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jealousy jealousy

xavier thorpe x reader x tyler galpin

>summary: xavier has been blowing you off for the new girl at your school and you’re fed up  and jealous of it. somehow things lead to you making out with tyler, the barista at weathervane. oh boy, you really need to sort out your feelings.

>warnings: angst, jealousy, mean!xavier, crying, kissing, slight mentions of food

>word count: 1.4k+

>note: hiii, this is my first fic on this app, i hope you’ll like it. this will have a part 2 as well!

part(2)

__________________________________________________________

ever since wednesday addams had arrived at nevermore, something eventful always happened. appearances of a bloodthirsty monster, creepy rumours about wednesday, the  start of a rivalry between bianca and her. and worst of all, your best friend of six years, xavier thorpe, was obsessed with wednesday.

xavier was too busy following wednesday around like a puppy than to even acknowledge you anymore. recently he had been cancelling your plans at the last moment with sorry excuses, ditching you in lunch, ignoring you for days at a time; to sum it up he was blowing you off like you were nothing but a nuisance to him. 

and it hurt, it hurt so much especially since you had recently developed feelings for him and were planning to ask him out to this year’s RaveN. but now it looked like you would never have chance with him. first bianca, now wednesday. ugh, why was your love life so unfortunate.

you were currently on your way to miss thornhill’s botanical science class and were hoping to be able to finally have a talk with xavier as you were his seatmate. thankfully that hadn’t changed as this was the only class you shared with him. but when you reached there, you were disappointed to see none other than wednesday addams sitting in your place, glaring at xavier as if she was forced to sit with him. a pang of hurt went through your chest as you saw the adoring look xavier gave her. so it had finally happened huh? this was the only thing left to do to completely push you out of his life.he had replaced you after all these years of your friendship. he threw it away like it was nothing. he made it clear he didn’t want you around, so you would do the same now.

you stormed past their table and sat at the back. you noticed xavier look back at you but you just ignored him. soon class started and throughout the class bianca and wednesday bickered, which was amusing. wednesday seemed interesting and you know she was not at fault for what xavier was doing to you, so you had no bad blood with her. although, you couldn’t wait to go to weathervane and get yourself a nice cup of coffee.

after class ended, you immediately gathered all your belongings and walked out when a hand latched around your wrist and pulled you to the side. you looked up to be met with a familiar pair of eyes. “xavier?”

he gave you a timid smile, “yeah.”

you freed your arm from his grip and gave him a stony look, “what do you want?” 

he looked confused at your reaction, “well you’re in a bad mood today, what happened?” you scoffed, “what happened is that i’ve felt this way the entire week. you’ve been constantly ditching and ignoring me all because of your weird obsession with wednesday!”

his face screwed up into an angry expression and his stance turned defensive. “oh so you’re jealous now huh.”

you couldn't believe him, “i’m more hurt than jealous that you would start ignoring your bestfriend for someone you’ve known for a month. i don't mind her, but it would be nice if you spent some time with me as well or invited me to one of your hangouts.” you threw your hands in the air, “you’re acting as if i don’t even exist anymore.”

xavier just scoffed meanly at your words, “you’re not my only friend y/n. don’t be so clingy and get a life.”

tears stung your eyes but you stopped yourself from crying in front of him,you weren’t going to show him that his words affected you. “oh yeah? so all this time you’ve only seen me as a clingy, pitiful person.” you glared at him, “and for your comment, i have a life. now you just won’t be a part of it anymore.” he looked distraught at your words.

“and to think i ever even liked you”, you muttered and walked away. 

__________________________________________________________

the walk to weathervane was as gloomy as that day’s weather. hopefully it didn’t rain till you got back to your dorm.

the bells of the cafe jingled as you entered and the smell of coffee invaded your senses sighing, you trudged towards the counter and rang the bell kept on it. immediately a head full of brown curls peeked out of the storeroom. “oh hey y/n!” 

it was tyler, the sweet and cute barista who worked as a part timer at the cafe. yet, somehow he was always present whenever you came. you gave him a weak smile, “hey tyler, can i get an americano with three shots of espresso.”

his eyes widened, “whoa are you okay? that’s a heavy order, you usually get lattes.” you grimaced, “yeah i’m not exactly feeling too happy today. might as well get something strong.”

he gave you a sweet smile, “then i know exactly what will cheer you up. lemme surprise you with something nice, yeah?” you smiled softly at his concern for you and nodded. 

sliding into your favourite booth, you put your head on the table and tried not to recall today’s events, but no matter what you did, they came crashing back at you. how could xavier say all those things to you? all the times that you had been there for him, in his highs and lows, meant nothing to him. he just found you clingy and anno-

“y/n why are you crying?”, tyler’s worried voice broke you out of your thoughts. you looked up and he gasped at the sight of you. tear streaks went down your face and your eyes were red and swollen. you looked miserable. he sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug. you leaned on his chest and closed your eyes, breathing in his sweet scent. 

“what happened?”, his voice came out muffled in your hair. you sighed deeply, “i had a big fight with xavier and he said some really mean words.” tyler rubbed your back soothingly at that. “it’s alright, that happens in every friendship.” you moved away from his hug, still in his arms and looked at him, “but he’s been blowing me off and doesn’t even talk to me anymore.” you ranted, “and i even had feeli-” you stopped when you noticed how close you were to his face. your eyes wandered shamelessly over his face, admiring the moles on the right side of his face, his brown eyes that looked like freshly brewed coffee. and his pink lips. you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. no stop! what the hell were you thinking about?

right at that moment the bells at the entrance door jingled, signalling that someone had entered, you both looked to see who it was. surprisingly, it was xavier and he seemed to be looking for something, or rather someone. his eyes brightened when they locked with yours. and as his hand raised to give you a wave, you gripped tyler’s collar and crashed your lips on his. his eyes widened at your gesture initially, but then slowly closed and he tightened his grip around your waist to pull you closer. his lips moved against yours with the same urgency you put in.

the kiss was messy and fast and your head was clouded with fury and all you wanted to do was show xavier that you didn’t need him, to make him jealous. you opened your eyes to make eye contact with him and relished at how his face was scrunched up in anger. he turned around and walked out, slamming the door. you pulled away from tyler, both of your lips swollen and wet. you grinned cheekily as a rosy blush dusted tyler’s cheeks.

“so, what does this mean for us?”

your smile dropped at his words. shit, you hadn’t thought about it. your motive was making xavier jealous, but you hadn’t considered tyler’s feelings. sure, he was really attractive and sweet. recently he had been there for you more than xavier had. and that kiss did make your stomach swarm with butterflies, maybe that was just the adrenaline. but what about xavier, it’s not like you can suddenly push away your feelings for him.

you needed time to think things through and you were sure tyler wouldn’t mind.

you looked at him to see him staring at you expectantly. “i need some time to think things through, i’m not really in a good state of mind right now.” you smiled at him guiltily.

he nodded, “of course, take your time.” you smiled at him.

“meet me at the crackstone crypt tomorrow evening.”

jealousy jealousy (pt 2)

xavier thorpe x reader x tyler galpin

>summary: you get to choose between them, make a wise decision!

>warnings: angst, crying, lots of fluff(i cringed while writing it lmao), kissing, slight mentions of food and blood, jealousy

>word count: 1.6k+

>note: ahh this is the last part, i couldn’t wait to finish it. the ending kind of gives an insight to the storyline of the show. enjoy!

part(1)

_________________________________________________

XAVIER

xavier walked through the forest to his hut where he practiced his art and made portraits. the usually chirpy forest was silent save for the crunching of dead leaves underneath his shoes. yet all his mind could comprehend was thoughts about you. his mind kept going back to what he saw at weathervane. how could you kiss tyler after what he and his friends had done to xavier the last outreach day? he deserved it though, afterall, he had hurt you so much and that too for the dumbest reason that you were not aware of. he really had to talk with you to fix things soon, otherwise he would continue to beat himself about this. 

he looked up to dodge a tree that was in his way when he spotted two distant figures. as he got closer he realised it was tyler and..

you

he immediately stopped in his tracks. had things gotten serious between you and tyler that you were now meeting him outside of weathervane? his heart hurt as he observed the way you talked animatedly, making tyler chuckle. 

everything felt hopeless now. you looked happy talking to tyler which was a stark contrast to when you told xavier that you didn’t want him as a part of your life anymore. before he could realise, hot, sticky tears rolled down his face. he had royally messed up a perfectly good friendship. now he couldn’t do anything about it.

tears blurred his vision as he turned around to go back to his dorm. he was walking through muscle memory as his mind went blank. he didn’t even realise someone was calling him till a warm hand latched around his wrist. he turned around to make out a familiar figure. he immediately wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve to clearly see you. both of your eyes went to your hand resting on his wrist. deja vu never felt so good.

you took your hand off him, as if touching him had burnt you. “i was shouting for you for so long, why didn’t you respond?”

xavier remained silent, the words not really settling in his brain. he was too mesmerised by how you were standing in front of him. he couldn’t believe you even approached him after what he did.

you huffed and crossed your arms, “i saw you staring at tyler and i” you smirked, “were you stalking me?first weathervane and now in the forest?”

xavier felt his cheeks go hot and he immediately shouted a no. your eyes slightly widened at his outburst. xavier cleared his throat, “uh i mean of course not i’m not a creep.” his hand went to scratch the back of his neck, a habit of his whenever he was nervous. “i wanted to get you something from weathervane to apologise for what i said yesterday.”

“apology huh? that sounds interesting”

your words struck something inside him, making him grab both of your hands and look into your eyes. taking a deep breath, he began his rant.

“y/n i’m so so sorry for neglecting you and ignoring you for the past month. the thing is.” he paused and gulped at the curious look in your eyes. “the thing is, i started seeing you in a different light. everytime i made eye contact with you, it felt like i couldn’t breathe. everytime you laughed, my heart fluttered.” your eyes softened at his words, encouraging him to go on. “i felt disgusted with myself for having feelings for my best friend. suddenly, i had no idea how to act around you anymore and i guess that’s when i started distancing myself from you. and i know i sound like a jerk for saying this, but wednesday was just a distraction. i just want to be friends with her. but i never wanted to replace you. i regret losing you.”

you were overwhelmed with everything he just told you. also ,the xavier thorpe LIKED YOU. 

feeling overjoyed, you wanted to scream and dance around but you had to control yourself. “you could’ve just told me about it instead of being a jerk that day. i like you.”

xavier sighed, “i know i’m really sorry, i promise i didn’t mean any of the things i said to you. when you screamed at me it just set me off because i’ve been having these really weird vivid dreams-”

you cut him off with a kiss. xavier froze at the feeling of your soft lips against his but slowly held your face with his large hands and reciprocate the gesture. soon, you both broke apart. “idiot i just said i like you.”

his face was still riddled with confusion, “but you and tyler-”

you shut him up with another peck. “there’s nothing going on between us. i mainly kissed him to make you jealous, but also because he’s really attractive.” xavier raised a brow at that.

you hit him lightly on the chest, “you would've done that too if you were in such close proximity with him.” he just chuckled at your words. 

he held your hand and led you towards the dorms. “you know he was surprisingly very understanding when i told him about all this.” xavier hummed at your words.

you turned your head towards him, “i was expecting you to be a bit more jealous you know.” his grip on your hand tightened, “oh i am jealous, i’m very much jealous. i was fuming that day when i saw you both.”

you giggled at his words. “wait were you crying earlier because of this?” he started whining and tried to shake your hand off his but you just tightened your hold on him and leaned on his shoulder. “okay okay i’ll stop.”

you both walked in a comfortable silence, peace finally settling down both of your bodies. you broke the silence to ask him something that was bothering you. “hey, what were these dreams you were talking about?”

xavier turned to you with a grim look on his face.

“well, it’s always this monster..”

_________________________________________________

TYLER

you walked towards the crackstone crypt with a skip in your step. you had just come back from clearing everything up with xavier. he had given you a sensible and heartfelt apology which made you happy and you were both back to your usual selves again. you had told him that the feelings you had for him felt more like sisterly love now. he felt the same way for you and gave you the green card to go confess to tyler. he was a bit wary about him at first, but you didn’t care. tyler always made you feel warm and fluffy inside. he was so freakin sweet. besides, what evil could be behind those puppy dog eyes?

you soon arrived at your destination to be met with a smiling tyler. his smile hit you like a big yellow school bus and you couldn’t help but smile too. you quickly walked towards him, the warm fuzzy feeling inside you growing with every step you took. finally, you stood in front of him with your hands buried inside your coat pocket.

“hey” you breathed out.

he grinned back in greeting,“so, why’d you call me here?”

your cheeks warmed up at what you were about to say. were you really going to do this? his ever present smile only made your heart flutter more. It was as clear as a beautiful sunny sky: he was an angel. 

“i like you!” you blurted out. tyler sighed with relief, “i thought you were never going to say it.”

“wait i’m not done yet.” tyler stopped and looked at you intently. you took a deep breath and continued. “i was charmed by your looks and nature the day i met you. you were so nice to a person that you met for the first time, that too an outcast. i was surprised.” you took one of his hands in yours and rubbed your thumb over the back. “over time my feelings really grew for you tyler, and i didn’t even realise them till we kissed”. a rosy blush bloomed across tyler’s cheeks making you giggle softly. tyler looked into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t decipher. “i like you a lot y/n. i’m so happy you feel the same way.”

you stared at him with an adoring look then pulled him into a tight hug, melting into his arms. he buried his face in your neck contently while your cheek pressed against his white sweater. this was probably one of the best hugs you ever had, it felt like hugging a giant teddy bear. you both stayed in each others arms for a long time before you pulled away to give him a warm kiss. this time it was much more sweet and slow and both of you smiled into the kiss. 

eventually, you both pulled apart and leaned your foreheads against each other. “should we get something to eat? i’m kind of hungry.” you nodded and pulled away from him. “i want hot chocolate, it’s getting cold”. you both held hands and swung them back and forth playfully on your walk to the town.

you couldn’t stop admiring him. how could someone be this perfect? while brushing a stray leaf from his shoulder, you noticed something on the collar of his shirt.

“hey, what’s this red stain? is it blood?”, you asked him, your intentions were only playful. he just brushed it off nervously, “it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

you missed the cold expression that came over his face.

_________________________________________________

TAGS: @jeluria @cat-loves-music @icarus-star @livingdeadgirl7 @hawkins-hs @mia-luvs @gracielou0518 @shadytalething @swagabclearner @seanicee @exiledangel @merakiaes @karagrace @justanotherkpopstanlol @pleasingregulus @sarcastic-sourwolf @captainalyss @aspenreadsfanfic @freyawhitexxx1 @liddy-lou-lou @carinacassiopeiae @bxtchopolis @temptressofthetarrot @godess-of-mist @starlight-poet

WEDNESDAY FIC RECS!!

please give your love and support to these amazing authors<3

TYLER GALPIN

defiance by @wednesdays-roommate(laurel ordered tyler not to touch her daughter. but the closer to you he gets, the less he feels inclined to listen to any of her orders. and the less you want him to) this is my favourite tyler series, it's sooo good! you guys have to read it!!

poison heart by @words-of-holly(reader who is in love with tyler finds out about his secret)

jealousy jealousy pt1 by @gyuuberryy(xavier has been blowing you off for the new girl at your school and you’re fed up  and jealous of it. somehow things lead to you making out with tyler, the barista at weathervane. oh boy, you really need to sort out your feelings) self promo hehe, 1.4k words

jealousy jealousy pt2 by @gyuuberryy(you get to choose between them, make a wise decision!)

relationship headcanons by @thegoldtype

sanctum of solace by @klineinie(tyler escapes the transport at the end of s1, and shows up on your doorstep with the only scrap of hope he has left- you)

oh, dilute me by @mindtrcks(tyler can’t have wednesday, but he might still be able to have you)

when an almost ending happens by @rilakeila(3.1k)

the great war by @maybankswhore(finding out tyler’s been the hyde all along and none of it was real)

a taste of you by @eufezco(tyler galpin x vampire!reader)

XAVIER THORPE

just you by @atpsnty(after telling him that you were asked to the dance at your school in jericho, xavier gets all butthurt) 1.2k words

enemies to lovers! by @strqbrri3s

mistaken by @envirobliss(detention from ms. thornhill leads to a devastating butterfly effect.)

those few days by @4pparecium(you’re just concerned about your boyfriend’s issues but it leads to a terrible argument between you two yet you both still long for each other)

distraction pt1 by @kaicubus(on the day of the annual poe cup, you're put against your academic rival, xavier thorpe, and you don't want to lose. however, he has other plans of  getting the upper hand with you and knows exactly how to get his way. hes knocking out two birds with one stone, if you will)3.4k words

distraction pt2 by @kaicubus(demanding answers from your rival who stole a kiss from you  unexpectedly at the poe cup to distract you, you confront him, this time  ready to catch HIM off guard)

don't make me say it again by @hs-is-loml(xavier is close to snapping when you don't realize what he has been hinting)

jealousy jealousy pt1 by @gyuuberryy(xavier has been blowing you off for the new girl at your school and you’re fed up  and jealous of it. somehow things lead to you making out with tyler, the barista at weathervane. oh boy, you really need to sort out your feelings) self promo hehe, 1.4k words

jealousy jealousy pt2 by @gyuuberryy(you get to choose between them, make a wise decision!)

getaway car ! by @1-800-olympians(reader gets upset, when xavier pays no attention to her at the raven’s, but when things get complicated, and her best friend is in the center, she lets down her grudge)

the ghost by @mortemtheraven(y/n addams has been keeping secrets to herself lately, emotional ones. when she was asked by a werewolf to a date, a certain artistic outcast found himself burning in jealousy)

old fashioned lover boy by @1-800-olympians(when the addams twins arrive at the castle, xavier thorpe doesn’t expect to be interested in one of them)

bf texts with xavier thorpe by @sevi-rous

Yk…someone should make a crossover between tvd and Wednesday 🤭🤭

“That’s my best friend”

“That’s my best friend” || Wednesday

Synopsis: You’re Bianca’s best friend ever since you were young. Always sticking by each other,even now when you’re in high school. The best duo of them out there. Just here showing y’all’s friendship!

Warnings: Black coded, Black reader, Fem!reader,cussing, a little bit of bullying, Bianca being kind of an ass, reader is a little cocky

A/n: My debut take on Wednesday!! Hope you all like it! There’s gonna be another part to this, but an Xavier post. Sorry it’s so short!

Bianca Barclay x Fem! Reader

You woke up this morning feeling really good. Report cards come out today,but it’s really nothing to you. Majority of your life you’ve had nothing to worry about. You’re a straight A student, always has your hair done, nails always looking nice, perfect skin and more. On top of that your dark blue siren eyes made you look beautiful. What could go wrong?

Well, something went wrong. There’s a new student,they say that she came because she almost had a murder charge and that she was “special” like the rest of you. You didn’t really favor new people much. They get a lot of attention fast and it would be terrible for you. Where would you’re reputation go?

You decided not to worry about it and you made your way to the bathroom to take a shower and do your morning routine. You got dress and went out the door. By the time you left you texted Bianca trying to meet up like you always do.

8:03am

‘Hey,where are you at?’

‘I’m by the fountain,like always friend. 😂’

‘Yeah? Well,yesterday you said that and I waited for like 30 minutes!’

‘I’m sorry! I already apologized girl! I’m here now though,seriously.’

‘Mhmm, we’ll I better see you there.’

(seen)

You sighed and turned off your phone and headed out your dorm with your purse and book bag. You walked through Ophelia hall and came across Xavier, the boy that’s Bianca’s ex. He looked at you while you walked past wanting to speak with you, but not doing so knowing it’s for the best.

—————————————————————

After a few minutes of walking you made it to the fountain and you found other sirens and Bianca walking with each other. “Hey y’all!” You had a big smile on your face and waved. The smile turned down very quickly as you saw the supposed to be new girl. Wednesday? She looked like..she just walked out of a cemetery. But you minded your business to keep yourself grounded and ignored looking her way.

You, Bianca, and some of your other friends all have Ms. Thornhill’s class together. What a supprise to you was..Wednesday was here too. You sighed and looked done at your book trying to not notice her. Somehow she noticed you though, it was like she was burning eyeholes into you.

You ignored the feeling as you payed attention in class. When Ms.Thornhill asked a question Bianca immediately raised her hand up, but somehow Wednesday was quicker than her AND answering the question correctly. This shocked the both of you. You looked at each other with the same look and raised your eyebrows. To others it looked like you were just making faces at each other but really you were having your own secret conversation.

You turned your attention back to your work and it was like the whole class period Wednesday and Bianca were at each other’s throats. You sped walked out the class when you noticed Wednesday was looking at you again once the lesson was over.

Bianca and your group caught up to you, they were going to ask why you left so fast but then they saw Wednesday looking at you too and just kept it to themselves. Later on towards the end of the day you saw Bianca and Wednesday in the same fencing class. You could hear what Bianca was saying to her. It was like she was bullying her. No, for a fact she is bullying her.

Being the mature person you are you peaked your head into the class and told her off before leaving. She just rolled her eyes and scoffed. That made you stop in your tracks and turn your ass around. “Umm. Unt unt! Who you scoffing at ma’am? Must not be me.” YIU had a whole attitude now, today was not the day for you to be tested right now. She staying quiet for a few seconds having nothing to say. “Oh okay, don’t test me right now Bianca Denise Barclay.” You hit her with the government name as you left.

I think Bianca’s regretting telling you her middle name now.

—————————————————————

Your school day was over with and you started to walk through the Ophelia hallway and saw Wednesday with a huge cut above her eye. You didn’t look for too long and you decided to text Bianca.

4:30pm

‘Hey B, have you seen Wednesday’s eye? It looks fucked up.’

‘Yeah. I’m the one who did it. She wanted a challenge, so she got it.’

‘Omg B! What’d you do?’

‘She challenged me in fencing class without our masks. Whoever draws blood first wins.’

‘So I won 🤷🏾‍♀️’

‘Makes sense. You might need to tone down your bullying on her B. Principal Weems noticed today.’

‘I’m not worried about her.’

(Seen)

You were about to text her back when you remembered that you had homework. So you quickly got to that. After that you got ready for a party. You and Bianca got invited to this wolf boys house party. Everyone else was going so why not? You got changed,put on your perfume and jewelry and went to go get Bianca. You haven’t gotten your license yet so she’s your ride for tonight.

—————————————————————

You arrive at this big mansion and it looks hella creepy but there were a bunch of people here so you didn’t worry much. You and Bianca walked into the house looking around. You turned your gaze back on Bianca only to find out she’s not there. You let out an annoyed groan and went to get something to drink.

You went into the kitchen and all you saw was liquor, liquor, liquor, & even more liquor. You took this as your sign to try some of the beverages. You look at the name of the drink ‘ahh,Casamigos.’ You poured ONLY A LITTL into a red plastic cup. Typical.

Then you turned around only to find Xavier behind you “You look nice tonight.” “I shouldn’t be talking to you right now.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Girl code, im not accepting compliments from my best friends ex.” You had a sassy tone when you said that. You couldn’t just hang out with Xavier after your bestie has been crying to you nights on end. Hell no.

A aggravated groan came from you as you looked at him. “Xavier. You have a nice night,kay?” You said as you walked away upstairs ti find something to do. Xavier watched you walk away, he just stared. You feel his eyes on so you turn around and make eye contact before officially leaving.

© 2023 whatisthatmae - please do not steal my work,upload, nor copy any of it on any other websites. All of the rights of my work goes to me. If you have any inspiration please tag me as well!

everyone but her pt.32

Summary: With their freshman year of college out of the way and an entire apartment building bought by the Addamses, it's time for year two. Oh boy.

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of blood, swearing, allusions to abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Your parents need to quit buying everything,” you grumbled as you fell down onto the couch. “It’s making me feel bad.”

“They simply bought a new mattress,” Wednesday said from her spot at the typewriter.

“Yeah, they did,” you said. “After they bought the entire apartment building.”

She kept silent, but she knew you were right. Once they hadn’t been required to stay on campus, the Addamses had decided it would be most beneficial to take over an apartment building not too far from campus. And wouldn’t you know it, there was just enough space for the entire group, including Joel and Ash.

“It’s how they show their affection,” she finally said, her fingers returning to the keys of the typewriter.

“They need to quit,” you grumbled again but otherwise fell silent.

Wednesday would admit, she saw nothing wrong with the gift, but she could see how you did. She had learned a lot about “love languages” from Bianca over the past few weeks, and yours was not gift giving. Ash had said it made you uncomfortable because you felt the need to pay back everything you were given. Which Wednesday had known from previous conversations, but she hadn’t known it was actually a thing.

No one had prepared her for the amount of information she would have to learn to have a healthy relationship. It was almost like an information overload, and she was more than capable of handling it, but she hadn’t mentally prepared. She was starting to regret shying away from her parents’ affections.

“Are you working today?” Wednesday asked, turning her head to hear your answer better.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Simon has been sketched out since the police started making their rounds.”

Wednesday frowned. “They indicated they were through with you.”

“Clearly not,” you said. “They came into the shop a few weeks ago.”

“You never told me,” she said as she finally turned around in her chair.

You were sitting with your legs spread on the couch and your head hanging off the armrest. It was a rather pathetic look, Wednesday wouldn’t deny. More than once you had claimed it was comfortable, but she couldn’t understand how. You were stretched out, your wings were tucked tight underneath you, and it almost looked like the blood was rushing to your head.

“I'm tired of telling you how many times I get interrogated by police," you said. "I feel like I hang out with them more than you now."

Wednesday supposed that, too, was true. More often than not you had texted her - well, texted Enid to tell her - that you were at the station again. They seemed adamant you were aware of what had happened on New Year's Eve. As much as you denied it, they didn't believe you.

But she did. It had been a while since her last vision, but there had been nothing about those boys. If you had done it, or even been a part of it, she would've seen it. You weren't the most skilled liar either, she would have seen through the ruse if you had actually done it.

"When's your next date night with Enid?" You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

"Unknown," she said as she got up from the desk and walked over to sit by you on the couch. "She's busy attempting to volunteer at the kennel in town."

"Why am I not surprised," you whispered. There was a slight smile in your tone. "Have you asked her when she's free?"

"Why would I do that?" Wednesday asked with a frown. "She always tells me when she's available."

"It shows her you care," you said as you sat up, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment while the blood slowly drained from your face. "That you want to spend time with her."

"Of course I do," she said. "She knows this."

"Sometimes people still like to hear it, Wends," you said with a light chuckle.

Wednesday didn't have anything to say to that. She supposed it was nice to hear you were wanted. Although you were far more like her in that aspect, she always felt surprisingly warm when you would bring up your desire to spend time with her. Maybe she should tell Enid she wished to spend time with her.

"You have class, right?" You asked. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment when you pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear.

"Yes," she finally said. "And Ash wanted to come over for dinner."

"While I'm gone?" You asked with your own frown.

"She said that was preferable," Wednesday answered.

"That's so fucking rude," you mumbled to yourself.

“Would you like me to tell her no?” She asked.

Your frown slowly morphed into a soft smile. Usually it would accompany teasing about some sort of social cue Wednesday had managed to miss, but this one seemed genuine. The couch shifted underneath you both as you moved closer and pulled her legs over yours until she was very nearly sitting in your lap.

“Do you plan on seducing her?” You asked.

“No,” she said with a frown.

“Does she plan on seducing you?” You continued.

“Not if she has any common sense,” she said quietly.

“She doesn’t,” you teased. “But those answers are satisfactory.” You leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. “You’ll both have a nice night.”

Wednesday rested her head on your shoulder as you proceeded to turn the television on. Neither one of you had any plans for the next hour, and she had fallen into a pattern of watching whatever ridiculous show you would put on before going to work. Reruns or something called “Bridezillas.” She didn’t understand how it was humorous, but she could admire the horror in it.

“Would you ever think about getting married?” You asked halfway through the episode.

Wednesday’s body tensed up.

“I guess that’s a no,” you chuckled, but she could feel your fingers twitch where they rested on her thigh.

“I never said no,” she tried to defend.

“I wasn’t proposing,” you said with sparkling eyes. “I was just wondering if you had ever thought about it.”

She opened her mouth to answer but promptly closed it, her eyes falling to the side in thought. Had she ever thought about it? Not particularly, not in such specific terms. There had been no thoughts of venues or dresses or parties. Nothing about such an overly extravagant occasion.

Unless… maybe you didn’t necessarily mean the wedding itself. You had said “married.” Now that… that she supposed she had thought about, in not so many words. There were a few times her mind had wandered. When you came home late from work, tired and clumsy and knocking things over before falling into bed with your work clothes still on. And each time she thought, yeah, she could fall asleep to that every night.

Or those days where you were off work and you both unanimously decided to relax at home. Cleaning, or going grocery shopping, or just watching something. Wednesday could see the appeal in technology when you were with her. All it would take was one peal of laughter from you and her cold heart would warm up. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hear such a sound on a daily basis.

But she was never one to show her cards first.

“Do you?” She asked after far too long of silence.

“Do I what?” You asked, clearly already re-absorbed by your show.

“Do you ever think of getting married?” She clarified.

You stayed silent, your eyes still focused on the television. There was almost an audible sound of gears turning in your head. If Wednesday focused, she could almost even see smoke leaking out of your ears. Your fingers drummed on her thigh as she watched the constant movement of your mouth; an odd habit you had picked up when you were thinking.

“A little,” you finally said with a nod of your head. “Not now, but, you know.” You shrugged. “Eventually.”

That was an answer Wednesday could live with. Eventually. It eased whatever anxiety was starting to well up in her throat. Nothing soon, she could work with that. It gave her plenty of time to think of how she was possibly going to accept such a fact that you had both talked about so casually.

And how she was going to find a way to admit it to her parents.

Now that was going to be a nightmare.

—---

“The giant chicken helps out while you’re in class, right?” Ash asked as she stirred whatever it was she was cooking. It was rather polite for her to come over and offer to cook in yours and Wednesday’s apartment.

It was no wonder you were so intimidated by her; you were both raised with manners.

“Yes,” Wednesday said as she sat in the chair at the island. “With the exception of work.”

“Well of course,” Ash scoffed. “That’s a given.” She cocked her hip and leaned against the counter as she set the spoon down. “She just needs some sort of stability.”

“How so?” Wednesday asked with a tilt of her head. 

She had a feeling she knew, but she wanted to hear it from someone else. Someone who had known you in a way only she had. Of course Yoko knew you well, but not in the same sense. She needed to hear it from someone who you had loved as something other than family.

Oh you were making her soft, god damn you.

“She thinks too much without a sense of purpose,” Ash said with a shrug. “Even if that purpose is as simple as cleaning the apartment.”

When Ash continued cooking, Wednesday thought about the simple statement. It might have been accurate. The days you seemed more at ease were the days you had cleaned, or cooked, or done the shopping, or done something to “help.” Or helped in any sense, it didn’t have to be an actual act.

She would need to hint at things for you to do if she ever noticed you acting off.

“Was this something you dealt with?” Wednesday asked.

Ash’s movements faltered. “Not quite to this degree,” she said slowly, “but yes.”

“Was there a cause?” Wednesday asked. “Most people are not naturally so…” Ash gave her a raised brow. “Troubled.”

“Nice word choice,” Ash said with a smile before sliding a plate in front of where Wednesday was sitting. It looked rather good; she wouldn’t dare try to figure out what it was. “What do you know about her past?”

Images of you standing in a room, crying about how your parents had abandoned you flooded Wednesday’s mind. She had nearly forgotten the vision from so long ago. It was enough to have anger burning through her veins as she set her jaw and looked down at the plate, actively avoiding Ash’s gaze.

“Marcus and Kristi left her and Nicky at Nevermore,” she said slowly. “I believe that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Not much less than the rest of us,” Ash said with a sigh. She took her time to take a bite of food before continuing. “All I know is they were abusive. Made her feel like she was a burden.”

“Which would explain the desire to be useful.”

“Exactly,” Ash said with a point of her fork. “I have no doubt there’s more to it, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that’s a decent chunk.”

Both girls fell silent as they stared at their food. If Ash was anything like Wednesday, she was no longer very hungry. Why would you not tell anyone what had happened in your past? She understood bad memories were never pleasant, but part of moving on was the acceptance stage, was it not? How could you accept something if you never acknowledged its very existence?

“You’re doing well though,” Ash finally said once they had both finished eating. “Y/N is known to run when things get hard.”

“Explain,” Wednesday said as she got up and started helping with the dishes.

“Well,” Ash sighed, “take when we were together.” She turned the sink on. “After the accident, she got angry and mean and pushed everyone away.”

“And you left?” Wednesday clarified. She took the first dish from Ash and started drying it.

“Not at first,” she admitted with a slight shake of her head. “I tried to stay and help.” She handed over another plate. “But I drew the line at being told I didn’t care.”

Wednesday fell silent and focused on drying off the dishes Ash handed to her. It didn’t sound like something you would do. You had never given her any sort of indication that you believed such a thing, or even that you would accuse someone of such a thing. The most she had seen you do was withdraw and hide away. Would you really accuse someone of not caring?

She reached over to take the last fork from Ash and felt her fingers touch. Her head was thrown back as a volt of electricity ran through her fingers, locking her muscles. The apartment ceiling disappeared, turning into something more. Something open. Something with stars.

A sigh fell from Wednesday’s lips as she spun around and took in her surroundings. It was a forest, or something close to it. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something about it reminded her of the night you had gone bug hunting with Eugene and gotten hurt by the werewolf. It sent a shiver down her spine.

An unfamiliar scream echoed through the forests, sounding as if it was pushing through water. Faded, hazy, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her feet started moving on their own accord, leading her between trees until she found a small clearing. A full moon was illuminating the area enough for her to see the carnage.

One body was on the ground a few feet away, crumpled and broken. Wednesday couldn’t see any blood in the dark, but she could practically smell it. On the other side of the clearing was a tall figure, monstrous in form, almost like a corrupt werewolf. In front of it, trapped in another figure’s arms, was someone familiar.

It was Ash.

Wednesday stepped forward slowly, her eyes stuck on the scene. A twig snapped under her feet, and all three figures turned their heads to look at her. Ash was the only one who had a face, the others were blurred out, almost as if they were being censored. Blood trickled from Ash’s mouth, which she opened wide-

“-Wednesday!”

Her head was thrown forward and suddenly she was back in her apartment. Ash was holding her up by her shoulders, eyes wide with concern and checking over every inch of her. The sounds of the forest were gone, there was no smell of blood, and everything was back to normal. Normal.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, surprisingly confident in her tone. “I’m fine.”

“What was that?” She continued, only just letting Wednesday go after being extra sure she was steady on her feet.

“A vision,” Wednesday said, her voice lowering to barely more than a whisper.

“A vision?” Ash clarified. When Wednesday looked up at her, she was shaking her head and chuckling humourlessly. “I nearly forgot you were one of the freaks.” Wednesday looked at her with a raised brow. “It’s a term of endearment.”

At any other point in time, she would have found an excuse to harass Ash for the term. Even though it was abundantly clear that she had no dislike for Outcasts, she was one of the few Normies in the group. Wednesday wasn’t entirely known for teasing, but she had learned to lighten up just a little. At least that’s how Bianca had phrased it a few months ago.

An unusual sound rang through the air. Both girls looked around for a moment before Ash picked up her phone and unlocked it. Her eyes moved from side to side as she read something. Whatever it was made her smile and roll her eyes before she put the phone back down.

“Y/N says she’s running to a late night anger management class,” Ash said. “And wanted me to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Wednesday said with a simple nod.

“You two really just communicate through everyone else?” Ash asked, heading over to the couch and grabbing the television remote. Wednesday quickly followed suit.

“Technology is a soul sucking void that I do not wish to be forced into,” Wednesday said even as Ash turned the television on and put on what looked like… true crime? Maybe technology wasn’t entirely awful.

“You sure that’s all it is?” Ash asked. “Because I know she gave you Nicky’s old phone.”

Wednesday sighed. “I don’t want to accidentally erase what he left on it,” she finally admitted. “So I would rather leave it as untouched as possible.”

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” Ash said softly. “You know, there are ways to back it up so it’s not lost.”

“I did not know,” Wednesday said. “Would you be able to help me with it?”

“Sure, Addams,” Ash said with a slight chuckle. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Wednesday turned back to the television to watch whatever Ash had put on. It was fascinating, and both girls managed to talk and figure out the real perp each and every time. Maybe she wasn’t so bad, Wednesday thought. This was a friendship that she was more than happy to nurture.

—---

When Wednesday awoke the next morning, you weren’t in bed. Not entirely surprising, she knew if you were too late you would usually just sleep on the couch in an effort not to wake her. A pointless endeavour, she would rather you wake her than she wake up alone. But she supposed she could understand the polite intention behind it.

She took a moment to let her brain catch up with reality. All night she had been plagued by the vision of Ash being attacked by those figures. What were they? They hadn’t seemed human, but she couldn’t see any distinguishing features. That was unusual on its own, she had never had parts of her visions censored. Something about it rubbed her the wrong way.

Your voice floated down the hallway and through the open bedroom door, and Wednesday pushed aside her concerns and got out of bed. She didn’t bother putting clothes on, just wrapped one of your jackets around her to keep herself modest. The floor was still warm from the time of year, so it wasn’t too unbearable to walk down the hall and into the living room.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw you sitting at the table across from Weems.

“Good morning, Miss Addams,” Weems said softly with a gentle smile that reminded her of her mother.

You were quick to turn around, and the smile you gave her started a warmth in her chest. Thoughts of your question about marriage ran rampant as she thought that yes, she would like to see you like that every morning. Simply excited to see her each morning. That was something she could live with for the rest of her life.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” Weems continued. “I ran into Y/N last night after grabbing groceries.”

“She works at the university!” You said quickly with a toothy smile. “Isn’t that cool?”

“You will be teaching?” Wednesday asked. She finally walked over and sat down beside you at the table, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee you slid in front of her.

“Outcast History, yes,” Weems said with a nod. “We’re testing it out as a course to see if it catches any traction.”

“How is Nevermore?” Wednesday asked.

“It’s in good hands,” Weems answered, though her smile turned a little sad. “So, how has everything been?”

The three of you got to talking, and by god Wednesday forgot how much you could talk. It wasn’t that you didn’t talk with her, but some people just managed to bring out every thought in your mind. Weems was one of those people. Truthfully, she and Wednesday didn’t even have to say much, you managed to talk the entire time.

Wednesday gladly sat back and watched you go over everything; skipping over Mack’s death, of course. She would need to remember to fill Weems in on that piece of information. But you talked, and talked, and talked some more. She was almost afraid to look at the time. Her gut told her that you had been talking for far over an hour.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, pulling Wednesday out of her thoughts. “Did you hear some rich dude was murdered last night?”

“In town?” Weems asked.

“No, not here, down in DC,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Some old guy was practically slaughtered in his fancy house.”

“You seem far too nonchalant about the situation,” Weems said softly, more to herself than to you.

“Eat the rich,” you said with a shrug.

Weems turned to look at Wednesday with raised brows, and she just shook her head. You seemed blissfully unaware of the irony of your statement, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up. She would let you live with your beliefs. It was a conversation for another day.

“Make sure you both stay safe, yes?” Weems asked, her eyes falling to where you had grabbed Wednesday’s hand and were playing with her fingers. “Together.”

“Yes mother,” you huffed. “But you have nothing to worry about, anyone who slaughters old white men is a friend of mine.”

Wednesday shook her head and did her best to hold back her smile as she took a sip of her coffee. You were starting to act far more like you had when she had first met you at Nevermore. Carefree, a little silly, happy. Maybe you were finally starting to get better.

She could definitely live with that for the rest of her life.

Weems didn’t stay for much longer, claiming she needed to go back home and work on her learning plan for her classes. You both bid her goodbye, and you gave her a lingering hug that she also seemed to melt into. She gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding goodbye, and you were quick to pull Wednesday over to the couch.

“Do you have class?” You asked, even though she knew that you knew she didn’t.

“No,” she said simply.

“Good, then you have no excuse to not cuddle with me,” you said.

You didn’t give her the chance to argue before pulling her down until she was laying in front of you, her back pressed to your front. She knew it wasn’t the most comfortable position for you thanks to your wings, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. Maybe she could look into designing a couch that would be more comfortable for you. She was sure her parents knew someone that could assist in the endeavour.

“What are you in the mood to watch?” You asked. The hand that wasn’t holding the remote was slipping under her shirt, and your fingers were starting to draw little shapes on her stomach.

“Ash put on something about crimes last night,” Wednesday said.

“Stop bonding with her,” you said instantly. Regardless, you flipped through the channels. “Was it Unsolved Mysteries?”

“Possibly,” she said.

You nodded and changed the channel before setting the remote down and pulling her closer. It was clear you were trying your hardest to engage with the crimes. Were you wrong the majority of the time? Yes. Did you still keep trying to come up with more and more convoluted theories that, realistically, weren’t even close to viable? Yes.

Did Wednesday love it? Absolutely.

“I so could’ve been a detective,” you mumbled after you had managed, for the first time, to figure something out. “I’m practically a natural.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything, just pulled your arms tighter around her. Behind her, she could feel your heart beating steadily. Your heart beat was always a little faster than everyone else’s, reminiscent of a hummingbird, but it was steady. A constant that kept Wednesday’s mind focused and uncluttered.

You shifted, leaning forward to press a kiss to Wednesday’s cheek before she heard you whisper an “oops.” The channel on the television changed and she felt you moving around to try and find the remote. Some news channel appeared, and Wednesday would have been more than happy to ignore it until she saw two familiar faces.

She didn’t say anything, but squeezed your arm.

“What?” You asked as you halted your movements.

Your body stiffened behind her when you looked back at the television as well. Marcus and Kristi were on the screen, doing what looked like a press interview. The message “retired DA Malcolm Hart victim of vicious homicide” scrawled across the bottom of the screen in a red banner. Your nails dug a little harder into Wednesday’s skin.

“We were saddened to learn of Malcom’s passing,” Marcus said. Your body shivered the moment he started talking. “He was a dear friend of mine, and we will be doing everything we can to assist the DCPD in their efforts to find and apprehend the perpetrator.”

Wednesday couldn’t properly focus on the television after that, instead turning her head to look at you. There was a glassy haze over your eyes and a tight set of your jaw. Your arms were holding her a little too tight, but she didn’t pay it any mind. All she was focused on was the clear distress you couldn’t quite voice.

“I hope it kills them next,” you mumbled before settling back into the couch and placing your face in the crook of her neck.

Maybe healing wasn’t going to come as effortlessly as she had originally believed.

---------------------------------------

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everyone but her pt.33

Summary: You're angry. You're angry, and Wednesday doesn't know how to help you. At least she's not afraid to look for outside help.

Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: swearing, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

You had been particularly irate after seeing Marcus and Kristi on the television a few weeks ago. And unlike most of your usual bouts of anger, Wednesday couldn’t fix this one. She had done her best to help, to find things for you to do, to distract you. None of it worked.

Her attempts to keep you busy in the apartment had been a bust. She had gone out and bought more furniture, all of which needed to be put together by hand. Once you had gotten home from work one evening, she had asked for your assistance, to which your scowl had dropped for a second and she had almost seen you smile. But unfortunately, you helped create furniture for a living, and what was supposed to be a long distraction ended up taking only a singular weekend.

Then she had asked you to have a "movie marathon," or at least that's what Ajax had called it. All of your favourite movies, one right after the other with the only exceptions being class or work. It seemed to ease your irritation for the most part, but once the movies were over, so was your peace.

More than once Wednesday had even asked you to teach her how to cook. It was a failed endeavour from start to finish. But her pride could look past her embarrassment when she heard you laugh at yet another failed attempt at cooking something so simple. Your laugh was such a beautiful sound, and she would decimate a hundred meals if it meant she could hear you laugh.

However, even that plan eventually fell short when you no longer found the time to teach, instead opting to do it yourself before she got home for class or even going so far as to skip meals entirely. She had only attempted to bring it up to you once before you immediately shut her down. It was a mindless decision not to bring it up again.

Which left her with her current predicament; how to help ease you back into a calm that was sustainable.

When you practically stormed out of the apartment once again, Wednesday realised she was unaware of what to do. It was an odd feeling. To not have any indication or clue as to what would help you. There was something unsettling about it, and more than once she found herself getting increasingly frustrated right alongside you, though for different reasons.

It only took a few moments to make sure you weren’t coming back before Wednesday, with gritted teeth, pulled out the family crystal ball. It had been a long while since she had used it, in fact you had used it far more often to talk with Pugsley. Why you wanted to talk with him, she had no idea, but you did. Which left her in the uncomfortable position she was currently in.

“Hello, darling,” Mother answered almost immediately. “How is school?”

“It’s going well,” Wednesday answered.

“And how is Y/N?” She asked.

Wednesday hesitated. “That’s precisely why I’m calling.”

“I knew you would eventually,” Mother said with a kind smile. “Pugsley mentioned she has been unusually agitated the past few calls.”

“And he would know?” Wednesday asked with a barely concealed scoff.

“Yes he would,” Mother said. “They play some sort of game together every week.”

Wednesday’s eyes fell to the side. Yes, she supposed you did usually play a game with Pugsley when you were on a call. She couldn’t recall what it was called, but it was clearly something you got excited about. More than once she could hear you shouting or cheering or complaining about something. In actuality, she was more surprised you had gotten Pugsley in on your technology craze.

“How can I help you, dear?” Mother asked, pulling her gaze back to the crystal ball. “There will be no judgement.”

As if that was what Wednesday was concerned about.

“I’m unsure of how to help,” she finally said. “The usual distractions no longer work.” Mother waited silently. “Seeing her so tormented is-” she exhaled deeply “-not enjoyable.”

“What have you tried so far?” Mother asked.

Wednesday sighed before going into excruciating detail about everything she had tried. Mother listened politely, nodding when appropriate and asking clarifying questions when necessary. It was infuriating how understanding she was being. Wednesday almost wished she would refuse to listen. At least then she would be warranted in her frustration.

“And this all occurred after her parents appeared on the news?” Mother asked. Wednesday nodded. “Have you asked what she needs?”

“I-” Wednesday quickly closed her mouth. She would rather die than answer that question.

“You cannot know it all, darling,” Mother said simply. “Through no fault of your own, of course.”

Wednesday remained silent even as her face started to heat up.

“Communication is far more important than figuring it out on your own,” Mother continued. “You are incredibly intelligent, Wednesday, but sometimes the easy way is the smartest way.”

“You ask Father those things as well?” Wednesday asked. If her face got any hotter she fully believed she would explode.

“And he asks me,” she said with a nod. “There’s no shame in it.”

“I see,” was all Wednesday had to say in reply.

“Ask,” Mother said with yet another smile that made her skin crawl. “If that doesn’t work, I would love to help you come up with something else.”

“That seems acceptable,” Wednesday said, her brows pinching together. “Thank you, mother.”

“Of course, darling,” Mother said. “Now, tell me about everything else.”

—---

“You seem tense.”

“No shit, Shaun,” you grumbled as you continued to pace the floor. You rolled your shoulders a few times to relieve the pressure near your wings; it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me about it,” Shaun said in his overly-understanding-therapist tone.

You hated this. You hated calling him, hated making appointments, hated being in the fucking room with him. No one else had to go to therapy for all of their problems. Why did you have to go? If anyone should be in therapy, it was Enid. You had met her mother, you knew the hell she put up with on a regular basis.

Actually, maybe you should recommend therapy to her, it would probably help.

“Y/N?”

He was looking at you like you were some sort of lost cause.

With a sharp exhale through your nose, you resigned yourself to sitting down in the chair across from Shaun’s. At least it was a comfortable armchair. You pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them; he could make you sit, but he couldn’t tell you how to sit. If you were going to be forced to bare your soul then you were going to be comfortable.

“What’s your anger metre at right now?” Shaun asked once you had stopped fidgeting.

You shrugged.

“Do you talk to Wednesday about your anger?” He asked instead.

“Not anymore,” you said. Suddenly, you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Is there a specific reason?” He leaned back in his own chair.

“This isn’t couples counseling,” you said quickly. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“You brought her into it, Y/N,” Shaun said. “As your girlfriend, isn’t she automatically involved?”

“Ask a different question,” you said, a little quieter.

“Okay,” he said with a few nods of his head. “How did it make you feel to see your parents on the news?”

“Ask a different different question,” you huffed instantly.

“Clearly that’s what’s upsetting you,” he said, “so we should talk about it.”

Damn him for being right. It was no wonder people hated therapy; it sucked. You didn’t want to talk about them. They didn’t deserve to be talked about. Nicky had tried so hard to keep their negative memory out of your head, and now Shaun wanted you to unpack it? No, just the thought made your skin crawl.

You hated them. And it made you sick that you hated them. Why would they make you do that? They were your parents. Why would they make you hate them? Shouldn't they be desperate for your love too? It shouldn't be just you.

But it was.

"I don't like seeing them," you said softly.

"Why not?" Shaun asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"They only show up when I'm getting better," you said with a sniffle. "Maybe that's what their Outcast ability is; impeccable timing."

"You feel like their appearance sets you back in your healing journey," he said.

"Don't make it sound so… pathetic," you said, your nose scrunched as you leaned back in your chair. "It just pisses me off, that's all."

"Right," he said with a small smile. "My mistake."

"Listen," you said. You let go of your legs and your feet touched down on the ground. "Just tell me I'm crazy, give me some homework, and let me go back home."

"You think that would make you feel better?"

"No," you said. "But I need some genuine comfort, and I'll be honest Shaun, you're not giving it to me."

"You want Wednesday," he said with a single raised brow.

It wasn't a question, and you both knew it. Wednesday was becoming a crutch for you to ignore everything. Not that it was her fault, and no one was blaming her for it. But it wasn't fair to her. No one was perfect, but she didn't deserve to become a crutch for something you couldn't even talk to her about.

"I want Wednesday," you confirmed with a nod.

"Then I've got homework for you," Shaun said as he stood up from his chair. You quickly followed suit. "Ask her if there's a day in the week that you can have an emotional talk, and tell her one thing about your parents."

"What if I don't want to talk about them?" You asked.

"Just one thing," he reiterated. "Big, small, it doesn't matter, but say one thing. It will open the door without overwhelming either one of you."

"Your homework sucks," you said.

"I know," he replied with a smile. “Now get home, I’ll see you again next week.”

“I think you just want to get rid of me,” you said even as you walked out of the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” Shaun said.

“Night,” you answered with a wave over your shoulder.

It thankfully wasn’t too late in the evening for you to be walking home. Sure, it was starting to get cold, but it was nice. The cold never hit you quite as hard as everyone else; maybe it was just because of your hot blooded nature. Or stubborn, Yoko had told you that one before too. Whatever the case, the temperature was actually quite lovely and was making for a wonderful walk home. It gave you plenty of time to think.

Maybe talking with Wednesday wouldn’t be as devastating as you worried it would be. After all, she had told you that you could. The only thing she asked for was a bit of preemptive warning so she could prepare to react properly. You could do that, it would give you time to mentally prepare as well. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to both freak out about the talk.

Although knowing your luck, that was probably exactly what would happen.

But aside from that, you could see how it would benefit you both to talk about it. You could get a bit of it off your shoulders, and she could learn a bit more about your past. Your pace slowed as you thought about that. What if she felt you had kept things from her? Or that you had lied about your past by not telling her anything? Oh, you hoped not. You had only just fully remembered it, it wasn’t your fault-

“-Y/N Smith?”

“You can talk to my lawyer,” you said before you even finished turning around.

Except you weren’t met with police officers like you usually were. No, you were met with two people that you had only met once, but you would never forget their faces. They had been present at the funeral. They had been witness to your assault on your father.

They knew your Nicky.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Casey said with a charming smile. Was that something Nicky had liked about them?

“I live here,” was all you said.

“Going to school?” They asked. Devon was too busy scuffing their shoes against the sidewalk to chime in.

“No I-” you inhaled deeply, “-Wednesday is,” you said. “I’m just working.”

“That must be nice.”

“I guess,” you huffed. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh,” Casey said with a quiet exhale and a smile. “We work here too. I’m working on my doctorates and this one-” they nudged Devon, “-is about to graduate from the police academy.”

“Oh,” you said as your smile fell. “The Academy, huh?”

Finally Devon looked up to meet your eyes. “Your name has circulated,” they said, voice far deeper than you had been expecting. More gruff. It reminded you a bit of Enid’s brothers, actually.

“I’m sure it has,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Casey said with a humourless chuckle, “we’re keeping you out late.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a dismissive wave, “I was just heading home.”

“Let me give you my number,” they said as they pulled out their own phone, “and we can meet for coffee or something.”

You looked down at the phone in their hand and froze. Memories of the funeral flashed through your mind like a slideshow put on fast forward. You knew nothing of these two. For all you knew, they could have been lying about being Nicky’s partners. No proof, no Nicky, nothing.

But there was no proof of the opposite either.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head and digging for your own phone. You switched the phones and put each number in. “Might as well,” you mumbled when you took your phone back.

“We’ll be in touch,” Casey said with a smile and a nod in your direction.

“Sure,” you said with your own tight-lipped smile.

“We’ll let you get home,” they said. “Stay safe.”

“And out of trouble,” Devon chimed in.

“You too,” you said with a halfhearted wave as you started walking backwards. “Night.”

“Good night,” they both said before starting their own walk in the opposite direction.

The entire walk home suddenly became more of a struggle than a relaxing trip. The weather was no longer enjoyable, it was suffocating. Your wings strained against the harness in a desperate attempt to take you far away from whatever predicament you had gotten yourself stuck in. How were you going to go have coffee with your late brother’s partners that you hadn’t even known had existed until he had passed? How fucked up was that?

So fucked up, in fact, that you didn’t even remember the rest of the walk to the apartment. You didn’t recall passing anyone, unlocking the door, or even re-locking it and sitting down on the couch. The last thing you remembered was passing the little cafe a few blocks down and then… you were on your couch.

It had been a while since your last blackout. The accompanying migraine was just gravy.

“Oh.” You turned to see Wednesday standing in the doorway between your room and the common room. “I didn’t hear you return.”

“I didn’t either,” you mumbled. The couch shifted underneath you as you stood up. “Do anything productive today?”

“I believe so,” she said while following you into the kitchen. “I talked with Mother.”

“Oh?” You asked. You peered your head into the fridge and frowned; it was time for a grocery run.

“How can I help ease your anxiety?”

“Wh-” your head hit the top of the fridge, “-ouch.” You pulled away completely before standing up, rubbing the now sore spot on the top of your head. “Say again?”

Wednesday quickly opened the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, placing it gently on your head. “What can I do to ease some of your anxiety?”

There was a gentleness in her eyes that she normally kept reserved. You knew Wednesday cared greatly for her friends and family and loved ones. She just didn’t show it like most people; she showed it more in the subtle actions or how she phrased things to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. It was a delicate care, one that more often than not went unnoticed. But you all had learned how to see them.

This was more overt. There was an incredibly visible softness around her eyes, a lack of worry lines or that furrow between her brows. Not that it was your main focus, how could you focus on those things when she was looking at you with those stunning eyes of hers? No, focus, she was asking you something serious.

“I don’t-” you huffed, “-why are you asking?”

Wednesday raised a single brow. “Mother said if I wished to help you properly, I should ask you what would help.” She sighed. “So what would help?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you admitted as your shoulders slumped. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” she said with a single nod. “How was your day?”

“You remember those two dudes I bummed a smoke off of at the funeral?” You asked. Wednesday nodded once. “Bumped into them on the walk home.”

“That’s quite the coincidence,” she said. You both started moving back to the common room; dinner would have to be takeout again.

“Said we should catch up over coffee some time,” you continued as you practically fell to the couch. Wednesday was quick to follow, basically landing on your lap. Before she had the chance to move, you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“Is that something you would be interested in doing?” She asked as she grabbed the remote and put something on TV. Neither one of you knew what it was, but that was okay. It didn’t matter anyway.

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “I feel like Nicky lied to me about a lot. They might know a few answers.”

“Do you truly wish to know those answers?”

You exhaled slowly and stared at the TV. That was a pretty damn good question, and you weren’t sure you knew. There was no doubt some of the answers would just make you more angry, like why he had lied to you about them in the first place or why he had suppressed everything. You didn’t want to be angry with him, not when he couldn’t even defend himself.

But there was also the possibility it would give you some peace and clarity. Maybe you could find out why he did some things and you could forgive him for it. You were still furious that he had meddled in your head without permission. No one had permission to be in your head, it was your only safe place. But surely there had been a good reason.

Right?

“I don’t know,” you finally said softly.

The cold touch of Wednesday’s hand on your jaw sent a slight shiver down your spine. She pulled your jaw until you were looking at her, directly at her. Just her touch alone was enough to send your pulse skyrocketing, rushing loudly in your ears until it was all you could hear. It was humiliating.

Your gaze flickered down to her lips only once before she got the hint and pulled you into a kiss. It felt subdued, like she was holding something back. But it also felt gentle, like she was afraid she would break you. Maybe she would. You would have been okay with breaking if it was at her hand.

Her fingers tightened on your jaw, keeping you completely still. It told you everything you needed to know about her current mood; she was in control. She shifted in your arms, moving until she was straddling your lap. It hadn’t taken very long for you to realise it was one of her preferred positions, and you certainly weren’t complaining. As long as she was in your arms, you were happy.

Your own hands tightened around her waist when she nipped at your bottom lip. It was almost painful, but wonderfully so. A beautiful feeling that stopped all thoughts in your head and left you with nothing but ragged breath and a racing heart. There was nothing more you wanted than to just feel her-

“-We ask for anyone with knowledge of the crime to come forward.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned when you heard Marcus’ voice.

Wednesday turned slightly to see the TV and frowned. “I don’t believe I turned on the news.”

“You didn’t,” you grumbled. One arm held her tightly around her waist while you shifted around, digging in the couch for the remote. That you had sat on. “But we really need to stop leaving this on the couch.”

“Malcolm's family is holding another vigil this weekend,” Kristi said. “We encourage you all to come and pay your respects to a brave man.”

“I think I remember him,” you mumbled as you continued to watch the screen.

Wednesday stayed silent. A stock photo of Malcolm appeared on the screen, dressed to the nines. Probably a work photo, you thought to yourself. His face was worn and old, and white, but you vaguely remembered him. Surely there had been one instance where you had met him. If Marcus knew him, then there was no doubt he had come to the house at least once.

Ah.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod of your head. “He brought me and Nicky some comic books one day when he came over to work on a case with dad.” The title tasted bitter in your mouth. “Told us if we stayed out of trouble, he would bring us some more.”

“Did you stay out of trouble?” Wednesday asked.

You scoffed. “Of course not.” She almost smiled. “We tried to throw the comics like frisbees and broke a vase.”

“So no more comics?” She asked with the most adorable smirk.

“No more anything,” you chuckled, “we were grounded for three weeks.”

“If you have any knowledge of the crime, please, report it to the police immediately,” Marcus said. Begged. It was nice to see him begging for once.

Make him beg some more.

“Are you alright?” Wednesday asked, her hand on your jaw pulling your face away from the TV and directly to her.

“Yeah,” you said as you focused on unclenching your jaw. “I’m okay.”

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

You leaned forward until you could kiss her, which she quickly reciprocated. It was answer enough.

The door of your apartment flew open right as your hands slipped under Wednesday’s shirt. You both turned to see Ash and Bianca walking in; Bianca’s shirt looked… familiar?

“Did you see the news?” Ash asked.

“Didn’t your momma teach you to knock?” You asked back.

“We have seen Y/N’s parents, yes,” Wednesday answered.

“No, they think they finally have a lead for those frat boys,” Bianca said.

Both of them came to sit on the couch, completely ignoring the fact that you still had your hands up Wednesday’s shirt. Your cheeks flushed when they sat beside you, but that embarrassment quickly turned to frustration. They had their own apartments for a reason.

“Why are you two together anyway?” You asked.

“Hush,” Ash said while Wednesday changed the channel to the local news station.

“The medical examiner has come to the conclusion that the wounds were inflicted by the claws of a werewolf,” the police chief said. “If any of you know of a werewolf that was present at the fraternity party on New Year’s Eve, please let officers know.”

“A werewolf?” You asked. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t even a full moon,” Wednesday said.

“Think they’re looking for a scapegoat?” Ash asked.

“Better keep a leash on Enid,” Bianca said. “They’ll look for any excuse to lock someone up.”

“Yeah they-” you stopped when you saw Ash’s fingers lock with Bianca’s. “-What’s that?”

All three girls looked at you before following your eyes.

“Um-”

“-Don’t get mad-”

“-What do you mean?”

All three of them looked guilty.

“Well,” Bianca said with a huff before standing up and pulling Ash with her, “that was all we had to show you.”

“Bye!” Ash called as they both rushed out of the apartment.

“Get back here!” You shouted. “I’m not done with you yet!”

They quickly shut the door behind them.

--------------------------------------

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everyone but her pt.35

Summary: Holidays roll around, and you and Wednesday are spending them with your family. It's full of chaos, bickering with Ash, and the usual feelings about a certain family member missing. At least something about the cold months makes Wednesday's heart a little warmer.

Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: swearing, grief, mentions of murder, police Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Where are you two going for Christmas?” Ash asked as she forced herself between you and Wednesday on the couch.

“Get out of my apartment,” you said without turning your eyes away from the television.

“It’s technically Wednesday’s apartment,” she said quickly. “You’re just the local freeloader.”

Wednesday genuinely enjoyed having Ash around. No one else could create such a look of pure malice on you. It was a stunning look. Wednesday always felt her chest tighten at such beauty when you were only moments away from strangling Ash for whatever comment she had made. Oh, how she would kill for you.

“I believe we will be going to Y/N’s home,” Wednesday answered when it was clear you wouldn’t.

“Perfect, then I’m riding home with you,” Ash said with a tone of finality that seemed impressively identical to yours.

The front door creaked open, and you all turned to see Bianca walking through the doorway. She froze with her hand on the doorknob, but quickly regained her composure to finish walking in. Wednesday frowned when she just let the door inch shut instead of just closing it on her own. But judging by the smile on Bianca’s face, it had been done on purpose.

“If you say you’re coming too, I’m strangling you,” you said, still not looking in the direction of anyone in particular.

“I was invited,” Bianca answered with a shrug before promptly sitting on the arm of the couch. It seemed she had lost all sense of decorum.

“Not by me,” you grumbled.

“Oh please, it’s not even a big deal,” Ash said. “You ride the bus.” She jabbed her finger into your chest. “The public bus.”

“For your information, Ashley,” you finally turned to look at her. “I fly and Wednesday rides the bus.”

“You let your poor, defenseless girlfriend ride the bus alone?” She asked with the slightest tilt of her head.

“Defenseless?” Wednesday asked.

“I refrain from any motor vehicle on four wheels now, thank you very much,” you said as if Wednesday hadn’t even spoken.

She was still beyond offended at the insinuation that she was defenseless.

“Do you two do anything other than bicker?” Bianca asked.

“No,” you and Ash both said simultaneously before ceaselessly continuing your bickering. Which, Wednesday would add, had nothing to do with the trip anymore.

“They do this all the time?” Bianca asked, locking eyes with Wednesday and raising a single brow. Wednesday just nodded once. “And you tolerate it?” Wednesday nodded again. “You’re much better than me, Addams.”

Both you and Ash continued your bickering as if there was nothing else going on in the world. As if Wednesday and Bianca weren’t still sitting on the couch, watching the show that you had put on that they very clearly had no interest in. If Wednesday was right - which she always was - it was your favourite dinosaur show at the moment.

It clearly emphasised how distracted you got when Ash came to poke the sleeping bear that was your fragile temper.

Bianca sighed, and Wednesday would have laughed at the expression on her face. If she did that sort of thing, of course. She would consider Bianca her friend nowadays, it was true. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still have those “nemesis” emotions still within her when it came to the Siren.

“So are we going together or not?” Bianca asked, and both you and Ash stopped mid-sentence.

“Obviously?” You said with the most disgusted look on your face. “Weren’t you listening?”

“You and Addams are perfect for each other,” Bianca said quietly. She reached out to grab Ash’s hand and pulled her up. “We have to study for tomorrow.”

“See you later!” Ash said quickly, practically running after Bianca.

“See ya,” you mumbled with a half-hearted wave before instantly turning back to the television as if you had not just griped and complained for the past 10 minutes.

Wednesday knew better than to try and question you about the entire thing with Ash. Not that the curiosity didn’t tug at the corners of her brain, but you would never explain. Something that in the past would have driven Wednesday to near insanity. Now, however, she simply found it typical. On a good day, she would even go so far as to say it was admirable how tight-lipped you could be.

She said nothing before she moved until she was sitting directly beside you, her thigh touching yours, as she laid her head against your shoulder. Your instinctual flinch was one of the shortest in a while. An improvement of the highest quality, Wednesday believed. It brought a certain, not unwelcome warmth to her chest.

“I’ll ride the bus on Saturday,” you said. Out of the corner of her eye, Wednesday noted you hadn’t even turned your attention away from the television.

You had such funny ways of saying “I love you.”

—---

For all intents and purposes, you behaved spectacularly on the bus ride home. Of course you had practically forced Ash and Bianca to sit in the row ahead, and you had grabbed Wednesday’s hand without even hinting at asking for permission, but you behaved. And as far as Wednesday was concerned, so did the other couple. She could forgive you for the utter indiscretion of the hand holding.

“Do they always do that?” You asked, gesturing your head forward.

In front of you, Ash was resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder. Nothing too dissimilar from when Wednesday would lean against you.

“Yes,” she said simply before continuing reading the book you had gotten her just the day before.

It was a rather fascinating book, one that she never would have picked up on her own accord. Something about a detective following some serial killer with certain tones of depravity that she could appreciate. Her pride would never allow her to admit it was spectacularly written and utterly captivating, but she didn’t have to. The speed at which she was soaring through the pages made it clear.

Perhaps you knew her interests better than she had perceived.

“Why did you know before me?” You asked. “What about you said “yeah, tell me the gossip before anyone else?” It’s not fair.”

There was no point in even attempting to read her book. Clearly something was on your mind, and if Wednesday ignored you, you would only continue getting more agitated until someone asked you to speak your mind. Though if you wanted a real answer or you were simply venting, she had no idea. That wasn’t something she had learned to differentiate quite yet.

“They believed you would react like this,” Wednesday said. A little white lie, harmless. “Seemed they were right.”

“Who do I give the shovel talk to?” You mumbled. “They’re both my friends.”

Wednesday had to bite her tongue to keep from asking what it mattered. They were both your friends, sure, but was this really the most important thing to you at the moment? A shovel talk? Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the police investigation that somehow always found its way back to you? Or that you still had nightmares from Mac’s death?

“Then talk with them both,” she said instead, “and be done with it.”

“That’s no fun,” you grumbled, but otherwise settled back into the seat.

Wednesday had gotten to page 233 before the bus pulled into the station in your little town. Thankfully no one had too much luggage and it was easy for the four of you to get off and wait patiently. There was very little talk, everyone seeming too tired due to the late arrival and the long trip. It was the preferred option, Wednesday would admit. She appreciated her friends, but she preferred them to be silent.

“You youngins need a lift?”

Your shoulders relaxed instinctively at the sound of Pop’s voice. It was a much welcome change, though it left an uncomfortable feeling in Wednesday’s chest. Rarely did you fully relax when she talked to you. Not that she cared nor minded, obviously. Whatever it took to ease your worries.

She did not care.

You introduced your Pop to Bianca before hastily pulling Wednesday into the bed of the truck. Like that first visit, you held your hand out for her to take, leaving yourself as an assistant to climbing up. You stayed steady even as she used you to pull herself up. Out of a desire to hide the embarrassing heat in her cheeks, she refused to look at the painfully gentle smile you gave her.

Pop dropped Bianca and Ash off at Ash’s family home. Wednesday did not fail to notice the easy-going look on your face when they had turned their backs to you. Why were you so insistent on not showing them that you cared? Or perhaps it was strictly Ash that you refused to show. Wednesday knew she did the same thing, especially when it came to her friends, but it didn’t seem characteristic for you.

“Welcome back, baby bird,” Pop said when he reached over to pat your shoulder. You gave him a quick smile before continuing to pull the bags out of the truck.

“Everyone asleep already?” You asked.

“Out like a light,” he said, making an unusual movement with his jaw while he talked. It was only then that Wednesday noticed the toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“We in the living room?” You continued even as you all started walking up to the house.

Wednesday happily invited the warm feeling in her stomach when you switched the bags to one arm and held her hand with the other. If she would allow herself to be so bold, holding your hand was probably one of her favourite things, especially out in public. It was subtle, but there was something strangely intimate about the act.

The subtle intimacy was something her parents could stand to learn.

“Basement,” Pop said. “Your Abuelita made up the pull-out couch.”

“Our own little apartment,” you said with a smile far more appropriate for the teasing tone.

“Just don’t tell your Grandpa,” Pop grumbled. “He’ll behave, but you know he don’t like it.”

“I’ll behave,” you said.

For some reason, neither Wednesday nor Pop believed you.

It only took a few more minutes to get inside, say goodnight to Pop, and go downstairs. Wednesday hadn’t seen the basement of the house yet, but it felt homey. You had mentioned on occasion how you and Nicky would have sleepovers with all the others down there. Watching movies, playing games, karaoke nights. With how much space was down there, it was no surprise it had essentially become the “kid hangout.”

“Bathroom is through there-” you gestured in the proper direction with your head, “-and I’ll finish getting everything ready.”

Wednesday nodded once. Getting ready was like a well-oiled machine. You handed her the overnight bag without looking up, and she took it. There was the slightest tremble in your hand when her fingers grazed yours, but you otherwise remained focused. Without even an ounce of hesitation, she leaned over to press her lips against your cheek, sighing softly to herself at the warmth, and quickly left you where you were standing.

She sneered after she shut the bathroom door. A kiss on the cheek; yet another subtle intimacy that she swore her parents would never understand. They were so convinced that every bit of romance or intimacy had to be over the top. But something as simple as what she had just done? That was more than enough to send a warmth from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Warmth. Now that was something Wednesday hadn’t ever anticipated desiring. Yet, with each passing day, she found herself practically craving it. Not just from anybody, though, of course not. Simply from you. Whether it was your presence, or the warmth of your hand in hers, or the weight of your wings draped across her. Just… you.

Haphazardly, she wiped the speck of toothpaste from the corner of her mouth and locked eyes with herself in the mirror. What were you doing to her? The scowl that she had carefully crafted over years of practice had lost its edge. Now she almost looked… approachable. It was like you had taken her sharpness and carefully sanded it down to something soft, something that could be held without fear of injury.

It was decided. She was going to smother you with a pillow.

You were in the process of attempting to put some sleep pants on when Wednesday came out of the bathroom. She waited, watching silently as you hopped around, nearly tripping over the bags that you had unceremoniously dropped on the floor. The smallest of grunts left your mouth when you hit your foot on the couch after forcefully pushing it through the bottom of your pants. It was ridiculous.

She liked you being ridiculous.

Her body froze.

Scratch her earlier plan; she was going to strangle you in your sleep with her bare hands.

But the moment she saw your crooked smile, and felt your arms wrap around her when you both lay down in bed? That was all it took for her nefarious plans to disappear. Instead, they were replaced by that warm feeling in her chest and the tickle of your breath against the shell of her ear.

Maybe she wouldn’t strangle you just yet.

—---

It was breakfast two days later when there was a knock on the door.

All the kids were out in the back, while everyone else was either working or in town. That simply left you and Wednesday in the kitchen, another pot of coffee already in the process of being brewed. She looked at you when the knock came again. You just shrugged.

“Might be Santa,” you said with a poorly concealed smile before getting up and walking to the front.

Wednesday stayed in her spot on the kitchen bench, her second book resting open on the table as she took another sip of her coffee. She was unsure what brand your family used, but she enjoyed it. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but that was precisely what she preferred. It was dark and bitter and helped roughen up some of those edges of hers that you had been softening.

She didn’t bother listening in to the hushed voices at the door. You were more than capable of answering a guest. Besides, she was fascinated with the book that Daniel had loaned her. It was simple, yet entertaining. Some book about a fictional doctor studying Outcasts. And she was even more impressed with the drawings. They almost got the wing anatomy right.

At the sound of numerous pairs of footsteps on the wooden floor, Wednesday looked up from the words on the page. You gave her a quick kiss on the head when you walked past her and started rifling through your mug cabinet. There, standing awkwardly in the doorway, were Ash and Bianca. Ash’s eyes looked bloodshot, and Bianca had a slight frown.

They didn’t move until you placed the mugs full of coffee on the table. Almost in sync, they sat down across from Wednesday as you replaced the cream and sugar on the table. No one really said a word when you sat back down beside Wednesday, but the tension was still in the air. It was uncomfortable.

“Ash’s dad came home,” you said softly when Ash and Bianca headed down to the basement.

Wednesday took the newly-washed mug from your hands and started drying it. “That’s a bad thing.”

“He’s homophobic,” you shrugged. Wednesday nodded. “And hates Outcasts.”

The four of you helped rearrange the basement to fit two beds. It wasn’t difficult, but you continuously bickered with Ash over the littlest of things. Which was precisely why Bianca and Wednesday put you two to work together while they worked silently and efficiently.

They made a silent vow to never tell anyone about the other’s softness for their partner.

By the time everyone came back home, no one questioned why there were two more plates on the dinner table. Auntie C simply took to Bianca like a fish to water, the both of them talking nonstop about anything and everything. Wednesday had to try her hardest not to let her smile slip when you finally noticed that they were talking about you.

“Well I have to do someone’s hair,” Auntie C said when you called her out on her poorly-devised plan. “And the kids aren’t old enough to have more than a few minutes of fun.”

“Why don’t you help me with mine?” You asked. “I always need help.”

“Your hair isn’t as much fun,” she said with a shrug before smirking at Bianca.

“She doesn’t even have hair!” You groaned.

“Which makes for a perfect blank slate,” Auntie C said.

“Don’t be jealous,” Bianca said. “Maybe one day she’ll help you.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled before grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her outside.

The days flew by in much the same way. The four of you would get up and go upstairs for coffee. If you were early enough, you could say hi to the adults before they left for work. Depending on the day, you all either helped watch the kids, or helped with chores. More often than not, you were in charge of mucking out stalls since you were housing three horses for the winter break.

“Ash never has to muck out the stalls,” you grumbled.

Wednesday stayed silent on her perch, the newly-repaired wooden railing just high enough for her to be above eye level with you.

The horse you had secured outside the stall snorted in response.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head, “she never even comes to see you.”

The horse tapped his foot on the ground twice.

“Yes, Hailey will bring you an apple later,” you said.

Wednesday watched in silent amusement as you continued to talk to the horse while you cleaned. Sometimes you would stand up straight and wipe your brow, giving an unimpressed look at the horse, before continuing cleaning. This pattern continued with the other two horses, as well as Steve’s stall.

She made sure to go inside before you let him out. He had given her one too many mischievous looks, and she didn’t think she could handle having to repair another pair of pants.

“Wanna help me wrap presents?” Emily asked at the exact moment that the door closed behind Wednesday.

How could she say no when Emily, in all her young wisdom, pouted and whispered a “please?” that was eerily similar to yours. It was frustrating, to say the least. That a simple word, a simple inflection could remind her so much of you that she was willing to assist a child with… gift wrapping. It was disgusting and undignified.

It only took them an hour to finish all the presents.

When you came back into the house, after Wednesday had been roped into helping all the children wrap presents, you were on the phone. She was concerned at first; the last time she had truly seen you on the phone alone was when Nicky had died. Her heart started to race and she had already started coming up with a plan to keep you stable, to keep you from running away from her again.

She hated when you ran away from her.

But the typical tension in your shoulders was absent, and you still walked in and sat beside her as if nothing was wrong. In fact, you even reached over and locked your fingers with hers without hesitation. She leaned a little further into you, ignoring the teasing look Bianca sent her way, and let her heart rate return to normal.

If she was eavesdropping on your call, that was no one’s business but hers.

When you hung up the call, instinctual curiosity nearly caused Wednesday to ask who you had been talking to. But she quickly bit her tongue, knowing it would be considered rude. Not that she necessarily cared, but there were other people in the room and she was not going to give Bianca the satisfaction of doing something socially inappropriate.

“Casey called,” you said anyway, seemingly answering the unasked question. “Just wanted to talk, I guess.”

Wednesday never considered her a jealous person. Distrustful, yes, but not jealous. But just the thought of you talking to your brother’s old partner had her on edge. Had you talked to Casey on the phone before that moment? She was aware that you had bumped into him and Devan not too long ago, but did you talk? Were you close?

Why would he want to talk to you so badly as to call you on your winter break?

“You’re thinking too loud,” you said softly enough for only her to hear. “I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

From you? That answer would suffice.

—---

When Wednesday walked into the kitchen, you were already there. She had gotten more than comfortable walking your house and yard on her own. Sometimes she preferred it, using it as her time to get some peace and quiet that she so desired. There was something endearing about your family’s dynamics, but she needed some silence every now and then.

Her body stopped in its tracks when she saw your lips moving. You were still looking down at the lunch you were making for everyone, but you continued your silent talking. If she listened carefully, she could hear the wispy words falling from your lips.

It wasn’t the first time Wednesday had walked in on you seemingly talking to yourself. She had found you a few times in the past, usually when you were in the kitchen, having a full conversation with yourself. At least she assumed it was with yourself. Now that she was going over it in her head, she supposed you could also be talking with Nicky.

There had been an initial concern when you had told her you could still see him. The Addamses were no strangers to ghosts or spectres, but she knew it wasn’t entirely common amongst the majority of the population. That same concern had only grown at the anxiety that she could practically feel coming off your body as you told her. Like the good girlfriend she was attempting to be, she accepted the fact without question.

All it took was a small talk with your Abuelita to learn that it wasn’t entirely impossible and ease her concern.

As she watched, you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose. Wednesday’s pulse quickened; she knew that look. Without second thought, she walked over to you - a little quicker than normal, she would admit - and wasted no time in placing her hands on your cheeks. It was a gesture she had experimented with and had come to the conclusion that, yes, it worked.

When your face almost instantly relaxed, she was proven right yet again.

“Is it Nicky?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t stupid, she knew it was a sensitive topic, but the only way to know for sure was to ask.

Your eyes darted to the side quickly before looking at her again.

“Yes.”

The sound of her heart echoed loudly in her ears. Through horrendous amounts of research, Wednesday knew how to tell when someone was lying. From the way they lick their lips to where their eyes go. It didn’t matter if it was a big or small lie, the signs were all the same.

And you? You had just lied to her.

“He’s giving me a headache,” you said with a shrug. Behind you, your wings ruffled lightly underneath your shirt.

Wednesday was smart enough not to question when you had started wearing your harness more during the day time. It had happened some time after getting back from the dia de los muertos celebration. You had never mentioned it, and she had thought it was better to just let you do what you felt you needed to. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tell how uncomfortable you were with it.

And it didn’t stop your wings from giving away your lies.

“Can you get the paper plates, please?” You asked, not unkindly pulling away from her hands and facing the stove once again.

It hurt. Which left for an unusual feeling in Wednesday’s chest and a strange ball of tension in her throat. She grabbed the plates from the designated cabinet and tried to ignore the feeling, but it was impossible. Had you ever lied to her before? Nothing immediately came to mind, and it was concerning. Why would you decide now to lie to her? And what could have been worth it?

She didn’t know. But she was going to find out.

—---

It was two days before Christmas when you left to go visit Nicky.

“I won’t be long,” you said without looking up from the small picnic basket you were packing. “Just gonna bring him some of Momma’s pumpkin rolls.”

Wednesday wouldn’t dare tell you not to go. She wasn’t entirely sure if you were coping in a healthy way, but who was she to speak up? Her family certainly weren’t the baseline of normality when it came to coping and grieving. Death wasn’t some horrendous thing that most people saw it as, not to the Addamses. And even though you fit in perfectly, you weren’t an Addams.

Take me with you, she thought. Let me keep you out of trouble. It was an unusual thought, and it took her by surprise. Part of what she had initially adored about you was your penchant for getting into trouble. Yet with this? Every fibre of her being wanted desperately to keep you safe. It was an uncomfortable feeling and she wanted it to go away.

“Don’t be out too late,” was what Wednesday finally said. “They still have yet to find that killer in DC.”

“Killer?” You asked, freezing in place. Your eyes trailed off, not looking at anything in particular before they widened and your mouth made an adorable little “o.” Not that Wednesday thought it was adorable. “You mean the one that got Mr. Hart?”

Wednesday nodded.

“I hope I do see him.”

She gave you the most unamused look she could muster. “That’s not comforting.”

“I need to congratulate the man,” you said. A smile more suited to your true personality slowly grew. “Maybe I’ll offer him a pumpkin roll.”

“Please stay out of trouble,” she said with a sigh that she did her best to hide. “I can bail you out of jail again, but would prefer not to.”

“You didn’t like picturing me behind bars?” You asked. Wednesday did her best to keep down the heat that was rising on her cheeks. “I think you liked me in handcuffs.”

“You two are disgusting.”

You both jumped - it was the first time Wednesday was thankful you were wearing your harness - when Ash walked into the kitchen. She wasn’t looking at either of you directly, but Wednesday could see her smirk. It was similar to Hailey’s. And yours. Oh, you all really had practically grown up together.

“Then quit eavesdropping,” you said. All teasing in your tone was gone.

Wednesday missed it within an instant.

“If you’re not home in time for dinner, I’m letting Wednesday sleep in the bed with me and Bianca,” Ash continued as she grabbed one of the pumpkin rolls from the plate.

“I’m not a stray,” Wednesday mumbled.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” you said quickly. “Keep your hands off my girlfriend.”

“Gotta keep you motivated somehow,” Ash said with a smile before she backed out of the kitchen. “Tell Nicky I said hi!”

“You’ll be safe?” Wednesday said again, not even caring if Ash heard her or not. She was more focused on the fact that, at the mention of Ash saying hi to Nicky, you had sombered rapidly. “No killers?”

“You almost sound like you care, Wends,” you said, but that troubled frown morphed into the smallest of smiles. “What would Enid think?”

“Enid would think nothing of it because no one will tell her.” She did her best to make it a threat, but it fell on deaf ears. You both knew she wouldn’t do anything.

“I’ll be safe,” you finally said, “and I won’t congratulate killers.”

Thank you, she thought even though she couldn’t get herself to say it aloud. Instead, she stood up on her toes and kissed you on the cheek. A soft kiss, one planted firmly enough to know she was serious. To show she cared, even if she wouldn’t say it in so many words.

“Can I kiss you back?” You asked.

Wednesday only had to nod once before you cupped her cheeks and kissed her just as softly. Where she had used to find it a little ridiculous that you would ask every single time, now she truly loved it. To know that you respected her boundaries enough to ask, no matter the situation? It was something she hadn’t expected to receive from anyone, and yet you did it so effortlessly.

“I’ll be back tonight,” you whispered against her lips.

With one final press of your lips against hers, you pulled away, grabbed the picnic basket, and left.

“Your cheeks are red,” Ash said. She was leaning against the doorframe with a look that was very much her own. “In case you didn’t know.”

“You and Bianca truly deserve each other,” Wednesday said as she quickly pushed past Ash.

She was going to kill you for humiliating her like that.

It was far into the night when you finally came home. Now, Wednesday would cut you a bit of slack, you had called to let everyone know you had been late. “Held up,” were your exact words. She couldn’t be sure if anyone else had noticed, but she could practically feel the tension of your words through the phone. In her mind’s eye, you were clenching your teeth and your wings were doing the equivalent of shaking fists.

Everyone had already gotten in bed, including Wednesday, when you finally attempted to sneak into the basement. Not that you were very loud, you had actually gotten much better at sneaking around. But Wednesday knew what you sounded like when you were trying to be silent. Too many nights of you coming home late from work, or therapy, or even just one of your late walks had conditioned her to know your sounds.

It was in the slightest ruffle of feathers, because you never came home from a late night excursion with your harness on. Then there was the oh so subtle sound of your footsteps. You stepped on the balls of your feet to minimise the noise; something you also did when you believed someone was in a bad mood. Perhaps, she thought, it had something to do with that abuse Ash had mentioned all that time ago.

Which… actually wasn’t that long ago, now that Wednesday was thinking about it.

She made it a habit, if she was still awake, to look for your eyes glowing in the dark. It made it easier to keep track of where you were and how much longer it would be before you got into bed. Even though she would rather perish than admit it, she always counted down expectantly until you were beside her once again.

When the bed shifted underneath her, she startled. How had you managed to sneak up on her when she had heard every sound you had made? Surely she would have caught your eyes at some point, they were practically neon against the pitch black. But it was certainly your arm wrapped around her waist, and your small kisses behind her ear.

“Sorry I scared you,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

You hadn’t scared her. That’s what she wanted to say, at least. But you felt too warm, and you were holding her a little too close, and she had missed you. She turned around, being careful not to jostle you too much. All she really wanted was to place her head beneath your jaw in the safety of darkness where no one could peek into her secret joy.

“I love you,” you said softly before planting a quick kiss on her forehead.

She opened her eyes to look at you, the words ready and waiting on her lips, but she froze.

Your eyes weren’t glowing.

The night seemed to drag on without Wednesday getting an ounce of sleep. How could she when you were no longer you? You had sounded like you; had felt like you all throughout the night. But your eyes… how could that be explained? For as long as Wednesday had known you, she didn’t think your eyes had ever not glowed in the dark.

When morning came and you both woke up, it was as if nothing had happened. Your eyes were still slightly fluorescent in the barely present morning sun. There was the usual sleepiness in your eyes and your smile was small and you looked… like the you she knew and adored.

“You were late,” Wednesday tried to say on the rare instance that she had you alone. It was Christmas Eve and she knew the children were getting excitedly anxious.

“My parents were there,” you said. Wednesday froze, but you quickly shook your head. “It wasn’t as awful as expected.”

“Would you-,” she exhaled slowly, “-would you like to talk about it?”

“Are you mentally prepared for it?” You asked in return.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was or not. It had been a while since you had decided to talk about anything serious. In theory, yes she was mentally prepared. You had asked before bringing it up. She had already been stewing over everything  the entire night anyway. How was an actual conversation any different?

“Yes,” she finally said.

“They were actually there for Mr. Hart,” you said, pulling Wednesday over onto the outside porch swing with you. Thankfully, most everyone was out skiing. “Which was no surprise, they never cared.”

Wednesday let her head fall onto your shoulder. She couldn’t look at you if she wanted to listen properly and understand her own reactions to your words. That did not, however, mean she couldn’t at least lean against you and comfort you in the way Enid had taught her.

Maybe she needed to learn from someone other than Enid.

“There were a few people around, so I guess they felt obligated to talk to me,” you said with a shrug that jostled her head. “It was clearly uncomfortable for everyone.”

“Was the topic unpleasant?” She asked. Excellent follow up question, she thought to herself, you’re doing great. Yes. Yes she was.

“Just asked about school and work,” you continued. Your hand fell to her thigh and your thumb rubbed lightly over the fabric of her pants. It was borderline uncomfortable; she loved it.

“How was your anger metre?”

“You haven’t asked that in a while,” you mumbled. “It was about a 6,” you answered anyway. “Would’ve been higher if they had even had the decency to save face.”

Wednesday wanted to ask you to specify. Not just what would have made your metre rise, but what you even meant in the first place. There was just too much she didn’t know about your parents, your past, how it all connected. Too many unknowns lead her to question how she was even supposed to comfort you. Hold a conversation with you about your feelings. Feelings were difficult enough without your past coming into play.

Why did you have to make an already difficult thing even worse?

She was amazed by your abilities.

“Your eyes were dull when you got into bed.”

The admittance had Wednesday’s body freeze up. Why would she so openly play her only card like that? She was a detective by trade, of course, but she was better than this. There was no doubt you would have told her anything she asked, but she wasn’t supposed to let you know she was suspicious of something!

You stayed still underneath her as you played over her statement. She knew you were because your mouth was quirked to the side, and it looked like you were chewing on your bottom lip. It was so very you that she felt something tugging at her chest. Tugging harder with each beat of her heart, doing its best to push her closer to you just to savour the you-ness of it all.

“Explains the migraine,” you finally said, so quietly that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear it. “Curious.”

You stayed silent, just pulling Wednesday closer until she was sitting in your lap and you held her so tightly it was almost painful. Beneath her ear, she could hear your racing heart. Beneath her fingertips, she felt the slightest tremor of the muscles under your skin. The slightest scratch of your nails on her back was both soothing and irritating.

And yet you didn’t say another word. And Wednesday was left with more questions than answers.

————————–

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everyone but her pt.36

Summary: It's the new year and you're determined to start it off better than the last. But really, how smooth could it go when you associate with an Addams and her group of Outcasts?

Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: swearing, mental instability, mental illness, grieving, murder Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“How was your new year?” Mama Weems asked. “Do anything exciting with the group?”

“We did “exciting” last year and have been suffering for it ever since,” you said. “We stayed in and played Jackbox Games.”

If you had been sitting across the table from her, like a normal person would, you would have seen her smile over the lip of her coffee cup. But you weren’t a normal person, and you weren’t sitting across the table. No, you were sitting right beside her, so close that you could feel the warmth from her side. A warmth that you didn’t really get from anyone else.

Not that it was Wednesday’s fault, of course. She was just… a little cold-blooded. And she had the audacity to get stingy with her kisses around this time of year.  Which was rude, honestly, and partially why you had ditched her to hang out with Mama Weems instead. It definitely wasn’t because she was hanging out with Enid.

“How have you been, darling?” Mama Weems asked. Her arm felt nice wrapped around your shoulders. “Truthfully.”

Don’t admit to anything, the voice in the back of your head practically growled. If there was anything you hated, it was that stupid voice. Never leaving, somehow always chiming in when you didn’t want it to. There really wasn’t anything about it that made you feel it was necessary. Or even wanted. Why couldn’t it just let you make your own decisions?

“I’m tired,” you said in a soft voice. Humiliating. “I just want things to go back to how they were.”

Mama Weems’ pulled you the miniscule distance closer. She wasn’t as warm as Enid, but no one was as warm as Enid. It didn’t change much, warm was warm. And you had been feeling so very cold lately. Not the kind of cold that could be fixed with a blanket and someone to hold, but a cold that reached into your soul and refused to let go.

A coward. That damned voice was getting more and more demanding. More vicious. It was almost clawing at the back of your mind, gauging ravines into your brain and devouring anything in its way. Like a feral beast trapped in a cage, desperate to escape.

Wow. That was almost poetic. Maybe Wednesday was rubbing off on you.

“I wish I could say it was all part of growing up,” Mama Weems said, bringing you back to the situation at hand. Right. Coffee.  “But I wouldn’t wish to diminish your experiences with a simple solution.”

She shouldn’t impart such wise words. You didn’t want pity, you didn’t want wise words, you just wanted a hug. A warm hug that was a little too nice and that could make you forget about everything just for a few seconds. Hugs weren’t exactly Wednesday’s thing, even though she tried. Oh she tried, the sweet thing, but you couldn’t make her uncomfortable for something that wouldn’t even fix anything.

“How has therapy been going?” She asked. “Has it been helping?”

“A bit,” you said with a nod.

It wasn’t a lie; it really was helping a bit. Shaun was nice, you supposed. And he at least outwardly seemed to care, so that was nice too. And you were even starting to learn to open up! Okay, not a lot and it was still an uphill battle, but you had told Wednesday two things about your parents. Oh yeah. You were making progress.

Except.

“Really need him after the holidays,” you said softly.

The holidays themselves were fine. You weren’t necessarily the biggest fan of Christmas, but you enjoyed spending the time with your family. And Wednesday, but spending time with her was a given. No, you wouldn’t deny that the holiday time was something worth interrupting your routine for.

It was the murder.

If no one had turned on the news that Christmas morning, you never would have known. You weren’t even sure who had actually done it, if they had even done it on purpose in the first place. All you remembered was you had all been getting ready to play No Mercy Uno, and the TV was on.

Murder on the Polar Express. That was the dumb title the news station had written on the little banner on the bottom of the screen. A title that had nothing to do with the grisly murder of some poor college girl in DC. Some girl that was apparently associated with Kristi, because she was the one who had come forward for the press release.

There was no proof that it had anything to do with you. No proof at all, in any direction. But you would admit, it was starting to get creepy. First Mr. Hart and then this new girl? You had plenty of reasons to hate Marcus and Kristi, but that didn’t mean you wanted anyone to get hurt.

You like when they suffer, the voice in your head had growled when Kristi let a tear slip. Probably fake, but you couldn’t prove it.

“Are you seeing him again soon?” Mama Weems asked.

Right. You were at the cafe. You really needed to stop letting yourself get carried away, it was starting to make you think that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to lose your mind.

“I need to,” you said with a sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she said softly, pulling you tighter and pressing a feather-light kiss on the top of your head.

Now that was worth coming back to the present for.

—---

“Would you consider me mentally unstable?” You asked as you expertly flipped the pancake in the skillet. Maybe you should be a chef.

“Of course,” Yoko answered without hesitation.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” you emphasised, “I was asking Wednesday.”

“Then be more specific next time,” she said.

You grumbled, but supposed she was right. It’s what you got for inviting the trio over for breakfast. That was what happened when you didn’t listen to Wednesday. She had warned you not to invite them. Sure, it was because she just didn’t want to put up with anyone, but still! Maybe your girlfriend was always right!

Not that you would tell her. You couldn’t have her getting a big head.

“Do you have reason to believe you’re mentally unstable?” Wednesday asked as she appeared beside you. Back at Nevermore, her silent movements would have scared you. But not anymore, you were a professional now.

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

“Then no,” she said, holding the plate out for you to finish sliding the last remaining pancake onto the rather impressive tower.

“Don’t say it,” you heard Divina whisper when you and Wednesday walked over to the table where the three were sitting patiently.

Well. Except for Enid.

“Damn Wednesday,” Yoko said anyway, “Big Bird has turned you soft.”

“Yoko,” Enid and Divina scolded simultaneously.

“I’ll give you one chance to repeat that belief,” Wednesday said. Her glare at the vampire was phenomenal. Fuck, you loved her.

Yoko looked at Wednesday. “These look delicious,” she said instead, instantly grabbing food from the plates laid out on the table.

“Coward,” Divina chuckled lightly.

“You try shit talking the goth girl over there,” Yoko whispered back.

“I believe Enid is the only one of you that has any survival skills,” Wednesday said.

Everyone looked over to the pup, and you had to do your best not to laugh at her. Even though everyone had only gotten settled not even two minutes ago, Enid was already finishing off her third pancake and was in the process of grabbing more. The berries had been haphazardly pushed to the side of her plate, and all the bacon and sausage had not-so-mysteriously disappeared.

It was a good thing you still had plenty of batter. This might end up being only Enid’s breakfast.

The woman herself froze after realising everyone was looking at her. “Did you guys want some?” She asked with her mouth full.

“Eat away, E,” you said with a quiet laugh. “I can always make more.”

She just smiled - as best she could with a dry pancake nearly to her lips - before continuing to tear into the food. Everyone else was quick to follow, though they all managed to be a little more… civilised. Or they did. You struggled to maintain much more composure than Enid. Thank gods you made the both of you some protein pancakes so it wasn’t another breakfast massacre.

As much as you knew Wednesday loved to gripe and complain about having people over, it was easy to tell she loved it. There was no overt way to notice, and truthfully you weren’t even sure if Enid would know. But it was there. In her small outward complaints about what everyone was doing, even though you had never seen her hands so relaxed. In the open judgement of everyone’s opinions while that furrow of her brows all but disappeared. In the comfort of her willingly holding your hand and letting it rest on the table where everyone could see.

It was nice. Not anything extravagant, nothing that most would consider memorable, but for you? The mundane feeling of it all? It was one of the best moments of your life. Your family was all together in one spot, you were all just existing and it was perfect. No worries, no cares, nothing amiss. A perfect morning.

It’s going to come crashing down, the voice said.

You looked down at your plate and refused to look up. The pressure in your head left a fuzzy haze around the edge of your vision. But you knew better. Nothing could get you to look back up at the carnage that you would undoubtedly see. It was like a filter, covering everyone in blood and gore, setting the scene of a bloody massacre that wasn’t even real.

Something cold rested on your thigh; one of the few times you were thankful that Wednesday naturally ran cooler than most. The smallest change in temperature, even for just a moment, had the fog dissipating and the almost inaudible rumbling fading back into nothing.

“Breathe,” Wednesday whispered, so softly that you weren’t even sure the werewolf and vampire senses could hear it.

Her thumb rubbed against your knee. A constant, feather-light touch that would have been infuriating in any other sense. But when it was drawing you back down to earth, it was a godsend. Something to focus on. Even just the sight of her shiny black nails kept you grounded.

“Good girl,” Wednesday said with a light squeeze to your thigh.

You almost wished she would have left you in that mental hellscape, because you knew everyone else had heard that phrase.

“Don’t,” Divina said, and you looked up just in time to see Yoko’s shit-eating grin.

“Why am I not surprised?” Yoko asked anyway.

“I hope you enjoyed breakfast,” Wednesday started.

“Because you’re never getting invited again,” you finished.

“Can I still come?” Enid asked.

“Yeah, don’t make us suffer because she can’t shut up,” Divina chimed in, still taking her time in eating her breakfast. Which… you supposed everyone else was too, aside from you and Enid.

“You’re both throwing me under the bus?” Yoko asked incredulously.

“Seems they have some common sense,” Wednesday said before taking a sip of her coffee that you couldn’t guarantee was still hot. The slight grimace on her face gave you the answer.

“You two can still come,” you said as you stood up and grabbed the coffee pot. “It would be lonely without a bit of company.”

“Wednesday isn’t enough for you?” Yoko asked.

You glared at her while pouring the coffee into Wednesday’s mug. Then Enid’s, then Divina’s. You purposefully ignored the mug Yoko held out for you, and you didn’t feel the least bit sorry for it. If she wanted to be a dick, you were going to treat her like the nuisance she really was.

“Keep your girl in line, you two,” you said with a raised brow before standing up, grabbing empty plates to take to the sink. “I’d hate to see Wednesday end her bloodline.”

“It would be the wisest option,” Wednesday agreed. A few more plates clinked against each other before she appeared beside you, carefully placing the small pile of plates into the sink.

“Can your bloodline end like that?” Divina whispered from the table.

“Shut up,” Yoko whispered back, “you’re both leaving me to Wednesday!”

Divina laughed.

“Enid, help me out here.”

“Huh?” You heard Enid mumble around what was probably another pancake. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

You did your best not to laugh at the bickering continuing behind you. From your peripheral, you could see Wednesday was in the same boat. Not that she laughed aloud, but you could see the smallest uptick of the corner of her mouth. Most of the time she would try to hide it, but she wasn’t even trying even as she got started on assisting with the dishes.

And by god did you fall just a little more in love.

The rest of the morning went by quickly. Not that anyone really had any plans aside from hanging out. Kent and Ajax popped by to bring some of the veggies from their little in-apartment garden. As usual, Wednesday was severely disappointed that they weren’t poisonous. You made a mental note to ask her mom for dangerous plant advice.

“If you feel concerned about your stability,” Wednesday said after everyone was gone and you had both laid on the couch, “you should go meet with Shaun.”

You sighed. “I know.” You pulled her closer until you could rest your chin on her shoulder. “I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“A wise decision,” she said softly. “You can go to coffee with Casey and Devan after.”

You froze. How did she know?

She’s watching you, the voice taunted. She doesn’t trust you.

“They called you over Christmas,” she said, almost as if she could sense your discomfort. “You had not yet decided if you were going or not.”

Right. Right, you remembered that. Of course it was that simple. Something heavy settled in your stomach. Had you really nearly believed that stupid voice that Wednesday, your Wednesday, was spying on you? Why? Why would you trust something that, so far, had said nothing good to you since its appearance?

Wednesday’s cold lips pressed against the inside of your wrist. She had to bend your arm a little awkwardly to do so, but you didn’t care. If it meant you could feel her mouth over that pulse point, you would bend any way she wished. You knew she was sparing with her physical affection, and you were going to enjoy every little moment of it.

“Tomorrow will help,” she whispered against your skin.

Yeah, you thought as you pressed your own kiss to the back of her neck. Tomorrow will help.

—---

It was a lie. It was all a lie. Tomorrow, as you and Wednesday had initially thought, would not help.

You and Wednesday had both fallen asleep on the couch, which was weird enough on its own. Usually, she would wake you both up to move to the bed, even if it was only for an hour or two. But when you both woke up, you were still in the same place you had been the night before. Even the TV was still on the same channel, running some reruns of Star Trek.

Then your phone had been close to dead. Seeing as you had fallen asleep on the couch, you hadn’t plugged it in. When you had finally gotten up, you noticed your phone only had a small bit of battery left. Only enough to set up a time with Casey and Devan, and to call Shaun. Perfect.

“When will you go to the coffee shop?” Wednesday asked as you hopped around the room, trying not to die while you pulled your sweats on.

“My appointment is at nine so… sometime after 10, I guess?” You said.

“How will I know where you are?” Wednesday asked. She placed her hands on your hips to keep you still for a moment. It was nice.

“If I’m not at Shaun’s or the coffee shop, then I’ve been kidnapped or murdered,” you said with a nod. “Exact revenge as necessary.”

Wednesday nodded once before leaning up to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. You loved those kisses. They were rare, and they were cold, and they sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to call Shaun and tell him you couldn’t come in anymore. But when Wednesday ushered you out the door, you knew you had to go be an adult, at least for a little while.

And then you had nearly been late to your appointment. Because gods forbid something goes right.

“You’re still frazzled,” Shaun said from his stupid therapist chair.

Yoko had scolded you once for calling it a therapist chair, but she couldn’t argue that it was anything else. It was! It was the long half-chair-half-sofa thing that you thought only belonged in a rich person’s house and was used for nothing but showing off. From looks alone, it wasn’t even comfortable.

“It’s just,” you shrugged, “a lot.”

“Well,” Shaun sighed, “you’ve mentioned your parents, that intern’s murder, and your frustration with the world at large.” He waited until you met his eyes. “Anything else bothering you?”

Everything, you wanted to say. The cruelty of a world that refused to let you rest. Your brother’s ghost that haunted you so irregularly that you may as well consider him nothing but the occasional jumpscare. Knowing that no matter what, you couldn’t actually keep anyone safe.

You’re a coward, the voice said. You will let them all burn in the fires of your mistakes.

Never mind. You knew what to talk about.

“There’s a voice,” you said as you tapped your finger against your temple. “It’s like the devil on your shoulder, except it won’t shut up.”

Shaun tilted his head and shifted in his seat. “A voice?” You nodded. “What does it sound like?”

“The first few times it sounded like Nicky,” you said, as if it wasn’t as terrible of a feeling as it truly was. It was like the words flew right out of your mouth. “Then it was…” you sighed. “Almost him?” You questioned. “But distorted?”

“What does it tell you?” Shaun asked.

“It-”

-Tell him, the voice said. Far too eagerly. Tell him of all the things we talk about. You shivered. Tell him of all the things I show you.

Why was it so eager to be known? How was it going to benefit from being exposed? Now that it wanted you to, you wanted to keep your mouth shut. You were a conspiracy theorist at heart, and Wednesday had given you some useful paranoia, so you could pick out a bad idea from a mile away.

And this now seemed like a very bad idea.

“Just… things,” you said.

Coward.

“What kind of things?”

He sounded too eager. Way too eager. You did your best to hide your “suspicious face,” as Wednesday had called it, before turning around to look at him. Something uncomfortable crawled over your skin when you saw him leaning forward in his chair. Elbows resting on his knees and eyes wide and if you really let your mind go crazy, maybe even the smallest hint of a smile.

Tell him, the voice said. Tell him tell him tell him-

-the little chant in your head continued to speed up, carving the words into your skull. It felt like the incessant words were making your teeth vibrate and your eyes ache. Maybe if you told him, it would stop. You could have some peace and quiet for once.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something would go wrong.

“You should listen to it.”

“What?” You blurted out.

Shaun blinked hard before sitting back in the chair. You knew false relaxation when you saw it. Wednesday had taught you all the tips and tricks of a liar. But this? This was different. That glint in his eyes had disappeared and he almost looked… lost? Like he didn’t know where that had come from.

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he did. You weren’t sure which answer you would have liked better.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I think I need to cut this short.” He scratched his head hesitantly, now no longer even looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded but didn’t leave. Did he mean it? Did he really want you to leave? But when he still didn’t look back up and instead let his head fall into his hands, you recognised the position. Hell, you were in it all the time when your brain was overloading. He meant it.

Never again would you say therapy was boring.

—---

Casey and Devan were cool. And you weren’t just saying that because they had bought you your coffee. Although that was also pretty cool, because you had maybe three dollars in your wallet. But now that you could actually just sit and talk with them? It was nice. It reminded you of sitting with Nicky.

They knew stories about Nicky that you hadn’t even remembered. Stories that, most likely, you had never known in the first place. You had known him as your big brother, as your best friend. But really, he had a whole life outside of you. He went on adventures, had two partners, experienced things that you hadn’t been old enough to experience with him.

Part of it hurt; you wouldn’t try to act like it didn’t. It sounded like he was happy. Really, truly, genuinely happy. Why wouldn’t he have told you about any of it? Did he not think you would be happy for him? That you wouldn’t be proud of him for having a life outside of the horrifying upbringing you had both been subjected to?

“You’re gonna leave me just like mom and dad.”

Oh. Right. That was why he hadn’t told you.

But the other part of you was still happy to get to hear the fun things he got to do. To know that he did get to live a fairly normal life. He got to be a teenager, got to grow up and actually enjoy things. He went to movies, went on dates, did fun things without having to worry about things.

Without having to worry about you.

Maybe meeting up with Casey and Devan wasn’t as fun as it originally sounded.

“How’s it going with your girlfriend?” Casey asked. He was the one that did most of the talking, though you had at least finally gotten a few things out of Devan over the course of coffee.

“Good,” you said without hesitation. “It’s going well.”

And it was. Aside from the typical issues with your fucking brain, you couldn’t really ask for more from Wednesday. In public she was still nearly as cold as she had been in Nevermore. Only close enough for people to know the two of you were in the same company. If you hadn’t already agreed to allow her to maintain her scary dog privileges, you would have teased her for the fact that she still stood just a little too close and let her knuckles brush against your thigh.

But in private, it was something entirely different. She still wasn’t incredibly physically loving, which you had known and accepted from the very beginning. No, her love was still something subtle, showing itself in the most subtle of ways. Back in the day, you wouldn’t have thought it would be enough to push past all the beliefs that you would never be loved. But now? No, now you knew it was more than enough; it was exactly what you needed.

“You met her at Nevermore, right?” Casey asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded. “Did you go there?” You asked. “Is that where you met Nicky?”

“Met him at a bookstore,” Devan said. Their gruff voice never failed to surprise you.

“That’s disgustingly cute,” you mumbled before taking a long drink of your coffee. “So you’re Normies?”

Even looking into your cup, you noticed the slightest flinch from Casey.

“We’re shapeshifters,” they said.

“The both of you?” You asked. They nodded. “Haven’t met very many of you.”

“That you know of,” Devan said.

You laughed humourlessly. “Suppose that’s a good point.”

The doors to the little cafe opened, jingling the little bell that hung from the doorframe. You all turned to look to see who was coming in - for no other reason than to be nosey - but your face fell when you saw Wednesday. She looked frazzled; that wasn’t right.

“Wends?” You asked, your head tilting slightly.

She looked around the room, and her shoulders only relaxed after meeting your eyes. But there was still something on her face that you couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t a typical look for her, far more… uptight? Her knuckles were more pale than usual as she practically ran to where you were sitting.

“You’ve been here the whole time?” She asked you, not even paying attention to Casey or Devan on the other side of the table.

“I mean, after my appointment, but yeah,” you said. “Are you okay?”

“You were here?” She asked again. “You left therapy?”

“Yes, Wednesday, I left therapy,” you said. You shifted until you were facing her from your place in the booth. “What happened?”

She hesitated. And it wasn’t like Wednesday to hesitate.

“Wednesday,” you said, a little louder. Not for the whole cafe to hear, but to grab her attention.

It worked.

“Shaun’s receptionist called a few minutes ago,” she said.

You let out an airy chuckle. “If that’s all, it’s probably because my card declined-”

“-They found a foot in his office.”

Oh. So it wasn’t a courtesy call.

“He was fine when I left,” you said softly, not really even speaking to anyone in particular. “Surely no one just… snuck in, right?”

Wednesday didn’t say anything.

Why was she not saying anything?

“Wednesday,” you said. Your tone sounded harsh; you didn’t mean to. “Did she accuse me?”

She didn’t answer, and it finally clicked what the look on her face was.

It was fear.

everyone but her pt.37

Summary: Wednesday knows, without a doubt, that you weren't the suspect everyone thought you were. And your date nights were getting rather interesting, but she's not entirely convinced about this new date idea.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, grief, past trauma, child abuse (in the past) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Don’t even think about it.”

Wednesday sighed and pulled her hand back from the bag you were refusing to let her carry. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because you were being chivalrous. It was the second week after your therapist had gone missing, and you were still upset with her. She didn’t like it.

“I have already apologised,” she said as she walked behind you. “What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said in a faux sing-song voice that she had heard you use with Ash before. “Maybe to have my girlfriend not assume I’m stupid enough to kill my therapist?”

“No one has claimed you were stupid,” she said.

“And yet no one has agreed that I wouldn’t kill my therapist,” you finished a little too quickly.

She followed behind you, trying to open the door but you wouldn’t move aside for her. Instead, you turned the doorknob with your elbow after more than a few failed attempts and entered the apartment. At least Wednesday had the opportunity to close the door behind you both.

“No one believes you killed him,” she said as she tried to help you put up groceries. All it took was one look before she stepped back. If you were determined to be so stubborn, then she was determined to let you.

“Oh yeah?” You said; you practically threw the apples into the fruit drawer. “Because Bianca didn’t seem too disbelieving of it.”

“Bianca is ignorant,” she said quickly. “Additionally, she never claimed it was you, simply questioned your whereabouts.”

You threw the milk into the fridge next; Wednesday would need to make sure you didn’t bust the container. “Which I specifically told you before I left the apartment.”

Wednesday wasn’t foolish. Even though she truly felt you were being absurd, she was not foolish enough to continue the argument when you became so agitated. When you placed your hands on your hips and furrowed your brows. She would never claim to be an expert at reading physical cues, but she certainly knew yours. Or at the very least, she knew yours well enough.

“Anger metre?” She asked.

“Immeasurable.” You sighed and looked down at the floor. “An 8.”

Your hands fell from your hips rather pathetically. It was a look Wednesday hadn’t seen since those years at Nevermore. Back when you were a little too nervous to talk to her like you did now. She remembered it vividly; every time you would try to talk back, she would shut you down, and you would stand there awkwardly like a scolded puppy before walking off.

It almost warmed her cold heart to see you hadn’t grown out of it.

“Am I really that untrustworthy?” You asked; your voice was soft. Horrifically so. “Do people really think I would kill someone?”

Wednesday wasn’t prepared for an emotional conversation. She had been attempting to get you to relax about the accusations, but she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could come of it. A foolish thing, she knew; you were becoming more open about your feelings when they upset you so terribly. It was something she had encouraged in you even though she had never truly thought to grow with you in that regard.

There was no better time than the present, she presumed.

“Can we-,” she sighed, blinking twice before looking back at you, “-can we continue this in the living room?”

You raised a brow and tilted your head.

“You’re letting all the cold air out,” she said.

You frowned before your eyes slowly grew larger. It only took a moment before you shut the door to the fridge, stopping the incessant warning beep that came more often than not when you were in the kitchen. She thought back to when it had started; she had lied to you about the electric bill staying steady after you had panicked. Clearly you took bills more seriously than she had previously thought.

After hearing that it was okay, you hadn’t intentionally left the fridge open each time. It was simply how you were; getting distracted, finally free of the constant nagging and worry about the bills. Yes, Wednesday should have known you would be hyper-aware of such a thing, but she hadn’t imagined you would lose your focus that quickly.

“Come on,” you said quietly, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her into the living room.

Your hand was warm in hers. Even after all this time, after so much physical contact with you, your body heat would surprise her. There was no reason, she had grown accustomed to it long ago. Whether it was simply your hand in hers, your hand pressed against the small of her back, or your body curling around hers at night. You were warm, almost painfully warm, and it was sensational.

Wednesday sat on the couch opposite you, turning just enough to face you. On the other side, you crossed your legs on the couch, looking like an overgrown child. Or she supposed it was more reminiscent of a rather large dog not understanding quite how large they were. Behind you, your wings strained against the confines of not only the loosened harness, but the jacket you had yanked on earlier in the day.

“Do you think I would kill someone.” It wasn’t so much a question anymore; any hesitancy in your voice had long faded. “Be honest.”

Yes. Yes, she did believe you would kill someone. She remembered the fear and anger in your eyes back at Nevermore when that rogue werewolf had gone after you and Eugene. If it had gone after Eugene, you would have killed it without a moment’s hesitation. Add on to that the looks she had seen you give others who attempted to harm - whether emotionally or physically - any of your friends? Yes, she believed without question that you would kill someone.

But not, however, without reason.

“No,” Wednesday lied effortlessly.

“So you believe I didn’t do it?” You asked. “There’s no doubt in your mind that I’m innocent?”

“In this instance, yes.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. There was an unusual relationship surrounding the both of you and your criminal proclivities. While you wouldn’t fault the other for their activities, you were both incredibly willing to tell the other one if they’re guilty. For instance, you had acknowledged her grave digging scandal from last year. Not with shame, but admiration. On the other hand, she would not hesitate to remind you of your underage, international murder scandal.

It was an exceptionally beautiful relationship.

“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” You asked, doe eyes looking up at her through your eyelashes. A faux innocence that did wonders for Wednesday’s imagination.

She shifted in her seat and inhaled deeply. “I taught you better than to leave evidence behind.” You snorted with laughter. “Leaving behind an entire foot is an amateur move at best.”

“And here I thought you’d say I was too kind for murder,” you said. 

Wednesday would have been content to allow the conversation to end as it was. As long as you believed she had faith in your innocence, there wasn’t much else to say. Your anger had appeared to dissipate and there was no need to dwell on the topic. After all, as long as she believed you, could you really be all that upset?

But you still didn’t move from your spot. In fact, you didn’t even move to grab the remote, or to put on some sort of noise in the background of the usual apartment noises. You simply sat there, legs crossed, playing with your fingers. Dread welled up in Wednesday’s chest; she knew those mannerisms.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out long enough for Wednesday to feel not only dread, but pure horror. “Wanna hear my new date idea?”

She sat up straighter, eyes moving around the apartment for nothing in particular. Oh. Well, that wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.

You waited for her to nod once. “Remember when I visited Nicky for Christmas?” She nodded again. “Well, I think I remembered something.”

Another pause as you recollected your thoughts.

“He had this notebook,” you held your hands out like you were holding the object, “or I guess it was a journal.” Your hands squeezed into fists. “He wrote everything in it, and I need to go find it.”

“Why would you need a journal?” She asked.

You sighed. “I think he wrote about everything our parents did and I just- I- I need to know.” Your pupils were blown. “I have to know what happened in that house.”

Wednesday still said nothing.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you said, “and I need to know what happened before I lose my fucking mind.”

The skin on your knuckles paled as you continued to ball your hands into fists. Even as her outward demeanour remained the same, Wednesday felt the effects of her heart rate increasing. She hadn’t needed Enid to explain what panicking was, though this was getting dangerously close to falling off the ledge of “panic” and into the pool of “desperation.”

If it had been anyone but you, she would have felt humiliated as she so-eagerly reached out to place one of her hands on top of yours. Her small, cold hand couldn’t cover your entire fist. Yet that didn’t seem to matter when she felt the tendons in your hand ease up, and you quickly turned it over until you could lock fingers with hers.

She would never admit such a thing aloud, at least not to anyone but you, but her chest warmed when she was the cause for your relief. It wasn’t the same warmth she felt for selfish reasons; it was vastly different from when she beat Bianca at a game of wits. This was more encompassing, more… more.

“How does that relate to your date idea?” Wednesday asked.

You looked up at her through your lashes again, though your smile was far more mischievous than earlier.

“Wednesday Addams,” you said in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “would you like to commit a B&E with me this weekend?”

Now that. That was wholly deserving of her own matching smile. You certainly knew the way to an Addams’ cold heart.

—---

It didn’t take long for Wednesday to realise just how long you had been planning this “date,” or at least something similar.

“They’re never home on weekends,” you said when you dropped the both of you into the yard. “They’re always either at the Catskills, or schmoozing their way through the Senate.”

She admired the way your wings tucked against your back. As much as she hated flying, she wouldn’t deny her fascination with the appendages, especially after the fact. Only when they were still could she see the muscle underneath the feathers and skin; muscle that had to be incredibly dense if they could carry you and her without a larger wingspan.

Maybe it was time she strapped you down and studied your musculature again. Clearly you had grown since the last time.

“There’s a risk doing this in broad daylight, is there not?” Wednesday asked when you stopped underneath a window.

You shook your head without looking away from the house. “Everyone in the area is still sleeping off their hangovers.”

“Cameras?”

“Fake.” You finally looked at her, a certain glimmer in your eye that had Wednesday’s stomach twisting into knots. “They always said just the belief someone was being watched was enough of a deterrent.”

“A foolish mistake,” Wednesday mumbled to herself.

“But helpful for us,” you said with a smile. “The window goes to my room,” you said, locking your fingers together to create a makeshift step. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Silent alarms?” She asked as she placed her hands on your shoulders to steady herself. Your muscles shifted underneath your shirt when you started raising her closer to the window.

“Nope,” you said. “They rely on their fake security cameras and Eddy.”

“Who?” Wednesday asked, her hands stilling on the outside lock of the window. She adored you for saving the lock for her to pick.

“Our security guy,” you said. “He’s sweet, but shit at his job.”

The use of the word “our” did not escape Wednesday’s attention as she pulled herself through the now-unlocked window. It wasn’t often that you would lump yourself into the same group as your parents. More often than not, you attempted to distance yourself as much as possible, even going so far as to call them by their first names. Though she supposed, at the end of the day, they were still your parents no matter what they said or did. You loved too deeply to eliminate them completely.

For the sake of easing her curiosity, she slowly made her way around your room even as the gentle flap of your wings could be heard outside the window. The room itself reminded her of her own room back at Nevermore. Almost no personal items, nothing indicative of who you were. The only thing that would indicate anyone had even lived in the room was a singular photo in a frame; a photo of you and Nicky on a sailboat in a time long forgotten.

“Ready?” You asked over the sound of the window sliding shut. “It’s a quick trip down the hall, unless they moved everything to dad’s office.”

There was an air about you as you crossed the room. After Nicky, you had tended to roam, seemingly without any direction. If someone said jump, you would ask how high. But this was different; you looked like you had a mission and there was a clear physical determination in the set of your shoulders and the glint in your eye.

Wednesday reached out to grab your arm. Your muscles were taut, but quickly relaxed when you looked down at her. She hadn’t forgotten what you were both there to do; she was more than aware of the desperation you kept hidden behind a cocky smile.

It did nothing to ease the growing affection she had for you in that moment. Breaking and entering was a good look for you.

All it took was one firm tug on your arm to pull you down to face level. She simply had to lean forward slightly to kiss you. You were always like putty in her hands when she kissed you. In those moments, she swore you would have done anything she asked, no consideration required. It gave her a sense of control that you so often inadvertently took away.

When she pulled away - though, surprisingly, hesitantly - your eyes fluttered before opening fully. Her amazement at your reaction to her never eased over the days. Back at Nevermore, she had fully believed her body would become accustomed to how you reacted; she had never been so grateful to be wrong.

“If only my parents knew I just kissed a woman in their house,” you said softly, your words tumbling from your lips faster than normal. “They would die from shock.”

Wednesday ignored the flutter of her heart. “Lead the way so we can go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a tip of your invisible hat.

You manoeuvred your arm until you could hold her hand, pulling her after you on the way out of your room. Not the best way to stay inconspicuous, but Wednesday had become rather fond of the way her hand felt in yours, so she wouldn’t dare pull away.

The both of you peeked around the doorframe, looking both ways before exiting your room. The house was far too pristine for Wednesday’s liking. How could a family reside in a house with so little belongings? Where was the tapestry of history hanging from the walls? The artefacts that belonged to generations past to symbolise where you came from? Instead they were bare walls, minimalist in a way that even she found tasteless.

It only took a few steps down the hall before you attempted to open the door. The doorknob jiggled, but wouldn’t turn. With a sigh, you pulled Wednesday closer until she had full access to the lock. She was more than aware that you knew how to pick a lock; you had practiced it for weeks after she had mentioned it. But she appreciated your allowing her to have all the fun.

The lock was child’s play; your parents may have been intelligent, but they didn’t appear to take security very seriously. You pulled her with you into the room before turning and closing the door quietly, the click of the lock almost inaudible. She felt the cold air hit her palm as you pulled your hand away.

“Look for a journal,” you said. “A leather one with a black string tied around it.”

You didn’t wait for her to acknowledge your statement before digging around the room. And as much as Wednesday wanted to help, she couldn’t help but watch you. There was a gentleness to your rushed movements, almost as if you were worried you would break something. She knew you still grieved for Nicky even if you didn’t outwardly show it. His items were sacred to you in a way few things were.

“You okay?” You asked, and Wednesday was faced with the humiliation of getting caught staring.

“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound as uninterested as possible. Unfortunately for her, you had broken her emotionless facade years ago.

Unlike your room, Nicky’s held some semblance of life. Select baseball cards were put in small plastic cases and propped up on the dresser. Under his bed was shoebox after shoebox, filled to the brim with comics, toy cars, marbles, and a menagerie of random Lego pieces. Toys that had been absent from your room.

“I can’t find it,” you said once you finished looking through every inch of the closet. “Just his stupid, stuffy clothes.”

Wednesday was kind enough to ignore the jacket you quickly tied around your waist.

“You mentioned it might be in your father’s office,” she said.

You sighed. “I guess I always did want to see what he hid in there.”

You didn’t grab her hand before leaving the room; she was thankful you couldn’t see her frown at the realisation. But she was quick to follow, closing the door as softly as you had. The new wooden flooring was a blessing, being far too new to make a sound when you snuck down the hall.

The hall opened up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. A large grandfather clock was almost directly below, tick tick ticking away; Wednesday couldn’t imagine hearing the sound every single hour of your life. The marble flooring was beautiful with its golden veins, though it was far from her sense of style. It all looked beyond pristine.

How had you ever managed to live in such a sterile environment?

“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing Wednesday’s hand to pull her away from her staring. “I want to get out of here.”

Your grip on her hand was a little too tight for comfort. You would never hurt her, she knew that, but it was certainly pushing the boundary. She tried to squeeze your hand, only barely managing to do so, but your grip lightened almost instantly.

As hard as she tried, there would be no way for Wednesday to know how you felt about being back in the house. You hadn’t let her know much about what had happened before and after the funeral, but she had seen the damage. The weight loss, the jittery movements, the avoidance. She would admit, she couldn’t recall a time where she had felt so uncomfortable in a location.

It was an unusual feeling, wondering how someone else would feel in a certain situation. It settled deep in her stomach, leaving behind a feeling of… emptiness. Was that how you felt, being in your childhood home once again? Knowing that there were no good memories, only sorrow and grief and a void that you could never fill?

“Y/N?”

You froze, standing up as straight as possible. Wednesday often forgot how tall you were; you took to slouching more often than not. She attempted to see who had called your name, but you quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from sight.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” you said softly. Your tone was gentle, almost similar to how you talked with your mother. “I promise.”

“Is that her?”

You squeezed her hand. There was a moment where the air was so thick, Wednesday truly thought she would drown in it. Yet another feeling that she was rather unfamiliar with. It only got worse as you stepped aside, turning your body sideways to keep a strategic position between her and this new guest in front of you.

The woman looked homely. She looked older than Wednesday’s own mother, though not as old as Grandmama Addams; the wrinkles on her brown skin gave it away. Even as she dried her hands on the hand towel in her pocket, Wednesday could tell they were well worn from years of use. And yet she still looked at you with a kindness that Wednesday knew you had never gotten from your own mother.

“Mabel,” you said softly, “this is Wednesday.”

Mabel smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

The statement left an uncomfortable weight in Wednesday’s chest that she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t believe it was because of the statement itself, it was simple enough. No, it could potentially be from the implication? Perhaps it came from knowing that you had talked about her to someone from your past. The same past that she was blind to, that you actively hid from her.

Someone from your past knew about her and it was… frightening.

“We just need in the office,” you said, “and then we’ll be gone.”

Mabel said nothing. She simply stood to the side of the hall, leaving plenty of space for you to pull Wednesday along. There was a moment where Wednesday met her warm brown eyes; they were filled with a look of motherly care. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t touch anything,” you said when you closed the office door. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Wednesday didn’t think she could have searched for anything even if you had asked her to. She couldn’t get Mabel’s eyes out of her mind. There was a horrifying amount of tenderness when she looked at you. Your head had been turned too far, but she could imagine the same sentiment had been in your own eyes.

What a world you had lived in. To grow up receiving care not from your actual parents, but from your brother and the family maid. Now, Wednesday was not overly fond of how her own parents showed their affection; they were too forward and extravagant. That did not, however, change the fact that they loved their children with their entire beings.

She walked forward while you were still digging around. You weren’t touching things, just ghosting your fingers over the spines of books, the shelves, hesitating before pulling open the metal filing cabinets. There was the smallest tell in your actions; your hands shook not with anger, but with fear.

Her feet stopped her in front of a small set of shelves covered in awards and framed newspaper clippings. Your father’s winning cases littered the wall, each seeming to receive a more extravagant frame than the last. But right in the middle of all of them was a singular picture frame, a misfit amongst the glory with its chipped black paint.

It was a family picture of all four of you. The lot was bundled up in winter clothes. Your father held skis in his right hand, and a young you in his left. Nicky stood between your parents, and your mother was looking regal as always. A snow capped mountain made for beautiful background scenery, but that wasn’t what Wednesday was focused on.

You were all smiling.

Your voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, telling her not to touch anything. But who was Wednesday to deny her own curiosity? Curiosity sparked new thoughts, new revelations, and she was never one to deny herself such satisfaction. Besides, you were far too busy with your own search, how would you know if she simply picked up the picture to get a closer look-

-her brain didn’t even have time to process the shock before she felt the chill of winter whipping around her. She couldn’t orient herself properly, but she recognised the snowy mountain in front of her. The peal of laughter brought her spinning head to a halt; it was higher pitched, but she would recognise it anywhere.

You were waddling across the snow after Nicky, hands outstretched in front of you. The look on your face was so genuine, so pure, Wednesday wasn’t entirely sure she had ever seen it on your face in all of her own years of knowing you. It was almost a peaceful aura about you, as if nothing had troubled your young mind just yet. Perhaps it hadn’t.

A little further behind the both of you, your parents stood together, smiling down at you. It was different from the polite, professional smiles she had seen on their faces before. These reached their eyes. If she let her mind stretch reality for a moment, she could almost see… love in those smiles.

“Come on, you two,” your mother said in her slightly accented voice. “Let’s get inside before it gets late.”

“Coming!” Nicky called, letting you chase him as you both ran through the snow that was starting to pile higher on the ground.

Wednesday followed along behind the four of you, keeping her distance for better observation. Nicky was quick to get beside your mother, while you stayed beside your father. His hand grabbed yours gently, dwarfing your entire body beside him. The look on his face would have been precious if she hadn’t known how he ended up treating you.

She stayed outside of the small cabin when you all went inside. It was nothing fancy, nothing that would indicate the small fortune that you came from. Simply a secluded cabin on what appeared to be a secluded mountainside. Wednesday could appreciate the small structure even as she stood by the window, peering in.

There was a small fire on the far wall, and Nicky was quick to shed his winter clothes to sit in front of it. Your father stayed behind, helping you out of the clothes that probably weighed more than you did. It amazed Wednesday how someone so small could turn into the absolute giant that you were in the present. 

Your father’s hands were so gentle on your skin. If she didn’t know any better, it would have looked like love. Maybe it was. Perhaps it used to be. Surely there had been a time, much like this, where you had been loved so unconditionally that it reflected off your smile. He was so careful with you, helping you with each layer of clothing as if one wrong move would break you. You were cherished, you were loved, you were cared for.

He helped you take off the last remaining layer aside from your shirt. It stuck to the small coat, pulling up until it caught on your head, and Wednesday felt that uncomfortably familiar weight settle in her chest. Your back, untouched by the traumas of the future, was bare. No wings, no indication of anything that would signify you were anything other than a Normie.

Your parents loved you because you were “normal.”

“Wends?”

The chill of the mountain air disappeared, too quickly replaced by the warmth of your home. It was a painful switch, leaving her fingers tingling and burning at the same time. She pulled her hand back to her side, being careful not to move the picture frame. You were sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, your brows furrowed. The crinkle between your eyes was more prominent than usual.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

She nodded once, hesitantly.

“I can’t find it,” you said with a sigh. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

You didn’t move from the desk, just kept looking at her. And all the while, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her heart started to race. Sitting at that desk, with your back ramrod straight and arms resting on the mahogany wood, you looked like someone who belonged there. A completely different person than the one she had unceremoniously fallen for time and time again.

You looked just like your father.

She would never say it aloud.

everyone but her pt.38

Summary: You invite everyone over for a dinner and get roped into going on a hunting trip with Yoko, set up by Enid and Divina, of course. It would be nice if something went as planned for once.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, injury, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of trauma, hunting (not graphic), murder Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Yoko would never admit it to anyone, but you were acting a bit odd, even for you.

She didn’t know what you had been doing the other weekend when you disappeared with Wednesday. Not that she cared all that much, you and Wednesday were both odd enough that the disappearance itself was… pretty on point, actually. Sure, she had checked with Enid to make sure it was normal, but when both Enid and Divina had given her a look that said “are you serious?” she gave in.

But after that, you had both acted a bit off. You weren’t quite as outgoing as usual; she had noticed it immediately after Nicky’s death, obviously, but you would go through swings and she thought you had been getting a bit better. She wasn’t so sure anymore. Instead of teasing her and everyone else, you seemed distant. Like you weren’t entirely present with everyone.

That didn’t even touch on the moments of panic you had when you thought no one would notice. Maybe most people didn’t; Yoko had no doubt that Wednesday noticed, obviously, but who knew about the others. All Yoko knew was that at the most random times, you would freeze. Just enough for her to notice. It only took a touch and some whispered words from Wednesday for you to come back to your senses, but she noticed.

Not that she was going to mention it to you. Yoko truly considered you her best friend. There were few people she cared about more than you, and that consisted of Enid and Divina. She loved you, and seeing you so distraught over something she didn’t know about was devastating. It made her dead heart ache.

Which was precisely why she took you up on your offer of a “family” dinner with everyone.

“Please hurry,” you said when Yoko, Enid, and Divina knocked on the apartment door. “Wednesday is trying to get Bianca to fence with her in the living room.”

“I’m on it,” Enid sighed before walking past you.

“The Ambiguously Gay Duo?” Divina asked.

“They snuck some weird looking bag into my room,” you mumbled.

“I’ll make sure they don’t have shrooms,” Divina said. “Again.”

“Thank you,” you said when she walked past you, leaving you with Yoko.

Who could very well see the bags under your eyes.

“You okay?” She asked as she stepped into the apartment, keeping her eyes on you as you closed the door. “You looked tired.”

“I’m not sleeping well,” you said. “Nightmares.”

Yoko… didn’t really know what to tell you. Honestly, she had expected you to lie to her like you had been for the past few months. You would usually tell her you were fine, or tired from work, and she would press a meagre two times before accepting that you wouldn’t tell her the truth. But this… was unexpected.

“What kind?” She dared to ask.

Your hand froze on the doorknob. “Later?” You turned to look at her with those big eyes that you used to have when you were far younger. “Please?”

“Of course,” Yoko said with the best smile she could muster.

She looked around to make sure Wednesday wasn’t coming around - she didn’t want to cause her to ask questions - before pulling you into a hug. You stiffened underneath her for only a moment. Her head was tucked into your neck - you still smelled lovely - when you relaxed, wrapping your arms around her waist and holding her just as tight.

It was no surprise that Wednesday wasn’t as physical in her affections, and everyone very much respected it. Sometimes Yoko wished she would show you a little more physical affection, but it wasn’t her place. But you were acting like you hadn’t even been touched in weeks. You clung to her as if she would disappear the moment you let go.

Underneath her fingers, she could feel the raised scars littering your back. She had never gotten to see Nicky’s scars from the accident, but she had seen yours. Rough, large, scattered scars that would always serve as a reminder of the worst day of your life. It had been a while since she had remembered them; it didn’t evade her that you had to live with them.

“Come on,” you said, finally pulling away. Reluctantly, Yoko noticed. “I don’t want dinner to burn.”

“Wednesday doesn’t help?” Yoko asked, leaving a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t talk so loud,” you said quickly, waving your hands to shush her and peeking around the corner. “She might hear you.”

“Pussy,” Yoko said as she did her best to hide her smile.

Your hand rested on the small of her back while you guided her down the short hall to the rest of the apartment. “She helps, she just doesn’t need to.”

Yoko cackled. “She’s going to kill you.”

“She can’t cook, Yoke,” you whisper-shouted before you entered the kitchen. “It’s horrifying.”

“Like I said,” Yoko whispered back. “Pussy.”

Everyone was in the living room; she was even surprised to see Joel and Ash as well. Yes, she knew Ash was with Bianca, but she also knew you considered her a mortal enemy. She supposed she owed Divina $25. Enid didn’t get anything, she had figured you would keep at least Joel out of the apartment.

Yoko was so proud of you. That was growth.

Wednesday was still facing Bianca, who was similarly holding a foil at the ready. Enid was off to the side with her head in her hands; a clear sign of failure. Not that anyone was truly surprised, if Wednesday had done what Yoko thought she had, then there would be no way Bianca would turn down the challenge. Which, judging by the look on Bianca’s face, was exactly what had happened.

Everyone watched in awe as Wednesday and Bianca started their duel. Without suits. Or helmets. Yoko turned her head to see you still finishing up dinner. Thankfully. She could only imagine the fear on your face if you saw what was currently happening in your living room. How you didn’t hear it was beyond her.

On the other hand, Joel was watching Wednesday with the most impressed look Yoko had ever personally seen on someone’s face. That was another reason it was good you were too busy cooking. The poor boy would be dead before he had a chance to realise what he did wrong.

“Done!” You said as you turned around triumphantly.

And literally shrieked when you saw Bianca best Wednesday with a point to the chest.

“One day, Addams,” Bianca said with a smile.

“Your skills are still impressive,” Wednesday said in reply. “Though I believe I could do without you “humbling me,” as Y/N says.”

“That was amazing,” Joel said, eyes wide with wonder.

“Great job, babe,” Ash said with a smile and a quick kiss pressed to Bianca’s cheek.

Yoko swore the siren blushed.

“Crisis averted,” Divina said as she literally pulled Kent and Ajax into the room by their shirt collars. “It wasn’t shrooms.”

“Can we please sit down to eat?” You asked, your voice tense and high pitched.

It didn’t take long for everyone to mumble their agreement before sitting down in one of the many seats around the table. Yoko didn’t think she had ever seen it in the apartment before. No doubt it was new; Wednesday would never willingly agree to host a dinner party.

The apartment filled with talk and laughter as everyone started eating. Conversation came easily for everyone, whether it was about gossip from Nevermore, or something to do with classes, or complaining about family. Even Wednesday chimed in, offering her opinions and thoughts. Which, to everyone’s surprise, were almost… kind. She had definitely been spending too much time with you.

“How’s Thing?” Enid asked. “He hasn’t texted me in a while.”

“His phone was confiscated,” Wednesday answered simply. “An intervention was necessary.”

“He wouldn’t quit playing Among Us,” you explained.

“I was wondering why he disappeared,” Kent mumbled.

“He was a cheater anyway,” Ajax said just as quietly.

Everyone resumed their conversations, and Yoko didn’t bother keeping track of what everyone was saying. It was too difficult, with 10 people chiming in whenever they felt necessary. Instead, Yoko kept her eye on you. You and the way your smile fell slowly until it was little more than a grimace.

With her leg pressed up against yours, she felt you start to bounce rapidly. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your nostrils flared with short, quick breaths. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do; she knew your panic attacks, but it had been a while since she had done anything to help. Was it even her place? Or was it Wednesday’s? Surely it had to be someone, right?

It was. She did her best not to stare, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Wednesday lean closer. Not enough for everyone else to notice, especially if they weren’t paying attention. But she was close enough, and her lips were moving near your ear, and slowly your leg stopped bouncing and your eyes opened.

Yoko had vastly underestimated Wednesday. She was aware that the goth girl was good for you, there was no good in even trying to deny it. But she hadn’t thought Wednesday would ever truly learn what you needed or what was best for you. Not for lack of trying, but it wasn’t an easy thing to do. You had problems, you had trauma, you had so many things that worried and concerned you. As much as she loved you, she knew you weren’t easy to be with romantically.

And yet, there Wednesday was, easing you down from a panic attack and proving her wrong yet again. She had never been more pleasantly surprised to be wrong.

“Yoko, you’re hunting in a few nights, aren’t you?” Divina asked, pulling Yoko out of her thoughts.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Why?”

“I’ll go with you,” you said as if you hadn’t just been pulled from a panic attack.

“You sure?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I can get Alex and Grandpa a bit more too, they’re always running low.”

Yoko thought about it for a moment. It wouldn’t really be the worst thing in the world. She hadn’t hunted with you in years, probably since before the accident. You had always been rather good at it, probably better than she ever had been. Which was insulting, but she would keep her mouth shut.

“I guess it can’t hurt,” Yoko finally said.

Enid gave Divina a high-five. “Yay.”

She started to think her girlfriends had staged this hunting trip, the sneaky little bitches. Oh how she loved them.

—---

The night was perfect for a hunt, Yoko thought. She followed behind you as you stalked through the densely packed forest. The nearly full moon shone beautifully through the trees, illuminating the space around you. There was still plenty of time before the sun was supposed to rise, which left ample time to find what you had both ventured to find.

In a hilarious twist, you had borrowed Yoko’s sunglasses to keep the animals from spotting your bioluminescent eyes.

“How many tags do you have?” You asked; your voice would have been inaudible to anyone without heightened senses.

“Six left,” Yoko answered with the same volume. “Should last until the next replenish date.”

“Mind if I snag one for Alex?” You asked. “I’ll give you one of his after I visit them next.”

Yoko mumbled an agreement. Your love towards your siblings had grown more harsh since Nicky. Not in terms of you being mean to them, hell no. She was convinced you would die if you were ever mean to them. But you didn’t go about things as sweetly as you used to. Now it was “I have to do this” instead of “I want to do this.” Your love was cold, but it was still love, and you made sure everyone knew it.

The forest was quiet as you both continued to walk. Each step was taken with careful consideration, leaving as little space for detection as possible. Yoko absolutely loved hunting with you. Thanks to your time with your Grandpa, you knew how important silence was. And after plenty of practice, you were the perfect partner to go with.

“To the left,” you said, gesturing your head in the proper direction. “Yes or no?”

She looked where you were pointing to see a single buck standing in a small clearing. He wasn’t the biggest she had ever seen, but he wasn’t weak by any means. His antlers were fairly large, a bit unsymmetrical, but they would have taken a decent amount of blood to grow.

But was he really worth a tag?

“Keep going,” Yoko said after a bit of consideration. “We can find better.”

“Then let’s go,” you said.

You hoisted the gun higher up on your shoulder and kept trudging through the forest ahead. If it hadn’t been for the glasses, you would have looked like a professional. For the first time in a while - at least to Yoko’s knowledge - your wings were out and free. As free as the birds that nested above your heads.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, not even bothering to turn around.

“Sure,” Yoko said. Your voices were still so quiet they didn’t even echo.

“Did Nicky ever tell you anything about Casey and Devan?” You asked.

Yoko nearly stumbled. “No,” she said, “at least not that I can remember.”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” You asked. There was a lilt in your tone that she couldn’t quite pick up on.

“I wasn’t his keeper,” she said with a shrug that you didn’t see. “He didn’t tell me anything about them.”

“Isn’t that weird though?” You kept going. “Like, they’re supposedly his loves and no one knew about them?” The smallest twig broke under your feet. “Not you, not me, not anyone, as far as I can tell.”

Yoko kept quiet, pondering the train of thought you were verbalising. She supposed it was a bit unusual. Though, there hadn’t really been any occasion to talk about significant others during school. Nicky had always been more focused on you and trying to keep you from remembering the neglect. That was a full time job in and of itself. If he kept one little secret to himself, one source of happiness, she supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“To the right,” you said, pulling Yoko from her thoughts. “Yes?”

She barely had to see the oversized buck before mumbling a rushed “yes.” You nodded once before lifting the rifle that she hadn’t seen you pull from your shoulder. It was humiliating, but she turned her head before you pulled the trigger. She may have needed blood, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the process.

“Perfect,” you said a little louder. Almost enough for a normal person to hear. “Excellent tag usage, Yoke.”

“Just get it over with,” she said. She refused to turn around until you were done.

“Pussy,” you said with a teasing tone.

She liked hearing you tease again, even if it was at her expense. You had gotten far too serious, and not in a good way. Yoko couldn’t even blame Wednesday for it, because she had even started to lighten up! It wasn’t your fault, anyone would have broken under all the stress of your life, but she didn’t like it.

“Done,” you said, popping up beside her. Thankfully, she kept her cool.

“Then let’s go,” she said, “I want to get this over with.”

“You make such a bad vampire,” you teased. You weren’t sneaking the way you had been earlier; it must have been a good buck. “How did you survive before me?”

“Easily,” she answered instantly.

You laughed lightly but kept walking. “We may as well head back,” you said.

“Why?” Yoko asked. “We only used one tag.”

“Anything nearby would’ve run at the sound,” you said. You turned around with a sheepish smile. “My bad.”

“It still works,” she said as she patted you on the shoulder and gave you a smile. “Let’s go.”

With no need to be quiet any longer, you both started walking normally. Which was wonderful, because sneaking was hard on the knees. She may not have been as old as most, but that didn’t mean her knees didn’t hurt. It was just part of growing up, everyone knew that-

-something creaked behind you both.

“Hang on,” Yoko said, reaching out to grab your shoulder. You nearly fell backwards as your feet kept moving but your top half stayed still.

“What?” You asked.

“Did you hear that?” She asked, her voice lowering again so only you could hear.

You straightened up and looked around, even daring to take your glasses off. The glow of your eyes would surely scare someone away; at least it usually did. Her ears were stilled trained for any sort of sound that would indicate something coming close. 

Or someone, though she didn’t think that was possible. You were both deep in the woods, how was someone supposed to trek around and find you both? It was still deep in winter, and though there wasn’t snow on the ground, no one would even want to be out if they didn’t have to. Hunting season was over, holidays were over, and everyone should be nice and cosy in their beds at home.

Something loud thumped to the ground.

Again.

Again.

“Yoko?” You said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah?” She answered. Her eyes zoned in on your paling knuckles as you tightened your grip on the rifle.

Another thud.

“Run.”

Yoko barely watched you lift the rifle before she turned around and started running. Oh Wednesday was going to kill her! A shot rang out behind her, and her hands flew to her head. Oh, Wednesday wasn’t going to kill her because something else was!

A soul shaking sound echoed around her.

Something hit Yoko’s back.

Everything had gone dark before she even hit the ground.

—---

Yoko’s eyes burned.

She tried to sit up and stopped. Scratch that; everything hurt. Her back felt like Enid had scratched the hell out of it, leaving it sore and stiff and throbbing. A spot above her eye burned nearly as bad as her eyes, which were still squeezed shut. And none of that even included the killer migraine that felt like someone was trying to claw their way out of her skull.

She was never going hunting with you ever again.

The sun was out; that much was clear. Without her glasses she wouldn’t be able to see hardly anything. Her hand lifted to shield her eyes, and though it still burned when she looked around, at least she could see. That was a start. A mediocre one, but she supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Y/N?” She called out, her voice raspy and painful. It was like she was looking through a haze. If you were anywhere near, she couldn’t see you.

A groan came from her right, and she didn’t even hesitate. She took off in that direction, taking long blinks to ease the burning as much as possible. Her back burned with each step, and even her knee started to throb, but she wouldn’t stop. If there was any chance you were nearby, she needed to find you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, and Yoko finally got close enough to see you leaning against a tree, wings outstretched and… brown?

“Are you okay?” Yoko asked. She kneeled down beside you to check you over. Her glasses were still hanging from your shirt; she carefully took them back and put them on. It was like an instant flood of relief.

“I feel like I got run over by a truck,” you grumbled; you still hadn’t opened your eyes. “And I’ve got the worst hangover in the world.”

“Not a hangover,” she said. Thankfully, aside from some missing feathers and a swollen wrist, you seemed to be okay. “But you might be right about the truck.”

“Do I still have the blood?” You asked.

Yoko froze. “Your blood?”

“No, dumbass,” you said, finally opening your eyes. Slowly, but still. “The blood.” She didn’t answer. “The one thing we came here for.”

“Are you serious?” She asked as she stood up, leaving you leaning against the tree. “Wednesday is going to kill me and you’re worried about blood?”

You groaned as you pushed yourself up to your feet. “Yes, Yoko, because if I’m going to get hurt then at least it’s worth it.”

“I hate you so much,” she mumbled to herself.

You stretched your arms high above your head, and Yoko could hear the pops coming from your joints. The noise you let out was ungodly, and she wondered if Wednesday had heard it yet. Usually you kept your stretching noise reserved for private, but you did love Wednesday so. Maybe.

You two were so disgusting.

“We need to get back,” she said. “I can’t have Wednesday kill me for getting you hurt and kidnapping you.”

“So you admit this is your fault?” You asked.

She dignified your question with a slap to your stomach. You doubled over and mumbled a few “fucks,” but then stood back up as if nothing had happened. Good for you.

“Let’s go, bloodsucker,” you said. “If Wednesday will kill you, Enid and Divina will bury me.”

“Lead the way, bird brain,” Yoko shot back, entirely fed up with you already.

She wasn’t going to comment on the fact that you grabbed her hand and pulled her along with you. Especially when it meant she didn’t have to walk alone through the woods, going in a direction that might not guarantee getting back to the apartments.

And maybe it helped that she could use you to help ease the limp from her ever-increasing aching knee.

“What’s your problem?” You asked after a few minutes of walking.

“My knee hurts,” Yoko admitted.

She really shouldn’t have.

“Poor baby,” you teased, “want me to carry you?”

“Touch me and I’ll bite your head off,” she answered instantly.

You hesitated. “That’s kinda kinky.”

“Oh my god shut up,” Yoko sighed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Wednesday.”

“Well she is my girlfriend-”

“-Just get us out of here,” she cut you off, wanting nothing more than to just get back, take a shower, and take a long, long nap.

You were both still walking when the sun finally finished peaking above the horizon. That meant the air would start to heat up and Yoko could finally ease some warmth into her stiff fingers. She may not have had blood circulation but that didn’t mean she enjoyed the outside cold-

“-Holy shit.”

Yoko ran into your back - or rather, your wings - and sputtered a few feathers out of her mouth. She nearly scolded you, asking you why you were stopping when you were (hopefully) so close to civilization, but she followed your line of sight and froze. And not from the winter air.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered.

A mangled body was leaning against a tree, similar to how you had been when Yoko had found you. The only difference was, while your wings had been outstretched, his arms were stretched in the same way. His clothes were tattered and hanging off a decomposing frame.

And he was missing a foot.

“That’s Shaun,” you said softly.

Oh fuck.

“We should call the cops,” Yoko said when you either wouldn’t or couldn’t move.

“We can’t,” you said with a shake of your head.

“It’s a dead body, yes we-”

“-They already think I did it,” you interrupted her, finally turning your body to face her. There was a look on your face that she hadn’t seen since Nicky. A look of pure fear.

“Something happened to us too,” Yoko said, “maybe that’s reason enough to believe we’re innocent.”

You shook your head slowly and looked back at the body. “I can’t go to jail again,” you whispered.

Yoko stood there, looking between you and the body that she was starting to smell. She didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, the police needed to know there was a body in the woods. Especially one they had been looking for for a few weeks at that point.

On the other hand, she couldn’t bear to see you arrested again. Especially for something she knew you hadn’t ever done before.

“Did he have any family?” She finally asked.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Well,” she sighed, “then I guess it’ll die out.” You blinked, long and hard. “We can come back and bury him later.”

You still didn’t move, but at least you opened your eyes. If Yoko was to put a word to it, she would almost say you were the true definition of catatonic. She squeezed your hand once before pulling you with her, leading you in the (hopefully) right direction. The best thing to do would be to get home. Everything else could be discussed later.

There was nothing she could say to bring you out of your thoughts. You weren’t in the middle of a panic attack, you were just… gone. It was evident in the glazed over look in your eyes and the way your hand rested limply in hers. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be the subject of just near every nearby murder for the past two years.

Maybe she just needed to get you back to Wednesday; she would know what to do. The past four years had done nothing but prove her loyalty to you, even though Yoko had been worried about it at the start. But time and time again, she had been proven wrong, and she knew the Addams girl - and her family - would take good care of you if given the chance-

-Yoko froze.

She felt you bump into her back, almost the same situation as when you found your therapist. Except this time, you still gasped first. Pools of mostly-frozen blood littered the ground, looking like crystals in the morning sun. Following the trail, she felt her dead heart beat painfully in her chest.

“That’s Joel,” she said.

“And Ash,” you continued, dropping her hand instantly and rushing forward.

She was quick behind you, going to check on Joel while you practically fell to your knees next to Ash. Their blood smelled slightly bitter, indicating they had been out there for at least a few hours. The only good sign was she could still hear their pulses. Faintly, but they were present.

“Call 911,” Yoko said.

Your hands were still hovering over Ash, attempting to find the best place to put pressure. You finally settled on a gash on her shoulder, and you pressed down as hard as possible. The smallest whine fell from Ash’s dried and cracked lips. Another good sign, in a way.

But you still weren’t listening.

“Y/N.”

Your head snapped up. There were tears in your eyes and your bottom lip shook.

“I’m calling 911.”

You looked at her hard before looking back down at Ash.

You didn’t stop her from pulling out her phone and dialling the number.

everyone but her pt.39

Summary: Everything is starting to play tricks on you, and all you really want is for Wednesday to swoop in and fix it. Even if only for a moment.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, injury, shock, grief, suggestive themes at the end Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Ringing echoed in your ears. It felt so deep that you could almost feel your teeth vibrating. At least it was a feeling. Something other than the unusual mix of numbness and the heavy weight that had settled in your stomach. The ringing was some sort of distraction from the stench of the hospital.

Underneath the dried blood, your skin itched. A nice contrast to the way it usually felt like it was crawling. Your dirty nails peeled the dried flakes of blood off your skin subconsciously. Piece by piece, falling to the floor like rusted snow. Beneath your hands, resting on the ground, a tiny horrific winter wonderland was being born.

You couldn’t see it. The blackness had crept upon your vision, leaving you with something that was like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. A small pinprick of the spot in front of you, distorted and distant and looking like nothing more than a speck of light in the pitch black.

The doctors were saying something to Yoko. You wouldn’t know; you hadn’t been able to hear anything aside from the ringing for… you didn’t know how long. Time moved both too fast and too slow. Existence seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, and yet it felt like you were ageing with each shaky, pained breath you took.

That grounding hand on your knee disappeared, leaving you with nothing but the small speck of light and the itching of your skin. The ringing started to dull, slowly becoming overwhelmed by muffled voices. It started off low, almost inaudible, growing into what could almost be recognised. Something familiar.

Something angry.

You blinked hard once, twice, squeezing your eyes shut the third time. When you opened them, the tunnel vision started to pull back, revealing two tiles on the floor, then four, then letting them take over your vision. There was something powdery beneath your hands. Had it come from you?

Two sets of shoes stepped into your still-growing field of view. A pair of boots and a pair of heels. Both black. Neutral. Safe. It was like Wednesday. Black was safe. Your eyes slowly raked up from the shoes to the legs, to the waist, then finally up to the face.

Bianca. She was safe too.

“What did you do?” She asked, demanded, her voice ringing crystal clear in your ears.

Maybe she wasn’t safe.

She’s accusing you, the voice said, almost sounding more clear than Bianca. You killed her girlfriend. You blinked hard again. You’re a killer. No, that couldn’t be right. Right? No, of course not. No one could have died. Why would they have died?

Everyone around you dies.

“We didn’t do anything,” Yoko said. In contrast to Bianca’s, her voice sounded far weaker, almost uncertain. That couldn’t be right. “You should be happy we even found them at all.”

“Are you here for-”

“-Yes,” Bianca said quickly, interrupting whom you assumed to be the doctor.

You tried to see who they were, to finally get a firm grip on what was going on, but it was like you were moving through molasses. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t move fast enough. It was like a bad dream, one of the ones where you tried to save someone but you just couldn’t get your feet to run faster.

“You can all come with me,” the doctor said by the time you finally managed to look at her. “We put them both in the same room.”

Bianca didn’t wait for either of you to follow. You didn’t blame her. A pale hand reached across your gaze before resting on your arm. It slowly slid down until it cupped your elbow and gently pulled upward. Oh. Oh, of course, you should follow. The creak of your knee was horrifically loud in your ears. You wondered if the entire hospital had heard it.

Yoko’s hand never strayed from your elbow as she helped you down the hallway to the room. Did she think you were incapable of getting there on your own? She may have been older, but you weren’t a child. Even as you tripped over the floor when the toe of your shoe scuffed the tile.

You’re incompetent, the voice chided. A feeble killer.

“They’re stable,” you heard the doctor saying when you walked through the doorway. “They should wake up soon.”

She politely pushed past you then, leaving you alone in the room with Yoko and Bianca. And two corpses. No, they were alive, the doctor had said so. Stable even. As long as you didn’t have to look at them, they would be okay. Your mind couldn’t play tricks on you if you didn’t look.

“What happened?” Bianca asked after a few moments of tense silence. “I need the truth.”

“I already told you,” Yoko started with a sigh.

Her hand vanished from your elbow while she rambled on, talking about what had happened out in the forest. At least you assumed that’s what she was saying; each word from her mouth was melding with the next, leaving nothing but a constant stream of noise.

Look at them.

You didn’t want to.

Look at what you caused.

Your eyes raised from the hole you were attempting to stare into the ground. All of your insides were screaming, telling you something was wrong. The usually pristine white bed sheets were soaked, dripping steaming blood onto the sterile tile below. Yoko’s voice was drowned out by a flatline that grew louder with each heartbeat from your own chest. Bandages were soaked through and they were looking at you with ghastly white eyes. You wanted to scream.

But you couldn’t move.

It was like that story Wednesday had read to you at Nevermore; I have no mouth, and I must scream.

It burned in your throat. Like swallowing hot coals, one by one, devouring them before they devoured you in return. You weren’t sure what it felt like to drink fire, but this must have been close. There wasn’t even any saliva left in your mouth to ease the scorching heat threatening to bubble past your lips.

If only you could open your mouth.

A cold hand slipped into your own from behind. Small, seemingly fragile even though you knew the strength it held underneath the skin. All it took was a squeeze of her hand in yours, and the acid rising up your throat started to recoil, slithering back to whatever crevice it had crawled out of.

It wasn’t just the feel of her hand that tamed your nerves; it was her very presence. The moment you felt her beside you, the pools of blood on the tiles started to absorb into the tiles. Each drip from the bed sheets slowed down until they stopped completely. And each set of nightmarishly white eyes closed until you were standing in a normal hospital room again.

You had always been in a normal hospital room.

Voices - muffled and high pitched - came from behind you before quickly ending up in front of you. The air in the room grew lighter, and you inhaled slowly through your nose. Your lungs then exhaled in relief, the burning ache easing into nothingness. There were plenty of people in the room, you could tell, but you just looked back down at the floor.

Wednesday’s black platforms made for a wonderful focus point.

“Why were you in the woods?”

Bianca’s voice was grating against your ears. It didn’t sound any different than normal, but something about it made your skin crawl. Someone cleared their voice. It was a wet sound; too fleshy for your liking.

“You asked me to go with you.” That was Ash. She didn’t sound dead.

“What do you mean?” Bianca asked, and you finally looked back up. Everyone had gone dead silent. “I was in my apartment.”

“No you weren’t,” Ash said. Her voice sounded raw as she cleared her throat again. “You asked me to go on a morning walk with you.”

“When have I ever wanted a morning walk?” Bianca asked not unkindly as she gently took Ash’s hand in hers.. “Mornings are the worst part of the day.”

Everyone turned their heads slowly to look at you. Why would they be looking at you? You weren’t Bianca; you didn’t even look the same. Besides, you had an alibi, and everyone tended to believe Yoko about things. She was your best friend, but she had made it clear over all the years that she would call you out if need be.

“What about you?” Ajax asked the other bed; Joel’s eyes were slowly opening too. “Who did you follow?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a similarly croaky voice to Ash. “I don’t remember anything after going to sleep.”

Wednesday squeezed your hand again, holding on tightly for a few seconds longer than usual. It was grounding. The longer you stared at Ash and Joel, the more their bandages started to bleed. But each time Wednesday moved, or touched you, or spoke, the bleeding would dissipate. Slowly. Surely.

“Have the police come in yet?” Divina asked. “They were still outside when we got here.”

“Not yet,” Yoko said. She looked at you; you weren’t paying any attention. “But I’m sure we’ll have to.”

“Get lawyers,” Kent said. “No one’s pressing charges, but you can’t trust cops.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement.

“My family will assist with the lawyers,” Wednesday said. “We maintain a list of all attorneys we currently have on retainer.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Bianca grumbled. You didn’t hear her say she didn’t want the list, though.

“Moreno is on his way,” Wednesday said directly to you.

You knew she was speaking to you because her voice lost its edge. The purposefully professional tone she kept around everyone else - though it slipped more and more with each day - didn’t exist with you. Instead she was soft, almost even kind; something she kept reserved just for you. Only Uncle Fester received the same treatment, and that was something you were okay with.

Something sealed your lips together from the inside. You wanted to say something to her; scream out that you were scared. There was too much red, things didn’t seem real. But you couldn’t even tell her a simple “thank you.” Instead, you just nodded once and blinked slowly. You hoped she understood.

—---

You could feel the exhaustion settling in your bones as Moreno walked out of the interrogation room with you. His hand rested between the connecting point of your wings. Fingers scratched between the joints and kept you grounded. Something usually only Wednesday did, but it worked just about the same, you supposed.

Wednesday was sitting in one of the chairs in the lobby of the police station. The tunnel vision from earlier returned; you could only see her. Her, in your worn out hoodie that added just a splash of colour to her usually black repertoire. It looked almost unnatural, yet not unpleasant.

She looked tired.

It’s your fault if she is.

Moreno stopped you in front of Wednesday and started saying something to her. You couldn’t decipher any of it. The only thing you could hear was the difference in who was talking. It seemed they were having a conversation. Well, that was typically what happened when people talked, so of course they were.

Talking about you.

Yes, you could have guessed that on your own. Maybe they were talking about how you were going to jail again. Surely that couldn’t be too far out of the realm of possibility. Maybe it was for the best. Clearly nothing was going right, maybe it would be safer if you were in prison.

Cold hands pressed against your cheeks and tilted your head down. You blinked hard once, forcing your vision to come back. You couldn’t even be concerned about how you had gotten back into your apartment. It was so far detached from the numbness of the situation.

You just didn’t care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly. It was too soft for Wednesday Addams. A shiver went down your spine.

Her hands lingered on your face for a moment, nails scratching against your jaw. Comfort. Your eyes fell shut as you let yourself feel. The sharpness of her nails against your skin. The shocking cold of her hands in comparison to the warmth of her body pressed against yours. You felt… love.

“In any other situation,” Wednesday said as her arms slid down your neck and arms, “the blood would look lovely on you.”

It should have upset you. The blood belonged to your friend and you should have been upset. You were soaked in it, to the point where your clothes were stiff and your skin itched. But it didn’t. Instead, you felt a warmth in your chest, slowly pushing out the cold that had been tightly nestled into your ribcage.

Wednesday’s hands slipped into yours and pulled. It didn’t take an ounce of brain power to follow wherever she was taking you. The hardwood of the floor turned into tile, and you looked around at the bathroom. A simple room; you would have expected nothing less from her. A clawfoot tub against the wall and a shower across the room.

She let go of your hands to start filling up the tub.

You knew the steps to getting into the bath. Take your shoes off, remove your clothes, and step in. Simple steps, something children could do on their own. Yet you couldn’t get your body to do it. It was too busy staying locked up, refusing to move. Your body felt heavy, like you were trapped underneath rubble and couldn’t get out.

Air caught in your throat when cold hands slid underneath your shirt. Flinching because Wednesday had touched you was humiliating. You hadn’t done it in… you didn’t know how long. She wouldn’t think you were scared of her, would she? Oh god, what if she did? You didn’t think you could handle that.

She’ll think you’re a coward.

“May I?” She asked, eyes uncharacteristically wide.

The words still wouldn’t form on your tongue, so you settled for nodding instead. She gave you that little smile that most wouldn’t even notice before gently taking the hem of your shirt and helping you out of it. Most of the blood was dried, but you still felt a few sticky parts catching your skin. The scalding water filling the tub had already left the bathroom full of steam, so it wasn’t cold when you were bare to the world.

You still shivered anyway.

She held you steady as she helped you out of your stiff jeans. You didn’t know when you had taken your shoes off. Wednesday’s hands kept you steady. She was far sturdier than she seemed. The water was far too hot, but you wouldn’t say anything. If Wednesday Addams had one guilty pleasure, it was a painfully hot bath.

“Wait,” you said when Wednesday started removing the jacket. She froze and looked at you, waiting. “I can help.”

“I’ll only be a moment,” she said. You simply nodded and turned back to face the water.

It would have made anyone laugh if they saw the tub in Wednesday’s apartment. Hot water, fresh black roses on a small table nearby, and a relaxing bubble bath that created a wonderful aroma in the air. Rather soft for what people typically associated with the Addamses. Oh how wrong they were.

The water parted as Wednesday stepped in, quickly straddling your lap. There was nothing scandalous in the position; it was one of comfort, nothing more. It often led to the perfect position for her to help you wash your hair, which was enough of a battle on a normal day. The second upside was your wings could rest on the outside of the tub, staying perfectly dry.

“Stay still,” she demanded, though it held no venom. Her words never held the same sting as they used to. Sometimes you missed it.

Not all the time, obviously. But sometimes.

While one of her hands gripped your chin, the other grabbed a wet washcloth and started washing the grime off your body. It’s blood, the voice made sure to remind you. Your friend’s blood. You bit your tongue to distract yourself from that very fact.

It didn’t distract from the knowledge that you were literally bathing in Ash’s blood.

“Would you find any sort of comfort in talking?” Wednesday asked. “It doesn’t have to be about what happened.” You exhaled slowly through your nose. “It can be about any topic you wish.”

Your thumb rubbed against her hip bone. Did you want to talk about anything? Though you had stayed silent for the majority of the day, you worried that if you opened your mouth, nothing would come out. Or worse, you would fall into uncontrollable sobbing and wouldn’t be able to stop.

But Wednesday was offering, and she so rarely offered.

“Am I bad luck?” You asked.

The washcloth stopped moving for only a moment.

“No,” she said simply. “You are not bad luck.” Her thumb rubbed underneath your eyes. “You simply have a penchant for getting yourself into complicated situations.”

You choked on a laugh. “Did Wednesday Addams just try to sugarcoat my apparent proclivity for trouble?”

“I would never stoop to such a level,” she quickly attempted to defend herself. “I’m simply saying perhaps it’s not all you.”

“Maybe not,” you mumbled. A smile slowly formed on your lips. “Maybe it’s Yoko.”

“What?” She asked.

“Yoko.” You weren’t necessarily looking at Wednesday, but you felt her hands rubbing the product into your hair. “She’s always with me when I get in trouble.”

Wednesday hummed in reply. “You may have a point.” The corner of her mouth tilted upward. “She is a rather unlucky vampire.”

“Exactly,” you said as you leaned your head down so she could better reach the back of it. “I would bet money she’s the reason I’m always in trouble.”

Wednesday smiled. It was her equivalent of a laugh, and you adored it. Even though you would kill to hear her actual, verbal laugh, you had become obsessed with her smile. There was nothing more beautiful, more perfect. The sight alone made your heart skip a beat in the best way.

You wanted to see it for the rest of your life.

That will never happen, the voice taunted. It sounded deeper. Sinister. She will abandon you once she learns how dangerous you are to those you love.

After what had just happened… you couldn’t disagree.

“You’re thinking rather loudly,” she said. You hadn’t noticed she had finished with your hair. “Would you care to share those thoughts?”

No. No, you didn’t want her to know about the voice in your head and how it was right. You hurt those who loved you. Everyone that had ever felt any sort of affection for you had gotten hurt. Fuck, Nicky had gotten killed. How could you explain that to anyone without sounding like either a jinx or a superstitious lunatic?

You couldn’t let her know.

“Do you think Ash really saw Bianca?” You asked instead, doing your best to change the topic before Wednesday caught on to your original train of thought. “Or, I mean, do you think she thought she saw B?”

Wednesday’s hands rested on your shoulders, and her thumbs rubbed against either side of your neck. They were perfectly poised over your jugular; a spot she was rather fond of. You didn’t know if it was because of the power it gave her, or if she simply liked knowing how vulnerable you willingly were around her. All you knew was you kind of liked it.

“If she did,” she started slowly, “then it must have been a hallucination.” Her eyes trailed off to the side. “Or perhaps a shapeshifter.”

“They said the wounds were from claws,” you said. “Shapeshifters usually don’t have claws.”

“Perhaps a werewolf then,” Wednesday continued. “Though it wasn’t a full moon.”

“Enid can grow claws whenever she wants,” you pointed out. “Full moon or not.”

“We should be putting this on my investigation board,” she said.

She didn’t give you any time to object or even fully comprehend what she had suggested. The next thing you knew, she was already getting out of the tub and drying off with her towel; a black, monogrammed towel you had managed to get her for her birthday. You tried not to stare, but she did look rather good with it wrapped around her.

“Are you coming?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am,” you said quickly.

Wednesday was already leaving the bathroom by the time you managed to start emptying out the tub. Of course she would leave you with cleanup. Once a spoiled rich kid, always a spoiled rich kid. The thought made you smile to yourself. Ah, but she was your spoiled rich kid, that was for sure.

By the time you had managed to get out, dry the floor, and dry yourself off, Wednesday had already gotten dressed and set up some sort of board in the living room. You peaked at it on the way to the bedroom. Shit, she had been serious, you didn’t have any time to waste. You hastily threw on a pair of old sweats and pulled the sweater over your head. It was a good thing she was too busy looking at her board to watch you squirm to pull your wings through the holes on the back.

“Did you have this at Nevermore?” You asked as you finally managed to look at the black board. It was littered with notecards and- were those autopsy photos?

“Yes,” she said without turning away from the board. You did your best not to notice that she was wearing another one of your sweaters. And no pants. “I’ve had it since I was nine.”

“Sounds normal enough,” you said with a subconscious nod to yourself. “What else would a nine year old girl want?”

“You said the injuries came from claws?” Wednesday asked.

Okay, no room for small talk, she was in serious mode. That certainly hadn’t happened in a while. It was a lovely look on her; all business. You had missed it. But when she still wouldn’t look at you, you pouted. You hadn’t missed that.

“That’s what the doctor said,” you confirmed. “At least, that’s what Yoko said the doctor said.”

Wednesday nodded once and put something up on the board with a thumb tack. “Plus the possibility of a hallucination.” She tacked a second piece of paper on the board. “What’s the connection?”

“Maybe Bianca’s just a secret psychopath,” you grumbled. This wasn’t turning out to be as fun as you thought.

“I had considered it,” she said, “but it’s rather unlikely.” She turned her body toward you slightly. “Weren’t you and Yoko attacked as well?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly. Was it bad you had practically forgotten your own attack? “But we didn’t see anything, it just… happened.”

“What was the worst injury?” She asked, already reaching for a stack of cards. At least that’s what they looked like.

“Yoko got a cut on her head,” you said with a shrug. “And a few scratches on her back, I think.”

Wednesday turned quickly to look at you. “You’re alright?”

You tried not to smile. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

She nodded to herself and turned back to the board. It wasn’t like she hadn’t just seen you in the bath, though you supposed your body was a bit obscured by the bubbles she just had to have. But you knew better than to bring that up. She wasn’t too keen on being teased about her super secret love for bubble baths.

“Preliminary evidence leans toward a werewolf,” she said as she tacked up another card, this one looking like a picture. “Though obviously we’ll need to do some more research.”

“Research?” You asked, standing up straighter. The pop in your knee was not hurting; you were just getting old.

“Whatever it is has attacked my-” you raised your brow as she cleared her throat “-your friends.”

“Nuh uh,” you said as you grabbed her hand and pulled her around. “Joel is all yours, mi vida.” She exhaled through her nose. “And admit it, Ash is your friend too.”

She seemed to think for a moment. “It might also take the pressure off Enid for those fraternity murders last year.”

You sighed. Well, you hadn’t gotten her to admit they were her friends, but at least she hadn’t openly denied it. That was a start if you had ever seen one. Slow, baby steps with Wednesday.

Baby steps.

“Are we going to be doing this all night?” You asked.

Wednesday turned to look at you with a smile so big you almost, almost, saw her teeth.

“Can I at least get a kiss as motivation?” You asked with a sigh.

Her hands held your head in place as she stood up on her toes and kissed you. She tasted uncharacteristically sweet, as if she had been eating candies recently. Coupled with the warmth that had seeped into her skin thanks to the bath, it was almost like you were kissing a Wednesday from another dimension.

But you could still taste the bitter undertones of black coffee, and her fingers had already lost their warmth, and only your Wednesday let her fingers gently hook on either side of your jaw to give her complete control. Only your Wednesday knew just how to kiss you so you felt utterly wanted, loved, desired even.

“Motivated yet?” She asked, her lips still moving against yours.

You shook your head and bent down, wrapping your arms around the backs of her thighs and picking her up. She inhaled sharply, nearly taking your breath away. But that didn’t stop her from wrapping her legs around your waist and pulling your face closer. Not quite into a kiss, but just to hold you close.

“Just a little more,” you said softly.

You couldn’t tell her you couldn’t look at the board yet. That just the thought of finding out who had done something to Ash and Joel was enough to hammer away at what little sanity you had left. She loved mysteries, and you weren’t going to stop her from it.

But a little distraction from the world wouldn’t hurt. You could get your distraction, she could get a clear head, and you would both be all the better for it. After all, maybe if you were lucky, she would test out a few methods of, ahem, marking to see how possible they were.

For her research board, of course.

everyone but her pt.40

Summary: Wednesday is on the hunt for whoever - or whatever - is attacking everyone. She just needs to make sure you both don't get in over your heads.

Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: swearing, mentions of attacks, descriptions of a dead body (nothing graphic) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

As summer approached, Wednesday was no closer to finding the culprit that had attacked Ash and Joel. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, that much was certain. With your assistance, she had combed the woods near the attack, had talked with Ash and Joel, and had even done some digging into the past attacks since the group had started school.

Her investigation board was packed, every inch covered in research and police reports. It didn’t even include her own notes, which were in a folder on the side table. Or it should have been; it was currently residing on the table beside your side of the bed. She supposed it was nice to know you were interested in her research.

She just wished you would be interested without displacing her things.

Though she supposed she shouldn’t complain; any time you spent at the apartment was positive. After the events of the attack, you had made sure to keep both Ash and Joel within sight. It wasn’t your usual “Let’s hang out” attitude, but the one she recognised when you first got released from prison.

The nights, she realised, were the most difficult for you. Something about it reminded Wednesday of the days immediately following Mack’s death. Those nights where you wandered around, either too afraid or too wired to sleep. Sometimes you would end up staying in bed, keeping you both awake with your incessant moving, or your wings keeping her so warm she felt she might combust.

But at least she could keep an eye on you far easier.

Wednesday’s feet were suspiciously cold when she awoke. After so many years of you sleeping by her side, her feet had grown warm during the nights. You didn’t run quite as hot as Enid, but your temperature was nothing to scoff at. She had hated it at first; you were ruining her attempt at being as close to dead as possible. But she had grown used to it, and now it was uncomfortable.

She let her eyes adjust to the dark before moving. The sounds of your light snoring, or your wings twitching were absent in the empty room. Silence, much like her cold feet, was something she now found no pleasure in. For what was a room without your presence? Even just the sounds of your breathing was enough security to continue to face the days head on. Your presence was no longer simply a gift, it was a requirement in her life.

And you were no longer sharing the space with her.

She knew where you were; Wednesday always knew where you were. You had the ability to be silent, but you were not, on your own, silent. Whether it was the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, or the almost-inaudible program you had put on the television. There was never a time, in your shared apartment, that Wednesday was unaware of where you were.

So she wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear the television on and the soft drip-drip-drip of the coffee maker when she stepped out of the bedroom. Instinct had her looking at the couch, where she would more often than not find you unconscious in the most inhuman, uncomfortable position she had ever seen. When you weren’t there, she turned to the table.

That was where she found you. Sitting at the table with a coffee mug and the laptop in front of you. The back of the laptop was facing the hallway she was standing in. Your face was illuminated by the blinding glow of the screen. Even in the dark she could see the bags under your eyes and your slumped shoulders.

There were two ways Wednesday could get you back into bed. The first, which was only occasionally her favourite, was to entice you. Sometimes all it would take was a well placed kiss, right behind your ear or between your wings. One singular kiss and, if you were both consenting, you would carry her back to bed within an instant.

At that moment, Wednesday would have been okay with it. She would have revelled in it, actually. To feel you above her, your callused hands feeling impossibly soft on her skin. The feel of your lips on her neck, even just in imagination, was enough to have her shifting her weight between her feet. 

Your head fell slowly before you jerked it back up and blinked rapidly. No, it wouldn’t take a well placed kiss to get you back in bed, not at that moment. Which left Wednesday with her second option and, quite frankly, her favourite. She made sure to emphasise each step as she walked toward you. You slow blinked once, but otherwise didn’t move.

By the time she finally approached you, you had leaned back in your chair. With the ease of a veteran, she sat in your lap. Her legs hung over your thighs and she could rest her head in the crook of your neck. You smelled of coffee and the slightest hint of whiskey.

Wednesday knew you didn’t drink, not really. Especially not after the frat party. You would, however, try on occasion. It occurred most often when you were worried. There was a singular bottle of whiskey in the top cupboard; you would usually pour it into your coffee on nights like tonight. She had never worried about it because you never went beyond a single, half-hearted attempt before you replaced it with your regular coffee.

On your laptop, there were numerous tabs open. She couldn’t read every title, but the page you were on was enough; some obscure website about the different Outcasts. There was a good deal of information just on that one page alone, and Wednesday could practically feel the mental strain coming off you. You weren’t unintelligent by any means, but you had never denied your distaste in lengthy readings.

“I don’t think it’s a shapeshifter,” you said in a raspy voice as your arms wrapped around Wednesday’s waist.

“It would explain the resemblance to Bianca,” Wednesday replied. Not argumentative; she never felt the need to defend her beliefs with you.

“I talked with Ash and Joel the other day,” you said. “They said they never saw anyone, just heard voices.”

“Joel said he didn’t remember anything.” She shifted on your lap so she could look at you. “He simply woke up in the hospital.”

“He lied,” you said with a shake of your head. “He told Ajax he heard you asking him to help you with something.”

Wednesday remained silent. She could feel you tensed up beneath her, your arms squeezing around her just a little too tight for comfort. It wasn’t painful by any means, simply more secure. There was no need to question the change.

“Sirens can mimic voices,” you continued as if nothing was wrong. “I don’t think it’s all of them, but some of them can.”

“You believe a siren is at fault,” Wednesday said.

“Doesn’t explain the wounds themselves,” you sighed, “but yeah.”

One of your arms lifted and you placed it on the table. You flipped through the tabs on the screen until you landed on a different page, this one looking far more like a - what had Kent called it - a forum. She didn’t try to read through everything seeing as you scrolled too quickly, but you stopped on one of the replies.

“This person is from Latvia,” you said as you pointed at the reply with your finger. “It’s a rough translation, but they said they’ve seen sirens and fairies team up a lot.”

“Fairies,” Wednesday deadpanned. “You believe a fairy attempted to kill our friends.”

You gave her a tired smile. “You said our friends.”

“Focus,” she commanded. Thankfully, you couldn’t see the light flush on her cheeks.

“I think it’s a possibility,” you said, looking back at the laptop screen. “I’ve gotta do some more research though.”

You didn’t make any sort of move to close the laptop. In fact, you continued to scroll, looking through more posts. Wednesday hadn’t thought you meant more research at that moment. There was nothing healthy about it. Even just the shake of your fingers was enough to confirm her belief.

She lifted her hand to cup your jaw, gently turning you to face her. As usual, you didn’t dare put up any resistance. You were nothing if not compliant to her every wish. Sometimes she found it incredibly attractive how pliable you were for her. Following her every command with an eagerness that was often found when you were seeking praise.

Other times, like that moment, made her sad. You followed without question not out of an eagerness to please, but an acceptance of authority. It was the way you had been when your parents still had some form of control over you; when Nicky was still alive, even if it was in the loosest sense of the word.

“No more research tonight,” she said. It was an unusual thing to come out of her mouth; she was usually the one staying up late to do some more research.

“I have to figure it out,” you said softly.

“Not tonight,” she replied just as softly, though no less stern. You could be upset, but she wouldn’t dare let you throw yourself into an endless pit of despair. That was her job.

You didn’t utter a sound as Wednesday slid off your lap and stood up. Her fingers locked with yours and, with the gentlest of tugs, pulled you out of the chair. The trust you put in her was unparallelled. You didn’t even question her closing your laptop, or pulling you back to the bedroom.

There was also no argument as she pushed you back onto the bed. Wednesday made sure she was gentle; she didn’t want you to crush your wings or bend something into an unnatural position. Only she could bend you unnaturally. You positioned yourself to be laying on your side, as usual, which left just enough space for Wednesday to crawl into bed in front of you.

It was instinctual after that much time for your arm to wrap around her waist and pull her closer. When she slept on her own - which so rarely happened - she still slept as she used to; on her back with arms crossed over her chest. But with you? There was an unexpected comfort in being enveloped in you. Your scent, your warmth, your touch, it was all so… horrifically wonderful.

Neither one of you said another word. She felt your lips press against the back of her neck before you fully sank into the bed. There was no joy in having to find more and more creative ways to get you to take care of yourself, but she would do them without hesitation. And if she slept better with you beside her, that had nothing to do with your health. It was simply a bonus.

—---

“Tell me again why we’re out here?” You asked from behind Wednesday.

“Because,” she said without turning around, “I need to read the autopsy reports.”

“That’s so weird,” you mumbled to yourself even though she could still hear it.

Wednesday smiled internally to herself. As weird as you supposedly thought it was, you were still following her down the dark street to the police station. After hearing your theories thoroughly the morning after that night, she had started to dig deeper. You were a surprisingly thorough researcher when it was something you were passionate about. It was far more attractive than she would have anticipated.

Though all of the joint research was moot when she realised she had no idea how the two fraternity brothers had died. Yes, the police had said a werewolf had killed them, but it wouldn’t have been the first time the police had lied. You yourself were proof of how far they would go to put someone specific behind bars. She wanted to see the reports for herself.

And the only way to do that was to get them directly from the police station.

Much to Wednesday’s pleasure, you hadn’t argued when she had first brought up the idea. Although she hadn’t expected much opposition from you, she felt you would voice a concern or two. She should have known better. You were nothing if not an eager accomplice.

However, it did not guarantee you wouldn’t find something to complain about.

“You won’t let them take me to jail again, right?” You asked, thankfully quiet enough for no listening ears to hear.

“Cara mia,” she said with a smile you couldn’t see, “you look stunning behind bars, but I prefer you with me.”

Behind her, you chuckled. “Save the dirty talk for the bedroom, dear.”

Thanks to walking around in the dead of night, the usual crowd was long gone. There was something comforting about an empty street in a town full of life. Eerily ethereal to hear the silence, backed only by the creaking signs or the wind blowing between the buildings. Your footsteps were light, and she could barely hear the ruffle of your feathers.

It almost made Wednesday laugh to herself at your ability to be silent when you really wished to. In the day to day, you were loud and a bit clumsy. Not that she still had an issue with it. If anything, she almost preferred it seeing as it was easy to keep track of you. It was simply humorous how quickly and efficiently you could turn it off and on.

“Did you want me to go in?” You asked when the police station appeared. “I can cause a distraction in the lobby while you go around back.”

“They know you,” she said with a shake of her head. “It would simply tip them off.”

“Well that’s no fun,” you mumbled.

You reminded Wednesday of the old days. She had thought it on a few occasions recently, this certainly not being the first. It was an oddity now for you to be more carefree and make jokes about everything. An oddity that she wished wasn’t reality. She may never admit it aloud, but she found a spark of joy in your lightheartedness of all situations.

As you both passed the police station to go to the back where it was pitch black, she could feel the energy radiating off of you. She believed it was similar to how the athletes you watched felt before a game. Even though she didn’t turn around to confirm, she could hear your feet hitting the ground a little harder than your usual walking.

Wednesday turned around to face you once you both approached the proper location. You had both scoped it out on numerous occasions the past few days. There was a singular spot to the left of the station, right underneath a window, that was outside of every camera. All they had to do was stick to the side of the building to stay out of view until they reached the blind spot.

She didn’t hide her miniscule smile from you when she saw you jumping on your toes and shaking your hands. You very much looked like the athletes you watched, with the exception of circumstance. It was endearing to see how excited you were to break the law with her. She truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

Both for life and in crime.

“I’ll hoist you up,” you said as you walked over to the wall underneath the window. “You’re sneakier.”

She nodded. “Whistle if someone comes near.”

“You got it, pretty girl,” you said with a crooked smile.

It was as if something had taken over her body. Before she stepped onto your thigh, she leaned forward and kissed you. She heard you inhale sharply before leaning forward into the kiss. When she pulled away, she could still taste your lips. Too sweet coffee with a hint of the marijuana you still sporadically smoked with Kent and Ajax.

“Hurry up already,” you said as you shifted into a better position. “I want another kiss like that when we get home.”

Wednesday simply gave you a small smirk before finally stepping up onto your thigh. Thanks to you being so much taller than her, it was almost effortless to reach the window. Much to her pleasure - though not surprise - the window wasn’t locked. Perhaps they believed it was high enough off the ground to be safe. How foolish.

The only downside to the window being so high off the ground was dropping into the room. It was the filing room, and the poorly carpeted floor muffled her drop. She took just a moment to dust the invisible filth off her clothes before properly looking around and getting to work.

To no one’s surprise, it wasn’t Wednesday’s first time searching for files in a police station. She knew her way around the unsystematic filing cabinets that called the room their home. It would be a waste of time to look alphabetically; she would just have to get started on the most worn looking drawer.

Which just so happened to be the one directly to her right.

Wednesday pulled out the small flashlight you had gifted her only a few weeks ago. It was small enough to remain unnoticed, yet held a bright enough light to assist in her late-night excursions. The filing cabinet creaked when she pulled on it, but otherwise slid open smoothly. She waited a moment to make sure no one had heard before she started to dig.

If she hadn’t been so focused on her mission, she would have paid attention to everything she came across. There was no question in her mind that she would find something good, something she could dig deeper into. But she was on a sole mission to find more information on those attacks, and that’s what she was going to do.

Or so she thought, until she found a file with your name on it.

A part of her mind told her not to touch it, to leave it where it rested. There was nothing in it that she wasn’t already aware of. You had told her everything, even if it was a time after the event. Nothing was hidden between the both of you, and she would have betrayed your trust if she looked through the file.

On the other hand, she couldn’t deny her curiosity about what the police were saying about you. Wednesday wasn’t ignorant of the tactics the police used to get what they wanted. Surely they would be aware of your past seeing as it was public record. Had they found a way to spin it in their favour yet?

Against her better judgement, she reached out and took your file. It was far thicker than she had anticipated; full of loose papers and sticky notes. Her fingers flipped through page after page until she finally opened it, looking down at the handwritten notes unceremoniously taped to the page.

Her heart stopped beating when she read the one on the top left.

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

A whistle from outside the window made Wednesday jump and nearly drop your file. She looked around quickly to confirm no one was around before shoving the file back into the cabinet and closing it. It was stupid to look through your file, she thought as she started climbing out of the window. She should have been looking for the thing she had gone in there for.

She could think about your file later.

“What on earth do you two think you’re doing?”

Wednesday’s feet had barely hit the ground before she heard the familiar voice. It wasn’t even a shock when she turned around and saw Weems standing in front of you, her hands on her hips. For a moment, Wednesday felt like she was back in Weems’ office at Nevermore getting scolded for leaving the grounds on a full moon.

Oh, those were wonderful days.

“I finally leave my office for the night and see you two sneaking around the police station,” Weems said. “What do you believe you’re doing?”

“Some light reading,” you said with a shrug that failed to hide your fear. “The library is closed.”

“I didn’t ask for an excuse,” Weems said harshly. No one missed your slight recoil. “What are you doing?”

“Attempting to find more clues on who has been attacking people lately,” Wednesday said.

“And you believed breaking into a police station was the wisest decision?” Weems asked.

“It’s more than the police are doing,” you said, standing taller than before. Wednesday almost swore you were a little taller than Weems now. “They don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

“It is not your responsibility to find the attackers,” Weems said. “That is solely the responsibility of the police.”

“Then make them fucking do it,” you said quickly. “All they ever seem to do nowadays is question me for shit that I didn’t do.”

Connected to Malcom Riley’s murder.

“Perhaps if you stopped putting yourself in dangerous situations, they wouldn’t be questioning you,” she said harshly.

Wednesday looked over at you. There was a hardness to your features that she couldn’t quite place. She knew Weems wasn’t entirely incorrect in her statement. A lot of the situations were coincidence, of course, but even Wednesday couldn’t deny you somehow always found yourself at the centre of things. It was an unusual change of pace, seeing how it was normally her who was in the centre of trouble.

“You must be more careful,” Weems said in a far softer tone. “The both of you.” She looked at Wednesday for a moment before looking back at you. “What would Nicky think of this recklessness?”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said as you adopted the harshness Weems had dropped. “He’s dead.”

Weems looked at you with eyes that only a mother could have. It was easy to forget how much she loved you. There hadn’t been many talks between Wednesday and Weems, not when they involved you, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see it. Only a mother could look at you the way Weems was; Wednesday wondered if you could see it too.

“He would be very disappointed in you,” Weems said in a small voice.

Your shoulders tensed at the words. Wednesday could only imagine what was going through your head. She wanted to reach out and comfort you. Take your hand in hers and remind you that you weren’t alone. She didn’t know if Nicky would have been disappointed in you or not, but Weems would. And if she dared to voice that belief, it must have been genuine.

You shook your head slowly. “He can get in line.”

Wednesday and Weems watched as you walked off, back to the sidewalk and, supposedly, starting the walk back to the apartment. She wanted to follow you and confirm you were alright. Well, alright, she was no professional with emotions but even she could tell you weren’t alright. At least she could make sure you were safe.

“She’s bound to get herself killed at this rate,” Weems said quietly with a shake of her head. “And I don’t know how to help.”

Wednesday stayed silent. Not out of the stubbornness she so often fell into, but out of not having a single thing to say. As much as Wednesday hated agreeing with Weems - out of principle - she did. She wasn’t quite convinced you would get yourself killed, but you would certainly get yourself hurt. Or in trouble. Or possibly both.

“Please look after her,” Weems said, and Wednesday finally looked her in the eye. “She loves and respects you enough to let you.”

Wednesday didn’t know what to say to that. She opted instead to nod in agreement. It seemed to be enough for Weems, who reached out to place a hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. Part of Wednesday wished she would pull her into a hug. The thought quickly disappeared when it caught up with her that she did not like hugs.

You were turning her soft.

Weems bid her a goodnight as they both headed in opposite directions. Thankfully, Wednesday caught up with you at the apartment. However, what should have been the end of the night was turning into something else. Instead of your usual pouting and hiding in the room, you were rummaging around the apartment.

“What are you looking for?” She asked when you slammed the closet door shut.

“Your shovel,” you said. “It’s not in the closet anymore.”

She walked over to the bed and knelt down. The wooden floor was rough on her knees, but she quickly grabbed the shovel from underneath the bed and stood back up. Her skin pulled tight before relaxing again, and the ache around her knees quickly subsided. Only once it had eased did she hold the shovel out to you.

“Why do you need it?” She asked as you grabbed it and shoved it into your duffle bag.

Which also held a crowbar and what looked to be two flashlights.

“You remember our first date?” You asked as you stood up straight.

She thought back to all those years ago. “Yes,” she said slowly, “you took me gravedigging.” It had single handedly been the most amazing date she had ever been on. She would never forget it, in life or death.

“We’re recreating it,” you said with a closed mouth smile.

You hoisted the bag over your shoulder and grabbed her hand with yours. She didn’t have any time to protest or question you further before you started pulling her out of the apartment. A small part of her mind told her to convince you to go back inside and sleep off your emotions.

The much larger part was ecstatic to go gravedigging once again.

The streets were still empty as you made your way through town. Wednesday took note of how much more careful you were being; staying away from the street lights and cutting through alleys when necessary. It was admirable how you were sticking to the dark even when she knew you had the slightest fear of it.

“Here,” you said when you pulled her to the open, ungated graveyard. “Should only need one of them.”

You set the duffle bag on the ground and opened it, quickly pulling out the travel shovel you had also gotten her in the past. Now that Wednesday thought about it, you seemed to get her a lot of suspicious looking items. They were all things that she adored, but most would find it suspicious.

She loved that you always knew what she would want.

“Are you sure I can have the honours?” She asked as she placed the tip of the shovel into the dirt.

“It’s all yours, darling,” you said with a full smile that showed off the slight glint of your slightly larger than normal canines.

For the third time that night alone, Wednesday didn’t bother hiding her own small smile. You certainly knew how to woo an Addams. She didn’t even hesitate before pushing the shovel into the dirt and got to work excavating.

You kept a look out for any potential passersby. If you felt someone was near, you placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her still; only once the potential threat was gone did you let go and allow her to continue. Luckily for you both, she was a professional. She made quick work of the grave before hitting the top of the casket.

“Here,” you said as you squatted down and handed her the crowbar. “Make it fast, the keeper might come to work soon.”

Wednesday took the tool from you and shoved it into the thin crack of the casket. It only took a slight amount of effort before popping open, and you craned your neck to peer in. The smell was immediate, but it was such a lovely scent. Behind her, you did your best to hide your cough, and out of respect she ignored it.

“That’s nasty,” you mumbled even as you continued to look. “Check out the wounds.”

The body itself was already decomposing. It would be more difficult to tell the differences between wounds, but when you handed Wednesday a camera, she knew your intent. The first flash was enough to startle the both of you, and you looked around frantically to ensure no one had noticed. Only once you were certain did you nod for her to continue.

Wednesday took more photos, making sure to document every injury she could see. She moved clothing aside and took photos to be certain she covered every inch of skin possible. If she wanted to find the culprit, she would need solid evidence. Once she was completely sure she was finished, she closed the casket back up. You held your hand out for her to grab and pulled her out with ease.

She loved to see your strength in action.

“Let’s cover him back up,” you said as you started using your hands to push the dirt back into the grave. “I’m not getting arrested for grave robbing.”

It only took a few moments of frantic shovelling to fill the grave once again. Once full, you shoved everything back into the duffle bag and grabbed Wednesday’s hand, pulling her into a light jog back to the apartment. It was just early enough in the morning that a few building lights were starting to turn on as their occupants got ready for work.

“I’ll print them off,” you said the moment you shut the door to the apartment behind you. “Give me just a moment.”

Wednesday knew your determination wasn’t coming from a sense of wanting to know who the culprit was. She wasn’t in the place to have you explain. At the moment, you were keeping yourself busy, and she would allow it. Now that you were both back in the apartment, she couldn’t complain too much. At least you were safe.

While you were working on printing off the photos for her board, she sat on the couch and finally, finally started to consider what she had seen at the police station. That handwritten note had been bouncing around her head all night, and she wasn’t sure what to think of it.

You had been devastated about Mack’s death. If she was to compare, you were almost as devastated as Nicky’s death. Something about it had shaken you up to your core, and it had taken you months to sort out your grief. How could they possibly believe you were involved?

“Got it,” you said, pulling Wednesday from her thoughts.

She stood up and walked over to the table as you laid the photos out. Some were blurry and unusable, but most were of decent enough quality that you could see the individual injuries. The lacerations covered the torso and face, and they very much looked like claw marks.

To the untrained eye, at least.

When Wednesday looked closer, she noticed a few discrepancies. There were only three lacerations in each spot; from what she had seen on Enid’s wolf out, a werewolf paw would cause four lacerations. Then the depth varied from each injury, leaving not even an ounce of uniformity.

“What?” You asked when Wednesday stood up and sighed.

“You’re right,” she said, “it’s not a werewolf.”

“Was I right about the fairy shit?” You asked. “Because if so that’s cool as hell, it was a longshot.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t believe it’s a fairy.”

You looked disappointed even though you had already admitted you knew it was unlikely.

“What is it?” You asked again, leaning back over the pictures to attempt to see what she had.

“I believe they came from a knife,” Wednesday said.

You stood up slowly and looked down at her.

“The police said it was a werewolf,” you said.

The muscles in your jaw tensed as you looked back down at the photos. It seemed the police had lied to the entirety of the town. Which meant they had surely lied about other things in the process.

Which meant it was just you and Wednesday against the police.

This was going to be fun.

everyone but her pt.41

Summary: You were getting used to the weird. Hell, you were almost even comfortable with it. But when weird turns to unsettling, you panic. At least Wednesday's there to panic with you.

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, violence, arson, mentions of murder, slight gore Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

It was dark and you couldn’t breathe.

No, that didn’t seem right. You were still alive, weren’t you? Surely you could breathe. With great effort, you inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with the hot summer air. Every moment of it hurt, but you could breathe. Okay, that was much easier to work with, now you needed to focus on the dark.

Wednesday had invested in even thicker blackout curtains (which were unnecessary, though appreciated), so that must have been it. There was a dull pain in your eyes - yes, actually in your eyes - but you marked it down to still being exhausted. The alarm clock on Wednesday’s nightstand read 3:33 am; way too early to be awake. It was no surprise your eyes were hurting.

It wasn’t immediately obvious why you had woken up at such an unusual time. Wednesday was still asleep in your arms, her head tucked carefully underneath your jaw. Her breathing was deep and even and, against her desire, she was almost horrendously warm.

If she was still with you, what could be wrong? You couldn’t remember a nightmare - even though your racing heart said otherwise - and there weren’t any strange sounds in the room. The muscles in your back pulled with the shift of your wings; you still couldn’t tell what was wrong.

You settled deeper into the bed and held Wednesday tighter. Her breathing caught for a moment before resuming its typical slow pace. The thought nearly made you laugh. If you hadn’t known her better, you too would have assumed she was nothing more than a corpse. She was completely still and you could barely feel her breath on your skin. Which was exactly what she was going for, but it was still funny to you.

Maybe nothing was wrong. Your eyes slipped shut at the unsurprising revelation. Just because you were wide awake and panicking didn’t mean something was wrong. That was one of the benefits of dating an Addams; she always made you panic - in a good way - and helped you learn not everything meant something. Sometimes life just moves on without a single care for you. Not everything mattered. That was something you could live with.

They’re dying.

You exhaled through your nose, causing Wednesday to shift momentarily. She quickly settled again. For the past few weeks, the voice stayed within the confines of your nightmares. It maintained a presence on the fringes of your mind, only coming forth when you were already beaten and broken. But when it stayed away from your waking hours, you couldn’t complain.

However, you were not having a nightmare, you were awake, and it was making its presence known. Perfect. Fantastic. You loved hearing your personal doomsayer wax poetic when you were trying to fall back asleep with your girlfriend. Besides, why was it so vague? Normally it was painfully specific, what gives? You kept your eyes closed; it would need to try harder to get your attention.

Your parents, the voice said, the children.

You held your breath and waited. Wednesday moved in your arms.

Your grandparents. They’re burning.

That got your attention.

One of the benefits of Wednesday being, well, Wednesday, was she slept like the dead. Both physically and literally. She had convinced your entire friend group that she was a light sleeper and no one could ever sneak up on her, but you knew it was a lie. Hell, you swore she wouldn’t wake up even if a nuclear war started around her.

It came in handy when you wriggled your way out of bed. You smiled to yourself at Wednesday’s adorable nose scrunch when you pulled your arm out from under her head, but she was still within moments once again. She looked so peaceful there on the bed. Even with your body removed, she stayed curled up on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.

You loved her.

You would die for her.

You would kill for her.

They’re dying for you.

Your beating heart was almost painful in your chest as you willed your body to move. It was soon accompanied by a sharp pain radiating from your toe as you, unsurprisingly, tripped over Wednesday’s shoes. It wasn’t the first time. And you couldn’t even get upset because she had placed them exactly where she always did. Maybe you just needed to pay more attention to your surroundings.

You were taking too long. A nail was driven into your brain, sticking gruesome images into every space in your head. Fire. You forced some shoes on. Screaming. The jacket felt too small; you didn’t care. Burning wood creating an inferno. Your fingers jammed into the doorknob, and you swore under your breath before successfully grabbing it.

“Cara mia?”

The sounds and images in your mind remained, but they parted to give way to Wednesday’s small, sleepy voice. If anyone could see her at that moment, tired and small and vulnerable, they wouldn’t have believed it was her. She was growing soft, but even in that moment, she was still your girl. Your love.

They’re burning while you stay here.

“Go back to sleep,” you said softly as you walked back over to the bed. The voice started to grow louder in your mind.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. The sleep started to slip away and she looked more alert. Her usual state since she had restarted her investigation board.

There was no use in lying to her. “I have a bad feeling about home,” you told her. “I’m going to go check on them.”

Wednesday held your gaze until you were both uncomfortable. “Give me a moment and we’ll go.”

The voice started screaming in your mind. It was deafening and left a distinct ringing in your ears. The first few months of its disturbance had nearly driven you insane. The constant screaming, the bloody, gorey images, the fear response your body would have. All of it had left you feeling like you were losing your mind and you wouldn’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

Now, however, you could cope. At least in the short term. You had worked out a plan with Wednesday, and it had yet to fail you. Whenever the screaming started, or the images put too much pressure, you would just look at her and focus on whatever she was doing. It was simple, Yoko had even teased it was a bit self-centred of Wednesday, and yet it worked.

You watched as she pulled on something a bit comfier; something she wouldn’t mind flying with. She grabbed the shoes you had stubbed your toe on and slid them onto her feet effortlessly. She also made sure to toss you a single shoe and, when you looked down, you saw the matching pair on your left foot. Your right was in a lazily-tied boot that did not match.

Wednesday also tugged your jacket off; which wasn’t actually your jacket.

“Let’s go,” she said as she grabbed your hand and started dragging you out the door.

You didn’t have to ask if she was good with flying; you knew she wasn’t. But she was brave - as she had often insisted - and she wrapped her arms around your neck the moment you both got outside the apartment building. In return, you wrapped your arms around her waist before taking off. Perhaps you would need to get a harness for your rare flights together. Now that would be funny.

The voices got louder the closer you got to the house. That… wasn’t a comforting thought. You were sure Wednesday could hear your racing heart from where she was resting her head, but you didn’t care. Something just didn’t feel right. The feathers of your wings puffed up and the hair on your arms stood up and you weren’t sure what to do.

Your hands stopped shaking when Wednesday started lightly scratching the back of your neck. It was an uncomfortable position for her; flying itself was weird even when it was just you. There was no telling how many dozens of flights you had experimented with to get the hang of how to hold your body. If Wednesday had flown with you more than the required minimum, she would have been able to figure it out too.

At another time it would have been funny. Now it just left your palms clammy and your grip tighter.

The world was distressingly quiet when yours and Wednesday’s feet planted on the ground. You couldn’t hear the birds chirping, nor the goats bleating as they stayed up later than they should. Every light in the house was off - as they should be so late at night - but it still didn’t feel right. Every fibre of your being was on high alert.

Even the voices had grown silent.

“I see nothing wrong,” Wednesday said, her voice sounding extraordinarily loud in the silence.

“Me either,” you mumbled.

Your eyes darted every which way. The barn looked completely untouched, aside from someone forgetting to properly latch the door. The limbs of the surrounding trees swayed in the barely noticeable wind. To your left, on the other side of Wednesday, you could see the empty doghouse. Nothing was out of sorts.

That was unusual enough.

Finally, a larger gust of wind blew by, ruffling through the leaves and your hair. It felt nice on a summer night. Nothing was more unbearable than the stillness of summer heat. You let your head fall back a little to enjoy the breeze and inhaled deeply.

Then you froze.

“Do you smell that?” You asked as your head slowly lowered.

“Yoko warned me that was a trick question,” Wednesday answered.

“What?” You asked, then smiled to yourself. Oh yeah. You had pranked Yoko plenty of times with that question. “No, I’m being serious this time.”

Wednesday looked around. “I don’t smell anything.”

You hummed in response. She didn’t smell it. But you knew it was there, and it was familiar. The name was on the tip of your tongue, you could almost taste it. A strong taste that clung to every taste bud, taunting and teasing you to think of the name. It was a mix of sticky and bitter and intense and… like a sharpie? Maybe?

Well that just sounded stupid, you would keep thinking about it.

“I’m just going to look around real quick,” you said. “Go wait inside.”

“And if your Grandfather has a gun?”

You faltered.

“Don’t go inside,” you corrected. The corner of her mouth ticked upward. “I’ll be right back.”

Her knuckles brushed against the back of your arm before you started your way around the yard. Twigs snapped under foot; the only sound that reached your ears. Even the birds were silent. That was the part that worried you. You walked further into the tree line, following the smell, and the birds stayed silent.

The smell was stronger in the tree line behind the house. It pervaded all of your senses, you just couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. You stepped precariously, not wanting to get too close to whatever it was. Though you still couldn’t name it properly, you knew what it was; it smelled like danger. 

You took another step forward and reached your hand out to a tree trunk for support. It was wet. Sticky. Whatever it was, the trunk was soaked in it. You pulled your hand away and held it up in front of your face to see what it was. The lack of light didn’t help, but it was something dark.

The smell nearly made you gag. It was nauseatingly strong and very much not natural to the area. The liquid trickled down your arm slowly until you let it fall back to your side. Your eyes trailed down the tree, following the liquid until you could see it puddled on the ground. 

It was shiny, and when you tilted your head to let the moonlight catch, it almost looked like a little rainbow was trapped within it.

You stood up quickly and eyed the shimmering line leading directly to the back of the house. Your house. The house where your family was fast asleep. The feathers on your wings were standing up so high it was almost painful. Each step you took toward the house was like moving through the water.

Something sparked and popped behind you.

“Oh fuck.”

A wave of heat hit your back. Thankfully it wasn’t strong enough to push you forward, but that didn’t mean it didn’t light a fire under your ass. The spark of the fire slowly grew to a roar as you sprinted to the house. You wanted to scream, to get someone’s attention, to wake up everyone in the house before you could get there.

The scream lodged itself in your throat even as you rounded the corner of the house. Your turn was too sharp, and your feet kept sliding across the too-dry dirt. Loose gravel embedded itself into the palm of your hand as you fell. It was almost second nature to dig your fingers into the ground and pull yourself forward while simultaneously pushing yourself back to your feet.

Ringing echoed in your ears as you ripped the screen door and threw the front door open. It should have made a loud “thud.” You couldn’t hear it. There should have been a plan. You should have made a plan. But the only thing in your head was static; a red static that left your head feeling heavy.

A hand rested on your arm.

“Wake up your parents,” Wednesday said. Her voice sounded like it was muffled by a pillow. “I’ll wake up the kids.”

Okay. That was a plan. Someone had a plan. You could work with that. You didn’t wait for her before running up the stairs, three at a time. None of the stairs creaked, at least not that you could hear. Down the hall, third door on the right, it hit the wall so hard you could feel the floor shake.

At last, you heard a noise. A gun being cocked.

“I ain’t afraid to shoot.”

You stared down the barrel. The voice slowly started to creep back into your mind. A low rumble accompanied by the crackling of the distant fire. Only the fire wasn’t outside, it was within you. Burning hotter and hotter until you wanted to rip your skin off and feel the light summer breeze once again.

You stared down the barrel of the gun.

“Y/N?”

You blinked slowly.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Pop asked. “Thought you was some critter from the woods.” You didn’t move. “Coulda shot you, baby bird.”

You’ll get him killed.

“What’s wrong?”

Each muscle in your body was locked; you couldn’t move.

“And why the hell you smell like a barrel of gasoline?”

Tell him.

The muscles of your jaw tensed when you opened it and closed it a few times. Fire. The house. Run. No words would come out. They stuck in the back of your throat like a cold. But you had to tell him. You had to warn them. The crackling was growing louder.

“Wednesday?”

Someone sidled up next to you. You didn’t have to guess who.

“Will someone please tell me what the hell is goin’ on?” Pop demanded.

You’re all going to die.

You were silent.

“The house is on fire,” Wednesday said.

Five words. You couldn’t even say five words.

Pop nodded once and shook the body beside him. “Come on, Momma, we gotta go.”

You clenched your jaw and watched them get up. Watched them do the things you couldn’t make your body do. Why couldn’t you just answer them and move? How was Wednesday doing all of it while you just stood there on the sidelines like it wasn’t your family in danger?

Nicky would be very disappointed in you.

“Go grab your Abuelita,” Pop said when he was suddenly standing in front of you. When had he gotten there? “Wednesday, you help Momma grab a few things.”

Wednesday nodded once and walked over to where Momma was already starting to gather things. You didn’t know what. All those instincts you had harboured, all those dangerous things you had managed to avoid, and now you were frozen in place. Your feet felt rooted into the ground as if they wanted to stay. As if they wanted to go down with the house.

Maybe they did.

“Y/N.” Fingers snapped in front of your face. You blinked once before using every bit of strength you had to look up into Pop’s eyes. “Get your Abuelita and get the hell out.”

His words echoed in your head, twirling around the voice that continued its onslaught of doom and dread. It didn’t help you move, it didn’t do anything but paralyse you with more fear than you had started with. Fear. That was the word you had been looking for all evening. You were afraid.

Wednesday’s hand brushed against your arm, the one not covered in gasoline. Not that it would have mattered, it sent a jolt through your body anyway. A jolt that gave you just enough energy to finally move your body. One step at a time, getting progressively easier until you made it to your grandparents’ room.

They were already up.

“Help an old woman down the stairs,” Abuelita said as she reached forward. You held out your dry arm for her.

“I’ve got the important things,” Grandpa said, hoisting a duffle over his shoulder and following you both out of the door.

You could smell the smoke when you approached the stairs. A red glow reflected off the front wall of the house. The sight nearly had you frozen in place again. The kitchen was on fire. It was on fire. Your house was burning.

You’re all going to die because you can’t move.

“Keep moving, puișor,” Grandpa said with a gentle nudge.

It was enough to keep you in step. The way down the stairs was slow, and Abuelita seemed to be in no true rush. Did she know something you didn’t? No, she was simply old, that must be it. By the time you got down the stairs, you could feel the heat of the fire suffocating your every breath.

Everyone else was already out by the road when you managed to get Abuelita and Grandpa out as well. You stood up straight and started counting heads; two parents, two grandparents, six kids, one girlfriend. That was everyone. The roar of the fire grew louder.

Everyone was safe.

You’re forgetting something.

Were you?

“Wait,” Emily said. “I forgot Miss Spider.”

“We’ll get you a new one, baby,” Momma said as she held onto Emily’s arm to keep her still.

“But Nicky got her for me.”

Nicky.

You forgot Nicky.

You looked up and met Wednesday’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and you could see the ever-growing fire reflected in them. You took one step backward. She shook her head slowly. Each step had her shaking her head increasingly fast.

You forgot Nicky in the house.

You turned and sprinted toward the house.

“Y/N, get back here!”

Everyone’s voices were drowned out by the fire. A loud mixture of sounds that created a horrific orchestra from hell. The crackling fire, the roaring heat, the wood burning away and crumbling to the ground. It wasn’t even the heat that had you hesitate; it was the sound.

You forgot Nicky.

The steps were hot as you sprinted up the stairs. They weren’t burning just yet, but they were hot. Your bedroom door was still wide open, and you could see the flames licking up the window. Miss Spider was laying on the floor beside Emily’s bed, miraculously unscathed aside from what looked like a single scorch mark on one of the legs. You snatched it up and shoved it under your shirt to keep it safe as you made your way out.

“You gonna forget me?”

You froze. The floor got hotter underneath your feet. Smoke continued to invade your senses, filling your lungs and suffocating your very thoughts. You needed to get Miss Spider back down to Emily. But you couldn’t leave him.

You turned back to face the room and stood tall. The last time you had seen him had been that one weekend at the Addams’ household. He had stayed fairly under wraps, as far as you could remember. He seemed shorter. Or perhaps you had just grown.

“You left me waiting long enough,” Nicky teased. “I thought you were gonna leave me here.”

A lick of fire brushed against your bare leg.

“I’d never leave you,” you said with no effort at all. “That’s why I came back.”

“Then come on,” he said as he held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You looked down at the hand he was offering you. It was normal. No IV scars, no cuts, no dirt, no fire. It was his normal hand that you had held time and time again. It was Nicky. Your Nicky. Miss Spider’s legs itched and tickled under your shirt when you took a step forward and lifted your hand.

The fire continued to rise around him, but you couldn’t feel the heat. All you really needed to do was reach out and take his hand. Then he could come back home, and you could all be a family again. He could properly meet Wednesday, and Hailey wouldn’t be so mad, and you could all belong. 

That was all you really wanted, right? To belong? To have Nicky by your side as you both grew out of the trauma that had been inflicted upon you for no other reason than being different? You could have that. You could have your brother, and your girlfriend, and your family. You could have it all. You just simply had to reach out and take his hand.

“We can sneak out and go camping,” he said. “Mom and Dad can go with us.”

Your muscles locked up again when your fingers were only centimetres away from his.

“What?” Nicky asked. “What’s wrong?”

Flames continued to climb up your legs.

“Nicky hated them,” you said with a shake of your head. “He would never invite them.”

The smell of burning feathers permeated the air.

“Don’t turn your back on me now,” he said in a voice that was no longer his. “Just come with me.” 

You looked down at where your outstretched hand nearly met his. His skin was black; charred and bloody. Following up his arm removed the char but was replaced with lacerations. Blood. Injuries that had been carved into the inside of your skull, unable to be scrubbed away no matter how many years it had been.

His eyes were pale.

It wasn’t your Nicky.

Fire jumped from his hand to yours; it caught the gasoline on your fingers. You couldn’t feel it race up your arm. At least, you couldn’t feel the pain. It simply felt like a tickle against your skin. But it didn’t matter; it wasn’t your Nicky, and you weren’t taking him with you.

You pulled your arm back to your body and turned around, nearly tripping over your own feet in an attempt to run from the burning house. Your burning house. You took no risk of falling down the stairs, instead just jumping from the top floor and landing on the ground with a harsh “thud.” The first sign of pain was in your knee. It didn’t stop you from running out of the house.

The air was clear outside. Muffled voices reached your ears once you were far enough away from the screaming fire. In the distance, you could hear sirens. Something wrapped around your arm, and you finally felt the pain. A burn that was nothing short of indescribable.

You still couldn’t scream.

Instead, against the screaming coming from every atom of your body, you reached under your shirt with your good hand and handed Miss Spider to Emily. She said something that you couldn’t hear. You hoped it was something nice. People were still talking to you when you turned back around.

Nicky’s silhouette stood in the window of your burning home.

—---

“Can’t thank ya enough, Mr. and Mrs. Addams,” Pop said after Lurch had led the kids upstairs to get them settled in their own rooms.

“It’s our pleasure,” Mr. Addams said with a wave of his hand. “You’re all Addamses now, you’re always welcome.”

“Thank you for letting the littles bring Steve,” Momma said.

“Pugsley loves pets,” Mrs. Addams replied. “He’s always happy to have more.”

Both sets of adults kept talking as they made their way into the sitting room. At least you thought that was where they had gone. Truthfully you didn’t know. All you knew was you couldn’t get Nicky’s gaze out of your head. Or, no, it hadn’t really been Nicky, you didn’t think. Something else. Something sinister.

“Cara mia.”

You didn’t want to face her. You couldn’t face her. God, how could you have been so stupid? She shouldn’t have even been there, it had been dangerous from start to finish. You had put Wednesday in danger again. How could that ever be forgiven? She could have died.

“Let’s go.”

She grabbed your good hand and slowly led you to her room.

You didn’t save them all. You squeezed your eyes shut while she guided you. Everyone will burn in the fires of your sins.

Everything hurt when you finally got to her room. You hadn’t heard everything the paramedic had said, but you didn’t have to. It was your body anyway. The soles of your feet were burned, and you would have to regrow more than your fair share of feathers. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t need to do anything else for the burns on your arm.

You weren’t so optimistic, but you would rather die than go back to a hospital.

Wednesday quickly crawled into bed with you after you had both changed into something more comfortable. Everything was still foggy, but you noticed her hesitation before touching you. You didn’t care. You pulled her closer, ignoring the unbearable heat even her body created against the burns. It hurt.

You didn’t care.

“You terrified me,” she said softly, her breath tickling your skin. “I believed I would lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything.

Your mind was running rampant even as Wednesday settled into an unsteady sleep. She nearly had lost you. You had nearly walked into that fire without a single hesitation. If that spectre hadn’t mentioned your parents, you would have taken his hand and stayed in that house until you burned down with it. You would have died without thinking twice. How could you have let that happen?

I’m not done with you yet.

And what if it happened again?

everyone but her pt.42

Summary: While Wednesday is busy worrying about you, an unwelcome guests shows their face at the Addams Mansion. Wednesday is starting to wish you would lose your morals again.

Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: swearing, mentioned child abuse, racism against Outcasts, smut at the end (18+) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

The Addams Mansion was louder than usual with its new guests. Much to her surprise, Wednesday almost found it comforting. If you had asked her even just two years ago if she would have enjoyed the newfound sounds in the mansion, she would have thought the notion preposterous. Absurd even. Of course she wouldn’t have enjoyed the sounds, the mansion was her home. It was a sacred place that should be left untouched.

However, with your family around… at least they treated the old home as it deserved.

Even the youngest were respectful of the knick-knacks and artefacts around the mansion. They had only needed to be told once, and everything settled again. Sure, they would point out the ones they liked, but their hands stayed far away. Rooms that were off-limits to guests remained closed, and everyone was respectful of the… unusual habits of the Addams family.

The only one that remained unusual was you.

If Wednesday was being honest with herself, she was rather concerned about you. She hadn’t heard you say much after that night. By all accounts, you were more similar to Lurch in your communication; doing little more than grunting in acknowledgement of whatever was being said. You hadn’t even talked to Weems, who had shown up not even a day after the event to check on everyone. It was rather disturbing. And not in a good way.

At least there was an upside to the whole situation. Grandmama Addams had healed your arm with little more than a light scar over the skin. It was clearly a burn; that was impossible to erase. But there had been no need to go into a medical centre like the original EMT had mentioned. An Addams knew tricks no normie could comprehend.

There was nothing comfortable about talking about feelings, Wednesday knew all about that. She had trouble talking about her own, and you certainly felt the same. It didn’t take a genius to know that. But she wished you would talk with her. Share your thoughts, what you were feeling at the moment. Or at the very least what you were thinking for the past few weeks, seeing as you still had yet to tell her how you had known the house was going to catch fire.

“Would you pass the sugar, dear?” Mother asked you.

You grumbled and nodded once before pushing it over with your scarred hand. It was a stiff movement, and your brows moved ever so slightly at the effort. So, Wednesday thought, you weren’t entirely healed. You made no other indication of your discomfort and turned the page of your book.

“Daniel seemed quite interested in the atrium,” Mother continued. You hummed for her to continue. “He’s asked numerous times about specific plants.”

You still said nothing in return.

Mother looked at Wednesday over the lip of her teacup. If you wouldn’t even answer her small talk, how would they ever get you to speak? Even if you were having a small spat with Wednesday, you would always talk with Mother. Yet now, she was talking of your brother, and you wouldn’t even answer? It was borderline rude.

You were never rude to Mother.

“There you all are,” Weems said as she entered the reading room. “Everyone was a bit too quiet.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Mother said with a smile.

She did just that. Even you looked up from your book for just long enough to watch Weems sit down with her own cup of tea. It seemed everyone was indulging in caffeine. Everyone except for you, that was. You had opted for nothing more than a glass of water that sat untouched on the small side table.

Everyone resumed their activities; Mother and Weems were talking, and you were reading. Wednesday had her own book in her lap, but the words eluded her. How could she focus on a book when she was so concerned about you? How could you focus on your book? Were you not going absolutely mad?

She needed you to be okay. There was very little she could do to help, but she needed you to be okay. Perhaps you wouldn’t talk with her, but that wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? No, she could survive you not talking about your worries with her, as long as you allowed her to attempt to help.

A word of advice from Yoko appeared in her head. She looked over at you and watched you for a moment. There was very little emotion on your face, but she noticed you blinking a little longer than normal every time your burned hand turned the page.

She gave herself no time to doubt herself before reaching over and grabbing your good hand. It stiffened, but when she linked her fingers with yours, you quickly relaxed. Before she looked back down at her book, she noticed the slightest pull at the corner of your mouth.

Good. That was progress.

Wednesday was acutely aware of Mother and Weems’ hesitation before continuing their conversation. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach to know they were watching you both. Showing outward displays of affection was becoming less agonising, but there was something unsettling about knowing her mother and your mother figure were watching.

The prickling spiders were starting to crawl across her skin when something knocked on the front door. You didn’t look up, but Mother and Weems shared a look before Weems stood up from her chair.

“Shall I?” She asked even though she had already started walking toward the front door.

“Thank you,” Mother said with a small smile.

No one else paid any attention to what was happening. Everyone simply went back to what they were doing. What would it matter anyway? You were all aware that people only came to the Addams Mansion either based on a dare or had been invited.

“I don’t believe it’s wise for you to be here.”

Your attention was captured by Weems’ words. Wednesday would admit hers were too. There was a certain tone to the words, something that she didn’t think she had heard before. No, that wasn’t true, she had heard that warning tone before.

At Nevermore immediately after Nicky had died.

Wednesday’s mind was running rampant when you pulled your hand away from hers. There was almost no time for her to grab it again before you stood up. Mother sent a concerned look her way. It was a lucky thing Wednesday hadn’t had any tea, or she would have spilled it when she stood up.

Your body stiffened when you looked out the front door.

“I was hoping you would be here.”

That voice sent a shiver down every inch of Wednesday’s skin. By the slight shake in your hand, you felt the same. The closer she got, the more nervous she was. It was a complicated feeling for her. Very few things, and even fewer people, made her feel that way. She didn’t like it.

There was something comparable between your mother and hers. They both held themselves with confidence; something that you appeared to lack until you were in your mother’s presence again. However, there was a rather large difference between the two women.

Your mother always looked like she was out for blood.

“I was hoping to talk with you about something,” your mother said directly to you.

“I don’t believe that would-”

“-Alone,” she interrupted Weems with a venomous smile.

Very few people spoke to Weems in such a way, apparent by the way everyone stiffened at the harshness of the word. But that very reality was what seemed to get you out of whatever stupor you had drowned in. Behind you, your wings puffed up enough to make themselves known as you looked at Weems.

“I’ve got it,” you said in a soft yet confident voice. It was certainly a surprise to Wednesday, who had assumed you would sound weak after a large amount of silence.

Weems looked at you for another moment more. “Morticia and I will be in the study,” she finally said.

“As I said,” your mother said with the same sickening smile, “this is private.”

“Anything involving me involves Wednesday,” you said.

You and your mother stared at each other silently, and Wednesday felt like she was intruding on something. There was a history with you two that she knew very little about, but she knew enough. To stand there, watching your silent battle with nothing to say, was torture.

“Of course it does,” your mother finally said. She looked inside the mansion for a moment. “Won’t you be a dear and invite me in?”

“No.” You straightened back up and crossed your arms over your chest. “Say your piece and leave.”

Your mother opened her mouth to argue - she had stunning teeth, Wednesday noted - but quickly closed it once seeing the look on your face. Or rather, the lack of a look. Fear was the predominant look in your eyes when your parents were involved, but this? There was no reaction. You simply existed in her presence.

It was a wonderful look on you.

“Very well,” your mother finally said with a sigh. “I would like you to attend an event with me this weekend.”

“No,” you said quickly.

Your mother stood tall. “You will hear me out, Y/N.”

Fear flashed behind your eyes at the use of your full name.

“It’s a charity gala,” she continued. “For those with your…” she gestured vaguely between both you and Wednesday, “affliction.”

“We’re Outcasts,” you said, “not lepers.”

“Semantics, dear,” she said with a dismissive wave.

At that, you reached out and grabbed Wednesday’s hand. Hard. An ache spread through the bones of her hand as they were squeezed together unnaturally. The skin on your hand was tough, feeling closer to leather than skin. Truly a fascinating thing.

She squeezed your hand back to the best of her ability.

“After all the shit you’ve done, you want me to go with you to a gala?” You asked. “Just to make you look good?”

There was a red tint to your cheeks. Wednesday could hear all the words you weren’t saying. You killed my brother. You had me arrested. You abandoned me. Though she didn’t wish for a fight, she did wish for you to finally speak your mind. Let her know the hurt she had caused you all these years.

You didn’t continue.

“Your father is away, so you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with the restraining order,” your mother continued as if you were being nothing more than a petulant child.

“You’re not listening,” you said. “I’m not going.”

The tone underlying your words was all Wednesday needed to hear to know your next move. Your grip had loosened enough to ease the ache in her hand, but it stayed firm. Though she wouldn’t blame you, she knew you were done with the conversation. Nothing good could come from continuing to talk with your mother.

You turned around and started to pull Wednesday along with you.

“I heard about the fire,” your mother called after you.

You froze.

“Entire house burned to ash,” she continued. “A shame.” Your chest was heaving. “No longer having a home to call their own.”

The warmth of your hand in hers quickly disappeared as you turned on your heel. Wednesday’s feet stayed rooted to the spot even as she watched you walk up to your mother and stand over her. For the first time, she realised you were a decent amount taller than your mother. You could properly look down on her as she had no doubt you always wished you could.

In the background, the children could be heard playing in an unknown room.

“Don’t pretend you care,” you said quietly. Harshly.

“Oh darling,” your mother said with a smile that didn’t match her tone, “I couldn’t care less.”

“Then don’t talk about them.”

“I just assumed, perhaps wrongfully, that you would wish for them to have a home again,” she continued. The look in her eye was similar to yours. “A gift, if you will.”

You looked down at your mother silently. Oh, how Wednesday wished she could see the look on your face. She so very much adored when you were angry. There was a fire behind your eyes that lit something within her.

Then she started to think about the implications of your mother’s words. Would you allow her to offer such a thing? The reminder of your debt would follow you for the rest of your life. After all, you were still feeling indebted to her parents for the pendant you constantly wore around your neck. But with a home? She couldn’t even imagine the feelings it would invoke within you.

“Shall I continue?” Your mother asked.

You hesitated. Then gave a single, slow nod.

“If you accompany me to the gala, we will pay for the restoration of your little,” she hesitated, “family.” There was almost a sneer on her face, if Wednesday was reading her correctly.

“Are you blackmailing me?” You asked.

“Oh dear,” she laughed, “I’m not that dense.” Your jaw clenched. “It’s an incentive. A rather generous one.”

Your mother then stayed silent. A tactic, no doubt. It would give you time to consider her offer. Even Wednesday would admit it was a tempting offer. She and her parents had offered your family the same thing knowing they didn’t have the means to rebuild quickly on their own. It had been a quick rejection.

When it came to your mother, however…

“You’ll pay for the entirety of a new house,” you confirmed.

Your mother nodded in response. “Large enough for them all, in fact.”

“With the barn and stables.”

“Of course.”

“And nothing will ever need to be repaid?”

“It will be an act of charity.”

“And I can get that in writing?” You asked.

Oh. Oh, Wednesday could see the gears turning in your head. Once again, as she so often found herself doing, she thought back to those years she had believed you to be daft. Oblivious would perhaps have been the better word for it. Acting as if you were unaware of everything going on around you. On the rare occasion, even going so far as to act unaware of even the most basic aspects of life.

She used to believe you. After all, you were rather adept at playing off your intelligence. If she hadn’t been so tragically enamoured with you, life would have become far different than it currently was. She wouldn’t have had the pleasure of calling you hers. 

However, she knew better. She could see the ideas forming behind your eyes. No, they weren’t simply ideas, they were full-fledged plans. Wednesday desperately wished to have the ability to read your mind. What plan were you meticulously concocting?

“You may have it in writing,” your mother finally said. “I’ll draft it when I get home.”

“Oh no,” you said quickly, “I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

Finally, for the first time since your mother had appeared at the front door, you turned and looked at Wednesday. There was a fire in your eyes reminiscent of the burning house she had been forced to watch you run into. It was thrilling.

It was terrifying.

“Would you call Señor Moreno?” You asked with a smile that made you look just like your mother. “Mrs. Smith would like to draft an agreement.”

—---

Your discomfort was clear, but Wednesday rather enjoyed you in your current state. There had been few times she had seen you dressed well, fewer times since it had been a happy occasion. This was neither happy nor unhappy, so she took it as a positive. You looked rather stunning, aside from your wings resting uncomfortably underneath your clothes.

Not for the first time, her chest ached when you removed your hand from hers.

Listening to your mother fill you in on who was who was not on Wednesday’s to-do list. No, she didn’t truly care who these people were. What she truly cared about was the feel of your warmth beside her, enveloping her in something she had learned to crave. Something she could only receive from you.

“Come on,” you said softly, far closer than Wednesday had believed. It was unsettling.

She loved when you were unsettling.

With her arm looped through yours, she walked with you around the overly crowded room. A ballroom of sorts, she supposed, not too unlike the one in her own house. The difference was this one was bright and filled with straight-laced professionals. Her house was more often than not filled with criminals and unsightly characters for miles to come.

This was a far more concerning environment.

Every beat of Wednesday’s heart grew stronger the longer she watched you in what would have been your natural habitat. Try as you might to deny it, you were rather skilled at talking up those that could owe you favours. For example, the senator’s wife. Though Wednesday despised it, you had her laughing and getting closer the entire conversation.

You were lucky Wednesday had promised to behave.

She was lucky you had promised to behave.

The longer she stayed by your side throughout the evening, the more she realised there was a side to you she rarely if ever got to see. The part of you that could be serious and prepared for business. It was fascinating to watch your expressions and tone match whoever you were talking with. Almost like a mimic, if she had to put a word to it.

Sometimes, if your mother was around, she noticed the most subtle accent to your words. You sounded just like her.

She would never tell you.

“This is Wednesday Addams.”

Your voice pulled Wednesday back into the moment. There was a man in front of you both that she didn’t care to know. With his horrific toupee and pathetic mustache, she mentally placed him as a wannabe politician. His black tuxedo was slightly dishevelled around the collar, and his buttons were off by one. How peculiar.

“Addams, you say?” He asked with a voice that betrayed him more than the pipe hanging out of his mouth. “I believe I know of your father.”

“How so?” She asked even though she had no interest in hearing his answer.

“We met at a ball many years ago, if my recollection is correct,” he said. A puff of smoke left his mouth. “He’s doing well, I presume?”

“Quite,” she said shortly. Perhaps if she made it clear she wasn’t interested in small talk, he would leave her be.

No such luck.

“Perhaps he would appreciate an invitation to our next ball,” the man said. “He can get proper connections in place for when you take over.”

Your hand on the small of Wednesday’s back twitched. Nothing serious, a minuscule movement. It was enough. Out of the corner of your eye, she saw the slight frown on your face. Nothing overtly noticeable. Not that it would have mattered, the man you were both talking to couldn’t be bothered enough to notice the change.

“The Addamses are old money,” you chimed in, “there’s no need to take over.”

“Of course, of course,” he mumbled. A puff of smoke escaped from between his lips. “In that case, you must take that advice,” he said as he gestured toward you with his head. “You’ll need the good graces.”

Your hand twitched again.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said with a slight tilt of your head.

“When you take over your father’s company,” he explained. Your nails dug into Wednesday’s back. “After dear Nicholas passed - rest his soul - you became the beneficiary of the company.” He chuckled. “Perhaps they were keeping it a surprise until you came of proper age.” A wink. “Don’t let them know I told you.”

You pulled your hand away from her back. Quickly. You could not have made it any more obvious that you were deliberately putting space between yourself and everyone else. If you could have turned and ran, Wednesday was convinced you would have.

She couldn’t begin to imagine the things running through your mind. Not only had he mentioned Nicky - which she had learned would always be a sore spot no matter how much time had passed - but he had also told you something you undoubtedly had never wished to know. You looked like you had grabbed an electric wire and hadn’t let go.

“Are you alright?” The man asked in a tone that indicated he couldn’t have cared less what your answer was. Wednesday could appreciate the indifference.

“Quite,” you said quickly. “Just thinking.”

“Ah, of course, I could tell,” he said with a nod, “I’ve seen that face before.” Another puff of his pipe. “You look just like your father.”

That.

That was the final straw.

Wednesday could practically hear your sanity break at that simple sentence. Any semblance of control you had maintained throughout the evening vanished. Before, you had acted like you had been shot by the words. You would close off, become solemn in the wake of the conversation. Being told those words almost hurt you more than losing your brother.

But not this time. No, now you were furious. If you clenched your jaw any tighter, Wednesday was convinced the bones would have shattered. Her eyes fell to your hands before you managed to shove them into your pockets. They were balled into fists.

She wondered if it pained your superficially healed burns.

“I believe I need a drink,” you choked out. “If you’ll excuse me.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking off where Wednesday could no longer see you.

She was mortified.

How dare you leave her with people that, not only did she not know, but she didn’t care about? She had only agreed to accompany you because it would be a sleight against your mother. Not once had she agreed to be left alone with these people. Did you not know that she was not going to be good for your image? If anything, she would damage it more than it already was.

“I hope our dear Y/N is alright.”

She knew better. Wednesday really, truly knew better. But she couldn’t help herself. With a small exhale, she turned to face your mother. A polite smile was on her face and she looked rather nice, if Wednesday wished to say something positive about the woman. Not that she deserved it, but that wasn’t necessarily important.

You had her nose.

“Oh she’s splendid,” the man said, “just stewing on some thoughts. Right, Miss Addams?” He winked at Wednesday.

She felt the rare twinge of disgust in her stomach.

“I presumed,” your mother said. “Would you mind if I stole Miss Addams from you?”

“Not at all,” he said. He bowed his head, let out a puff of smoke, and turned around to start a conversation with whatever unlucky soul happened to be nearest him.

“Walk with me,” your mother commanded.

Silence was Wednesday’s best friend as she followed the older woman. She would admit, she had never believed she would find herself in this situation. Walking side by side with your mother - not the woman who raised you, but who brought you to life. It had seemed like a far-fetched dream, if not a full-blown nightmare.

She was ashamed to admit that she was… uncertain of how to act.

“You’re a rather brave young thing,” your mother said as she continued to meander through the party, waving to people when she saw fit. “Has our darling Y/N ever told you that?”

“I’m aware of my own strengths,” Wednesday answered. She reconsidered for a moment. “Yes she has.”

“Then we raised her properly.”

Wednesday opted to stay silent. It had only been a few moments of conversation, but she could fully understand why you felt a certain way about your parents. Was she aware of the ridiculous things she was saying? Did she truly believe that they had raised you? A foolish notion at best.

It was beyond clear that your true family had raised you. If she extended the definition of the word, Weems had even raised you more than the woman she was walking beside. You even called Weems a mother, which was evidence enough. Wednesday wasn’t one to get overly emotional, but she knew the difference between what your family had done to raise you and what your mother had done. The difference was glaringly obvious.

While you hadn’t told Wednesday much about your upbringing, she knew enough. Your mother had never been there when you cried. She hadn’t helped you with your homework, or encouraged your hobbies. It would be of no surprise to anyone if she didn’t know of your passion for climbing or boxing. She had left you to cope alone after not only a crippling car accident, but the figurative and, eventually literal, loss of your brother.

No, they hadn’t raised you, and even someone as emotionally stunted as Wednesday was painfully aware of it.

“I’m sure she’s told you rather horrid things about Marcus and myself,” your mother said, coaxing Wednesday out of her thoughts. “But everything we did was for her own good.”

Wednesday understood the anger you harboured for them. She herself was feeling that same anger well up within her chest. Not quite threatening to burst forward, but making itself known. Subtle, creeping into her veins slowly, like waves gently breaking on the shore. All it would take was one wrong move and those waves would turn violent.

“I believe you truly think so,” was all she said.

“Everyone she loves gets hurt,” your mother said. She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face Wednesday. “Or dies.”

“That’s improbable at best,” she said.

“You’d be wise to leave before you fall victim to that curse of hers.”

Something cold and damp settled into the bottom of Wednesday’s heart. It was… difficult to describe. Was your mother warning her, or threatening? She was unsure. The words themself were threatening, but her tone… she hadn’t prepared to hear that tone from such a woman. Not after what she had come to know about her.

“Not everything you hear can be taken as truth, love,” your mother said softly, far too soft for her own words. She was ignoring Wednesday’s silence. Or simply not caring.  “From what I’ve read about you, you know that painfully well.”

Wednesday turned to silence once again. She had nothing to say, which was a rather unusual experience. So far, she couldn’t properly think of a time she had been left without words. Or, quite frankly, even any thoughts. Skepticism was her friend, and your mother would not break her of such habits.

“There’s two sides to every story,” your mother continued. She looked out toward the crowd of people, and Wednesday followed suit. “This curse prevailed long before Nicholas.”

You had never told Wednesday of any incidents before Nicky. Though, if your mother knew about it, then perhaps you didn’t remember. Or you weren’t even aware in the first place. It indicated something that she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about.

Something that mixed together with everything she had seen as of late.

“We should get together one evening,” your mother said as she looked back at Wednesday. “Doubtless you have questions.”

She did. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she had numerous questions that continued to pile up with each second that ticked by. With how much your mother hated Outcasts, was her implication of a curse figurative or literal? If literal, were you truly cursed? Who had done it? At the very least, who had been injured or killed when you were too young to even remember?

Would you hate her if she agreed? There had been a few times you had mentioned, in passing of course, about regretting knowing little about your childhood. Whether from young age or potential trauma, you remembered less than you liked. If she had a chance to find those things out for you, would you be appreciative? Or would you be upset with her for talking with your mother so casually?

Would you hate her?

Her mind was running through every scenario possible. She wanted to tell your mother something; of what, she wasn’t quite sure. Wednesday’s lips parted in an effort to buy herself some more time when someone’s arm brushed against her shoulder. Just the lightest of touches, otherwise unnoticeable. It had been quite a while since she had last felt that electric shock spiderwebbing across her skin.

This was different.

Fire raced through her veins, creating an inferno in her chest that she desperately wished to smother. She could taste the smoke rising up from her lungs, scorching the back of her throat before settling into little more than a tickle. When her eyes opened, she saw vague shapes of the forest.

She was getting rather tired of the forest.

The birds were silent, and even the bugs had ceased to make their high-pitched calls. It was as silent as the grave. After witnessing the fire, this very setting rested heavy in her stomach. The only saving grace was the two familiar figures she saw standing underneath one of the outlines of a tree.

When they turned to face her, all comfort fled. Their faces were nothing less than mangled. Blood fell freely down their chins to the already-soaked dirt below their feet. Wednesday wanted to cry, to scream, to warn them of the creature looming behind them, but she couldn’t. She was silent.

Just like you on that fated night.

She blinked once. When her eyes opened again, the forest was gone, instead replaced by a house that she could recognise even from her single visit. Wednesday had never been downstairs in your parents house, instead only exploring a few rooms upstairs when she came with you, but she recognised the tile. The entire building smelled like you, in some odd way.

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

She had never imagined what her corpse would look like.

“I said don’t touch her.”

Your voice. That was your voice, which meant she was out of her vision. Her throat ached like she had been screaming for years. There was a dull throbbing ache in her stomach where one of the wounds on her corpse had been. But your arms were around her, holding her close.

The ache would subside.

“It might be wise to seek medical attention,” your mother said.

“This happened while she was with you,” you practically spat. Wednesday still hadn’t opened her eyes, but she could imagine the fury on your face. “I can be forgiven for not taking your advice.”

“I’d advise you not to make a scene, dear.”

Your mother’s tone left Wednesday feeling cold. Her own mother had never talked to her in such a way, even out of fear. It wasn’t a way a parent should ever talk to their child. Yet, your mother did it shamelessly in front of an entire crowd of people that had no doubt found their way around the three of you.

Her eyes opened quickly. Far too quickly, the lights from the room hammered nails into her brain. But all the pain and discomfort faded away when she met your soft eyes looking down at her in concern. You were rather beautiful, and just the thought brought a smile to her lips.

A smile?

Perhaps she had hit her head on the way down.

“Can you stand?” You asked softly.

Wednesday nodded once.

You kept your hands on her as you helped her to her feet. The floor felt a bit uneven at first, but with your arm wrapped securely around her waist, she felt no concern. Her trust in you was unwavering. You wouldn’t let her fall.

“You should take her somewhere quiet,” your mother said, against everyone’s better judgement. “It will help.”

You shot her a look, but otherwise stayed silent as you guided Wednesday through the crowd. Everyone parted, looking away in some form of almost-shame. They didn’t truly care. Elites cared for little outside of their own interests. And at that moment, getting the gossip firsthand was in their best interest.

There was no telling where exactly you were taking her. She didn’t care to know. If you were taking her somewhere, it would be safe. You had never intentionally led her into harm, and she knew you never would. You cared too much, and though it often got you in trouble, she loved it about you.

…

She had definitely hit her head.

When you opened the door and led her inside the darkened room, she didn’t initially check her surroundings. Wednesday was no fool, she would know if something was unsafe. But when you flipped the switch and illuminated the space, she was overcome with… confusion.

“The coat closet?” She asked, turning quickly to face you.

You were already pacing back and forth in the small - well, small for a room, rather large for a coat closet - space. Each step was harsh, purposeful. Behind you, your hands were clasped terribly tight, as if you were trying to prevent yourself from doing something foolish.

Perhaps you were.

“Did she hurt you?” You asked without looking.

“No,” Wednesday said softly.

You scoffed. “Probably the only thing she didn’t do.” The carpet was becoming worn into a path from your feet. “We never should’ve come to this stupid party.”

There were a few things Wednesday could have said, but she remained silent. It wasn’t often you would find yourself pacing, let alone in a closet. On those rare occasions, she had learned it best to stay quiet. Once you had gotten your thoughts and emotions out, you were lighter and could move on.

“I can’t do this,” you continued without prompting. “I don’t want to do this.” A turn on your heels. “I didn’t even want their name, let alone their fucking company.” The muscles in your arms tensed. “And apparently everyone is preparing for it. What happens when they find out I’m a fucking Outcast?” You readjusted your jaw. “He told me we shouldn’t have come.”

Wednesday perked up.

“Who told you?”

There was no sudden freeze of your movements, as was usual. No, your pace slowed until coming to a graceful stop. Each breath you took was calculated, steady. Strange. She had seen enough of your panics to know this was different. Wrong somehow.

“No one,” you said without looking at her. “Just… just a thought.” You turned slowly. “The voice in my head.”

“Your conscience?” She clarified.

You didn’t answer.

Wednesday didn’t like when you didn’t answer her. It left a gross feeling she couldn’t quite describe. The best description she could conjure was mud sitting at the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down. She didn’t like the feeling. It made her… well, almost sad.

It was possible you noticed her discomfort because, almost instantly, you walked over to where she was standing. Her entire body relaxed - for the first time that night - when your hands cupped her cheeks. There was something pleasant about your touch that never failed to ease any negative feelings trapped within her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked in a far softer voice. It was gentle and comforting.

She placed her hands on top of yours and nodded once.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” you continued. “We should’ve just had a nice night at home.”

Wednesday didn’t disagree. There were many more things she would have preferred to do than come to some gala that no one seemed to care about. You had come under the premise of a gala for Outcasts, but she felt it was a farce. None of those people cared about Outcasts, and they never would. It would have been a much better use of both of your time to do something else, something far more enjoyable.

An idea formed in her mind and she quickly looked up to meet your eyes.

“We can still have a nice night,” she said slowly.

“Wednesday,” you said with a tilt of your head. “You fainted and I’m plotting the death of my mother. You’d have to come up with something pretty… uh…”

Your voice trailed off once she guided your hands down her neck. There was almost a humorous joy to the way you went slack jawed at any indication of activities less than professional. And when she continued, fighting a shiver as your fingers brushed the side of her clothed breasts, you stared with wide eyes until your hands rested on her waist.

“Wednesday,” you whispered. Her name always slid off your tongue with a certain grace that she couldn’t find anywhere else.

“You need a distraction,” she said, “as do I.”

“Please don’t feel like you have to-”

“-I would like to,” she said quickly. 

She knew where your mind was going and, in any other situation, she would have agreed. You had both agreed long ago that this wasn’t something frivolous; it meant far too much to the both of you. It shouldn’t be used for inappropriate reasons and, under normal circumstances, this would be an inappropriate reason.

Even though it was surprising to her as well, she genuinely wanted this.

“We’re in a coat closet,” you said with a slight squeeze of your hands. It felt nice.

“I don’t believe it would be our most unusual interaction,” she said with the slightest tilt of her head.

You bit back a laugh. It was a beautiful sound. “Please don’t call it an interaction, it sounds… dirty.”

She felt herself moving backwards. Whether you were guiding her or she was leading, she couldn’t tell. All she could focus on was your fingers rubbing light circles on her hips and your face getting closer to hers. If she simply leaned up on her toes, she could kiss you.

“I can call it intercourse instead,” she offered.

The both of you stopped when her back pressed against the wall.

“I think that’s worse,” you said, your breath fanning across her lips.

She waited for the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

A rhetorical question at that point, you knew the answer. You had always known the answer. Wednesday reached forward to wrap her arms around your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. It was soft and clumsy. After all this time, you were still clumsy for the first few kisses. Before you, she would have found it ridiculous.

Now, she enjoyed it.

Outside the door, the sounds of footsteps on the tile came and went. It didn’t stop either one of you, quite the contrary, it made the situation all the more thrilling. Wednesday knew the joy you would find in it; she could practically hear your words. Two Outcasts fucking around their personal belongings? Sexy.

Her breath hitched lightly when you slipped your hands underneath her dress. It wasn’t salacious; it was rather decent, if she was being honest. You didn’t hike her dress up over her hips and take her right then and there. Rather, you kept her covered, the only indication of something going on being your hands underneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, mi vida,” you said softly against her skin as you pressed kisses across her jaw. “This will have to be quick unless you want to get caught.”

Wednesday was never a fan of what you and Enid - and clearly the rest of the world - called “quickies.” She was so selective of when and where she was willing to have sex that the thought had never appealed to her. Why dedicate such a short amount of time to something that required much longer? How was it enjoyable? Or even tolerable?

But, as she had noted throughout the night, she wasn’t particularly picky at that moment.

She nodded quickly. More footsteps could be heard outside the door. You were correct; she didn’t wish to be caught. The thrill was arousing, yes, but if it actually happened? There was no doubt in her mind that, though she wouldn’t care about their opinions, she would be mortified.

Your teeth pressed lightly against the pulse point of her neck as you smiled. If Wednesday stretched her neck just a little further, perhaps she could entice you to bite. There was something delectable about the feel of your teeth on her skin. As if you could read her mind, you lightly nipped at her collarbone.

It was a good thing you hadn’t completely enraptured her, or she would have made a surprised noise when you hoisted her up from the ground. Your hands held her by the back of her thighs until you pressed closer, leaving her trapped securely between your body and the wall.

Oh, she rather liked that.

Your unscarred hand moved, sliding softly against her inner thigh before brushing against her underwear. Her body shivered at the slightest of touches. It was humiliating. What was more humiliating was the smile on your face that she desperately wished would vanish.

“You’re already wet,” you noted.

She could kill you.

“The stoic Wednesday Addams is wet,” you said. Your fingers slipped underneath the flimsy fabric and she had to bite her tongue. “From a little makeout session in a coat closet.”

Out of all the times you could be condescending, you had chosen the worst moment. You chose the moment she was already going out of her comfort zone, but also, quite frankly, desperate. She finally understood the pleasure in quickies; it gave less time for words.

Wednesday would have told you to shut up right then and there. She would have stopped you simply out of spite. But her chance was ruined when you slipped two fingers into her with ease. Her head fell back against the wall as those fingers moved at a dangerously quick pace.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to finish. It was truly disgraceful how worked up she was. Had you known? Because she hadn’t. Wednesday had never anticipated ever being so close to a release with such little time. Perhaps it was you. You and your deceptively soft kisses on her neck. You and your nimble fingers that had learned long ago exactly what she loved. You and your damned thumb that never left her clit until she was so sensitive she could almost cry.

That warm feeling in her core didn’t build softly. It formed quickly with each swipe of your thumb, each thrust of your fingers that had her biting her tongue so hard she could taste blood. She managed to lift her head right when you pulled your own mouth away. Perfect.

Her lips pressed against yours before that feeling erupted inside her. It was different from all the other times. It was more intense, hitting her rather quickly instead of slowly cascading over the edge. Her nails dug into the back of your neck, but you didn’t seem to care. You simply held her closer, keeping your fingers moving in rhythm with her body until she could relax in your arms.

Footsteps came closer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against your lips, “I know it was fast, we can take our time at home.”

Wednesday didn’t have an answer just yet. She was still out of breath, trying to recover from the wave of bliss that had left her unable to properly function. But she could give you some form of answer; a soft kiss, nothing like what you had just done to her.

She felt you smile against her lips.

“Here,” you said softly as you lowered her back to the ground on shaky legs. “I’ll grab our coats, you take a moment.”

The moment you were gone, she felt cold. It wasn’t something she had ever admitted out loud, but she despised when you left her even if momentarily. She was fond of the warmth you gave her, both internally and externally. There was something special about it that evaded her verbiage. All she knew was she enjoyed it.

When she opened her eyes, she froze.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a husky voice.

You thumbed through the cash in the wallet. “I’m stealing.” You grabbed the wad of cash and placed the empty wallet back into the coat before moving on to the next one. “If I’m going to run a company one day, I should start getting used to it.”

Wednesday walked up to you slowly and waited for you to finish with what was currently in your hands. Once you paused, she pulled you down into a kiss. Slow, soft, good. You pulled back ever so slightly with a small smile on your face, and she just looked at you.

“I love you,” she said softly.

You leaned down to kiss her again.

“I love you too.”

everyone but her pt.43

Summary: Wednesday knows she'll discover the killer. She will end this string of disasters. Even if it's the last thing she'll ever do.

Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: swearing, blood, canon typical violence Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader A/N: This has maybe two or three allusions to the one-shot revenge, but it's not required to read before this chapter. (Masterlist)

The summer air was starting to give way to fall in the most minuscule of ways. Heat still enveloped the atmosphere, leaving you miserable and sticky with a sheen layer of sweat. Wednesday liked seeing you with a layer of sweat covering your skin. It was attractive in a primal way that she wouldn’t dare be ashamed of. The only thing she didn’t like was your attitude.

Which had only gotten worse since the charity event.

You weren’t unkind, not intentionally. It was evident in the guilt written across your face whenever you snapped at someone or something. Not too long ago, you had snapped at Wednesday after she had asked to assist you with making dinner. She had stood her ground as you berated her, saying you were “more than capable of cooking on my own, I’m not inept.” No sooner had the words left your lips had you turned to face her with tears in your eyes.

Of course you had apologised instantly, incessantly. Never had you said something to her with the intent to injure. Not unless you were already hurting over something you had yet to talk with her about. She knew this, knew your insecurity with emotions. After all, she was learning along with you, and it was no easy journey.

But those very instances were what led Wednesday to struggle with figuring out how best to assist you. Nights passed where you were found unconscious on the couch, all the lights on and the television still playing. It was usually something childish; a technique you and Enid shared in common to disallow the nightmares from reappearing.

Even when Wednesday attempted to stay awake with you, insisting she preferred your company, the nightmares prevailed. Or perhaps they weren’t nightmares, but intrusive thoughts. She could hear you mumbling to yourself, both conscious and not, arguing with someone who wasn’t there. If you finally managed to sleep, you twitched and whined and cried.

Initially, she had believed you were talking to Nicky; she remembered when you had told her you could still see him. For a long while, she had believed that was who you were talking to. She knew siblings bickered and fought, it wasn’t too unusual. After all, she and Pugsley fought as well, it was quite common.

She wasn’t so confident in her beliefs after the fire.

You were more on edge, jumping at the slightest of noises. And after the charity, your reactions had gotten worse. If you were unaware of her presence, you talked in a normal tone, arguing with whoever you could see. Or perhaps you didn’t see anyone at all; after all, you weren’t a Seer. Whatever was inside your head, she had no idea. All she knew was it was slowly driving you insane, and she couldn’t help.

I’m scared, you had said once. I don’t think I’m alone in my mind. She had asked her mother what it could mean, but she had no concrete answers. And it wasn’t like she could very well ask you, seeing as you were unaware of what was going on as well.

The only saving grace through the entire summer was Eugene graduating from Nevermore and getting accepted into the same university they all attended. For the first time in years, Wednesday saw you smile effortlessly. You had instantly invited Eugene out for a night, and he had eagerly accepted. She enjoyed seeing you happy. If she had known all those years ago that her forcing you to hang out with Eugene would have led to this sort of friendship, she would have never believed it.

“Don’t go into the woods,” Wednesday said when you grabbed your keys by the door.

“Why?” You asked.

Images flashed in her mind of the woods. The two people from her last vision were standing there in their own blood, looking directly into her soul. Surely her visions didn’t always come true. Whatever the case, she wouldn’t let this one come to pass.

“Every time you two have gone into the woods, you’ve come home injured,” she said instead without an ounce of hesitation.

“The first time was a full moon, and the second was a freak accident,” you argued, entirely too stubborn to accept defeat so easily. “We’re a perfect duo.”

“A perfect duo of tomfoolery,” she said.

You smiled. “I like that word,” you whispered. “But quit worrying, we’re just going to get coffee.”

“In town?”

“No, in the forest,” you chimed back. Wednesday turned just enough to give you the look she knew you hated. “Of course it’s in town, love,” you chuckled.

She turned back to face the overly large Investigation Board you had bought for the apartment. Though she loved her original one, it was hard to deny she had needed the extra space. Information came to light almost faster than she could keep up with, and her one board had long since become crowded. With your new addition, she could continue to investigate without any worries.

Boots hit the ground lightly, getting closer until an arm snaked around her waist. It used to startle her, sending her pulse skyrocketing before she remembered who it was. Now, it was a comfort. Your warmth scorched its way to her soul, and the silent possessiveness of the act was not lost on her. It was a character trait you had picked up after the gala. She wasn’t upset about it.

“We’ll be safe,” you said softly, your breath brushing against the shell of her ear. “My phone is charged this time.”

“Is Eugene’s?” She asks.

“Let me check,” you said. Behind her, you shifted to your other foot and leaned down to her other ear. “Yeah, it’s good.”

She knew you didn’t check.

“No unplanned excursions without prior warning,” she said. Demanded. Pleaded. It was humiliating.

But when she thought of the two previous instances you had been caught in the woods with Eugene - three, if she included when you had gone with Yoko - she lost any care about how she sounded. Too many times she had seen you on the brink of either death or mental anguish. Or both. If pleading for you to be careful was humiliating, then she would put her pride aside for the time being.

“If we do something else, I’ll call,” you said.

“If I do not answer?”

“I’ll call Enid,” you answered immediately.

Good. She had trained you well.

“Inform Eugene that I said hello,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” you said.

Behind her, you shifted, pulling her back into you ever so slightly. Not enough to disrupt her train of thought - though you had done that already - simply to get her attention. Warm lips pressed lightly to the back of her neck and, not for the first nor last time, she thought of how unusual the comfort was.

Perhaps you had made her into her mother after all.

Oh. Oh, that was a horrific thought.

“We’ll go over the board when I get back?” You asked when you stepped away and made your way to the door.

“I’ll have my findings in bullet points,” she said without turning to face you.

“Sounds good, I'll be back!” You called out. Far louder than necessary, but that was rather typical.

Wednesday didn’t answer. Which, quite frankly, was also rather typical. She was too focused on trying to find out how to get you unconnected from the list of suspects. Of course, she knew you weren’t the one that had attacked those fraternity boys, or your therapist, or Ash and Joel. She knew, because you had told her you hadn’t.

Perhaps it was foolish to believe a suspect, but she trusted you implicitly.

Which left her feeling at a loss for new leads.

Your mother’s words echoed in her head. This curse prevailed long before Nicholas. Surely that hadn’t just been a threat. There wasn’t much that she knew about your mother, but she did know the woman was calculating. Raised in a higher society that valued cold precision over reckless action.

Was it a genuine curse? She was well aware of them, Grandmama Addams had taught her everything she knew. Her mother had taught her everything she knew. If it was a genuine curse, there would be some way to break it. Perhaps, if she talked with your mother, she could learn the nature of your downfall and reverse it.

The thought of something surrounding you, enveloping you in chaos and distress was unsettling. Wednesday was well versed in chaos and distress, she craved it, actively sought after it even. But when it involved you? She had seen your troubles enough over the years she had known you, she knew you didn’t need any help from outside forces.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to talk with your mother after all. Would you hate her terribly for it? Surely not, she was doing it for you, after all. If it could help you have a normal life like you wished, then there would be no problem at all. You just needed to trust her.

Now all she needed to do was find a time to make it happen.

“Hey Wil-,” Wednesday turned quickly to see Enid stopped in the doorway, “-um, ew.”

Of course. The Investigation Board.

“Finding any answers?” Enid asked as she precariously entered the apartment.

Wednesday huffed. “No.” Her arms sat crossed over her chest. “Though I have a list of suspects.”

“Is your girlfriend anywhere on that list?” Enid asked cautiously with hands clasped tightly behind her back.

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “Why would she be?”

“Well.” Enid let the end of the word drag out. “Okay listen,” she sighed. “You know I totes love her to death.” Wednesday nodded once. “But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that everything happening seems to revolve around her?”

Well, she didn’t like that train of thought one bit.

“All of her whereabouts have been accounted for since everything started,” Wednesday defended.

“Have they?” Enid asked. “No one knew for sure where she was when Mac was murdered.”

“At the shop, there were cameras.”

“That weren’t working,” Enid said quickly.

“I was by her side the entire fraternity party.”

“Until you went to round everybody up.”

“We were together when we discovered the murders of her parents’ acquaintances.”

“How about before they were discovered?”

Wednesday opened her mouth to argue. Of course she had been with you the entire time. Where else would you have been if not by her side? It wasn’t like you would simply run away, commit a murder, and come back like nothing had ever happened. Besides, every new murder had seemed to shock you, and you weren’t a good actor. She would have noticed if it wasn’t genuine.

Her mouth slowly fell closed. She supposed you had left before at least one of the murders. Or… all of them. No, that was impossible, you couldn’t have done such a thing. You had been gone for reasonable times, and never unaccounted for. Even if you hadn’t told Wednesday personally, you had told someone else. There was no possibility that it was you.

“I mean, she did kill those Canadian guys when she was younger,” Enid said with a shrug.

Wednesday did her best to push the thought of her mind. As usual.

“Have you found anything useful?” Enid asked softly, changing the train of thought either nary a hitch.

Wednesday turned to face her. “Do you truly wish to know?”

She hummed and nodded.

Not that there was much to tell. Wednesday went over the knife wounds, and the attempt to blame a werewolf (which she was, appropriately so, angry about). About the possibilities of a siren, or shapeshifter, or who knew what else (you had both agreed it was still up in the air). Everything she knew, she informed Enid of.

Much to her surprise, Enid didn’t faint at the autopsy photos.

“Are they even still out there?” Enid asked as she stepped closer, her shoulder brushing gently against Wednesday’s. “It’s been a while since the last one.”

“The family house burned down only a few months ago.”

“Well yeah, that was weird, but I mean the murders,” Enid said. “We technically can’t say if the two were related.”

“They’re out there,” Wednesday said definitively.

A phone vibrated on the small dining table. She left Enid to look at the board as she picked the phone up. Anxiety bubbled up into her chest at your name, but when she swiped the phone open and read the message, it eased.

“Everything okay?” Enid asked.

“Y/N and Eugene are going to lunch with Devan and Casey,” Wednesday said as she placed the phone back on the table.

“I’m glad they all get to hang out,” Enid said as she finally placed herself on the couch. It only took her a moment to find the remote and put something on the television.

As am I, Wednesday thought before situating herself beside Enid. She was elated that you were hanging out with Eugene again. You had sighed and moaned about missing Eugene more times than she could count. You had both talked on the phone plenty of times and played your silly little games together, but it wasn’t the same. Or so you said, she believed it was rather similar.

Though she could have done without you seeing Casey and Devan. They were most certainly on her list of suspects.

Enid didn’t stay long; a bit unusual for her, though it was a full moon later so it could be excused. Her absence, along with yours, left the apartment quiet. Cold. An unusual situation to be stuck in. Wednesday wondered when she had started to rely on your presence to make the living space feel complete.

Her eyes trailed away from the television. Your things were so interspersed with hers that she was unsure what belonged to who. That dagger on the shelf had belonged to her, but you had stolen it at Nevermore, and now it sat wedged perfectly between a handmade mug and an old Addams vial of poison. An heirloom if ever there was one.

If one were to open the closet, one would assume it was split perfectly in half. Wednesday’s dark wardrobe in contrast to your carefree, occasionally bright and colourful one. Yet that’s not what they would find. They would find black mixed with colour, items not belonging to one person but to you both. With the exception of a few items that didn’t fit the other, everything was shared amongst you both.

Though she had fought the idea at first there were even… photographs hanging around the apartment. She knew of the paintings in the Addams family home, all of her ancestors. But this was different. To know she was in the photographs with you, together, showing the most vulnerable of emotions around you. It was solidified in a physical manifestation, laid bare for the world to see. Or the photographs you had taken without her knowledge, of her and the friend group and your family and her family. It lit a fire in her chest that she had initially thought was horrific.

She was wrong.

As much as she despised the thought, she wondered if her mother had seen such a thing happening. Had she predicted that you would be so intertwined in Wednesday’s life? That if someone wished to see you separated, they would have to surgically remove each part with inhuman precision.

And she found a surprising amount of joy in that fact.

Wednesday found herself still staring at those pictures when the door to the apartment opened. There you stood, bags in your hands and an unusually serene look on your face. She liked seeing you come back to the apartment. To home. Your shared home. She wished to have you come home to her every night for the rest of your lives.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you closed the door behind you.

Wednesday hesitated. “Of course,” she said, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s your writing time,” you said with a head gesture toward the typewriter.

Of course. She had nearly forgotten you cared enough to remember - and respect - her schedule. Something you had done from the moment you met her, and yet it still surprised her. Though she was stuck in her own determinations, she should have realised then that you were different. Special.

“I'm quite content to skip my writing time today,” Wednesday said.

You smiled. “Too busy with the Board?”

She hummed in response. It was better for you to believe she was investigating. As soft as you had made her over the years, she didn't have the humility to inform you of her actual actions throughout the day. To tell you she had done nothing but think of your life together.

“Oh,” you said from the kitchen, “I brought dinner!”

It wasn’t even nearing the proximity of dinner time.

You reappeared with empty hands. “Chung had a few pickup orders that were never picked up,” you explained as you walked toward the couch. “Eugene took some home and I gave some to Ash since, you know, she claims I’m going to get her killed.”

You fell onto the couch, and your hand instinctively went to her knee. The skin on your palms was unbearably rough and calloused. From years of use, whether it be climbing or carpentry or helping your family, your skin was what she could consider “worn.” Yet when you touched her, all she could feel was the gentleness underneath the rough exterior. The love and care you put into every movement around her.

She stiffened. There. This softness was the perfect motivation to ease whatever curse had been laid upon you.

“Did you give any to Joel?” She asked. You tilted your head. “Since the same argument can be used for both him and Ash.”

“I’m not gonna get him killed,” you mumbled. Even softer, “he wasn’t home.”

Wednesday nodded in answer. Silence enveloped the room as you both sat on the couch and looked off into nothing. Something was playing on the television, but she couldn’t have said what. The sound was down so truly, it didn’t matter. Your fingers rubbed gentle circles on the inside of her knee.

Your head tilted once, then again.

“Is it morbid that we have pictures of dead bodies in our living room?” You asked.

She looked back at the Investigation Board taking over a good portion of the living room. It was quite the anomaly to most people, she would admit. Since Nevermore, Enid would always faint and the others would comment. None of it mattered to her, of course, but it was an undeniable fact.

You had never said anything negative.

“I believe it’s quite acceptable,” she finally said.

You nodded subconsciously. “My thoughts exactly.” Your shoulders sagged with a sigh. “Whatcha wanna do now?”

With a turn of her head, she looked out the window. Clearly she had misjudged the time, as the sun was starting to make its decent to the ground. Still bright, leaving a column of light on the floor, but fading second by second. It was a calming sight, to watch the sun start to set from the comfort of her living room. Your living room.

The idea was bold. She didn’t care.

“I would like to bathe,” she said. Her eyes met yours. “With you.”

Your smile met your eyes. “I’ll go start the bath.”

Without time to say a word, you practically jumped from the couch and ran to the bathroom. Always so eager, she thought as she stood. You were rummaging around in the bathroom before the faucet squeaked and water rushed into the tub. What were you looking for? Had you found it? Her questions internal questions about you were endless.

“Don’t come in yet,” you called out through the still-open door.

You had a plan, that much was obvious. She loved when you had plans; more often than not, they failed. There was something enjoyable about your failed plans. It made them more realistic. Not because you weren’t good at planning, but because you simply planned bigger than life.

Her feet carried her to the bedroom while you continued to shuffle around out of her sight. The closet doors eased open and Wednesday lowered herself to her knees. There, in the back right corner of the closet - in what had originally been her side - was a pair of boots that often went unworn. A small black box sat in the left boot, shoved into the toe behind a rolled-up pair of socks.

Small fingers gently pulled it from its cave before opening the top. And there, in the middle of the box, was a ring. A ring that she had gotten from her mother, who had gotten it from her mother, and the list went on farther than she could accurately remember. Just a simple silver band with a black stone in the middle; simple, efficient, comfortable.

Your humming floated into the bedroom before reaching Wednesday’s ears. She hadn’t heard you do that in months, if not longer. Something you only did when you were relaxed. Safe. An unknown song that you were probably making up on the spot. A soothing melody that rested peacefully in her chest.

The ring would look stunning on your finger.

“Hey did you want-”

-Wednesday’s head spun to look at you standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Looking directly at the box in her hand; no, at the ring.

“Put it back,” you said quickly. What? You pointed directly at her. “Wednesday Addams, you put that back in your boot right this instant.”

She couldn’t find the words to say. What could she say? What did you mean? How did you even know she had kept the ring hidden in her boot? You practically stomped over to the closet and kneeled beside her, mirroring everything about her. Even down to the boot on your side.

You pulled out a box of identical size.

“You’ve beat me to everything,” you said as you shifted, falling further to the floor to cross your legs. “I wanted to beat you just this once.”

Between your slender fingers, you gripped the ring gently and held it up for her to see. A black band that held a white stone between thorny vines. On each side of the stone was a small metal skull with white eyes. It was macabre; perfect. How long had you saved up for such a thing?

“I was gonna ask you after graduation,” you said with a crooked smile. “Didn’t wanna distract you.”

“You are rather notorious for it,” Wednesday answered.

Your smile grew. “I found your box back when we went grave digging,” you continued. “Reminded me I needed to step up my game.”

The peaceful look on your face warmed Wednesday’s cold heart. Her mind was still running rampant with the implications. You had… taken the time and money to buy a ring? For her? After all the things she had been unable to do for you? You still got something that solidified your feelings.

She had been - and still was, at times - unable to talk about her feelings with you. Or even listen to your own without prior warning. Time and time again she had been unable to emotionally console you because her own emotions were so far separated from the average person. She had taken her sweet time to learn how to be in any sort of relationship, even something as simple as a friendship.

And yet, that ring stayed firm between your fingers.

“I’ll wear yours if you wear mine,” you said, pulling her out of her mental spiral.

She blinked once. “Is that a proposal?” She asked. “I don’t believe this would be considered romantic.”

“I have a plan for later, I promise,” you chuckled as you held the ring out to her. “But now I’m kind of excited.”

Something stuck in her throat to prevent her from voicing a similar opinion. Instead, she simply held the ring out for you to take as well. Your smile was almost contagious, leaving her with spiders in her stomach. An almost forgotten feeling, but she wouldn’t wish for anything else.

Surprisingly, by some grace of the Addams ancestors, both rings fit perfectly.

“So do I get to be an Addams now?” You asked.

You were happy. You were excited at the prospect of being an Addams. To be part of her family in every way possible. The sight of your joy at being one of them left a feeling in her chest that she couldn’t explain. Something that spiderwebbed across every nerve and blood vessel in her body.

It was too much emotion for her. She only truly knew of one way to dispel such feelings. You were still looking at the Addams family ring on your finger. Her hand - adorned with a ring of its own - reached out and grabbed you by the collar of your shirt. She leaned forward as she pulled you into a kiss.

Your lips were uncharacteristically soft. Surely you had been using the chapstick everyone continued to gift you time and time again. Not that Wednesday cared, she simply enjoyed the feel of your lips against hers. It went no further, just a kiss, but it was all she wished for, all she could ever want.

Lightning struck behind her eyes. Your lips were no longer on hers, instead replaced by the warm wind of late summer. She looked around to see a familiar sight. It was becoming too familiar to her mind; talk about unsettling. There behind her stood two figures, dwarfed in comparison by a hulking creature behind them.

A creature with menacing eyes.

“Wednesday.”

Her eyes opened to see you looking at her with a concerned face. How often had she had visions in front of you? How long would it continue? She couldn’t even begin to fathom the cause of such an event. But she refused to believe it had anything to do with you.

“You’re fainting more often,” you said softly, “maybe we should take you to the hospital.”

Wednesday looked away from your face to see it was finally dark outside, the full moon hanging low in the sky.

Wait.

“We have to go,” Wednesday said quickly as she stood up from her spot and started rushing out of the apartment.

“Go where?” You called behind her, followed by a whispered “shit” as you too followed behind.

The door remained open as she ran out. Only a second or two passed before it slammed shut and your footsteps followed. Down the stairs, past Ash - who you mumbled a quick “hello” to - and out the front of the building. Far in the distance, she could hear the howl of a wolf. A wolf much larger than Enid.

“Where are we going?” You asked from somewhere behind her.

She couldn’t talk. Perhaps that was how you felt when your house was going up in flames.

Wednesday picked up the pace once she saw the woods. If she could get there in time, her vision wouldn’t come true. She could keep everyone safe. Her brisk walk turned into a run once the wolf howled again. She could get there in time.

“Wednesday, come back,” you called out.

Warm fingers wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her to a stop. She was forced to spin her body to face you. Vaguely, far away from her thoughts, she could feel the ring pressing into her skin. It was comforting; you were actually wearing it. You were an Addams.

“What’s going-”

-a familiar howl echoed through the woods.

“Enid?” You asked.

Both your eyes went wide.

“Okay, go,” you said as you took off into the woods, pulling Wednesday along behind you.

It was unintentional, but she always forgot how fast you could be. Her feet barely touched the ground with your speed, and if your wings had been out, she swore you would have been airborne. Even with your shirt covering the harness, your wings twitched underneath the cloth, begging to be set free.

Her body slammed into yours when you pulled up to a stop.

“Oh shit,” you whispered.

Wednesday looked around you to see the realisation of her vision. On the ground was Eugene, covered in dark liquid that continued to pour from wounds across his chest. Enid’s wolf stood over him, splotches of red in her otherwise blonde fur. Opposite her was a wolf.

A familiar wolf.

“That’s the bastard who got me at Nevermore,” you huffed.

“How can you tell?” Wednesday asked while you took your shirt off and started undoing the harness.

“I left that scar on his shoulder,” you said with a frown. “Help Eugene.”

If you had given her time, she would have argued with you. Told you to stay put, not to get involved. Enid wouldn’t dare hurt you, but when two wolves were fighting, casualties were expected. You weren’t invincible like you believed you were. She told you not to even go into the woods earlier, you most certainly weren’t supposed to be fighting werewolves.

But she couldn’t stop you. Not when you took off into the air with a gust of wind behind you. It agitated the dirt and left a cloud behind. Each particle that went through Wednesday’s nose tickled and, if she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would have sneezed.

Enid growled and took off, and Wednesday struggled to keep track of where everyone was. But she knew where Eugene was. Yeah, she could take care of him, that would be easy enough. She could keep her concentration long enough to help him. Not like she was worried about you.

Someone whimpered when she kneeled beside him.

“Don’t bite,” You growled.

Another animalistic scream.

She looked down at the injuries on Eugene. He seemed to be breathing just fine. That was good. The blood had soaked through his shirt, but it hadn’t pooled around him like she had been worried about. That was also good. Okay, she knew what to do. All she had to do was put her hands on the wounds and push down, it was simple.

Something ripped through flesh behind her.

The fight carried on behind her. You and Enid were putting yourselves in danger while she sat there and tried to keep her friend alive. Things were supposed to be getting easier. You were wearing an Addams ring, you weren’t supposed to be putting yourself into such needless danger. The both of you should have been in the bath, enjoying your evening together.

Eugene was still unconscious.

Something solid hit the ground.

A whimper.

Another growl.

There were too many sounds, and she couldn’t bring herself to look. Couldn’t bear to see her friends dying, to see her fiancee getting hurt. Why was it always everyone else? Why was she not the one to ever suffer? Was her punishment for existing simply to watch everyone she cared for get hurt because of her visions-

-a gunshot.

A lingering whimper that faded into the forest.

Wednesday’s dead heart was frozen as she spun around faster than she believed possible for a human. Had someone shot you? Was Enid okay? Oh gods please let Enid be okay, she already looked injured when you had both arrived in the woods.

Ash stood by the thick trunk of a tree, rifle held steady in her hands.

That hadn’t been part of her vision.

“What are you doing here?” You asked breathlessly.

From what Wednesday could see, you were standing tall. Blood dripped from your fingers, but you didn’t appear injured. Beside you, Enid was slowly turning human again. You kept your eyes on Ash, but kneeled to cover Enid with the shirt you had taken off what felt like hours ago.

“Y’all ran past me in the apartment,” Ash said calmly, lowering the rifle. “Addams doesn’t run.”

“Crazy bitch,” you mumbled as you got on the ground to replace Wednesday’s hands on Eugene’s wounds. “Thank you.”

Wednesday stood and looked at Enid. She was finally back on her feet, pulling your shirt tight around her. Blood fell from the deep claw marks on her face. Thankfully, aside from that, she seemed to be okay. As okay as she could be for a werewolf fight.

“Willa,” Enid said with a whimper.

Without hesitation, Wednesday walked forward and pulled Enid into a hug. Enid’s breath on her neck was comforting; it meant she was alive. The thoughts continued to ravage her mind. She could have lost her best friend. She could have lost everyone she cared for. Enid’s hands gripped her tighter.

As much as the thought killed her, Wednesday decided then and there what she needed to do.

She needed to talk with your mother.

everyone but her pt.44

Summary: You and Wednesday have an argument. Probably the first one in as long as you can remember.

Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: swearing, unwanted advances, delusions Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

You were still spitting werewolf hair out of your mouth an hour after getting back home.

It had been a mad dash to get Eugene and Enid to the hospital. You had been able to carry Enid, but both Ash and Wednesday had to share Eugene’s weight. The doctors were quick to take them back and assess the damage, and the three of you were left waiting out front.

Thankfully, Enid healed fast and Eugene wasn’t as bad as he looked.

“You know,” you said as you fell onto the couch, “I think we’re one accident away from being banned from the friend group.”

All the air was pushed from your lungs as Wednesday fell on top of you.

“I believe you may be correct.”

“At least they’re okay,” you said.

Wednesday simply hummed in agreement. The weight of her body resting on yours was comforting. Her elbow was digging into a still-forming bruise on your ribs, but it didn’t hurt. Not really. Not when her ring rested securely around your finger. Not when your ring gleamed in the artificial light of the apartment, illuminating every inch of her entire being.

Engaged. Oh geez, you would probably need to tell your family at some point. Abuelita and Momma knew of your plan, at least most of it, but this wasn’t exactly expected. Surely they wouldn’t get onto you, right? It wasn’t like you had planned on Wednesday whipping it out so soon, she still hadn’t graduated yet. Everyone knew marriage before graduation was a recipe for disaster.

Well, maybe it would be fine. After all, Wednesday Addams was anything but normal.

Something tickled the back of your throat.

“I hate werewolf hair,” you said as you tried to cough it up.

“You shouldn’t have bit him,” Wednesday said matter-of-factly. “You were aware of the outcome.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled.

Silence fell over the apartment, and the wear and tear of the evening finally started to settle. While not the worst fight you had been in, there was nothing gentle about a werewolf. Simply holding on to his neck was enough to throw you around, leaving your body sore and stiff.

Wednesday, in a strange way, was like your personal ice pack. It was lovely.

Something rattled against the wooden table near the kitchen. It cut through the silence like a knife. Both you and Wednesday jumped. In a move that was uncharacteristic of your girlfriend - fiancee, you thought giddily - she looked at you until you nodded in silent permission before getting up from your lap.

You stared at her ass shamelessly as she walked over to the table and grabbed her phone.

“Everyone okay?” You asked after she set the phone back on the table.

“Eugene is awake, and Enid is back home,” she said.

You pushed yourself up from the couch. “Good.”

Your knee creaked as you shuffled over to the table. The logical part of your brain knew they would be okay; Eugene was tough, and Enid was… well, she was Enid. And she was tough as nails. But there was still a part that worried they wouldn’t be okay. That you and Wednesday had shown up too late, and you would have to sit by idly while they died.

They should have, the voice in your head said. They should have died in the woods.

Then there was that part that you just wanted to shut up.

“No more woods for any of us, right?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around Wednesday’s waist. From that position, she smelled of the damp forest.

“For anyone,” she answered quickly. “Enid can transition into a house dog.”

You laughed to yourself at the thought. Enid? Your Enid? She could never. After she had turned for the first time, she had been an insatiable little beast. If she couldn’t get outside - which had only happened twice - she would cry and whine and practically knock the door down until she could leave the confines of the apartment. It was endearing.

And a little expensive.

Mention of the woods made you pause.

“How did you know Enid and Eugene were in the woods?” You asked. She hummed inquisitively. “You ran out of the apartment like you knew exactly where they were.”

“I did,” she said. “I saw it in my vision.”

“What?” You asked, unwrapping your arms and stepping back. It was like a jolt of electricity had gone through your body.

“Twice, actually,” she said as if you hadn’t just pulled away from her calming… coldness? Was that the right word?

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

Still, she didn’t turn around. “Once at your mother’s faux charity gala, then again after exchanging rings-”

“-stop, time out,” you said. A little louder than necessary, you would admit. “What do you mean, visions?”

Finally, Wednesday turned around. She had a look on her face that eerily resembled the not-deer you occasionally saw in the woods. Not afraid per se, but fearful. Striking an unsettling cord in your own chest while doubtless hers felt the same.

“We were both students at the school specifically for Outcasts,” she said simply.

“I know that,” you grumbled. “But you never told me anything about visions.”

Her head tilted to the left. “Why do you believe I was at Nevermore?”

You could have laughed. Truly, you could have. Why did you believe she was there? It was obvious why she was there, everyone had seen her! All it took was one look before everyone figured out why she was there. Hell, if she had said she created Nevermore, you would have believed her!

“Because you’re a fucking freak!” You said. “Respectfully,” in a softer tone. “And you tried to kill some people.”

“You were mistaken.”

Well no shit, you thought. How could she not have told you? Sure, maybe you had never asked, but you didn’t think you had to. Had everyone else known she had visions? Were you the only one who had no earthly clue what your own fiancee was at the Freak School for Serious Freaks for? She… she didn’t think you didn’t care, right?

She lied to you, the voice hummed. Effortlessly.

No, she hadn’t lied. It was an omission of facts, that was all. Which… oddly enough, didn’t make you feel any better. She really hadn’t even hinted at anything? Just let you think she was constantly having some sort of freaky seizure, or fainting, or who knew what other horrible thing you could think of. And she just… didn’t tell you?

She dragged you into danger, the voice taunted. Find out why.

“What did you see about the woods?” You asked. “About Eugene and Enid.”

“I saw them injured on the ground while…” she paused. That wasn’t right. “Someone stood over them.”

Why would she pause?

“Who did you see?”

She didn’t answer. Wednesday didn’t answer, and that wasn’t right. You two didn’t keep things from each other, that just wasn’t how you operated. You don’t tell her about me, the voice said, but you pushed it aside. You had partially told her about the voice before; this wasn’t the same.

“Wednesday,” you said again, “who did you see?”

Her singular deep inhale should have been answer enough.

“You.”

“Jesus Christ, Wednesday,” you said with a harsh exhale.

Your fingers ran through your hair, getting caught in tangles and picking out twigs and leaves. How could that have happened? How could she have seen you standing over them? You of all people? You would rather die than hurt Enid or Eugene, on purpose or on accident.

“These visions aren’t fact, they can change,” Wednesday said matter-of-factly. How could she be so calm? This was serious.

“Who else have you seen me hurt?” You asked; your voice was getting higher. “If you think I could hurt Enid and Eugene, then who else?”

Her typical glare softened. You didn’t want it to soften. You wanted her to tell you that you were being ridiculous. Why couldn’t she do that? She needed to tell you that things were fine, she wasn’t serious, and her visions were just a… a silly goofy time or some bullshit like that.

But she didn’t. She didn’t say anything, just looked at you like you were a kicked puppy. Your mouth was salivating; drooling, if you wanted to be brutally honest about it. Blood rushed through your body, sounding like waves against the shore. Except it wasn’t as pretty.

Say something.

“Who, Wednesday?” You pleaded. Begged.

Pathetic.

“Mack.”

You know the rush of adrenaline you get after doing something risky or exciting? When you felt elated, invincible, like nothing could touch you. If anything, you felt like you were on top of the world.

Yeah, you didn’t feel that.

You felt the crash. The drop in your stomach that made you feel ill. Trembling hands hung by your side. Wednesday was still looking at you, waiting for a response. Or waiting to see if you would lose your shit.

“Fuck you, Addams.” There wasn’t much else you could say. There wasn’t much else to say.

Wednesday’s eyes went wide before quickly returning to a scowl.

“I said they weren’t fact,” she argued.

“No, no, hang on,” you said, shaking your head. You took a step away. “Let’s forget, for five fucking seconds, that my own fiancee didn’t tell me about her visions.”

She blinked once, but otherwise tried to appear unphased.

“Now you think I would hurt- no, kill Mack?” Another step back; the back of your skull tingled. “I would never put his wife and kid through that!”

“I know.”

She said it too quickly. Did she really know? It wasn’t the first time she had potentially accused you of some sort of violence. When your therapist was murdered, she was hesitant about your innocence even though she said otherwise.

She doesn’t believe you.

Yeah, that much was obvious. For all the steps you had taken away from her, she had yet to step closer. Against popular belief, you did have a logical part of your brain. It knew why Wednesday didn’t come closer and chase you.

But the logical side was drowned out by the overwhelming paranoia that was sitting on your chest. It creeped through your arteries, prying open every valve and filling every inch of your heart until you couldn’t breathe and your fingers went cold.

She doesn’t trust you.

You knew that.

She thinks you’re dangerous.

You knew that too.

The walls felt like they were closing in around you. A prison, just for you. You were accutely aware of each and every feather on your wings. Each breath you took rattled in your ears like some kind of ghost.

Out of the corner of your eye, someone was just standing there. Watching you. Waiting for you to lose it and make a mistake. Like usual. Like always.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t do this.” Your voice was so quiet you weren’t even sure if you had psoken at all.

Wednesday didn’t say a word.

The figure creeped closer. Not with steps, no, he never actually moved. He just appeared closer. Your chest felt tighter. A paralysing sense of doom fell upon you. It iddn’t land like a blanket, covering you completely. More like it settled on you like snow; small, almost unnoticeable until it was too late and you were trapped under it’s weight.

The figure appeared closer again.

Run.

“I have to go,” you said.

When you turned your head, the figure disappeared back into the shadows.

You had to leave. Something was wrong and you could feel it. It was in the apartment, hiding in some forgotten corner, waiting for you to walk by so it could drag you back to the depths of limbo.

“Where are you going?” Wednesday asked when you stepped into the hallway.

You didn’t know how you had gotten there.

A new feeling crawled into your throat and left a lump.

“Why don’t you ask your visions?” You shot back. Wednesday visibly flinched. “I’m sure they’ll tell you.”

You didn’t wait for an answer before shutting the door and leaving the building.

—---

“What can I get for you, sweetheart?”

You blinked once, and all the sounds of your surroundings assaulted your ears.

The bartender was waiting for an answer.

You stammered out a response, fully unaware of what was requested. The bartender nodded and smiled politely. You blinked once. When your eyes opened again, you were seated on one of the stools at the bar. It was rather nice. The wood was polished so well you could see your sad, pathetic reflection on top of the reddish wood.

“Here you go,” the bartender said softly as he slid the lowball glass in front of you.

By all accounts, it was a lovely-looking drink. A dark amber liquid filled the glass around a singular sphere of ice; a ripoff. The smallest sliver of spiraled orange peel rested precariously on the rim. On closer inspection, you even saw two cherries at the bottom of the glass. Alright, that made up for the lack of liquor.

The glass was cold as you lifted it to your lips and took a sip.

And shuddered.

You hated old fashions.

As the drink disappeared sip by sip, your thoughts ran rampant. After all those years dating, and all that time being friends - or acquaintances, if you asked Wednesday - how could she have never told you about her vision? Not even a hint!

Not even from your so-called friends.

And that was another thing. Had everyone else known? Even just some of them? You didn’t know which was worse. That everyone knew and didn’t fill you in on that important fact, or no one did. Actually, scratch that, you hoped no one knew. At least it meant you weren’t the odd one out.

They all lied to you.

It made you angry; irrationally so. Wednesday, the woman you loved and planned on marrying, hadn’t told you the crucial fact of what her Outcast ability was. She had hidden it from you for years. Had let you stay in the dark.

Just like Nicky.

Maybe… you had some trust issues with psychics.

From the mirror behind the bar, Nicky stared at you with a malice you hadn’t seen in him. It was wrong. He should never have that look about him. Not your Nicky.

But he smiled like him.

“Buy you another round?”

You practically had to rip your eyes away from Nicky’s to face-

“-Mr. Stokes?” You asked incredulously.

“Please, that makes me feel old,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Call me Eric.”

You weren’t sure you wanted to. This was the man who had represented your parents for… well, for as long as you could remember. He had been the one that attempted to give you a shit plea deal. Sure, he had always been nice outside of that. Even when you were younger he had expressed a soft spot for you, which was kind.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to call him by his first name.

“Sure.” You still didn’t call him Eric.

“So can I?” He asked. “Buy you a drink?”

You looked back down at your empty glass. It had not been good. If anything, it had been rather disgusting; you preferred something sweeter. But you could feel a nice little buzz forming in the back of your skull, and for a moment you weren’t quite as upset with Wednesday as you had been. Granted, the more you thought about it, the more upset you got.

Out of the corner of your eye, you studied Stokes. He was looking professional, yet far too casual for your liking. Surely it was inappropriate for you to be talking to him without Moreno, right? You weren’t under arrest but… you learned quickly not to talk to anyone without your lawyer present. What if he questioned you? Or tried to trick you into trouble again? No, Wednesday would have wanted you to keep your mouth shut.

Wednesday lied to you.

On second thought.

“Sure,” you said with a tight-lipped smile.

With the grace of an alcoholic, Stokes ordered something for the both of you. You didn’t bother listening; at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. The plan for the rest of the night had changed slightly, but the gist was the same. Have a drink, get so hammered you can’t fly straight, and go home to beg forgiveness from your hot goth fiancee.

Life was pretty simple.

The dense muscles at the joints of your back tensed, causing your wings to twitch. Your breath caught as you hastily pulled them tight against your back. The last thing you needed was to cause an incident in a nice bar in… well, you weren’t entirely sure where you were, but it was too nice for you, that was for sure.

“You know,” Stokes said in a sleazy tone. “Your parents might not like them, but I find them rather stunning.”

His fingers carded through the feathers closest to him. The simple touch sent a jolt of white-hot shame through your every nerve. He shouldn’t be touching them. They weren’t for him. Almost instantly, you felt dirty. Like you were tainted now that someone who wasn’t an Outcast had touched you.

You hummed a simple “thanks” and shifted, practically hiding your wings from his view. He didn’t need to see them. It wasn’t any of his business. The only ones who could do so were your friends and your family. And even then, touching them was a privilege reserved for the few. It was not a right.

He sighed and sat back on his stool. “Haven’t seen you since your arraignment,” he said. “You look good.” Gag. “How has therapy been?”

A mangled body was leaning against a tree, similar to how you had been when Yoko had found you. The only difference was, while your wings had been outstretched, his arms were stretched in the same way. His clothes were tattered and hanging off a decomposing frame.

“Well, my therapist was murdered and I haven’t found a new one yet,” you shrugged, “so.”

At his shocked silence, you both looked forward facing the bar, and took a large mouthful of your drinks. It didn’t sting like the old-fashioned, which was nice. No, it coated your tongue and the back of your throat in an almost syrupy texture. Too thick for your liking, but again, you weren’t paying, so who were you to complain?

“My, uh, condolences,” he said once he placed his empty glass back on the bar.

He doesn’t care.

No shit. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

You took another long drink and inhaled deeply. The overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke infiltrated your senses. Whoever was smoking needed to make themselves known and soon. You always did your best not to smoke because, as everyone always pointed out, it was unsightly. Disgusting, is what Ash had called it. And honestly, you agreed.

But not when you were drunk, and not when you were alone, and certainly not when you were drunk and alone.

Being drunk - you weren’t there quite yet, but you were no quitter - made you realise something extremely important. You missed Wednesday. And you were still mad at her, but you missed her more than you cared about holding a grudge. If she hadn’t told you, surely there had been a reason. Wednesday never did anything without prior planning, so you had no doubt she knew what she was doing. Or even more unlikely, she had genuinely just forgotten you didn’t know. You wouldn’t blame her; your ignorance surprised even you sometimes.

You wanted to go home and see her. Maybe give her an idea or two of how she could make it up to you, and you could spend the entire weekend making amends. And in the throes of passion, you could propose properly and she would lay there and say “I love you, cara mia.” It would be romantic and all kinds of out of character and you didn’t care.

Nicky was in the bar mirror once again as you looked up. He was standing directly behind you with something less malicious in his eyes. Something about him still wasn’t right. It was in the slight tilt of his head. The sneer on his lips. The menacing stance as he stood right behind you and placed his scarred hand on your shoulder.

The mix of scalding heat and freezing cold on your shoulder would have been enough to shock anyone into a heart attack. It spread from his hand, chasing each other further down your arm until the burn scars tingled from the sensation. It was unpleasant. You didn’t want it to stop.

It was an impulse; instinct even, to turn around. He was more similar to a Not Nicky, but you wanted to see him. To look into his eyes again, even just one more time. But when you turned your head and looked, he was gone. Gone because he had never really been there. Gone because you could never really get him back.

You killed him.

“See someone?” Stokes asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

Slowly, you turned back to stare into your drink. “Guess not.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod slowly. He wanted to say something else, you knew he did. He was a lawyer, for fuck’s sake, he would never be done talking. As far as you were concerned, it was part of the job, and he fulfilled his duties well.

His knee pushed against yours.

You wanted to see Wednesday.

“I should start heading home,” you said, pulling your leg away from his.

“Why?” He asked with a curious lilt.

“Wednesday is waiting up for me,” you said simply.

“No, she’s not.”

“She is, and I forgot my phone so I’d better get going.”

“Do you even know where you are?”

You froze halfway off the stool. No, you didn’t. Nothing about the bar had been able to tell you where exactly you were in the world. It was easy enough to mark off that you were still in the United States; everyone spoke in a very clear dialect. But aside from that, you had no clue. All you knew was the bar was far too nice for you, and you were starting to feel that bundle of anxiety forming in the bottom of your stomach.

“Since you’re here,” you started, “I’m assuming DC.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Stokes said quickly. “It doesn’t become you.” He looked you up and down. “Did you two have a fight?”

“She went out with friends,” you lied effortlessly. Or so you hoped. “I hadn’t meant to be gone this long.”

You tried to stand up again. Just as quickly, his warm, clammy hand grabbed your forearm. It was almost instinct to swing on him. You wanted to do it; his smug face was becoming increasingly irritating. The faint conversations and the barely audible piano in the corner eased into your brain. It was calming; a nice reminder that you were in public.

“Please don’t touch me,” you said aloud. I’ll [insert threat here], is what you kept to yourself.

“We both know you don’t need to rush home,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled. It was repugnant. “Your little girlfriend isn’t waiting up for you.”

She was. You knew she was; it was Wednesday. Not once had she ever gone to sleep while you were out, not even a simple nap. She would wait up until you walked through the door. Would she go to sleep immediately after that? Yes, sometimes, but she would never do so without knowing you were safe.

He’s lying.

“I don’t think we should be talking anymore,” you said.

“What, without your lawyer?” He asked with a low chuckle. “You’re not under arrest.”

He was too close. You were able to keep the bar stool in between you, but that didn’t really matter when he kept leaning over it. His thumb was rubbing circles on your inner forearm and you felt sick. It was scratchy and so very unlike Wednesday’s. Hers would have been comforting. This wasn’t.

“Thank you for the drink,” you said softly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Gently, you pulled your arm back towards your body. He let his fingers trail down your arm, tickling the skin until you were released from his clutches. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, but you still refused to look at him. Sometimes, playing meek worked; you hoped it would work again.

You only took two steps away before he spoke.

“How are those murder investigations going?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he continued. “Your sheriff called me a few weeks ago.” Don’t turn around. “He asked if I thought you were capable of murder.” Don’t. “Or your little girlfriend.”

No. Wednesday would have never killed someone. She killed that hunter. Okay, she would have never killed someone that didn’t deserve it. Maybe she was creepy, sure, and seemed a little unstable in the moral department, but she was no murderer. Who the hell did he think he was? Who the hell did the sheriff think he was?

When you turned, you were greeted with another ominous grin. You were of half a mind to show him just how capable of murder you really were. He wouldn’t be so smug if he knew half the shit you had done just to survive, let alone for fun. And if he so much as breathed in the direction Wednesday was, you would correct his behaviour promptly and efficiently.

Let him talk, Wednesday’s own voice echoed in your head. Let him talk himself into a corner.

“Obviously I haven’t told him anything yet,” he continued, taking a step closer. “I’d hate to see such a pretty thing locked up.” His hand reached out and grabbed your own, interlocking your fingers. A coil twisted in your stomach.

“What do you want?” You choked out.

You wanted to deck him.

“Some colleagues are coming over to my place,” he said with a shrug, “and I’m due for a promotion.” 

“At,” you looked at his watch, “2 in the morning?”

“It’s a nightcap,” he said coolly. A lie. “Be a dear and be my arm candy for the night, would you?”

The very thought of being his “arm candy” was repulsive. Forget the fact that you were dutifully bound to Wednesday in every way imaginable. This man had known you from the moment you were born. He had watched you grow up and had attempted to assist your parents in throwing you in jail. And he wanted you to help him? It was preposterous, you would never agree to it.

“First thing in the morning, I’ll call your sheriff back and say you and your girlfriend wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Well shit.

Over Stokes’ shoulder, you met Nicky’s eyes in the mirror. This was the moment you needed him to speak again and tell you not to go. That you and Wednesday would be just fine on your own and, quite frankly, the sheriff probably hadn’t even called him. There was no investigation into the both of you, and the police were barely looking into the actual murders let alone the fake ones.

He didn’t say a word. Just a sinister smile that shoved a chill into your spine, leaving your entire body cold. But it quickly passed and you were left with a warmth, spreading from your chest to every fingertip and toe. The message was clear. You nodded once, slowly enough for Stokes to not even notice.

“Let’s go.”

—---

As much as you despised the situation, you couldn’t deny; Stokes’ apartment was ridiculous. It was massive, and not in a tasteful way. You wouldn’t say you were a professional when it came to big spaces, but you knew tasteful. Tasteful was space to exist, but not too much where you felt alone even when other people were around. Tasteful was making the space your own, with knick-knacks or photos or… hell you didn’t know, boy band posters or something.

This wasn’t tasteful. It was obscene; large just to be large. An attempt at proving how impressive you were or how much money you made in a year. There was no pride in such an extravagant show of greed. If you were really looking for big words, you could describe the whole thing as gluttonous.

Wednesday would be so proud of your words.

All the men you were supposed to impress were tools. Absolute, total tools. From the moment you walked into the room with them, they eyed you like a piece of meat. It was humiliating. They even touched your wings after you explicitly told them not to. Fuck normies.

They drank. All of them. Most of the time they didn’t even talk about work, which led you to believe this was not a work function. (Which you secretly knew anyway because, let’s be real, who holds a work function at 2 in the morning?). The only thing they wanted to talk about was you. Not even to you, just about you.

“You could have at least hired someone to wear something nicer,” one of the men said.

Your feathers were, quite literally, ruffled.

“Oh please, she’s no escort,” Stokes said with a dismissive wave and a ridiculously fake laugh. “We go way back.”

The least annoying of the men looked at you. “Is that true, darling?”

Oh, you could gag.

You put on a brave face anyway. “It is,” you said with a polite smile. “Practically since I was in diapers.”

The look Stokes gave you was venomous. It didn’t hold a flame to Wednesday’s stare, but it was a decent attempt for a sleazy man. His grip on your waist tightened, and you barely resisted the urge to stomp on his foot. Sure, it would have been childish, but you honestly didn’t care. This felt like some weird hostage situation anyway, might as well get your way about something.

You could have gagged from how incredibly misogynistic they were. It was almost effortless how they talked down about… well, everyone actually. No wonder Wednesday always had a grudge against rich people even though he was one. The difference between the Addamses and these lawyers was like night and day, ironically. You didn’t think the Addamses could be more selfless, and yet the men around you were still talking of how they could [f word] everyone up to stay ahead of the game.

Each of them took their shot at getting your attention. Whether it was brushing against your hand, or letting their fingers graze the sensitive feathers of your wings. Another had even tried - pathetically so - to kiss your neck. It was disgusting, and even worse, it had you rushing back to Stokes’ side. Which he, of course, got the greatest pleasure from.

As the minutes ticked by, your anxiety increased. You wanted to get home and see Wednesday; you wanted to see your family. Things were too chaotic, and all you wanted was for everything to slow down and go back to normal. Nicky was already in the corner of the room, so you were halfway there already! All you needed was Wednesday and things could be normal. Things could be nice.

While you were thinking about how much you missed your fiancee (which wasn’t unusual as it was almost exclusively the only thing you thought about), the pigs- oops, you meant men, finally finished their talks. A godsend, truly, to be able to not have to listen to them talk anymore. They had said so many words that meant absolutely nothing. It was practically enough to ease any resentment you held towards Wednesday’s lying by omission.

Any joy you felt at the men leaving was rapidly replaced with nothing less than genuine fear. They had been the buffer. Now that they were gone, you were stuck with Stokes. Alone. In his apartment. And he was looking at you with the drunken gaze of a predator in a college bar.

“Thank you for that,” he said, his words slurring ever so slightly. “I think you helped my case.”

“Then you better hold up your end,” you said. His head fell to the side as he furrowed his brows. “You’ll tell our sheriff that Wednesday and I weren’t involved in anything.”

His face relaxed. “About that,” he said, stepping closer. You took a step back. “I think there’s one more thing I need from you before I’m willing to make that call.”

Each step he took, you matched. All night you had been forced to put up with his ridiculousness. His wandering hands and eyes. His friends. Now it was time for him to hold up his end of the bargain. He was going to let you and Wednesday off the hook so you could both go be happy again.

When your back finally hit the wall, and Stokes effectively cornered you, you saw Nicky over his shoulder. Standing there; silent as always.

You had admitted to Wednesday that you had been seeing him again. The Not Nicky that had attempted to trap you in the burning house. Coaxing you to stay with thoughts of home and family and peace. But you hadn’t told her he never left. He stayed there, watching you, speaking to you. Becoming such an integral part of your day that if you didn’t see him, your anxiety spiked and your stomach dropped.

But he did not tell you what to do.

“Just one more thing,” Stokes said. His breath reeked of cheap liquor.

“Let me go home,” you said softly. Far softer than he deserved, but you weren’t looking to get your ass beat so late into the night.

His hand cupped your cheek, and you fought back the urge to knee him in the dick. The only person who could touch you like that was Wednesday. She was the only one who held not only the privilege but the right to touch you. Her hands were soft and shockingly cold; they held such a unique form of love.

Stokes had rough hands that left you feeling dirty.

“It’s too late for you to go back now,” he said, breath fanning across your face. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly if I didn’t have you stay.”

“I’ll be okay,” you said.

Beside you on the table rested a letter opener. A stunning opener with what appeared to be a pure silver handle and a sparkling blade. In the right hands, it was simple yet effective; lethal. He wouldn’t even notice if you reached over to grab it. The amount of alcohol in his system would make it painless, you were sure.

Nicky smiled.

You left it where it was.

“Agreeing to work with your prick of a father was the best thing I’ve ever done,” he said. He was so close, you hoped he couldn’t hear your heartbeat and believe it was excitement. “I always knew you’d be fucking gorgeous.”

Admittedly, you had always assumed your fight or flight response would be fight. After all, you were a rather… aggressive individual. But when Stokes kissed you, you froze. Every cell in your body was in such a panic that you couldn’t do anything. For a moment, everything felt like fog. Like you were looking at yours and Stokes’ bodies from where Nicky was standing. You looked petrified; he looked sloppy drunk.

When you re-noticed his lips on yours, you were yanked back into your own body. Your hands quickly pressed against his chest, pushing him away. There was a string of saliva hanging between your mouths. His eyes were opened wide and staring straight into your soul.

“I’m going home,” you said softly.

You pushed a little more, and he staggered back. Why he wasn’t saying anything, you didn’t know, but his staring was getting creepy. Slowly, you stepped around him, keeping your own eyes on him to make sure he didn’t do any funny business. He didn’t turn to follow you, or even look at you. Just stayed standing where he was, swaying lightly on his feet.

Nicky was gone.

With Stokes staying in his place, you made your prompt exit from the apartment. If he wasn’t going to say anything more, you weren’t going to question it. You just wanted to go home. Home. Your initial thought should have been of yours and Wednesday’s apartment.

That’s not what you imagined.

By the time you stepped out of the apartment onto the dimly lit streets, you were fully convinced of your next stop. It would be a quick flight. The sun still had yet to show itself, but a few people were out and about. Across the street, you saw a group of kids. They were looking at you with wide eyes and were slowly backing away. Perhaps they knew not to go near Stokes; you wouldn’t blame them.

Behind them, Nicky smiled and waved.

“Go home,” he said in a strained voice.

You walked down the street and started making your way towards home.