with words. See you at 7PM sharp then.'

A liar is what you are, Wednesday thinks with a downward curl of her lips. Wednesday pinches the bridge of her nose, annoyed at the fact that she has a stupid phone that is utterly useless. She wanted to throttle both Xaiver and Enid for endlessly praising how useful it was to have one. 

7:30PM.

Wednesday clenches her jaw as she blows out the candles and turns off her makeshift stove. She's vexed, but a larger part of her doesn't believe you'd not show up. The vision Wednesday had during the Poe Cup race appears, and she briskly strides out of her room.

Not in your room.

Not in any of the classrooms.

Not in the garden.

Not in the cafeteria.

Not in the library.

"Addams," Bianca greets with a raise of her brow. "Aren't you supposed to be on a date?"

Wednesday stops as Bianca approaches her. "You knew?" Her eyes narrow.

Bianca rolls her eyes, her blue eyeshadow accentuating her eyes. "Of course. Fae briefly mentioned it in the afternoon with a sickeningly happy look on her face. Can't say I see the charm of being on a date with you, but I digress."

"So you did see her earlier then?" Wednesday asks pointedly, ignoring everything else the siren said. 

Bianca raises a brow slowly at Wednesday's behavior. "I did, but she left for her studio about two hours ago. Why?"

Wednesday doesn't bother answering, walking past Bianca with haste.

There was only one place left to check, and Wednesday expected you to be there. You had better be sitting in your studio, having lost track of time, and Wednesday would berate you. But you'd be there to apologize, and they could salvage what was left of their date, and Wednesday would pointedly remind you that it was your fault their food was cold. They'd watch their horror movie as planned, and it wouldn't matter if it'd be late into the night because Enid wasn't coming back anyway.

Because if you weren't there, Wednesday would certainly kill someone. 

"Wednesday!" Bianca calls as she strides to catch up to Wednesday as they pass the Quad, grabbing the attention of Enid, Yoko, Xavier, and Eugene. 

"Wednesday!" Enid calls after her best friend, but she ignores it, walking with a distinct purpose to your studio. Enid and everyone else get up with haste to follow after their friend. "Wednesday, where's Fae?"

The familiar tree trunk comes into view, and she does the same sequence of action she always does to enter, not caring that she looks insane.

"What are you doin—where'd she go?" Eugene asks, his eyes narrowing as if that would allow him to see Wednesday again.

"It must be a fae realm," Bianca deducts, thinking back to her conversations with you. "Sirens have something similar. She must've created one out of her studio. Just follow what Wednesday did."

One by one, they repeat the actions, and Enid is the last to go through. And when she enters, she finds Wednesday a few feet away from her, eyes narrowed with her jaw clenched.

They don't have time to take in the space and view, as amazing as it is. 

"This isn't right," Wednesday grits out, her hands forming into fists. "This isn't the studio."

It looks perfect—neat and tidy. 

Untouched.

"What do you mean?" Bianca asks as she looks around. "This has to be Fae's studio, I can see her belongings. Look—these are the vases and pots she made in pottery class."

Wednesday's eyes move to look at the three pottery pieces Bianca is pointing at sitting in a cluster on the coffee table. They weren't perfect, a little wobbly, and you had laughed when Wednesday pointed out every imperfection and questioned why you even let them go into the bisque firing to set. 

But you said you liked how they were very clearly flawed and still worked without a hitch. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, and they were most definitely yours. 

The only problem was that earlier today, Wednesday had come into your studio while you were studying. You had given Wednesday a strange look but asked no questions as she grabbed the soft, fuzzy black blanket you favored. You bought it in town recently after Wednesday started to help you apply the salve, picking black specifically because you hadn't known Wednesday like you do now and heard she was allergic to color. 

It was for the cooler nights, not that the cold ever bothered Wednesday, but it didn't stop you from carefully draping the blanket over her. Now, it was in preparation for tonight's date when they were watching horror movies.

Yet, the soft black, fuzzy blanket in her room was also folded neatly on a shelf inside a trunk-turned rack. Which also wasn't where Wednesday had taken it from earlier today.

"This is weird, though," Enid mutters, inhaling deeply through her nose.

"What?" Yoko asks as she takes off her glasses and looks around. 

"Wednesday, you said you and Fae are here pretty frequently, right? I thought you came here earlier."

Wednesday nods rigidly. 

"That's weird," Enid ponders, tilting her head. "I can barely smell you and Fae in this place. It's like...very stale. Months old, at least."

"Wait," Eugene furrows his brows. "How is that even possible?"

Xavier looks in deep thought, holding his chin as he thinks, but Wednesday already knows. Especially after Enid confirmed the scent. 

It all leads to one conclusion. 

This wasn't your studio, or more accurately—you and Wednesday haven't been in your real studio for some time.

"Is there anyone in this school that has Fae's number?" Xavier asks, and it makes the room tense. "Does she have Snapchat or anything that could show her location?

Bianca shakes her head. "No, she doesn't have any social media and she hasn't even given me her number, not that I think it would be useful, anyway. She's never on her phone except to watch her shows or read. Half the time, I'm convinced she probably just leaves it lying around."

"We...we should contact Weems, right?" Eugene asks as he looks at everyone. 

"Even if we do, Weems won't make it back until the morning, at least," Xavier points out. "But we should."

You were missing.

No, you've been taken.

The thought felt hollow, like Wednesday couldn't believe it. It only lasted a second before pure, unadulterated fury filled her. It was like a hot white ball forming in her chest, making her clench her jaw, barely able to contain the noise she wanted to let out. 

Wednesday hadn't been watching for you just half a day, planning this ridiculous date that you had been so stupidly excited for, and you were taken.

Wednesday can only blame herself. 

She blames herself for so many things. 

Indulging you.

Indulging herself.

She should've never agreed to this date—she should've never agreed to you. 

Why couldn't she just have dismissed you as another passing curiosity? Why couldn't she have just gotten what she needed to know and left you? You should've been nothing more than a passing, disturbing thought.

It would have saved her from feeling so wretched now. 

"Wednesday," Enid says softly. She lifts her hand to gently touch her roommate but thinks better of it when she practically smells the anger radiating off the grim-looking girl. "Wednesday," Enid repeats instead, "We need to find her."

"Of course," Wednesday snaps, unable to even comprehend that she was snapping at the wrong person. "Spread out and start searching every corner of this inane institute."

Xavier looks upset. "Wednesday, you shouldn't look alone—" 

"Go, or I will unapologetically send you to jail for a second time," Wednesday cuts off, threatening the tall, lanky boy with a glare. 

Bianca grabs the sleeve at his elbow, dragging him out while the others follow. 

Thing is the only one left with Wednesday, and he stands on top of the table, waiting for Wednesday to say something. 

Wednesday's jaw is clenched, and her hands are closed in tight fists. 

The problem was that Wednesday did indulge herself, and now you were hers, even if she refused to say it out loud. 

You. Are. Hers. 

You were hers to make pay for making her feel so wretched over you. 

"Thing," Wednesday bites out. "Bring anything personal of hers. Bring me anything that looks out of place."

The mystery brought her obsessive personality up to the front, and she would solve it.

Wednesday was going to find you—because you were hers—and she would slowly maim whoever had taken you.

PART 9

oh my god.

everything about this, I don't even think I have the words to express just how amazing this story is.

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs.

I love how Wednesday just guessed everything about him like she was watching a movie LMAO

But also the fact that she keeps mentioning about how he's just another idiot who has mommy issues almost made me laugh so hard right when it's near midnight. Tears almost came out of my eyes because I didn't wanna wake up everyone too 😭

"Don't die," Wednesday quietly commands.

"Ever. Especially without me."

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

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

this part was so cute and endearing AUGH it's making me cry. and the parallel of the smile brushing against Wednesday's lip is just so memorable.

I'm so glad both of them are safe <3

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

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

I was hoping Enid and her group would have come to save the day everytime Wednesday gets hurt, but then Fae woke up and all that happened, and it was honestly awesome. Wednesday on the other hand being absolutely enthralled by her tho lmfao I don't blame her

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

...I wonder what body part they'll be taking. Or what they're cutting out. His heart? Wednesday did say she wasn't going to kill him and she'd definitely get in trouble too.

Perhaps his eyes or skin. 👀 Okay, that's a bit over the line though, isn't it

—AMBEDO | NINE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

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

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

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

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

Check out this fan edit! IG LINK

Part Eight

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

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

"Wednesday?"

The voice was quiet, timid even. 

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

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

Wednesday merely nods tersely. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid: can't find him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A twig snaps as someone moves behind a tree. 

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

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

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

You look wary. "What do you want?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday: Meet me at Crackstone's crypt. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would explain why your wings were coming out.

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

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What flower did you put?"

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

"And why would I do that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Henry looks surprised.

"Amateurs," Wednesday huffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Henry and Wednesday snap their heads in your direction. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was what her vision meant. 

How utterly useless to figure it out now. 

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

Everything about you has taken Wednesday's senses hostage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday holds you securely, her eyes widening. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all take a moment to stare at you. 

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

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

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

Wednesday shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wednesday—"

"Now, Xavier," she snaps.

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

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

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

PART 10

AHHHH EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS ENDING WAS SO SOFT 😭

I wasn't here from the beginning, as I kept forgetting and at the same time having no free time where I could read the story, but I'm glad I was at least I was not tooooo late. This was such, such an amazing book! Honestly, one of my favorites.

From the writing, to the plot, the feelings, and small attention to details along for it to also lead into the storyline was all so perfect.

The emotions of Wednesday was portrayed so well. For every character it applies, too. But the way her behaviours, thoughts, and movement was written, it was all entirely accurate. And I loved the way you had a meaning for each title given to every chapter. THE. EFFORT.

And sign me up for that taglist please! :]

"You should wake up soon," Wednesday says, even though you never reply. She doesn't even know if you're listening. "It's much too sunny without you."

AAAWWWWWW 'MUCH TOO SUNNY' I'm never getting over the two of them they're so precious

You finally look up at Wednesday's unimpressed stare and smile at her.

"Threatening me with a good time again, are you?"

AGAIN. PARALLELS. 🫠

—KAIROSCLEROSIS | TEN (FINAL)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything comes to settle in the aftermath. You're healing and Wednesday takes the time to consider what she's experiencing until she picks it apart in a way she can tolerate it. You are hers, though. That is for certain.

Warnings: softsoftsoftsoft. so soft. Wednesday is soft. cuddling. happy ending. healing. bantering. did i say soft? crying it's so soft. satisfying aftermath. the nickname bet comes to an end. soft in case you were unaware.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: book 1 has come to an end! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series <3 Sequel is on it's way along with some oneshots! series masterlist has been re-edited with info.

Part Nine

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Kairosclerosis: Noun. The moment you realize that you're currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste.

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Wednesday sits beside your hospital bed, quietly reading Goody's spellbook. The only noise is the sound of your quiet breathing and the steady beeping from the machine that monitors your heart rate. 

The spellbook is coming in handy already. Wednesday has just discovered a better remedial salve—one that should actually speed up the healing process. Once Enid arrives, Wednesday would be free to go and gather the ingredients she needed. She would need some honey from Eugene's bees, and she recalled a plant in the greenhouse with the pulp she needed.

A particularly deep breath draws Wednesday's attention from her book. Her head tilts slightly over as she peers at you. Your eyes are closed, unaware of anything as you slept on. You had to be put on your stomach so that your wings could rest without anything touching them. 

The reopened wounds had to be stitched back together and then bandaged, which the doctor noted would have to be for two weeks and frequently changed. Wednesday was merely waiting for you to be discharged, and she could take your healing into her own hands. The nurse earlier had received a scathing glare when she was not delicate in changing your bandages yesterday, causing your brows to furrow as you slept on. 

Morons, Wednesday vehemently decided then. They couldn't be trusted with you. 

"You should wake up soon," Wednesday says, even though you never reply. She doesn't even know if you're listening. "It's much too sunny without you."

"Wednesday," Enid sighs as she walks into the room, a new bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Why are you up again? You're supposed to be resting too. You got stabbed in the arm!"

"This is hardly anything," Wednesday raises her brow as she closes the spellbook and puts it back into her bag. "It honestly hurts more when I punch Pugsley."

“You mean when Pugsley punches you?”

“No.”

"Still," Enid frowns, looking over her roommate. Despite only having been two days since the ordeal, Wednesday threatened the hospital staff to discharge her mere hours after she got cleaned and fixed up. 

You could barely tell that Wednesday was injured by the way she continued wearing long sleeves, tidy braids, and lack of reaction. The only visible sign was the bandage she had to wear over her temple. 

"Fae will be upset if you refuse to rest and heal when she wakes up." Enid looks over to you, biting her bottom lip. A part of her wants to cry at how banged up you looked. She knew—could smell how much blood there was that night. But now you really looked broken with the machines hooked up to you and the red-stained bandages wrapped over your wings. 

It was worse than when Eugene was in the hospital last year. 

Wednesday looks at you once more as she prepares to leave. Your back rises and falls with each steady breath. "Then I suppose she'll have to wake up if she wants me to even consider listening to her grievances against me."

Walking out the door, Wednesday doesn't spare you another glance as she walks down the corridors. The nurses give her a wide berth, the lights flickering as she walks. 

A room comes up as she makes her way to the stairwell. There are two police guards posted outside. As she passes, she looks into the window and sees a lanky boy with messy hair and gauze bandages wrapped around his eyes and head. He's completely unaware. 

Wednesday smiles sinisterly. 

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"Miss Addams," Weems greets as she puts down her fancy fountain pen, gesturing for Wednesday to come closer.

Wednesday wordlessly takes a seat, her face impassive. 

They stare at each other for a long moment before Weems lets out a long, tired sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose before she looks at the macabre girl. 

"How are your classes going?" Weems asks.

Wednesday looks unimpressed as she lets out a dull "Fine."

"I hear you're taking class notes for Fae when she wakes up," Weems smiles then, and Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Only because Enid's writing is so cacographic that it'd be more legible if it was put through a shredder."

Weem merely chuckles, rubbing her temples. "The reason I've called you to my office is that the investigation is finally coming to an end." Weems folds her hands together on the desk in front of her. "I know you've given the police your statement, but I thought I'd get the event recounted by you myself."

"I've assumed you read the report?" Wednesday asks, her chin jilted slightly. 

Weems nods.

"Then you already know what happened. I will not be changing my story," Wednesday raises her brow. "She was kidnapped. I found the clues to where she was and the fact that Henry was the culprit. When I arrived, she was unconscious and chained to the table, poisoned with a draeconium potion."

Wednesday watches as Weems's hands tighten slightly.

"Henry gave his unremarkable sob story before we engaged in combat. The noises woke her up, and she freed herself before she defended us against Henry."

"I noticed you weren't very descriptive in this area in your report," Weems points out.

"Everything she did was something only a high lord's daughter or a night faerie would be able to do, so I will keep it to myself. The police are welcome to come and try to get an answer out of me," Wednesday's eyes glint as she gives a sharp smile, "but at their own risk."

Weems gives a wry smile and waves her hand for Wednesday to continue.

"Henry's desperation to attack us and gain the upper hand led him to strain his eyes and lose consciousness. At that moment, Enid and everyone else barged in as they finally escaped his mindscape. We all made our way back here to get medical help."

Weems stares at Wednesday after the girl finishes recounting the story. "I see," the principal says evenly after a moment. "And that was what happened? Henry lost consciousness and you left him there immediately after?"

"Yes. I wasn't going to go out of my way to bring back a kidnapper and our attempted murderer," Wednesday shrugs. 

"He could have died," Weems emphasizes pointedly. "Which would've been another death here at Nevermore two years in a row."

"His failure to kill us both is his own fault. He should deal with the consequences of it himself. The authorities were able to get them, were they not? I hear he's resting in his own guarded room." There was a telling smirk on Wednesday's face.

"Yes," Weems's voice is hard. "Though I'm sure you know the guards are useless, considering he no longer has eyes and can't use his gift anymore."

"I heard rumors around the hospital," Wednesday's face was indifferent again. 

"Wednesday," Weems sighs. "This was a disaster. Henry Morrison Sr wants to further investigate the disappearance of his son's eyes. He's convinced that they were surgically removed and considering there was only you in this situation that was conscious, he wants to press charges against you."

"Is he an absolute moron?" Wednesday raises her brow. "Is he not aware of what his son attempted to do?"

"Yes, well—"

"I encourage him to try to press charges against me with the lack of evidence he has. This case would be so laughable, I wouldn't even need to hire legal help with how guaranteed my victory is."

"Yes," Weems cuts in before Wednesday can say anything else. "And I told him as such."

Wednesday sharply looks at the principal, her eyes full of suspicion. She has no doubts that Weems knew she had gouged out Henry's eyes. After all, she had timed it perfectly for the authorities to arrive on time before he could die. 

The optic nerve was completely severed to ensure his psychic abilities could never manifest again, and then she fed his eyeballs to the fish in the river as she rowed her way back. 

"I have informed Mr. Morrison Sr that back in 1956, there was a similar incident where a psychic had over-exerted himself, resulting in his eyes bursting and it seemed that may be the case here." Weems's eyes seem to search for something in Wednesday, but it doesn't seem like she's looking for the truth. "There's no proof indicating otherwise. With that, Henry Jr is expelled, obviously."

"Will he be going to jail like Tyler?" Wednesday's quick to ask.

"Well, considering only one student attacked—no, I'm not counting you as you foolishly went after Fae alone—it's not enough to warrant having the academy file charges—"

"Of course," Wednesday hisses disdainfully. "We wouldn't want to potentially harm the school's impeccable reputation—"

"—That being said," Weems cut in forcefully, giving Wednesday a stern look. "As Fae's guardian, I am personally filing charges. I'm quite confident Morrison Sr will want to accept the plea bargain when we meet next week, lest he wants a long, grueling court battle where I will drag his family name through the mud."

Wednesday went quiet. She doesn't apologize, but there's a mild look of respect in Wednesday’s eyes. Her eyes flicker down and then back up. "Why did you want me to recount the report if the investigation has obviously concluded?"

Weems gathers the paper on her desk, shuffling them to line up. "I merely wanted to hear the events in your own words, as the police will still want Fae's matching statement when she awakens."

Wednesday stares on.

"I'm dismissing you for the day," Weems says as she puts the papers back on her desk. "I'm rather tied up with things I cannot put off, and I have a meeting in half an hour. There's a car waiting for you at the gates."

"Why—" Wednesday starts to ask, but she can feel her heart thudding against her ribcage almost painfully, and she relishes in it. 

"I have let the hospital staff know you'll be arriving to check her out on my authorization. I have already handled her discharge papers over the phone earlier. Listen to me for once and arrive before the police do," Weems says, dismissing Wednesday.

Wednesday gets up and walks out of the office briskly. She begins to walk towards the gates outside but stops. Turning towards her room, Wednesday first goes there and picks up the fuzzy black blanket, folding it neatly together, then draping it over her arm. She grabs a single grape lollipop from Enid's desk before she takes the shortest way to the front gates. 

The ride feels tediously long, and Wednesday snaps at the driver to drive faster. It barely comes to a stop before Wednesday gets out and walks through the hospital doors. She doesn't make herself known to the front desk receptionists and takes the stairwell up and down the memorized pathway to room 316. 

The door is already open, but there's no noise inside. There's a moment when Wednesday's heart drops at the lack of noise. Wednesday's used to feeling miserable; it brings her comfort and joy now even to feel so. Occasionally, she'll feel a type of misery she could live without. 

Wednesday's never been aware of how un-miserable she wants to be as she approaches your door. 

The moment Wednesday steps in, her face doesn't change at all. If anything, she looks more dispassionate than usual. 

But she blinks. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

You've probably said it hundreds of times now. You've said it in the same tone over and over, but Wednesday suddenly feels like it's better than any music she's heard. It even sounds better than Pugsley's screams. 

You're smiling at her. You look tired with the bags and dark circles under your eyes, but you're alive, and you look so—Wednesday clenches her jaw—hers. You just look like hers. Franz Kafka said it best: you are the knife she turns inside herself. 

"You are so cruel, Wednesday. I wake up to make your world less sunny, and you bring me only one grape lollipop? Rest assured you'll be listening to the grievances I have against you."

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"We should get up soon, I need to apply your salve."

"Can't you just apply it like this? You did yesterday."

"Need I remind you how long it took and in the end, I had to get up to get to the places I couldn't reach."

"I think I can stretch my wings further today. You might not have to get up."

Wednesday sighs at your mutterings but leaves it be. You'll probably be more agreeable to moving in an hour anyway. 

Your body is a steady weight on top of hers, and you radiate a warmth that Wednesday thought would make her uncomfortable with how cool her body normally is. But it just makes everything tepid, and Wednesday finds she has a penchant for it. 

Your head rests against her chest, and you once commented how eerie it was that it was such a slow and quiet heartbeat, like she might as well be dead. The words were entirely flattering. 

Wednesday stares at the ceiling; she knows you're slowly falling asleep again. The past two weeks, you've been rather boring as all you can do is rest, but Wednesday finds it gives her a lot of time to think.

Her story has slowly been changing—it has been ever since she's grown closer to you. Between the mysteries and the morbidity of everything, her main character seems to be experiencing something else too. 

Wednesday thinks about what it means to her and comes to an utterly disgusting conclusion. 

She's happy. 

It's so repugnant that Wednesday constantly sneers at herself. She has no desire to expand on it, but she'll catch herself thinking of useless things. It dampens the happiness into something Wednesday's also unfamiliar with, and she can't decide which is worse. 

Wednesday's fingers trail over the arches of your wings, feeling the bone just underneath the soft feathers. Your wing twitches, but you say nothing. She continues her exploration of her wings, careful over the wounds that are still slowly healing but have been much better with the salve she created using Goody's spellbook. 

Your wings start trilling when Wednesday reaches further toward the middle. The skin is thinner there, but the feathers are lush and thick.

"Tickles," you mumble, your brows furrowing but not opening your eyes.

Wednesday glances down at you before she pulls the blanket up higher. "Come with me to my manor on the next Parents' Day."

You let out a big yawn, ruffling your feathers with a small shake. "Are you sure?" You mumble, still sleepy.

"My mother invited you."

You hum. "Sure, it'd be nice to see where you live. I think I'll want to have dinner with Larissa on Friday night, but I can leave after."

"We'll go together on Saturday morning."

"'kay," you mutter sleepily. 

There's a lull in silence again, and Wednesday feels discontentment in her chest. She wonders if you can hear it as you lay over her heart.

Wednesday clears her throat. "I have thought of a moniker for you."

She can feel you smiling.

"Oh?" You say amusedly, but you continue to lay there with your eyes closed. "Let's hear it."

"I believe we should just stick with Fae. We've already gone on too long, and there'd be no point in changing it now. Even if other faeries came to this school, there's still only one Fae. You'd merely confuse everyone with a new alias."

You let out a laugh then, shifting in Wednesday's arms. "It took you six months to come to that conclusion? Did you even come up with anything else?"

"Nothing that I would allow anyone else to call you," Wednesday huffs with annoyance, still cursing her father's passed-on nicknaming abilities.

"Why not?"

Silence again. Wednesday seems to be debating her discontentment before she says, "you are mine."

It's so simple, the words and the way she says it. 

You finally open your eyes as you lift your head to look up at Wednesday, who is resting against the headboard of your bed. She looks at you as if challenging you to say otherwise. 

"So, we're dating?" You tilt your head.

"Yes," Wednesday says with finality but also looks pained at the frivolous words and then sighs. "I never thought I'd be capable of wanting someone like this. I don't do feelings but all you make me do is feel things I have to research later."

"What kind of words?"

"Ridiculous words that I'm convinced are fake," Wednesday deadpans. "Regardless, I don't do feelings, but the idea of not experiencing more with you is unbearable."

"You're mine then?" you say, and it's more of a statement than a question.

"I am," Wednesday confirms.

You let out a soft laugh, and Wednesday tilts her head. 

"I never thought I'd ever have anyone to call mine," you say with a quiet smile. "I have very few things, Wednesday. I promise to treat you very well."

Wednesday nods once, her fingers tracing over a feather. You lift yourself higher with your hands, coming face to face with the grim girl, your nose brushing against hers. She was so serious looking.

"I discovered last year that I'm capable of evolving," Wednesday says quietly, her lips brushing against yours as her hands rest on the small of your back. "It's inequitable how much you've affected me."

You smile widely then, your lips parting in a huff of laughter. They're so ridiculous. Really, you're made for her, and she's made for you. "Wednesday, you've changed me since the day I laid my eyes on you." You kiss her, and the only noise in the room is the sound of your wings gently fluttering with excitement and Wednesday's stolen breath.

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"I believe I've come up with an acceptable arrangement of your epithet," Wednesday declares. "I'm owed your phone number."

You don't even look at her as you blindly reach for your phone on your desk, too comfortable to move from lying on top of Wednesday as you cuddle.

Wednesday watches you fiddle around on your device before her phone in her sweater pocket vibrates. 

She pulls her phone out and sees there's a text from you.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: save this number 😗

"What is the meaning of this?" Wednesday asks, her voice low and dangerous, but you seem unbothered.

"You have my number now?"

"You had my phone number this entire time?" Wednesday feels something brewing inside of her, and it's mainly murder. 

You nod, still lying on top of her with your eyes closed. "Enid gave it to me after the bet was made."

"Why?" Wednesday demanded.

"Because I asked for it?"

"Then why make the ridiculous bet? Did you enjoy listening to such brainless suggestions?" 

"I told you," you smile. "I only make bets where I'll win either way. I wanted you to come up with something and win to give you the excuse of asking for my number. If you didn't, then Enid was already giving up and about to suggest we stick to Fae the next time it got brought up. I would've texted you after the bet was over."

Wednesday stares down at you, and she bores into the side of your head and plots silently.

"You are detestable, but I respect your strategy and deception. Although, regardless of the fact you are mine will not save you from my revenge."

You finally look up at Wednesday's unimpressed stare and smile at her. 

"Threatening me with a good time again, are you?"

END

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Hope you enjoyed the series! :)

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