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[danzaloreley]

hiii i love ur art and ur fics!!🫶🏽

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

And oh, how you missed her.

[danzaloreley]

Hello! Could I request a sub!mizu/bottom!mizu x softdomGN!reader that features a nipple play smut scene with a lot of moaning please? Mizu's titties deserves all the love and praise and pleasure!!!!!! Thank you❤️

Note: Ahhh OP this should NOT have taken as long as it did. It was originally to be a modern au, frankly rather vanilla and sweet— but my interests have been seized by shibari as of late. And, guess what I’ve found? The art of “shibrai”( or Kinbaku) in Japan first originated in the Edo period. The art made itself!

So, do take this as a tribute to Mizu’s titties and also the lovely art of shibari. If it’s not to your liking, I can always write that modern version!

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Speak, Fetch, and…

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Tags: Bottom!Mizu, Submissive!Mizu, Dominant!Reader, Top!Reader, Shibari, Edging (if you squint), Light Degradation, GN! Reader, Bondage, Gag Uses, Breast/Nipple Play

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A/N: Made [Reader] A rich and powerful Shibari enthusiast in this to apply settings and dynamics. Hopefully it adds a layer of kinkiness to this piece! My inbox is always welcoming requests, so feel free to drop some! Regardless, Please enjoy! ^^ <3

“You look so perfect like this.”

The words spill past your lips flowing with the adoration only heard in the prayers of the most devout monks. Mizu, the demon samurai, elusive, raging, and entirely inaccessible to all but you. There she was, the most feared bastard in all of Japan, laying on your bed, bound and panting, drooling with a gag in her mouth as a whore would in any decent brothel. Crimson red, thick and bruising knots were intricately designed to fit snugly around her body, expertly marked by your hands— deft with skill, in loving patterns tracing up and down pale skin. The body that could move like a monster, the body that has taken so many lives and maimed thousands— subdued and helpless, entirely at your mercy.

You see her cheeks redden with embarrassment at the compliment, you see her entire body shudder as goose pimples spike across her scarred skin, you see the glistening quality to her cunt that has your knees buckling with the insatiable desire to run your mouth against her core.

But all things in due time.

No, in the heart of your gaze were the two pert, round, soft mounds of skin that made up the two halves of her buxom, rising and falling as her chest heaved with pleasure. Moving in hypnotic, wave-like movements in sync with her breaths were the two lovely buds that bloomed at the tops of her petite breasts, the color of soft petals, of womanly skin. Your ropes only accentuated the shape of her body, the emphasis on her maidenhood.

“Are you feeling alright, dearest?” You croon, running your fingers along the tight patterns across her body, teasingly tugging at a select few strands that ran the texture of your ropes against her skin in a delicious friction, so much so that her head flew against your mattress as her toes curled and shook with ecstasy. Oh, and to think that this samurai had yet to be defeated in battle. What would his foes think, seeing him as a woman, crying out for pleasure as her voice cracked beneath a gag, face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. You’d barely even touched her.

“I could keep you like this forever, you know…” you begin to contemplate aloud, finally deciding to crawl towards your truest possession on your hands and knees, your warm body hovering over hers as you continued to tease at her desires and fantasies with a malicious tongue.

“You’d fit in beautifully with every display in my palace, every work of art. I could invite the most revered men and women of the nation, I’d let them see you..” Mizu moans at this, writhing with the desire to hide but unable to move. Shy. Finally, your face is aligned with the samurai’s chest. Unable to hold yourself any longer, your mouth falls against the plush skin, hungrily wrapping your wet lips around the hardened bud with a carnal desire, eagerly running the warm, slick muscle of your tongue against the buds of her roses while her entire body contorted with pleasure.

Mmmmph! , she’d say something, anything at all— but your infatuation was unending. With your opposite hand, you grope and massage the delicate, long-abused tissue, milking out the sweetest, most unheard of noises from her pretty mouth. And to think that the display beneath your face would have been mistreated and hidden away all these years behind rough, ugly binds.

You pull away from her breast with a ludicrous pop noise that communicated only filth before you moved your mouth directly over the other half, unleashing the same cruelty of your mouth. The first little bud, now swollen and wet with spit, was pinched in between your thumb and forefinger, the suddenness and crassness of the action making Mizu grunt and buck her hips with want. As a punishment, reward, and reminder, you gently bite down on her breast until she draws in a sharp, stuttering hiss. You groan against the firm, supple skin of her breast before you pull away to take in the sight you created, the ropes binding around and in between her breasts, accentuating their shape— the swollen, reddened bud of her nipples, slick and shining with spit, all because of you.

Your eyes finally move from her chest to her face, soaking in that flushed, almost embarrassed expression she held in her usual sharp features.

“You want it off, fighter?” You ask teasingly before you quickly move to dispose of the gag in her mouth. She’s earned it, after all, being so good beneath you.

By the time it leaves her mouth, the cloth is wet and heavy with drool and Mizu is gasping for air, chest shuddering as she desperately forces her body to catch up with the racing thoughts in her mind. It’s even better like this, you think, seeing Mizu grit her teeth, bite her lips, and grunt in all attempts to keep her dignity and not moan like the whore you knew she was. These thoughts enrich your psyche like opium, and your hands absently find their way to each breast as you straddle her hips. You are comfortable like this, and Mizu is entirely at your mercy.

“Can you imagine your enemies seeing you like this?” You ask lightly, your hands trailing down from her breasts to the smooth dip in her waist, subtle and firm. “The damned, all powerful, blue-eyed half-breed; moaning in my chambers in my palace...”

“(N-Name…)” she tries to grunt, though it escapes her lips as a whimper. She’s embarrassed, humiliated— in any other context you would have backed away and apologized— but you felt her pussy against your skin, you felt the positively soaking quality of her privates against your sheets. She loved this.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” you say knowingly, making those dazzling blue eyes flutter and turn away from you in shame. This calms her, in a way. Words now seem on the verge of leaving her mouth, though shyness, or perhaps embarrassment bids her silent.

“What do you need, dearest? Go ahead, don’t be scared.” You say, encouraging, one hand now abandoning the possessive hold around her waist to gently cradle her cheek. Unable to keep herself from doing so, she leans into the touch, relaxing.

“Water…” she rasps, and your thumb gently runs along her upper cheek.

Easily, you reach over for a chalice filled to the brim with water, gently ushering her head higher before bringing the rim to her lips as you watched her lips drink up the water.

“Just like that, good job…” you hum, making her relax and sigh beneath you. Finally, she’s had enough, almost having drank the cup empty before you put it aside, now facing her seriously.

“If it ever comes to be too much, use the signal. Understand?” You ask as you adjust Mizu’s legs to sit around either side of your hips, bringing yourself closer until your nakedness was flush with her own. She nods affirmative like the good pet she was, going as far as to spread her legs further to grant you better access, an action that made something molten and possessive coil in your chest and gut. No one else in the world would ever see Mizu like this, pliant, shy, and oh so pretty. The sight of those eyes submissive and watery, those cheeks flushed red and those lips bitten to Hell and back were yours and yours alone.

Your hands move down south before you could stop them, swift and eager as one hand pinned Mizu’s left thigh open and against the cushion while your dominant hand pushed two fingers into her gushing warmth, making her grunt and squirm against her bonds. You laugh something genuine as you feel the sheer quality of her arousal on your hands, pulling away just to show her the arousal that has already coating your palm.

“Look at yourself,” you say, eyes blown and voice rushing with warmth. Before Mizu could fix her lips to say anything, you bring your soaked fingers up to your mouth and place them over your tongue, making Mizu gasp in shock at your actions. Mizu’s wetness floods your tastebuds, makes you groan into your hand before you eagerly continue your efforts of working her open and relaxed. To be used, to be worshiped, to be claimed. You shudder at the thought, easily thrusting your fingers in and out of her while she gasps and moans your name like a prayer. A chant, a hymn. [Name! Name! Name!] for all of Japan to hear in answer to the question of who she belonged to.

“K-keep going! Don’t stop! Don’t…s-stop…!” she whined, almost demanding as her cries rise from the depths of her belly in guttural moans— as if she were in battle. Your fingers slow down, caressing her insides in slow, deliberate, cruel swipes of fingers while your thumb circled her clit.

“Is that anyway to ask for anything?” You scold, pushing your thumb against that swollen little bundle of nerves until she hissed and arches her back, leaving her body in a beautiful display of rope, power, and pleasure.

“[N-Name,] please— don’t stop…” she gasps, twitching as her orgasm inches closer and closer the longer you deny her the friction of your touch against her sweet snatch. You only stare expectantly at the near puppy-like gaze she shoots at you, and you begin to understand why people call her a dog. Good dogs listen, good dogs obey. Good dogs get their rewards.

“Beg.” You say, and she sees that your eyes are swarming with a raging storm of lust with her at sail in the dead center. Your hands only slow down to a near stop, and she could’ve sobbed at the loss. She was losing her mind, on the verge of fainting. Despite this, her hands were free, the signal in a moments reach. If she needed to stop, all she had to do was snap her finger and you’d cut her loose, rope be damned. But her hands only shook with desperation as she opened her trembling lips, voice cracking.

“Please, please…please,” she begged, voice breaking as she emphasized the final syllable, to which you easily obliged, attacking her cunt with a ferocity only shown in battle that made her cry out in shock and pleasure. It was an exquisite sight to behold, one that would forever be ingrained in your memory. Here in your bed by your hands, the strongest and bravest swordsman in all of Japan lay moaning like a whore as her orgasm washed over her body and loins in a wave of fire. Yes, she had her blade, her strength, those eyes—But you had your ropes, your tongue, and your wit.

So far, you remain completely undefeated.

[danzaloreley]

Hoodie

Summary: You steal Wednesday's favorite hoodie

Warnings: Pissed off Wednesday, nothing else 🤷‍♀️

It was missing. Wednesday's favorite hoodie, her heavy white and black zip hoodie, was missing. And for the life of her, she couldn't figure out where it was.

Of course, her first assumption was that she misplaced it; although it was unlikely, she didn't rule it out entirely, therefore going on a search through the places where it could possibly be; she investigated the library, the quad, the dining hall, and by now she was running out of places to search, as her suspicions started to turn from herself to her peers.

The first person she asked was, naturally, Enid. Although the werewolf wasn't the type to steal one of Wednesday's items of clothing without warning, she was the first person she turned to, and was promptly refused.

She didn't really suspect anyone else to have taken her hoodie; nobody else seemed as if they'd want her hoodie, which on its own would be an odd concept by itself, but she asked nonetheless.

Her patience was wearing thin, as she sat stiffly at her typewriter, without her comfortable hoodie, for the third night in a row. Normally she'd never get too upset over such a trivial thing as a missing hoodie; it could easily be replaced. But now, in the days of late fall, the shared dorm room was becoming increasingly cold, and though she had other warm pieces of clothing, none did the job as well as her hoodie had.

As for you... well...

You hadn't intended to take her hoodie, but it was too good for you to resist.

You were always a sucker for oversized peices of clothing; you were just a naturally cold person so you'd always enjoy bundling yourself up in a big warm hoodie or jacket; and your eyes had been hooked on the large, oversized black zip hoodie that you had seen Wednesday wear on more than one occasion.

She's my girlfriend - you had reasoned to yourself, when you had entered her and Enid's dorm in search of her and you had found your eyes caught on the hoodie neatly layed out on her bed, no doubt waiting to be slipped on later - technically we share things, right?

You had snuck over silently, and fought an internal battle before reaching out and impulsively slipping the hoodie on over your t shirt.

And oh, was it just as glorious as you had imagined; the fabric was soft (surprisingly soft for Wednesday), and though your girlfriend did have a smaller frame than you, there was still a satisfactory amount of bagginess to the item of clothing, as well as the overwhelmingly heavenly scent of Wednesday - one that reminded you of crackling dead leaves and things that hunted in the night.

And you had left without a word.

As the days wore on you were especially cautious not to wear the hoodie around Wednesday; from the second she had started looking for it you did feel a little bit guilty, but surely not enough to give it back, and of course, you knew that if she found out you took one of her favorite items of clothing without asking, she'd murder you on the spot.

But as the urgency of her quest started to fade, you became less careful, and one night you slipped up.

It was the weekend, and you were seated in the dining hall, a cup of coffee in your hand that you sipped absentmindedly as you read for a botany assignment later that week.

And you were most definitely not paying attention to the faint scuttling and the perching of a disembodied hand on the fireplace that observed your every move, particularly the item of clothing you had your face buried in while you read.

It was approximately five minutes later when Wednesday came storming in, her eyebrows furrowed in a display of annoyance, eyes darting around in search of what she'd been looking for.

The second she saw you, sitting on a cozy chair, all wrapped up in her hoodie with a peaceful expression on your face, she stopped dead in her tracks, her eyebrows shot up with irritation.

So, that was why you had ducked away whenever she brought up the subject of her missing hoodie, excusing yourself with the mention of a project you needed to work on.

She should have recognized your pathetic attempt at a poker face from the start.

Wednesday walked up to you briskly, boots clomping through the peaceful silence as she stopped right in front of you, arms folded over her chest, brows furrowed with annoyance.

"Hand it over."

Your head shot up with a look of alarm that'd be almost comical if she didn't feel like she could stab you right at that moment.

"B-but-"

"Y/N, I assure you I am not in the mood for 'buts'. My hoodie. Now." Her tone now carried a hint of warning, but you were not one to give up your treasure as you looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed in stubbornness, your lips pulled down in a frown.

"If you loved me you'd let me wear it."

Wednesday's nostrils flared and her lips pulled into a frown of her own as she closed her eyes, summoning her patience.

"Y/N..."

"Please?" You begged, tilting your head to the side in what you hoped was a persuasive puppy-dog eye look.

She glared at you, eyes burning into yours, her mind torn. Of course, she was mad at you. You had lied to her, and somehow managed to hide the fact that you were the culprit all along.

Yet...she couldn't help but admire you for it.

Not to mention that you looked as if you were experiencing a moment of pure bliss as you sat there in her hoodie.

Not wanting to seem as if she was backing down, she sighed sharply and looked down at your own hoodie, draped over the back of the chair to be worn later, and she abruptly grabbed it.

"Seeing as you won't be willing to return my property, yours will be in my possession for the time being," she said with eyes that held no room for discussion.

And with that, she turned, and walked right out of the dining hall, returning to what she had been doing before.

And you watched her leave with the biggest grin on your face.

[danzaloreley]

— a study in demon

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

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

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

word count: 4.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like her.

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

Smells just like her, too.

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

That should get you through the day, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

An omega who is in heat.

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

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

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

“Hey, (Y/n).”

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

“Hey, uh...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same one you’ve felt in class.

The omega in heat.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like you’re going to puke.

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

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

You stumble for a moment, lifting a clawed palm to grasp at your head that has suddenly turned cloudy and heavy.

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

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

enid

bro you gotta ditch

it’s an emergency

i just stumbled into a girl

uhh dina?

she’s from ophelia hall

anyways i think she needs… help

yk

from a fellow omega wolf

i think she hasn’t been taking her suppressants

for some fucking reason

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

but i really had to dip

i was doing her a favor by dipping actually

i locked her up on the 2nd floor

202

i really had to leave

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

The device dingles in your hands.

oooohh

its okay

i gotchu

u should totes find weds tho

im sure she can help u out ;))

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something wrong?”

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

She wants you to say it.

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

“I’m…”

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

“I’m… in a rut.” You admit, finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday’s fingers still on the typewriter.

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

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

“Come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here, pressed so close against you, her scent is encompassing your whole being. No pheromones can compare to the way Wednesday smells, the rich, woodsy notes of a forest soaked in rainwater luring you in as you take a small inhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wednesday’s restraint is laudable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers. No one else’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have my ways.”

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

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

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

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

“Wednesday.”

[danzaloreley]

Little death (18+)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x f!reader

Warnings: g!p Wednesday, soft Wednesday, established relationship, smut, blow job, cockwarming, lots of Italian petnames.

Summary: working with normies takes a toll on Wednesday, but, luckily, you're always there to make it better.

A/n: I don't know any Italian, so please tell me if I made any mistakes.

Masterlist

You wake up to the sound of the front door clicking shut. Blinking blearily you hide a yawn behind your palm. The clock reads eleven pm and you sigh, wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you trudge into the kitchen, where Wednesday fixes herself a cup of coffee. You frown, stepping into her line of vision.

"Cara mia," she greets, "you should be asleep." She frowns as you unsuccessfully try to hide another yawn.

"I wanted to wait for you." You gesture to the couch and Wednesday grips the cup tighter.

You know she doesn't like it when you sacrifice sleep for her sake, but what she doesn't know is that you can't properly rest without her by your side, holding you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Lately she's been spending more and more time at the station, working twice as hard as her peers to receive twice as little credit. It's eating away at both of you. She claims it doesn't bother her - the way they refuse to take her seriously, even when she solves cases that usually take months in weeks - but you see it in her rigid posture and the clench of her jaw. She wants recognition and she has every right to demand it.

"I still have some work to do." Her tone is monotone, but her eyes betray her emotions - she hates the words just as much as you do.

You nod. "I'll heat up your dinner." You turn around to busy yourself at the stove, but a hand on your wrist stops you.

"I'm not hungry." Her words are barely a whisper. "Go back to sleep. In our bed."

You want to argue, but you see the look in her eyes, the one that tells you you won't win. So you push her fringe to the side and place a tender kiss to her forehead. "Don't stay too long, okay?"

She nods reluctantly and takes measured steps to her office, a cup of coffee in hand.

You sink against the counter, shaking your head. The girl is going to work herself to death.

You remember the first time you asked her why she is so adamant on working at the police station when she has the money, the means and the skill to open her own firm. You remember the way she stood up straighter (you didn't even know it was possible) and told you only one thing, "No matter how much it pains me to admit it, they're far more experienced then I am, and their expertise is one I can learn from."

You sigh and walk into your bedroom, accompanied by the tapping of Wednesday's typewriter. You decide to give her an hour, tops.

Thing taps on the nightstand rapidly, despite the exhaustion you can clearly see in the added wrinkles on the pale skin. You shake your head, "You'll lose a finger if you do that."

He slumps back dramatically, and you can almost see him huff.

"I'll get her in an hour, don't worry. Just go rest."

He leaves with that, albeit begrudgingly, and you make sure he doesn't go anywhere near Wednesday's office to hide her briefcase.

You spend at least twenty minutes laying on the bed and staring mindlessly at the ceiling. When half an hour passes you get up and make your own cup of coffee, sleep already forgotten by the time you take the last sip.

Thing wiggles a finger at you and you roll your eyes, "It's one cup, Thing, I'll be fine."

He taps on the pillow and you sigh.

"Yes, I'm aware it's almost midnight."

He taps again, this time forcefully and you feel like a reprimanded child.

"Okay! I get it. No need to act like my mom. I just don't want to fall asleep and let Wednesday work until the morning," you mumble, earning a sympathetic pat on your shoulder.

You look at the clock again. Quarter to midnight.

You decide to test your luck.

"I told you to go back to sleep."

You burrow into her neck, your breath fanning the skin there. "You don't need to apologize." You start loosening her tie, and take it off when she doesn't protest.

You freeze in the doorway. Your girlfriend continues typing, but you can tell she hears you shuffling around as you make your way to her.

"You had coffee." She says as soon as your arms circle her shoulders. She sighs and pushes back against you, letting her head fall on your shoulder in a display of vulnerability only you are allowed to witness. "I'm sorry," she utters.

"Cuore mio," she mumbles, tilting her head to grant you access.

You hum, peppering her neck with featherlight kisses, hands sneaking beneath the collar of her shirt to trace her collarbones.

"Let me take care of you, Weds." Your words press into her skin, your lips brushing the sensitive spot on her neck. "Please?"

She pushes your hands away and turns her chair to face you and it's the only answer you need. You sit on her lap, her hands land on your waist, squeezing gently. Her eyes close as you unbutton her shirt, and she relaxes in your hold, almost melting into the leather of her office chair. You waste no time in getting it off, presenting yourself with a delicious view of her pale body. You lean lower to tease her breasts with your teeth. Her hands slide lower on your waist and you take it as a sign to move. You take off her bra in one swift motion and throw it on the floor, latching on the exposed skin faster than it hits the floor.

She whimpers quietly, the sound almost going unnoticed by you. You grind on her lap, feeling her harden, and get back to work, enveloping the other nipple in the warmth of your mouth, enjoying the way she arches into you.

"I'm gonna use my mouth, okay?" You breathe out, palming her over her pants.

She nods shakily as her hands settle on your ass, squeezing possessively. "Anything you want."

You squeeze her shaft before climbing off her lap onto the floor, but she stops you, blinking as she looks around the room. Her eyes glint and she reaches to grab a blanket you gifted her off the small sofa. She folds it neatly before placing it on the floor near her feet, only then allowing you to kneel before her.

You feel like you're about to explode.

"I love you," you whisper, kissing her knee, "so much."

Her face lights up with a rare smile, making your heart squeeze tightly in your chest. "I know, mia amata, I know." The term of endearment so easily slipping past her lips makes you nuzzle into her thigh, littering it with kisses.

You don't know how you got so lucky.

She gently massages your scalp, not rushing you as you both bask in the moment. You pull away just enough to undo her belt and buttons on her pants. She lifts her hips and you slide them off slowly, revealing the bulge poorly concealed by her boxers. Her fingers thread through your hair and you lean to kiss her through the fabric, enhaling her deep, musky scent. The twitch is barely noticeable, but it makes you quicken your pace, eagerly tugging her underwear down to reveal her thick shaft. You sit back on the balls of your feet to take in the sight of her sprawled on the chair, her legs spread and her cock standing proudly, waiting for your mouth to claim it.

Wednesday squeezes the back of your neck, asking, pleading, and you comply, taking the reddened head of her cock between your lips and sucking, enticing a low moan.

You grip her thighs with both hands and bury her shaft deep in your throat, blinking away the tears.

"Don't hurt yourself," she manages to whimper, her fingers painfully tight on your neck.

You hum around her, earning a low whine and start bobbing your head up and down. Her moans grow louder each time your nose buries in her dark hair, her hips snapping up to meet you halfway.

You can tell she's close.

"Just like that, tesorino," She cries out, and finally forces your face down, using you to pleasure herself. You gag around her thick length, swallowing precum.

She thrusts fast, blabbering in Italian as she chases her high. Her eyes roll to the back of her head with a final snap of her hips and she cums, her cock buried deep inside your throat.

You struggle to breath and swallow, pulling away from her and letting her paint your neck and breasts white.

You catch your breath, reveling in her reddened cheeks and heaving chest.

She lazily reaches behind her to rummage around one of the drawers and pulls out a box of wipes. She works slowly, tenderly brushing your skin clean. Then, she tugs on the string of your silk robe, her pupils blowing even wider when your naked body is finally revealed. She pats her thighs and you don't wate a second in straddling her. You pull her in a tender kiss, one full of love and promise.

She guides you up and nudges the tip of her cock against your entrance and you sink down, clenching around her length.

"Can you keep still for me?" She asks, her voice hoarse.

You nod, glancing at the mess of her desk. "How long will it take?" You ask, knowing full well you'd stay forever if that's what she wanted.

"Not long." With that she turns back around, places her chin on your shoulder and goes through the papers on her desk as you struggle not to whine, your pussy pulsing at the slightest nudge from the ravenette.

You relax against her when she finally settles, and burrow your face into her neck, smiling. She places occasional kisses to your temple, making sure not to jostle you too much.

She enjoys torture, but not when it comes to you.

Your eyes start to drop and you decide to busy yourself with undoing her braids, untangling from her to face her fully, the motion making you both swallow back a moan. Your fingers thread through the dark tresses with utmost care, massaging her shoulders on your way up and finally fully undoing her braids, letting her hair fall free.

She looks breathtaking.

"Bed?" She asks, and you realize you've been admiring her far longer than you thought. You nod, slumping against her.

She gets up without as much as a hitch to her breath, cupping your ass and pushing you snug against her, her dick rubbing inside you deliciously. You moan into her ear, urging her to move faster and she complies, gently laying you down on the bed not even five seconds later.

She cradles your face between her palms and peppers it with kisses as she starts moving inside you, setting up a pace. "Anima mia." A kiss on the underside of your jaw. "Luce della mia vita." A chaste kiss on your lips, as she fastens her thrusts. "Sei il mio tutto." She mutters, losing herself in your body.

You're too out of it to understand what she's saying, simply nodding to each statement and squeezing tighter around her with each foreign word. She stretches you, bottoming out in your gushing center. Her mouth busies itself on your breasts, paying enough attention to each hardened nub.

"Wednesday, I'm-" you cry out, pushing her head back down when she tries to look up, "Keep going please, please, please," you moan, letting tears spill free.

"Let go for me," she whispers, "now, cara mia."

You come with a loud cry, arching into her, squeezing her length as she releases inside you with a low whine.

"I love you," you pant as she falls on your chest.

She hums softly, her eyes growing heavier by second, and nuzzles deeper into you. "I love you," she mutters at last, before finally surrendering to sleep.

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

Cara mia - my dear

Cuore mio - my heart

Mia amata - my love

Tesorino - sweetheart

Anima mia - my soul

Luce della mia vita - light of my life

Sei il mio tutto - you're my everything

Requested by 🧞‍♀️ anon

[danzaloreley]

— loving the beast, loving it whole

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: descriptions of mild gore, slightly suggestive themes, mentions of demon rut, it's mostly fluff

summary: wednesday insists her oni girlfriend spends a blood moon with her and a small inconvenience even she couldn’t have possibly foreseen takes place

word count: 5.2k

a/n: she's so silly like y/n: it's ok wednesday my transformation isn't a big deal haha :) also y/n: springlock failure sounds + bloodcurdling screams

When Wednesday welcomes herself into the dorm of the oni, (Y/n) doesn’t turn to acknowledge her. The seer is certain it’s because the demon has sensed her coming back when she was just starting to make her way up the stairs, having learned the pattern of Wednesday’s gait and her smell just a few days into their relationship.

The oni’s pointy ear twitches at the sound of the lock clicking. There’s a crease in between her brows, the mildest of expressions that betrays the anxiety swelling in (Y/n)’s chest. Wednesday, too, has grown to recognize a lot of habits of her demonic lover.

She watches (Y/n) fumble in front of the mirror, barefoot, her haori draped over her naked shoulders. It covers most of her backside in a flow of luxurious fabric in (f/c) and black colors, and if the circumstances were different, Wednesday would turn around and leave the room abruptly to give the other girl privacy. She’d most likely never enter without knocking again.

She finds the broadness of the demon’s shoulders, the muscles of her neck and the plain between her breasts enticing instead. They call for the touch of her lips but, much to Wednesday’s disdain, a more pressing matter is calling for (Y/n).

“I’m assuming it’s a blood moon tonight.”

(Y/n) hums in affirmation, her eyes fixed on her reflection as her fingers keep struggling with the twine of the pendant, her claws catching onto the rope and preventing her from finally fastening it around her neck.

“Would you like me to bring you back a souvenir?” She offers, and the seer catches onto the slightest hint of exasperation in the oni’s voice, “A pair of deer horns would look amazing above your bed. I could bring you a whole head if you’d like.”

“I’d much rather have you here,” Wednesday replies with no desire to entertain (Y/n)’s mockery, “You know your absence mauls at my bleeding heart like nothing else does.”

If the circumstances were different, the ravenette would be physically revolted by the words that have just left her mouth. She’d go drink a bottle of cyanide just to wash the nauseating sweetness of the statement off her tongue.

But she has long since accepted the influence of the Addams family curse – the influence of (Y/n) on her, and she can’t help her blunt honesty.

Although it doesn’t really seem to move her girlfriend in the way it usually would.

“No. I can’t. I’m... I have to go and hunt, otherwise...” The oni tries to find some morbid, unnerving wording to explain the consequences that would follow but ultimately realizes all of them would serve to excite rather than deter the goth.

Wednesday seems to catch onto the hesitation, “Otherwise what?” She asks with a small frown, taking a few steps to end up behind (Y/n), looking at her through the mirror, “Is there some ungodly sanguinary pact that forces you to spend every blood moon deer-slaughtering?”

“Not just deer – “

“Is there?”

(Y/n) huffs in irritation, partially from her necklace still unwilling to cooperate, partially from Wednesday’s persistence. She drops her hands, pressing them into the edges of the sink, the golden dragon squeezed in her palm.

“No, not really. Then again, my whole existence isn’t really that different from a sanguinary pact.” She barks, and immediately regrets the bite in her tone, lowering her gaze shamefully.

She always gets easily vexed in that state.

Wednesday reaches for the pendant, and (Y/n) finds her fist relaxing on its own accord under the surprisingly gentle touch of the ravenette. She lets the seer take the necklace into her own hand, and watches Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror get on her tiptoes to wrap the twine around the oni’s neck, fastening it with skillful precision. The metal is a cold sensation on (Y/n)’s naked skin, but it’s nothing compared to the chills that run through her body when she feels Wednesday press her soft lips to her nape in a comforting, sensual kiss.

“Have you ever tried staying?” The goth asks, her voice soft and free of scorn, plush mouth moving against (Y/n)’s flesh, and the oni can’t suppress a shiver.

(Y/n) doesn’t even try to rack her brain for any memories that would provide her with an affirmative answer. She never has. She remembers standing, miles away from her clan’s territory, a young girl, barely over ten, half-naked and scared to death in the crimson light of the blood moon, clutching the golden dragon pendant given to her by her father with the instruction to never, under any circumstances, lose the amulet.

She remembers the pain of the metamorphosis vividly, too. She never liked how people would compare that and whatever is behind the transformations of werewolves. Unlike them, (Y/n) didn’t get a head-start – she couldn’t afford to be a ‘late-bloomer’, nor did she have any time to grow, both physically and mentally, before it happened the first time. She was just thrown out there – it was like teaching a child to swim, except there was no helping hand of her parent to catch her in case she started to drown.

(Y/n) thinks it’s what’s made her strong. Her tenacity, persistence, and her will to live. Although Ms. Kinbott always begs to differ.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the demon murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

To her surprise, Wednesday chuckles in reply, “Do you really believe you’re capable?”

(Y/n) frowns, failing to see the humor in the situation, “The point is that I... can’t transform in front of you.”

The ravenette’s brows furrow, “Why not?”

Jesus, (Y/n)’s damn well certain Wednesday hasn’t ever been this oblivious.

“First off, it’s beastly and messy and loud, and I’ll, I’ll get... huge, and I might break something or hurt you or...” (Y/n) sighs, her shoulders sagging, “I strive to keep you happy. And safe. It’s... instinctive, kind of. Multiplied by what I feel towards you. And it’s scary.”

“Why would it be?”

“The things I’d do for you. They scare me sometimes.”

Wednesday is silent for a moment. She doesn’t blink, seemingly digesting the raw emotion of the demon’s words, before she finally speaks, “If it’s as bad as you say it is, I’d conclude that I’m in no danger,” she leans away from (Y/n)’s back slightly to meet the gaze of her reflection, “As much as I am capable of protecting myself – the ability you seem to constantly underestimate,” she adds, making the oni grunt, “I believe I’m the safest when in your presence. I also believe you’ve proven that countless of times, so my words aren’t groundless.”

A small smile touches the demon’s tusked mouth, “You and your way with words.”

“The Addamses are known for their skill in poetry and negotiation... as well as flattery,” Wednesday hums nonchalantly, idle hand rubbing a pattern on (Y/n)’s shoulder in an attempt to persuade her further, although it’s already far from necessary, “You’ll be staying, then.”

“I suppose so.”

A single glance outside reveals a big, blood-red orb staring back at the goth, painting the scenery outside in crimson colors, “There’s not too much time left now. Is there anything that needs to be done beforehand?”

(Y/n) looms closer to the window, watching the moon, “No. This is everything that can be done,” she says, reaching her hand up to her chest to hold the dragon pendant in her fist.

“Does it work like an equivalent to a wolfsbane potion? Is it... charmed?”

“More like blessed. And, well, yes, it’s something like that. You should still keep your distance though.”

Wednesday nods, but plans to disobey. She can’t lie, she feels... intrigued at the chance of seeing an oni’s full form up close. The two times in the past have just been slight glimpses in the dark of night, mere traces of what a beast (Y/n) actually is. It must be an unusual reaction for the demon, the goth muses, as she watches the demon glance outside the window, twirling the pendant between her clawed fingers.

“Are you nervous?”

(Y/n) seems hesitant to answer at first, “...A little, maybe. It... doesn’t get better. It always hurts like the first time. And I’m always alone when it happens. Back home I couldn’t spend any blood moons with my father because we get aggressive and territorial in that state even with our families,” a small smile touches her otherwise grim expression, “But with you here, I guess... It’s not as terrifying as–”

Before (Y/n) can finish what Wednesday’s sure was supposed to be something awfully sweet and sappy, she’s interrupted by a sickeningly loud crack that startles the ravenette enough to jolt backwards. A bone has snapped on the demon’s right calf, bending her knee at an inhumane angle and almost making her double over. The demon grits her teeth, her top lip rising over her big tusks in a manner of an angered wolf, and she grasps at the windowsill to keep herself upright, her knuckles white over the wood, just in time as her other leg snaps in the same fashion.

“It’s fine- It’s fine,” she grunts, her voice so strained and rough Wednesday can barely recognize it, “Stay back.”

This time Wednesday listens, taking a few steps away from the writhing form of the girl that grows and changes before her very eyes. The talons on the demon’s hands grow impossibly big, fusing with bone, and her tusks grow almost thrice their usual size, protruding from under her lip. Her frame stretches in a heap of powerful, tense muscle, and (Y/n) is unable to stand on her legs anymore, falling on her knees and plunging her claws into the floorboards at the excruciating pain that makes every nerve in her body stand at torturous attention.

A pair of long, slightly curved horns spurts from the oni’s forehead with a disgusting fleshy sound, and a big, scale-covered tail like that of a dragon emerges from her tailbone, ripping her pants in the process. It snaps back and forth aggressively, hitting the wall with loud thumps –  the demon jerks with pained groans that mix with raged growls of a wounded animal.

Wednesday has seen quite a lot in her life. She watched people be tortured, skinned and burned alive, yet nothing could’ve prepared her for what she was witnessing at that moment. The ravenette couldn’t bear to watch any longer, yet some invisible force makes her freeze in her spot, unable to look away.

The transformation stops – it feels like it’s stretched for hours, yet it’s barely been a minute. The demon’s back heaves on the hardwood floor, her shoulders rising and falling heavily, before she raises her head.

A pair of (e/c) eyes with snake-like slits stare into Wednesday’s dark ones.

Slowly, still aching from the metamorphosis, the creature rises to its feet, so huge the tips of it horns scrape at the ceiling. It huffs, releasing a small puff of hot steam from her snout, and a dangerously low growl rumbles in its throat.

There’s a feeling in Wednesday’s gut stricken in her by the sound – a feeling she isn’t used to, and doesn’t like. A feeling of pure fear. Her eyes go wide and she begins to back away from the demon who lowers her stance and slowly pads towards the small ravenette. The floor creaks in protest under the weight of the monster. Her eyes are fixed on Wednesday’s, unblinking, like a predator prowling as her huge talons scrape the wooden surface, muscles flexing under her grayish skin.

Wednesday’s back meets the wall. She can’t keep her eyes off the monstrous being, unable to move from fear, fear and fascination as the beast steps towards her. It’s like a train wreck – she knows she shouldn’t look, knows she should be moving... but she can’t stop herself from staring at the horrifying sight in front of her.

The demon towers over her even on all fours, casting a menacing shadow over the smaller girl. She leans her big head down, long pointed ears flicking, and takes a small sniff. Her mane of hair swishes with the movement, before she releases another puff of smoke right into Wednesday’s face. She stares into her grey eyes, and something inside the goth clicks.

The fear is still there, but the curiosity and the fascination she’s somehow also feeling take over for one split second, and she reaches her hand up and towards to the monster. Something inhumane draws her in – her hand is shaking slightly, but she can’t stop herself, attracted to it in an inexplicable way, almost transfixed. Wednesday’s palm stops just a few inches away from the oni’s snout, not daring to proceed any further.

To her utmost surprise, the demon leans towards her hand, butting her nose into it gently. Wednesday’s breath is taken away – she watches in awe as the creature closes its eyes with a low sound of approval, but before she can let her intrigue be known, the oni’s massive jaw hangs open, and a long, rough tongue slithers out of her toothy maw to glide against Wednesday’s cheek.

The demon... licks her face.

The goth grunts in disgust, trying to press her hand harder into the demon’s snout to make her stop but failing to overpower the strong creature, “(Y/n), this is uncanny.”

The demon ignores the girl’s disapproval, giving her face another lick. Her tongue is long and slithering like a snake’s, rough and strong like a lion’s, or... some other big cat for that matter. If Wednesday had to choose one animal – one that wasn’t taken off a page of a book on Japanese myths and legends and that could easily describe the beastly image of (Y/n)’s blood moon form –  it would certainly be a feline.

She isn’t completely sure how she should treat this giant beast in front of her. Obviously it isn’t her first time encountering the oni in such a state, but this is the first ever time they meet in such close proximity and, dare she say… intimate conditions, compared to chasing after the wild creature in the woods outside Nevermore, at least. Sure, the monster is far from human-looking, but its morphed face with the toothy maw and widened, cat-like snout still bears some features she can easily recognize as belonging to her lover.

Taking one last lick of the seer’s now excessively wet cheek, (Y/n) pulls away, a very wide and satisfied grin on her face. Wednesday wonders if it’s the last thing the demon’s prey usually sees before it’s torn to shreds. The display is off-putting but for some reason the goth finds it adorable in its own twisted way.

“Alright. I suppose you’ve never tried sleeping in this form either. I hope I won’t have to wrestle your excited self to bed.”

When Wednesday turns to head over to the closet in the corner of the room, the demon moves to stand on her feet, wanting to follow the small ravenette, and her horns bump against the ceiling, making the room shake slightly.

“No,” Wednesday frowns, “Down. Be a good girl and wait for me.”

(Y/n) grunts in bratty annoyance but complies, plopping herself on the floor and giving the room another solid mini-earthquake, huffing at Wednesday in what the seer is sure would’ve been some sort of a sarcastic comeback if the demon had any vocal cords to verbalize it with.

Wednesday is quick to get a change of clothes, picking the first shirt out of (Y/n)’s closet she can reach, afraid that the demon might turn to mischief if she was out of her sight for too long, but when she turns back to look at (Y/n), she finds her on the exact same spot. The demon watches her, slitted eyes fixed on her face, and Wednesday averts her own gaze with a small blush.

“Come now. Get off the dirty floor. I can’t have you sleeping on a rug like some animal.”

Wednesday is faced with yet another challenge to her impeccable mind – fitting a 10-foot creature into a one-person bed. She looks up at the demon at her side, then back at the bed, and for a second consider to just let the oni sleep on the floor – of course (Y/n) would want Wednesday to take her bed, but...

(Y/n) yawns, maw wide open and baring her huge crooked tusks, then moves towards the bed, collapsing down onto the poor mattress heavily and curling up. Her clawed feet dangle over the edge, and her tail is left to lie on the floor.

Well, this would just have to do.

The demon presses her back to the wall as far as it could go, leaving a small, cozy spot next to her.

She will just have to suffer.

With a heavy sigh Wednesday moves to flick off the desk lamp and joins the oni in bed, facing her heavy jaw. (E/c) eyes shine in the pitch darkness, and a warm cloud of vapor flutters from (Y/n)’s nose, making Wednesday squeeze her eyes. She receives what she thinks is an apologetic lick to her chin before the demon shuts her eyes too, and Wednesday can feel the monster’s rough tail slither around her waist.

At least she doesn’t have any fur to shed all over the place.

Wednesday tucks her head under the demon’s chin, and finds herself in a warm, nest-like embrace of one of the deadliest creatures in the universe. It’s relieving, protective even, as much as Wednesday has never craved either of those abstracts. She feels a big clawed hand cradle her head, and the soft purring wrapping around her whole being like a soft blanket lulls her to sleep almost immediately.

(Y/n) awakes with a throbbing ache all over her body – not unusual or surprising, though still rather unpleasant. She grimaces, lifting her right palm to rub at her face, her sleepy clumsiness causing her claw to scratch at her cheek slightly. She tries to lift her left arm to join the other in rubbing the pain away from her head and face, but finds it unable to move.

The demon opens her eyes finally, glancing down to find a small body cuddled to her chest, asleep like a baby – or rather like a corpse, a comparison more fitting considering how cold and unmoving the body is, and (Y/n) shivers when she feels the freezing temperature of Wednesday’s feet entwined with her own.

I’m getting you a pair of fuzzy socks this Christmas. Hot pink ones.

The demon’s thoughts trail back to the event of the previous night, blurry and fragmented, but comprehensive enough to assure (Y/n) that she, in fact, did not hurt the seer in her beast-like state. The only thing harmed, she supposes, was her pride, as she recalls licking Wednesday’s cheek and wagging her tail like a dumb, excited dog.

She could live with that.

The oni lets her troubling thoughts roam free somewhere in the back of her mind and focuses all her humane attention on the black-haired girl in her embrace instead, resting her hand between their bodies. (Y/n)’s other arm is trapped under Wednesday, her bicep serving as a perfect pillow for the goth’s neck, and the demon watches the ravenette breathe calmly, exhaling through her soft lips, with gentle fondness. It’s a nice privilege, she thinks, to be able to see Wednesday like this – peaceful, guard down completely, face devoid of an annoyed expression.

(Y/n) feels her heart racing in her ribcage as she stares at the plush of the goth’s mouth, so full and perfect the demon can’t keep a small, almost possessive growl from rumbling in her throat lowly, unable to convey her feelings in any other way without waking the very object of her ardent passions. In her head she’s already tearing down the walls and gnawing at every bit of furniture she can find.

The oni resorts to leaning in and resting her own lips on Wednesday’s gently in an effort to calm the beast inside of her. Her hulky teeth bump into the softness, ungainly and rough against what she swears is like virgin cotton to the touch. The growling in the back of her throat is replaced by purring.

With both herself and her monster satisfied she pulls away, leaning her head back on the pillow and huffing in content. She continues watching Wednesday, observing the faint touch of freckles on her nose and cheeks, then moves her still vacant arm to place it over the smaller girl’s waist, careful not to disturb her. The goth hums in her sleep, unconsciously nuzzling further into (Y/n), and the demon shudders again, this time at the coldness of Wednesday’s nose pressing into her neck.

Wednesday wakes up to the sound of what she thinks is some powerful machine engine vibrating right against her right ear, warm but surprisingly soft.

She opens her eyes and finds she’s still tucked under (Y/n)’s jaw – although the jaw is of a normal size now, and Wednesday allows herself a small affectionate smile when she finds the demon girl back to her usual self, albeit naked and slightly disheveled.

Something is a bit off though. A weird clamping on her lower half.

It feels like a thick rope wrapped around her leg, squeezing – Wednesday is mostly familiar with the sensation of being tied up – but the pressure isn’t at all uncomfortable. Grounding, rather, and pleasant in a sense.

The seer cranes her neck to look down and finds a long, textured tail wrapped around her thigh.

(Y/n)’s tail.

The demon herself is sleeping soundly, her arm on the ravenette’s waist, completely unaware of the new attribute to her appearance.

Wednesday stares at the appendage, unsure how to proceed. This is... new, and she doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries with the demon, so trying to unwind the tail from her leg manually is out of question. She thinks about waking (Y/n) up, but that doesn’t sound pleasant either, not with the girl lying there, snuggly wrapped around Wednesday in all the possible ways, blessed with what must be the best sleep she’s gotten this week. This month, even – blood moons have been gaining frequency recently.

Wednesday huffs through her nose softly, then presses her head back against (Y/n)’s chest, ready to accept defeat. Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – for her, the slightest movement of the small body next to (Y/n) stirs her awake. Her throat rumbles with a sleepy prrbbtt sound that makes Wednesday bite her lip to keep a small smile from overtaking her usual scowl. The arm on her waist presses her closer before (Y/n) changes her position suddenly, rolling over onto her back and tugging the smaller girl on top of her, and this time the seer can’t hold back a noise of surprise as she’s handled like she weighs nothing to the demon. Which she probably does.

“(Y/n).” She calls softly, but the oni doesn’t budge.

Wednesday frowns, then reaches her hand up to tug at the demon’s long pointy ear gently, raising her voice a bit, “(Y/n).”

This time the girl squints one eye open.

“It’s early.” She grumbles, voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” the goth begins, trying her best to come up with a euphemism to describe what’s happening, “But it seems we’ve become... tangled in a small predicament.”

“Hm?”

There’s a slight subconscious squeeze to the meat of Wednesday’s thigh that makes her breath hitch.

“What the hell?”

(Y/n)’s eyes fly wide open, all the grogginess gone as she looks down at where she holds Wednesday in a way she never thought she would.

The beast inside of her purrs with possessiveness at the sight of her tail snug around the seer’s thigh, but the rational part of her screams that the appendage isn’t even supposed to be there in the first place.

(Y/n) untangles it quickly, and Wednesday finds herself missing the warm pressure immediately. It’s replaced with the demon’s warm hand padding at Wednesday’s thigh carefully to smooth away any pain and check for an injury or a bruise. The touch sends a small shiver down the goth’s spine.

“Are you alright? Did it hurt? How did that even happen?” (Y/n) exclaims, grabbing at her tail to give it a sharp tug, as if to check if it’s really there, attached to her loin, and winces when the not-so-gentle movement brings a sting to her coccyx.

“It must be some kind of a side effect of your transformation,” Wednesday observes calmly.

“This has never happened before!”

The smaller girl is grabbed and lifted, as gently as possible, off the demon’s frame before she can retort – the oni gets up from the bed hastily, her brand new appendage swishing behind her with aggravation, knocking a picture frame off the bedside table that Wednesday manages to catch before it can hit the floor and shatter into many pieces.

“(Y/n). You need to compose yourself.” The ravenette places the frame back carefully, tilting her head to inspect the photo. It’s a picture of her and the oni at the last year’s Rave’n Dance, Wednesday’s hand on (Y/n)’s shoulder as she looked up at the demon with what could only be described as adoration.

“I can’t!” The demon flings her arms, “Look at this!”

She makes a demonstrative movement of her tail, the long scaly limb moving sharply from side to side. The sight is, indeed, bizarre, doubled by the fact that the demon is stark naked.

Wednesday finds her gaze lingering.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“You’re exaggerating,” Wednesday sighs, waving a dismissive hand at her anxious lover, “Go cool yourself off. I’ll think of something.”

(Y/n) shakes her head in irritation but complies, walking into the bathroom, her tail hitting the doorframe as it swings around furiously. The door slams closed, and Wednesday is left alone with her thoughts, some of which are far from innocent.

The water’s been running in the bathroom for half an hour now as Wednesday sits at (Y/n)’s desk, having moved closer to the window for better lighting, the demon’s uniform pants in her hands as she works with a needle carefully, making a stitch around the small circle she has cut out from the back of the garment. Her brows are furrowed in focus, her thin elegant fingers handling the tool with masterful precision. She makes a few of the last stitches, tugs at the seams to check the sturdiness of her work, then cuts the thread with a quick bite of her teeth and puts the needle away. She holds the pants up to the sunlight, a small smile on her face, just in time with the door bursting open to reveal a fuming half-dressed demon.

“I’m skipping classes today.” (Y/n) grunts, holding a towel in a clawed palm and rubbing at her damp hair with extra vigor.

“No, you aren’t,” Wednesday gets up and offers the improved garment to the girl, “Put these on.”

The demon dresses reluctantly, leaving her blazer undone, then tugs her uniform pants up her waist. She growls with ire when the base of her tail bumps against the belt.

“This fucking thing.”

Wednesday smacks (Y/n)’s hands away and pulls at the boney limb gently, guiding its end through the makeshift hole as the demon continues to whine and growl softly.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

Just as Wednesday expected, it fits like a glove, sliding through the hole smoothly.

“There.”

The demon is silent for a moment, moving her tail back and forth to check for any discomfort or obstacles for the appendage, before she turns round and gives herself a once-over in the mirror, eyeing the hole in her pants.

“Did... did you do this?”

Wednesday hums noncommittally.

“It’s nothing complicated.”

(Y/n) grins at the goth, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Thank you. I love you.”

“It’s quite alright. I assure you... the view is more than appealing. It would be a shame to hide.”

The demon purrs in reply, her tail moving to wrap around Wednesday’s middle and pulling her into its owner’s chest so she could press her lips to the seer’s.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to hide it. It’s worse than a boner during a rut.”

Wednesday hums, her hands busying themselves with buttoning the taller girl’s blazer up.

“Don’t worry. I’d take care of that, too.”

She gives a small satisfied smile at the red hue of (Y/n)’s cheeks.

The long, boring essay on botany is the last thing on Wednesday’s mind when they sit together, shoulders touching. The demon seems focused, the tip of her sharp tongue sticking from between her lips as she scribbles something on her paper, determined to get a good grade (or maybe a praise from her very intelligent girlfriend, but that’s irrelevant), and her tail swishes slowly and calmly in her concentration.

The Addams girl eyes it discreetly, her gaze following the blunt spikes framing the texture of the appendage, before she gives the class a small look around. Everyone’s heads seem to be down: Enid is on the verge of tears, struggling over her paper, Kent scratches at his temple with a pen, and somewhere in the front rows Bianca is whispering something to Divina.

Perfect.

After a brief moment of mischievous scheming, Wednesday leans back in her seat and reaches her palm to rest on the small of the demon’s back experimentally.  (Y/n) gives a quiet appreciative hum, but doesn’t switch her attention to her girlfriend, too engrossed in her writing. The seer palms at her waist for a bit, caressing gently, before she curls her fingers and begins to scratch at the demon’s lower back.

(Y/n)’s eyes widen, and she turns to meet Wednesday’s, her face flushing slightly. The goth only offers a small smirk as an answer to the silent inquiry of the demon’s confused gaze, and slides her hand even lower, slender fingers slithering under the waistband of the oni’s uniform to scratch at the base of (Y/n)’s tail.

A small surprised whine leaves the taller girl’s mouth, and she folds over the desk, burying her face in her hands to keep any more pathetic noises from escaping as her body becomes covered in goosebumps at the feeling of Wednesday’s blunt nail at one of her most sensitive spots.

Wednesday scratches deeper, and the demon grasps at the edge of the table in an attempt to calm down, her talons leaving deep marks on the polished wood. Her tail starts to wag emotively, catching the attention of some of the students – the ravenette meets Xavier’s amused glance, and the glare she sends his way is enough to refrain him from looking in their direction again.

“What’s it with you and humiliating me in public, Addams?” (Y/n) seethes through clenched teeth. She lifts her head from the desk, revealing her crimson cheeks.

Wednesday can’t hold back a smile. The tiniest bit smug one, too.

“Oh, I just can’t help it. Kitten.”

[danzaloreley]

'Cause I love, to love, to love you

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader

Summary: Ever since Wednesday had been gifted a phone you decided to steal her phone to play a prank on her. But much to your surprise you see something unexpected on her phone.

Warnings: bad writing, some swearing

Words: 1.833k

A/N: i wrote this on my phone since my laptop is having a mental breakdown on me rn. not proof read since it's 3am and it's exam season lmao. sorryyy. also this is my first 'fic' post here. hope this isn't too bad lmao, enjoy:)

One of your absolute favourite hobbies, if it even counts as a hobby, is to "borrow" someone's phone for a few minutes and do something to the phone.

Whether it be quickly change their ringtone to something embarrassing, take a ungodly amount of selfies in thirty seconds, or even send yourself a message complimenting yourself or agreeing to do something stupid.

You always found an annoying trick to play. But you always had one that was your absolute favourite. A classic, some might say.

"Borrowing" someone's phone and changing their wallpaper to something incredibly stupid.

If you were lucky the persons phone would already have unattractive selfies they took as a joke, or a friend would send them one of themself that would automatically save to the phone.

You've done that over a thousand times to all of your friends and family members, and to you it never gets old.

Enid has always been the easiest victim because, one, her passcode is literally '2929', two, Enid always has a grip on her phone but in your or hers dorm room that grip instantly weakens and she always leaves her phone around the place.

The hardest victim to play this prank on is your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Although the goth is not often using her actual device, she always makes sure to keep it close to her person.

The rare times you've managed to snag it while she's in the bathroom or during her writing time, if she isn't looking, for the life of you, you cannot guess her passcode.

Hers has to be much more complex than Enid's simple four digit passcode, since you've tried everything you could've thought of as a six digit passcode, yet to no avail.

You've tried birthdays, important dates to Wednesday, her favourite numbers, secret messages using numbers.

Nothing works.

You've been patiently waiting for the day to finally play the harmless prank on your girlfriend for weeks, and on a quiet Saturday night, it finally happened.

_____________________________________

Saturday had always been your favourite day, who doesn't think Saturday as the best day?

You especially loved Saturdays since the fact the following day follows is Sunday, a day with also no school. Which meant Wednesday was allowed to come over to your dorm room and stay over for the night.

The school had a rule where sleepovers weren't permitted unless it was on the weekend, something that annoyed you greatly, but it was better than nothing.

This particular Saturday you and Wednesday decided to have a simple day. Both of you wanted to have more of a relaxing day rather than one full of plans for once.

It was ten in the evening and you and Wednesday had just finished the first episode of Criminal Minds, a show that took you a while of begging to get Wednesday to actually agree to watch with you.

With a smile you turned your head to look at her, her head already turned to look at you.

"So, what did you think?" You asked eagerly, hoping the goth actually enjoyed one of your favourite shows.

She gave a blank expression as she answered the question. "It was tolerable at best." You grinned at the response; pride filling in you since in Wednesday language that meant she actually liked it.

"I knew you'd like it!" You had the urge to add 'I told you so' but you opted to leave that out. "Whose your favourite character?"

Wednesday's raises her brows slightly at that. "A favourite character? I've only seen a singular episode and don't have a good enough concept of each character's personality to answer that question." She replied in a monotone voice as she glanced back at the screen before back at you.

You stared at her in silence for a moment before a slight smirk replaced the grin on your face.

"It's Hotch isn't it?" Wednesday gives you an annoyed stare as she crosses her arms over stomach. "Just because you've watched this show a myriad of times doesn't make you a profiler." She grumbled, confirming the answer to your question.

You chuckled as you teasingly nudged your shoulder with hers. "I know. I just know my girlfriend so well."

The corners of Wednesday's lips quirked up for a moment before they returned to their normal straight line. "Don't get too cocky, Y/n."

You chuckle once again as you moved your hand to holds Wednesday's, knowing the simple display of affection was one she didn't mind much.

Your smile only grew when Wednesday didn't hesitate to interlock your hands.

"I wouldn't dream of it. But I do know when we watch season two you will definitely love Emily but say otherwise."

Wednesday let out a scoff at your words. "I only remember agreeing to watch one episode of this show, not an entire season."

You shrugged your shoulders before saying. "Fine, I guess I'll have to watch the next episode alone while you sleep then."

Her dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed the ever slightest at that, as if she was trying to profile you to see if you were lying or not.

You stated back with the same amount of intensity, using it as an excuse to admire your girlfriend's beauty.

Wednesday uncharacteristically broke the eye contact first as she let out an angry huff.

"Only one more episode then." You grin at her words, already knowing that meant there were a lot more episodes ahead of you two.

"But I need to empty my bladder first." She states before she let go of your hand to stab up. Once she was out of the bed and standing she gave you a menacing glare before saying. "Don't start the episode without me."

You nodded your head.

"Go piss girl." You said as you let out a small laugh at your own words, still finding the meme enjoyable.

Wednesday stared blankly at you for a few seconds before she turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

She never understood the joke no matter how many times you told her the meme.

Once you heard the shutting of the door you didn't hesitate to roll over to Wednesday's side and retrieve her phone.

Pressing on the screen her lock screen appeared, her lockscreen wallpaper simply being a black background.

Very Wednesday, you thought to yourself. Was the chances of you actually figuring Wednesday's password slim? Yes. Impossible? No.

You were determined to change the girl's wallpaper to something stupid at least once.

Swiping up the phone presented the password screen to you, the circular numbers taking up the entire screen.

Your thumb hovered over the numbers as you thought of what possibly could her password.

Your first guess was '233267' since under each number was one letter that in order spelt 'Addams'.

Much to your disappointment the phone vibrated as the password emptied, telling you that the password was incorrect.

Knowing you didn't have much time to waste you quickly thought of another password you hadn't tried before.

'782378' This time the letters under the numerals spelt Pubert, the name of Wednesday's youngest brother.

Once again the phone vibrated angrily, taunting you that you got it wrong once again.

You sighed as you glanced over at the bathroom door knowing Wednesday would walk through them any minute.

Accepting your defeat you decided to give one last attempt before giving up. This time you just mimicked Wednesday's blank expression as you entered a six digit passcode you hadn't tried before.

'111111' You rolled your eyes as you entered the final digit expecting to hear the vibration once again, especially due to the fact how simple the password was.

But to your surprise you didn't feel a vibration in your hand. Instead you heard nothing.

Your eyes snapped back towards the screen and to your utter delight and shock you were in Wednesday's phone.

You actually managed to guess her password!

(You decided to ignore the fact it was literally more hackable and easier to guess than Enid's passcode)

A smug smile appeared on your face as you straightened your posture, pushing yourself slightly up as your mind rushed with different things you could change her wallpaper to.

Your eyes glanced at her home screen and you fully expected her home screen to be the same as her lock screen.

But it wasn't.

Her wallpaper was a picture of you two on your first date.

You were not expecting that.

The picture itself was a selfie you took, your face closer to the camera with Wednesday sitting behind you. You had a wide smile on your face while Wednesday had her iconic death stare.

In the background of the photo was the gorgeous forest of Nevermore. It was where you had your first date with Wednesday.

Wednesday had prepared a picnic and mapped out the best spot in the forest where she apparently knew the two of you wouldn't be interrupted. It was truly magical.

The longer you stared at the home screen the harder you found it to go actually change the picture.

Suddenly, you heard the obnoxiously loud taps from behind the bathroom door, indicating Wednesday was going to come out any second.

You glanced at the door before back at her phone. Even if it was a few seconds before Wednesday emerged that was still plenty of time for you to change it.

You smiled slightly to yourself as you shut the phone off and placed it back to its orignal spot before shifting back to your side of the bed.

As expected the bathroom door opened a few moments later and silently Wednesday walked over to the bed and got in.

She skilfully sneaked under the blanket you two were sharing and entered your personal space before she turned her head to look at you.

"Are you going to put the continuing episode on or not?" She asked impatiently with a tilt of her head.

You didn't reply at first. Instead you leaned down to kiss Wednesday's cold lips.

The shorter girl took a second to notice what was happening before you felt her kiss you back, you couldn't help but smile against her lips at the feeling.

The kiss itself was brief but it still managed to take away your breath as Wednesday pulled away.

She looked up at you with the smallest tint of pink tainting her ears, something you so desperately wanted to comment on.

"Although that was pleasurable why did you kiss me?" You shrugged your shoulders weakly as your grabbed Wednesday's hand with your hand. "I just wanted to kiss you." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The rare small smile slowly appeared on Wednesday's face as she turned to look at the TV screen at the foot of your bed. She shifted closer to you as she did so.

You pressed one final kiss to Wednesday's head before you grabbed the remote with your free hand and pressed play for the next episode.

Although your prank was a failure this time you didn't mind.

[danzaloreley]

A Blood Stained Crow

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X Reader

Synopsis: Slowburn, enemies to lovers fic where Wednesday and our new student GN!DEAF!Reader mistake their confusing feelings for hatred and distain.

Warnings: Implied su!c!dal thoughts, mental illness, blood (yall are freaky, do you even need a warning for that)

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: this is my first time writing in 2.5 million years … so it’s more for me than for you but I like you do it’s okay. <3 also yes, this will be a series. This is technically pt.1.

“Fall.”

The words rasped and rang against your ears, sending your heart plummeting to your feet. The voice was unidentifiable, distorted as if someone was speaking through a broken-down radio. You flinch as a droplet of water splashes against the tip of your nose, your eyes slowly drifting upwards towards the sky; revealing its gloominess and blistering rain clouds. Your surroundings past the building you were standing on were a blur as if water had gotten on a camera lens, only allowing you to see outlines and sparks of light that managed to seep through. You brought the hood of your jacket up to your ears, never actually allowing it to cover your head or touch your hair. You usually took pride in how long it took for you to get it done anyways. 

“Fall.” The voice echoed against the walls of your brain once more, the world painted in blues and deep reds almost shifting in color, complimenting the rhythm of the words spoken into its damp air. Your breath appeared in small clouds of ice in front of your face every time you exhaled. Taking in the scene before you, your eyes eventually land on the figure below, an enigma with no face. You’ve seen them before, the one that taunts your thoughts, and your dreams, drawing you in with their presence, like a magnet to a refrigerator. Their head is tilted upwards, their face seen directed towards you through the sheerness of their umbrella, protecting their clothing from the rain. You extend your neck slightly from the fortress you created around your face with your hood, attempting to get a better look at him. 

“Hurt them, Y/N.”

You blink slowly at his words, your brain taking a moment to process the fact that he was indeed, speaking to you, regardless of if he had a mouth or not. Suddenly, it felt as if his words grew hands, grabbing your heart and lungs, attempting to teeter you over the edge. You cannot fall, you forbade it long ago, knowing that going over the edge would result in someone seriously injured. 

“Y/N.”

“Y/N…”

Your breathing hitched as your footing on the roof began to slip, leaning back slightly in hopes that your body weight would outweigh the magnitude of his voice. The air suddenly felt like knives made of ice, piercing your lungs with each breath. It hurt, it hurt to breathe, to move, to see, to hear.

“Y/N-!”

Your eyes jolt up to Bianca’s face, snapping yourself out of whatever world you had just returned from. Your lungs heaved as if no matter how deeply you inhaled, no air would be enough to convince them that you were alive. Bianca placed a hand on your shoulder, slightly wrinkling the fabric of your Nevermore Academy embroidered blazer. The concern that riddled her eyes was enough for you to give her a small nod of reassurance, answering her unspoken question on if you were okay or not. You didn’t have these episodes often, but they happened more so now that the new principal forced you to continue your fencing course after Weems died. Weems was the only one that understood why putting you around anything remotely violent was a horrible idea: given your history. 

“I can lie, say you’re sick in the restroom again…”

The siren offered, stepping in front of you to fix your lop-sided blazer, and how your collar bent uncomfortably against your neck. You must’ve been pacing recklessly whilst in your mental hell. She was the only one you allowed to get this close to you without you being uncomfortable, then again, she was the only one willing. Bianca had been your friend since you started at Nevermore, your demeanor was high demand, cold, and monotone from the start, and yet, she was drawn to it nonetheless. Though, regardless of her, rumors spread like wildfire… and your fellow peers began whispering about how you were just trying to be another version of Wednesday. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth considering that you didn’t even like the girl, the two of you were similar yes, but those key differences were the reason why you didn’t like her. Her attitude alone was enough to ignite the pool of paraffin oil in your stomach, making your hands ache with the need to hit her, choke her, anything. Your brows furrow at the thought of that, but you let out a heavy sigh as you give Bianca the best smile you could muster.

“No need… I think I can handle it this time.”

“Alright, but if you need anything, text me. I’m more than happy to help.”

She attempts to appear as if she believes you, smiling as she pats your chest before leaving. Her footsteps echoed through the halls as she left, the panging of her heels against the distant flooring vibrating against your hearing aid. You had always been hard of hearing, ever since you were a child. The story was too long to explain to others how exactly you lost your hearing, so you always resorted to the same, fake story. You were present for the explosion that happened in your hometown some years ago, the result of a worn-down chemical plant that falsely passed one too many inspections. You now have severe hearing loss because of this, and whether or not people believed you didn’t matter, because it wasn’t real anyways. You slowly dragged your feet towards the locker room just east of the courtyard, pushing past the other students in your cohort who were dressed in their fencing Lamés’ for the session that was about to start. You dropped your duffle bag at your feet, huffing when you opened your locker and began undressing slowly. 

You unbuttoned your uniform, slipping it off your shoulders. Folding your shirt, along with your blazer neatly before setting it on one of the shelves within your locker. Doing the same with your slacks soon after, you crouched to open your duffle bag, retrieving the deep maroon-colored uniform from it. Red was your color, it was known by the students, faculties, and families of the school. And much like that brooding Wednesday herself, you also had your accommodations when it came to the color of your clothing. Once the fitted piece of work was on your body, you picked up your helmet and your blade from the bag as well, marching out with the crowd of students to take your spot on the mats. As much as you hated the class already, you hated the system Coach Vlad had altered when it came to sparring with each other more. Forcing the same skill level to go against each other as a warm-up before you chose who was next. 

You check the chart that he had displayed on the wall, your eyes slowly gliding down until you found your name. Your skin prickled into the form of goosebumps and the acid in your stomach churned in anger when you saw who you were paired with. Your head turns slowly, meeting the eyes of the only other person in the room whose uniform contrasted yours perfectly, as annoying as it was to admit. The only two colors in the sea of white splotches, the only flare to the blandness of their peers. Wednesday. Her eyes were cold, and dark, glaring at you through her furrowed eyebrows. She didn’t seem very thrilled either, and you didn’t blame her. You set the helmet on your head, letting it rest atop of your hair without allowing the mesh to cover your face yet. Truthfully, you wanted her to see how unresponsive you were to her looks, knowing that deep down, it got under her skin… even just a little bit. And knowing that much, made the corners of your mouth quirk up into a faint smile of toxic excitement. 

“Y/N.”

“Wednesday.”

You greeted each other plainly, not one person more monotone than the other. You couldn’t exactly see it, but something in you knew that her glances away from you were directed towards Coach Vlad, almost debating on testing the waters. You gave her the much-needed moments of silence as she pondered, your shoulders caving in and tensing as you watched her eyes make their way down your body, almost sizing you up. It wasn’t the first time you two have sparred, but the time she took to look at you almost made you uncomfortable. After she’s had her fill, you watched her drop her helmet to the side of the mat… military challenge, great. You follow her lead, following the drop of your helmet with the swift unhooking of your hearing aid. Bending down to place it within your helmet so that no one would accidentally step on it, not that you didn’t have the means to replace it, but the inconveniences it would cause were unappealing to you. 

The world was drowned out immediately, being reduced to nothing but mumbled noises, the only thing to really get your attention was the clashing of other students’ blades on one another. Wednesday watched you respectfully, waiting until you had your eyes on her before she even considered positioning herself properly. She was annoying, but not a monster. You grasped the handle of your blade between your torso and your armpit, crossing your fingers into the signed letter “R” and swaying your hands to sign to her that you were ready, mouthing the word as you did so. 

Positioning yourself with a blade in hand, you inhaled slowly to ground yourself. Trying not to pay attention to the students in the corner of your eyes stopping their spar to watch the two of you, anxiety was weakness, and you couldn’t afford to lose. Not to her. Wednesday moved with swiftness,  jutting her arm forward in an attempt to either hit you or prompt you with her aggressiveness. You respond immediately, clashing your blade with hers in time for her not to cut you, swinging her sword with enough force to shove her back. You lunge forward with your sword, one hand behind your back to keep you from getting a fowl from wanting to grab her. And it took everything in you not to, the voice begins to ring in your head again as you swiped your blade by her face. Luckily, the tip only trimmed off a centimeter of her bangs instead of rendering her blind. 

“Fall.”

The voice was distorted, and muffled, the lack of your hearing aid helping you in a way with this situation. You were too focused for your brain to even begin to try and remember what voices sounded like. Wednesday retracted, moving her body weight back and using it to her advantage, spinning herself to try and catch the back of your neck with her blade. It was a low blow, Wednesday knew that much, but beating you by any means necessary fogged her mind more than the rules did. You ducked your head, your eyes widening slightly as you saw a few strands of your hair fall in front of your face. It was hypocritical to let this upset you the way it did, but your hair was of value to you, and this was arguably much more than you trimmed off of the gloomy-eyed girl. There was a brief pause between you two, your eyes meeting once your face slowly made its way to hers.  

“Y/N.” 

Wednesday’s eyes hardened in masked concern as she watched the kerosene ignite in your eyes, just like that, you snapped. Not fully, but enough to remove the arm from behind your back to strike her side with your elbow. Causing her to lurch and groan at the sudden pain, moving enough to the side for you to shoot up to your feet. Whipping your blade to point in her direction, your nose scrunched slightly as your nostril flared, your chest rising and falling with your solemn breaths. Wednesday stared up at you from her knees, almost appearing as if she was catching her own breath, before grabbing your wrist. Using her weight to pull you forward, flipping you onto your back. You lose the air in your lungs, choking on the last bit of oxygen that threatened to fully deflate your chest. Your vision was hazy, the impact of the fall causing a ringing in your ears that was close enough to render goosebumps on your skin but distant enough for it to sound as if it was being drowned underwater.  

A figure moved swiftly above you, the blur of the world making it hard to see who it was. But once those stupid pigtails were seen lingering in the air as they hovered over you, the most you could do was tighten the loose grip you had on your blade. Using the rest of your strength to lazily swipe at whatever was above you. Convinced you missed it, but it was more of an act of self-defense than anything. You were vulnerable, unable to both see and hear in that moment and it caused a bit of internal panic. In the same moment you had swung your blade, you felt the vibration of the opponent’s blade conflicting with yours as they passed each other. 

Your neck stung, like a papercut where your jawline met your throat. 

Silence.

You lost… again. To this stupid, pigtailed ghost. Your face was too busy catering to your furrowed brows and choking mouth as your lungs tried to gulp in the air to show it, but it annoyed you, angered you even. You heard the faint thud of a hand landing next to your face as you tried to ignore the stinging from the shallow cut in your neck, the figure above you reaching over for something next to the two of you. Your vision was coming back slowly, you squinted your eyes against the light as you attempted to make out Wednesday’s face. Reaching your hand up shakily to touch the cut that ached and throbbed with heat from irritation on your body, but another hand stopped you, firmly placing something into it.

Your hand clenched around it, your eyes frantically searching the face above you until you could see Wednesday more clearly. Obscuring still, but you were able to make out the vague features here and there. Your hand clasped the device she placed in your hand, no words exchanged, not even an attempt on her part to mouth what it was. But once your fingers grazed over the nub that was supposed to be under your ear you knew she was giving over your hearing aid to help you. Your stomach contorted in knots, not from annoyance or anger… but a sickening feeling that made you want to throw up but not experience anything less. It was confusing. Contradicting. You hooked it over your ear and turned it on, flinching as your ear adjusted to all the murmuring of the people around you.

“Congrats.”

She spoke blandly, her voice breathless as she reached to wipe the bead of sweat making its way down her cheek. You lay there, wondering what she was congratulating you on. You parted your lips to speak, but before you could even utter a word, something cold fell on your cheek. It plopped against your skin with weight, not a lot, but a substance thicker than water for sure. Something in your bones was grossed out, hoping she wasn’t sweating enough for it to drip onto you. But when your finger glided against the droplet on your skin you knew immediately what it was by the consistency. Bringing your hand in front of your face as your eyes struggled to focus on the red splotch it presented to you.

You had cut her. 

[danzaloreley]

darling darkness

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

This story belongs to the I Told the Moon universe

Summary: Wednesday has a strange way of calming you down even on your worst days.

A/N: A little deeper look into my favorite universe. Some ideas here were suggested by @annalestern and @roleplayfandom. <3

Masterlist

There was something about the little nook where the Poe Statue stood. It was reserved, but not hidden. Away from prying eyes, yet not safe from any wandering students.

You figured that's why Wednesday liked this spot, she liked the risk of getting caught. The rush of it, if you will.

You could tell just from the feeling of her smirk. The small curve of her lips that made it just a tad harder for them to fit with yours.

For someone so sharp-edged — her words, not yours — rigid even, from her routine to the straightness of her clothes; she quite enjoyed to have you unraveling her.

It always started with her fingers curling around the fabric of your blazer so she could lay the ghost of a kiss on the edge of your mouth. She's not one for words, never has been; actions are her thing. Wednesday will confess to you in the way her nimble fingers traced a path up your neck and to your jaw, tender in a way you doubt she even knew she was capable of.

That was always your cue to pull her closer, to bring your arms around her waist and bury your hands underneath her shirt to touch the surprisingly warm skin of her lower back.

And Wednesday shivered at your touch, every single time. You're the only one who can make it happen.

Her kisses held unspoken words in them. But who needs words anyway, when she presses herself to you as if you'd run away?

It's been like this for a few months, and each time she pulls away — lips a little swollen and pupils so big that her eyes are almost totally black — it feels like the first time.

"Why do you insist on them?"

Her voice was like a soft gush of wind over the haziness her lips always put you in.

You smiled at the girl who had you pressed against the cold concrete wall, your thumb lazily tracing the skin on her waist. "Sorry," you raised a hand, taking off your sunglasses, "I forgot."

One thing you learned pretty quickly was that Wednesday had a passion for your fiery eyes. You'd catch her staring just a moment too long whenever you took off your sunglasses in her presence. Eventually, you started to not use them at all when around her.

Wednesday's dark doe eyes seemed to count each speck of color in your irises, each shade of honey and golden brown, losing herself in you. Her eyebrows softened their crease and you could feel her nails scratching at the back of your neck slightly.

You loved her for it, for associating a part of you you were never too keen on, with something worthy of devotion.

Something you didn't exactly love, though, was how perceptive she was.

"I couldn't help but notice your lack of annoying quips today," Wednesday raised an eyebrow at you then, "why is that?"

You averted her gaze then, clicking your tongue. As you did so, both of you could hear faint footsteps approaching; Wednesday was quick to untangle her limbs from yours, clearing her throat as she leaned back against the Poe Statue.

Two gorgon girls passed by you, and you stuffed your hands in your pockets. You wondered if they'd believe you if you told them how the Wednesday Addams turns into putty in your hands.

That was a thought for another time though, as you could feel a familiar weight settling into your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin. She wasn't wrong, you've been quieter today. "Um-" you tried to start, words heavy on your tongue, "my father called this morning, letting me know he's coming to pick me up this weekend." You gave Wednesday a defeated shrug, feeling small under her gaze.

"Why is that?" She asked without much emotion in her tone, but you could see the way she clenched her jaw.

The silence dragged, as if speaking would make it more true.

"Our family has been invited to a gala, something about potential business deals, I didn't really pay attention," you grimaced, "my father says it's imperative that everyone attends… especially his prized pony." You mumbled the last part, disdain dripping from each syllable.

Sincerely speaking, you were used to these parties, had attended them more times than you could remember. Though it always brought a knot to your stomach to think about being surrounded by disagreeable people who were all too powerful for anyone's sake; always whispering about wicked deals without considering who loses their lives on the line. Your family had one of the most renowned names amongst them, so whether you liked it or not, you were already in the game.

"Tell him you can't go, that you're busy with school," Wednesday raised a brow, taking half a step closer to you, "I'll vouch for you."

It was sweet just how protective Wednesday had grown of you. Reaching out, you gingerly ran a finger over one of her braids; "unfortunately, it doesn't work like that."

Wednesday's dark eyes flitted over your features and, slowly, she hooked her fingers with yours. It was a comfort to know she'd be waiting for you upon your return.

—

There was something about the darkness of the night. The cold and quiet tend to make one's emotions flourish; maybe it has something to do with the hazy silver glow of the moon and how it shines over the low fog.

Because of the fog, the grass under your paws was slightly wet, cool to the touch. The fur of your legs that touched the longer blades of grass grew damp as you walked through the deserted gardens of Nevermore.

The huffs of breath that escaped your nose were just as white as the fog, telltales of the approaching winter. It was a cold night, but you didn't feel it; the thick layer of midnight fur around your body kept you warm enough.

If any unlucky student were to bump into you right now, they'd probably think their time on this earth came to an end and the devil's beast was here to claim their soul — what with how you were lost in the darkness of the night, only leaving the frightening sight of your honey-colored eyes.

Still, nighttime was your time; it relaxed you as almost nothing else could. Pulling your mind away from your unfortunate predicament as you lay on the damp grass and gazed up at the shining moon above you.

There was an anomaly though, has been for a while. You're not sure how exactly she finds you, part of you thinks she has Thing keeping watch on you. But recently, she has been the one to invade your nights, and not the other way around.

Your ears perked up at the sound of her footsteps, listening carefully until you felt movement beside you.

She was the exception. The student who didn't fear the sight of your eyes, but loved it. The one who could calm you down more than the moon ever could.

Wednesday sat down beside you, the grass undoubtedly dampening the fabric of her pants as her thigh brushed against your paw.

Words didn't matter much.

Wednesday reached a hand out, her fingers disappearing between the dark fur of your neck and sliding up to your ear until she traced its form. And you melted.

Your head came to rest on her lap and she cradled you to her. Embracing her wolf closer to her body. Your fur doing a good job of keeping her warm on this cold night.

That's all you were tonight, all you wanted to be. Her wolf.

—

The morning you watched your father's car pull up to the school's parking lot was a cloudy one. You were dressed to the nines; with a long, dark dress that hugged the form of your body perfectly, and obsidian jewelry that cost more than you'd like to admit. All of it carefully handpicked by your father, his only child had to exude nothing less than perfection anyway.

Wednesday sat atop your bed while you glared at your reflection in the mirror, fiddling with the necklace on your hands. Though you could feel the weight of her gaze on you.

You felt out of place in your own body. Suffocated by the layers of expensive fabric that touched your skin. Slowly, you were falling into a mild panic, anticipation twirling inside your stomach.

And then, the feeling suddenly dissipated.

Cold fingers grazed the nape of your neck. You watched through the mirror as Wednesday stood behind you, her fingers disappearing into your hair the same way they did against your fur. The ghost of a kiss she placed on your shoulder came unexpectedly, but not unwelcomed.

"Even if the circumstances are not ideal, you look dazzling, mi luna."

A soft warmth came to your cheeks upon hearing Wednesday's words and you ducked your head sheepishly with a chuckle. You turned to face her then, all so you could pull her into a kiss, which she reciprocated immediately.

Wednesday's palms smoothed over your dress, dark nails digging into even darker fabric as she tugged you closer.

You pulled away slowly when air became a necessity, without really wanting to, running your tongue over your bottom lip to catch any remains of her.

Feeling strangely timid, you glanced down at the necklace on your hands, running a thumb over the faded pink pendant. You looked at Wednesday through your lashes; "would you keep it safe for me?" You asked, extending the necklace to her, "my father doesn't like to see me wear it."

A beat or two passed with Wednesday's eyes going from your face to your hand, she looked almost… surprised?

"Of course," she eventually breathed.

You reached around her then, gently clasping the necklace around her neck. The pink pendant looked a little foreign on Wednesday's pale skin, but you loved it on her. It felt as if a part of you would stay close to her heart.

"I'll be counting the seconds until I can come back to you," you whispered, leaning in once more to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

Wednesday kept a secure hold of your hand as you walked together down the stairs, through the gardens, and to the parking lot. She stopped by the gates, with a faraway gaze focused on the figure of your father waiting for you outside the car.

Only when you squeezed her hand, did her eyes slowly settle back on you. Her bangs flowed softly with the breeze outside, her cheeks a tad rosier because of the cold; "let me know if I have to kill anyone upon your return."

She managed to pull a last smile from you and you ran your thumb on the skin of her hand before letting go, "I will."

With that, you were walking away from her, your high heels steadily thudding against the stone path as you reached your father. You couldn't breathe even if you tried to. "Hello, dad."

He didn't look at you, instead, he kept his eyes on the dark-haired girl who stood by the gates, undoubtedly holding a daring staring contest with him. "Who is that girl?"

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but for Wednesday's sake, you said them; "just a friend, no one important."

Silently, the golden eyes of your father looked you up and down, making a shiver run down your spine. When he judged you were looking appropriate enough, he turned around, "get in, we should've left two minutes ago."

"Yes sir," you mumbled and opened the passenger's door.

As the key was turned in the ignition and the car started slowly pulling away, you kept your gaze out the window and focused on Wednesday. The last thing you saw was the way she took half a step forward, as if the increasing distance between you pulled painfully at her heartstrings.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevans @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[danzaloreley]

—Just Last Lifetime | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wednesday is determined to recreate the special moments of your relationship to revive your memories—to revive your feelings. But it becomes apparent that the same memories cannot be created twice.

Warnings: Heavy Angst. Heartbroken!Wednesday. DestinedToBeAlone!Wednesday. Amnesia. Flashbacks. Violent emotional outbursts.

PART ONE

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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

Note: so this is it! The end...haha unless...👀 lol jk...unless ☝️

Count: 4.9k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"We're going somewhere for our studies today."

You look curiously at Wednesday, clutching the straps of your backpack a little tighter at the sudden spring of information. 

Wednesday pretends to not notice your anxiousness, turning to walk off and expecting you to follow. She pays attention to the footsteps behind her, satisfied that you trail along despite clearly being reluctant. 

It's been easier to spend time with you lately, with Yoko being incredibly busy with her club activities, and Enid has been keeping herself busy on purpose to leave you with no choice but to spend time with Wednesday. 

Wednesday doesn't think you particularly hate spending time with her. You're always cordial and friendly. You've thanked her multiple times for taking the time to help you catch up on your studies and assistance with your current assignments. 

Just a few days ago, you gifted her 99% dark chocolate for all the help. Wednesday had been intrigued, thinking you recalled how she preferred the bitter taste. But the intrigue swiftly died when you informed her Enid let you know as you wanted to do something for her. 

It didn't matter. It was the fact alone that you went out of your way to give Wednesday something she'd like that mattered. 

"Where are we going?" You ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and wariness the further you walk past the school entrance, clearly leaving. "Are we actually studying?"

Wednesday's eyes peer to the corner of her eyes to look at you. 

"You study too much."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"You spend too much time investigating, Wednesday." 

Wednesday didn't even look up at you as she continued to pack her backpack for the day. 

"I thought you were interested in coming along to find answers?" Wednesday's voice was dispassionate. There was a part of her that was tinged with annoyance that you constantly invited yourself along to her trips if you were just going to get sick of tagging along now. 

"I very much am, but we've clearly hit a wall and I'm not particularly looking forward to walking around in circles in the forest today," you pursed your lip but then smiled. "Why don't we take a little bit of a break today? If you really want to, we can continue investigating tonight instead."

"You're willing to sneak out?" Wednesday raised her brow at you. She thought you were ridiculous for trying to bargain with her. The investigation was important, and Wednesday had no desire to lose any time. 

She would investigate, and you were free to come along or not. 

"I'll break any rule for you, Wednesday."

You said it in such a natural way, and Wednesday found that she was unable to reply right away. She looked back down at the ground for a moment, blinking before she looked back up at you.

"Where are we going?"

Wednesday had several ideas of where you might take her. There was the music hall, the planetarium, or even the garden. But what she hadn't expected was that you'd take her to the carnival.

"You didn't get to enjoy it, right?" You asked as you stepped out of the taxi, paying the driver cash. Wednesday didn't answer, but you knew the answer. "I mean, probably hard to enjoy since you were chasing the Hyde and almost died after Rowan did."

That was another one of the reasons why Wednesday didn't mind that you came along with her investigations. You were the only person who believed her when she said Rowan was dead, despite also being of the people who saw him in the aftermath. 

When Wednesday asked why you believed her, you simply said she didn't come across as someone who would lie about it. So, if he was dead, he was dead. 

"I suppose," Wednesday looked at the carnival before her. It was moderately busy for a weekend, and she wasn't particularly interested in doing any of these mundane activities. 

"Alright," you clapped your hands, bringing Wednesday's attention to you. "We're on a mission today. I come here every year the carnival opens up to win the biggest prize, but my tickets were short since the carnival got cut short last time with the entire…situation."

"What are you trying to win?" Wednesday asked.

You grin at her, pointing far down the carnival with a specific booth. "That mini motorcycle."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"This is rigged," Wednesday seethed, glaring at the booth worker who was nervously sweating ever since she approached. 

You laughed, grabbing Wednesday's attention and the relief of the worker. "I know, right? We're totally just losing money at this point."

It was a simple game. A gun with 9 rubber bullets and 10 balloons to pop, and you had to win 5 times in a row with no supernatural abilities to get enough tickets to win the motorcycle. 

It was not impossible, Wednesday knew that, but the balloons were not close enough where she could get away with hitting two with one rubber bullet. 

They've both spent $100 at this point and while Wednesday would get 9 of 10 balloons every time, you would hit one balloon before you missed every other shot, hitting the corner of the wooden target. 

As often as you refilled, it was starting to wear a dent. 

"You're terrible at this," Wednesday bluntly said, but you merely smiled and shrugged. 

A bit of wind was picking up, making the balloons circle around in their spot. Wednesday spotted her opportunity and chance when two balloons circled close enough towards each other, barely grazing. 

Wednesday timed it perfectly and shot her 9 bullets, using her last one to wait as they circled towards each other before shooting and getting them both. 

"Oh," you grinned. "That was really impressive." 

Wednesday didn't react to your praise, waiting for the worker to rotate the next round of balloons and repeating her actions while the wind continued. 

So far, Wednesday has won 4 times in a row. She had to pause as the wind died down, but it was sure to come back in a few moments.  

"What do you want if we both win?" You asked. "There's only one motorcycle, so you may have to settle for something else."

Wednesday snorted. "I'm not sure I should get my hopes up on getting anything." It was a dig at the fact you've been absolutely terrible with your shots.

"C'mon, Wednesday," you grinned. "Dream a little."

"I don't dream."

"Nightmare it up a little," you quickly rebuttal.

Wednesday sighed, looking at the prizes that hung and framed the booth. Outside of random useless knick knacks, there were just stuffed animals—which were also useless.

But Wednesday's eye caught on a large scorpion stuffed animal. She wasn't one for being sentimental, but this was as good as it would get.

"That," Wednesday pointed at the scorpion stuffed animal.

You looked at it, grinning as you knew the story behind it. "Sure thing."

The wind picked up again, and Wednesday took the opportunity to win the 5th time in a row. The booth worker, whom Wednesday also assumed was the owner, looked relieved and reluctant to hand over the mini-motorcycle.

"I don't want to stand here for hours," Wednesday deadpanned, having already spent 2 and a half hours winning this prize for you. You would be here for 2 and a half days at the rate you were going.

"We're just about finished," you told Wednesday, and she raises her brow, thinking you'd given up. 

But you slap down another $20 bill, smirking. Wednesday looked to your side of the targets and noticed the small dent you've managed to create with the rubber bullets. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was your plan all along. 

Wednesday gets her answer within minutes. Suddenly, you've turned into a master marksman, shooting every balloon precisely until you were down the last two side by side. You tilted your gun, aiming it at the target, where you created a dent in the side. When you shot the bullet, it shot inside the hole and bounced against the wood, flying out with just enough force to hit the two balloons from the side. 

Wednesday furrowed her brows in disbelief. 

It continued like that until you won 5 times in a row without pausing. The owner looked like he wanted to say something but merely rolled his eyes with a certain kind of fondness Wednesday was sure you earned over the years coming here. 

"The tickets get you two of these," the owner said, handing you two large scorpion stuffed animals.

"Did you have fun?" you grinned at Wednesday.

"It was passable," Wednesday admits, unable to fully say that even mundane activities like carnival games were interesting if she was with you. 

As you left the booth, you handed Wednesday the stuffed scorpions to hold while taking the mini motorcycle. 

"Look," you said. "Now your scorpion has a little friend to keep them company, or a little girlfriend," you wriggled your brows at her while Wednesday sighed, not commenting back.

She looks at the motorcycle and then at you. "Do you even know how to operate this?"

You smiled at Wednesday. "Not at all."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The biggest prize of the carnival is still the mini motorcycle, as they don't change the award until next year. It seems they've stocked up since the last time the two of you were here. 

Wednesday knows you already have one, but it wouldn't hurt to have another one. 

You seem spirited to be at the carnival playing games, as it's obviously familiar to you. 

They walk up to the same booth with the same owner, who clearly recognizes them.

"Oh, not again," he sighs. "You're going to run me out of business. Any chance I can talk you out of winning again?"

You look confused, but when you see the motorcycle as the prize, a moment of recognition dawns on your face from the one in the corner of your room. "I've already won this," you slowly say as a confirmation but not as a memory. 

"Close," Wednesday drawls. "I won it."

You look confused as to why Wednesday would win the big prize for you, but before you question it, Wednesday speaks again. "It's time to repay the favor and win me one too."

You smile weakly as if the pressure is on, but you pick up the gun, studying the targets. The dent you created on the target was gone as the owner replaced it. You play a couple of rounds to get a feel of the game, while Wednesday puts little effort into her own game. It's unlikely there'd be wind again this time around. Even if Wednesday now knew the other method, it was something Wednesday hoped you would get on your own. 

As time goes on, you're starting to get the idea of how to win. It's rather satisfying to watch you get to the same conclusion. 

Wednesday takes her time achieving the same method as you. You're focused on your own game, not checking how Wednesday's faring. 

You both created a dent relatively around the same time before shooting in sync, winning 5 times in a row. 

The owner sighs, shaking his head and muttering about changing the rules about damaging the targets to win. Still, he hands you the motorcycle before asking what else you want.

"Uh," you hesitate, looking at the various prizes before you. Your eyes spot two stuffed animals that make you grin. "The bat and the wolf, please."

With the prizes in tow, the two of you leave the booth. 

"What are you going to do with the mini motorcycle?" You ask. 

"Teach you how to ride," Wednesday bluntly tells you. 

You look surprised. "Oh," you chuckled weakly. "Right, I guess I probably told you I wouldn't know how to ride one."

Wednesday doesn't know what to say about your comment, so she veers off topic. "What are you going to do with the stuffed animals?" Wednesday internally sighs at the ridiculousness of the question. There are very limited things you can do with stuffed animals. 

"I'm going to give them to Yoko and Enid," you smile. 

"Right," Wednesday mutters, feeling something bitter rise in her throat but unable to identify it. Despite coming here and doing it correspondingly, none of this feels the same. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

You shrug your shoulders before nodding. "It's not bad to take a break from studying."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The second time Wednesday takes you somewhere, you give her a confused smile.

"I'm pretty behind on my classes still," you gently point out, hinting that you're not up for another day of playing hooky, and Wednesday concedes with a nod.

"I'm aware. We aren't taking a break today," Wednesday clarifies, "we're merely studying in a different scenery." 

The walk is silent as you follow Wednesday's lead. She takes you further down the river to an area you haven't explored before until you eventually reach a tall wisteria tree, probably the only one in Vermont, preserved with magic. 

"Wow," you breathe in awe, "I didn't know we had one so near campus."

The gothic girl is lost in her thoughts as she settles near the base of the tree, grabbing the books from her backpack on autopilot. 

You used to trail beside her, and now you always walk one step behind. 

It's something Wednesday noticed as she took you around various parts of the school during your study sessions in an attempt to recreate the memories. She knows you're starting to find her odd, but Wednesday can't afford to tell you what she's really trying to do.

Wednesday's goal wasn't necessarily to make you remember everything by taking you to these places that hold special memories. If you never remember, that's okay. What Wednesday wants is to recreate the memories in hopes they'll lead the two of you down the same path it did the first time.

But instead of growing closer like you did the first time, it feels like you're pulling further away. 

Even so, Wednesday can't stop trying. 

"Um," you mumble as you search through your notebooks. "I was hoping we could pick up where we left off on ancient languages?"

Wednesday nods, and the two of you delve into the usual strict business of studying. 

Everything is fine, and Wednesday is grading one of your practice sheets while you work on another. It's fine until she notices your trembling fingers. It's subtle as you were obviously trying to hide it, tightening your hands into fists and keeping them at your sides as you attentively look at the worksheet.

"I can't seem to understand the syntax—" you start to say but abruptly stop when Wednesday suddenly stands up, reaches up, and rips off a wisteria flower stock from the tree. She sits back down, reaching over and grabbing your wrist. The gentle squeezing of her hold prompts you to open your hand up, and Wednesday places wisteria stock into your hand.

The shaking stops, and Wednesday begins explaining the syntax to you without skipping a beat while you stare at her, stunned.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"Let's go to the wisteria tree," you were holding Wednesday's hand as you dragged her along. "Today is such a beautiful day, and your skin is way too fair—I mean pale—I mean pallor—to be out in the sun."

Wednesday merely gave you an unimpressed look. 

"Once again, you're disrupting my investigations. At this rate, it will take me a lifetime to solve the murders going on here," Wednesday's tone was disgruntled. "It would tarnish not only my reputation but also my ego, and I will make sure you die a miserable death for doing so."

"Ignoring the fact that everyone on campus would totally be dead," you turned around and grinned, "We'd have spent a lifetime together—before you killed me, of course."

You didn't add anything else to your words, but Wednesday could catch the insinuations between the lines. 

A lifetime together. 

A lifetime with you. 

The idea didn't displease Wednesday at all; if anything, the fact that it didn't was more disgruntling. 

A large wisteria tree appeared, and the two of you easily settled in. Wednesday was grateful that she had an inkling she should bring a book today in her bag. 

"I love this place," you sighed with happiness. "I can't believe you found this place, and I've never noticed it in the years I've been going here."

"It's colorful," Wednesday drawled in response. The flowers that grew were vibrant violet and lavender, something she thought was entirely putrid, but she knew you would love it. 

Wednesday was about to say something else when she noticed your fingers were shaking.

"What's wrong with your hands?" Wednesday asked with narrowed eyes.

You looked down, finding you were shaking, before clenching your hands into fists. "It's nothing, it just happens sometimes."

"It's not nothing," Wednesday seethed, angered that you would dare lie to her face. "Why is it shaking? What's wrong?"

You looked like you were debating something for a long moment before you asked her. "Can you grab me one of the wisteria flower stocks?"

Wednesday narrows her eyes at your avoidance, but she gets up, pulls a flower stock off from one of the branches, and passes it to you as she sits down.

"Why does it shake like that?" Wednesday demanded again.

"It's my power," you answer softly, wrapping your fingers around the flower. Wednesday watched as the flower in your handle steadily withered and died. You were smiling at her, but your eyes had a distinct melancholy look.

"This happens when I don't use my powers enough or use them too much. Air is generally made up of a lot of different gases but too little or too much of one causes disruptions in my body because the equilibrium between the air outside and the air inside my body isn't stabilized," you shrugged, holding the withered wisteria flowers in your hands that no longer shook. "I try not to if I can, but plants are a cheat way for me to expel and absorb air to find the equilibrium."

"Why not? It's obviously the most efficient way to stop the shaking," Wednesday frowned. 

You shrugged. "I don't think it's a good idea for people to realize there are drawbacks to my powers and how to fix them. It may start with plants, but people will eventually start fearing I can use people the same way."

"Can you?"

You quirked your lip in response, and Wednesday knew the answer. 

"Besides," you sighed, dropping the dead wisteria stock with a regretful frown. "Some plants are really beautiful. It's a shame to kill them."

Wednesday looked up at the hanging flowers and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I encourage you to kill this offensively colorful tree."

"When it makes you so miserable? I can't deprive you of that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The silence drags on too long, and your lack of response prompts Wednesday to look at you.

You're staring at her before Wednesday watches peer down at your hand, intensely in thought. There's a mix of disbelief and curiosity in your eyes, and Wednesday doesn't understand why. 

This was normal.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, making Wednesday's eyes nearly flutter at the sound. But the next words make her freeze. "Was I in love with you?"

It's something in the way you say it, curious and accepting. Something rushes into Wednesday's chest like a stampede, and she realizes it's hope.

Your tone doesn't suggest you remember anything, but Wednesday rationalizes that it's fine. While it would be ideal that you remember everything, it's not a condition Wednesday holds. 

You’re biting your bottom lip, looking reluctant. The silence falls again and lingers until you speak up again, trying to be firm.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore. I don't know what I felt about you before the accident...but that's gone. I'm not going to feel it just because you bring me to places that mattered to us. I don't remember it and I don’t understand it."

Stop talking.

Wednesday wants you to stop talking. She closes her eyes, turning her head away as if that would stop her from hearing your words. 

You don't take the hint. 

"I don't feel that way about you anymore." 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was fine—it was. 

Wednesday spends the rest of her week doing various things. She writes, then she goes to the library; she briefly goes to the bee club until she can't stand Eugene's chattering and leaves. She goes on walks with Enid, who smartly avoids talking about you, and sometimes subjects herself to Xavier's monologuing and brooding in his art studio. 

Wednesday fills the days with various activities while simultaneously avoiding areas you'd be in. It's not that she's afraid of seeing you, but simply that she doesn't want to. 

This is fine. 

The day has come to an end, and the sun has long gone from the sky. Wednesday decides to return to her room and play the cello before bed.

This is for the best. 

Wednesday focuses her thoughts on her cello and what she'll play, and perhaps Thing will be there to turn the pages for her. 

It is meant to be this way. 

The room is dark when she enters, and Wednesday knows Enid is not around. There's a small feeling of relief that she doesn't need to face her roommate right now. 

The silence in the room feels jilting in a way Wednesday's not used to. She used to be content in the quiet...until you. Then she grew used to your presence and soft chatter around this hour. 

Wednesday clenches her fists.

Good riddance. 

You were a mistake, and you did her a favor by cutting ties. This was something Wednesday should've done herself a long time ago. 

Thing greets her on her bed, and she acknowledges him with a nod. She shreds off her backpack and changes out of her uniform before grabbing her cello and heading out onto the balcony.

The scuttling footsteps behind Wednesday tell her that Thing is quickly following. 

"Bring me the new music sheet to play," Wednesday directs. She needs to play something different that would require her focus instead of her usual repertoire, which would allow her mind to drift.

Wednesday starts playing immediately, eyes focusing on the notes she's playing while Thing diligently flips the pages for her. 

This is good.

This keeps her mind focused and sharp. Wednesday doesn't have time to think about anything else when she has to focus on what note she'll be playing next. 

Despite the new piece, though, Wednesday's mind begins to drift. She has to make a conscious effort to keep her focus on the music sheet in front of her, but you pop up in her mind interspersedly.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore."

Her fingers falter, her cello emitting a jagged sound from her mistake. It's so unbelievably frustrating. She hasn't ever made a mistake while playing her cello since she first started learning it as a child. Years and years have gone by without a single mistake, and it was all ruined because of you.

You plague her like a disease that festers under her skin. Wednesday's done her best to ignore you for days now. She's been ignoring the sight of you, the talks of you, and everything down to the thought of you. 

Yet, you were still there, underneath everything. You simmer like a slow boiling kettle until you can't be ignored anymore. 

Wednesday closes her eyes frustratingly, willing you to leave her mind. She threatens her brain to erase the thought of you. It'd clearly be so much easier to forget you. After all, look how simply you live now without a memory of Wednesday. 

But you don't go away. The memories remain with Wednesday, torturing her for what will likely be the rest of her life. 

This was not a form of torture Wednesday ever thought she'd have to endure. 

Wednesday opens her eyes and stands abruptly as she walks back inside. She didn't bother turning on the lights, and the only thing illuminating the room was the moonlight shining through the balcony.

"I don't feel that way about you anymore."

Wednesday clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on her cello. 

How entirely damning. 

Suddenly, a white-hot ball of rage forms in Wednesday's chest; everything she's been trying to push down for the last few days spills over. Emotions run a rampage inside her, unable to be controlled and ignored any longer. 

Wednesday lifts her cello before violently smashing it into the floor, the body of it breaking in an uneven half, wood splitting into multiple pieces. The tailpiece cracks, and the strings snap, one of them into Wednesday's hand and cutting it.

The rage and adrenaline in her body don't allow the pain to register, even if she can see the blood. 

How could you forget?

Wednesday begins destroying other parts of her side of the room—her bed, her clothes, her books. She pushes her wardrobe over and knocks over the chair at her desk, the loud banging ringing in her ears but not loud enough to cover the pain in her chest.

Thing scuttles back and forth in worry, but he cannot do anything to help his friend. He immediately leaves out the door with a mission. 

How could you not want to fall in love with her again?

Wednesday pushes her typewriter off her desk—she thrashes everything off her desk. Her beloved typewriter crashes into the floor, the carriage breaking off along with other various parts. Keys pop off, making a ruckus on the floor as they hit it, but it doesn't bring any relief. 

None of this is. 

Wednesday pulls open the drawer, grabs out her manuscript, and looks at the last few pages she's written. Viper falls in love with someone who helps her with her investigations, and Wednesday has written up to the part where Viper begrudgingly accepts that fact she has feelings for this person and accepts their confession. 

Wednesday has never gotten rid of any parts of her work all these years. Sure, she's done revisions and draft editing, but every scene down to its core idea has never been removed. Wednesday is a stern believer that every scene is meant to happen, and she cannot change the course of her writing when she looks back. 

But Wednesday begins to shred multiple pages. She shreds page after page but doesn't know when to stop. Should she stop before Viper gets involved with this person? 

Along with the anger settles in hollowness. 

It's the realization that even if Wednesday destroys these pages, she can't really undo the fact that Viper has met someone and fallen in love with them. 

How could you leave Wednesday to remember everything alone?

Wednesday hears the door open, but she doesn't turn around. 

"Wednesday?" Enid's voice is soft and unsure, full of concern. 

Wednesday doesn't answer. 

Enid steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her as she looks around. The room is a mess with so many broken items on the floor, but her side remains untouched, nearly down to the tape they removed ages ago. 

Enid is careful as she makes her way to Wednesday, the girl's shoulder tense with obvious rage. But even so, Enid knows her roommate would never hurt her. So, she places a hand on her roommate's shoulder when she's next to Wednesday. 

"Wednesday—"

Wednesday is quick to whip around and look at Enid with violently accusing eyes. "This is your fault," Wednesday spits out. "I wouldn't be feeling this—this loneliness if you haven't been spurring lies to me about love." The tone is filled with disgust at the last word.

Wednesday has never expressed any ounce of emotion that would allow her to scream at someone, but she wants to scream at Enid and can't. Even if she wanted to, her throat feels so raw with something Wednesday can only detect is the urge to cry. 

But even if Wednesday threatens her body to refrain from crying, the salty water spills from her eyes without permission. The spill and spill, even if Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. 

Enid doesn't care if Wednesday punches, stabs, or even kills her—she pulls Wednesday into a bone-crushing hug. Her roommate resists at first, pushing against Enid, but it's useless against her werewolf strength. Enid holds on, even as Wednesday's pushing turns into desperate clinging. 

Wednesday's tears are hot, and Enid knows logically tears are always hot, but she finds herself surprised they are. It's just another sign her roommate is all too human too. 

"It's okay, Wednesday, I swear," Enid whispers, rubbing Wednesday's back in soothing circles, even caressing her messy braids. 

There's no heaving or loud sobbing, as that would be too much for the somber girl. Even so, Enid can feel the tears soak her neck and dampen her shoulder. 

"It's not," Wednesday's voice is so raw, as if the girl had been violently sobbing. She clutches at Enid's back, her eyes blankly staring at the mess she's made of her room. Everything is out of place or broken. 

It shouldn't be Enid here, but the person Wednesday wants will never show up.

"I don't have anyone anymore."

[danzaloreley]

I told the moon about you

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds herself enchanted by the black wolf who always watches her play the cello in the dead of night.

A/N: This was written for a request sent by @roleplayfandom and I combined it with an idea of mine that I've had for a while, hope you don't mind and can still enjoy it. Arguably one of the most important stories I've written, because this oc has been my baby for so long, and I'm so happy to finally have the opportunity to include her in one of my stories; just hope I was able to do her justice with this. <3

Word count: 6,4k (sorry)

Masterlist

There was a drizzle in the air, the wind carried it around easily; tiny droplets of rain landed on the strings of Wednesday's cello that shook with each note she played.

Past the thin rain and clouds, the brightness of the full moon was nothing but a faded blur, casting a silver glow over the Addams girl and serving as the only witness to her spectacle.

The strong melody traveled with the wind same as the rain did, reaching the deepest parts of Nevermore and undoubtedly waking up a few students from their slumber. It only served as incentive — Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

When she released the strings, a soft sigh was let out as well. She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

With uncanny delicacy, Wednesday lowered her cello, closing the case with a soft click.

The rain looked like it was starting to pick up, bigger droplets started to kiss Wednesday's cheeks, making their way down to her chin. The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

Wednesday walked up to the railings, her hands leaning against the wet concrete there. Save for the howling wind, it was strangely quiet.

But there was something different with today. Wednesday could feel it. She could feel the weight of a mysterious presence nearby.

As expected, her instincts never failed. It was dark, pitch black, the shape of trees blending together with one another in the distance.

But in the middle of the darkness, a pair of caramel eyes were spotted. They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky. It was just sitting there, on the grass of the gardens outside. Its golden eyes fixed intently all the way up to the balcony where Wednesday was standing.

The Addams girl expressed no reaction other than angling her chin up with furrowed brows, a dare; and the wolf understood, because it slowly stood up, its ears resting back against its head before it trotted out of sight and into the woods.

Wednesday remained under the rain until she could feel the wetness of it seeping into her clothes. Her hands held onto the railings tightly.

Turns out the moon wasn't the only witness tonight.

—

Those same golden eyes followed Wednesday in her dreams, and she woke up frustrated for not knowing who they belonged to.

Was it just a wild animal passing by or a student braving the woods past curfew?

The thought of the wolf being a student seemed… unlikely, because it looked much different from Enid when compared to her 'wolfed out' form. The black wolf was simply that, a wolf — albeit a tad bigger. Yet Wednesday didn't discard the possibility of it being someone. Someone who was watching her.

She tried pushing the thought out of her mind during the day for the sake of her grades.

"Miss Addams?"

Wednesday snapped her head up, only to see her anatomy teacher and the whole entirety of the class with their heads turned her way, eyes expectant as they waited for something to happen.

A scowl came to Wednesday's face at the unwanted attention. She rested both hands on her table, briefly realizing that the board had three extra paragraphs of lessons written on it that weren't in her notebook yet.

"I made you a question," the teacher continued, one of her hands coming to rest on her waist, "for how long can a gorgon stone a person?"

Wednesday gulped, her lips hovering open as she searched her mind for the useless information yet came empty-handed.

The teacher was annoying, one of the least liked by the Addams girl. She was old and wore long and colorful skirts, with obnoxiously large glasses resting atop her nose.

"It depends on the gorgon," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but usually from two to four hours."

Wednesday glanced beside her to where the owner of said voice sat, and was met with a smirk being directed at her. She huffed in annoyance, visibly rolling her eyes.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace — instantly getting into Wednesday's nerves the moment you stepped foot into the school and called her 'sweetheart'.

"Very well." The teacher looked between you and Wednesday, not entirely pleased that Wednesday wasn't the one who answered but deciding to let it pass, and turned around to write on the board again.

Wednesday didn't know what your deal was, no one did. No one knew who your family was, what were your abilities, or the reason you enrolled in Nevermore; not even Enid knew, and she was the gossip queen. Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire, just by the way you scrunched your nose at the mere sight of blood; but that's about everything she knows so far.

Too smug for your own good, you leaned back on your chair. Wednesday could feel your gaze roaming up and down her body, before you said, quietly; "you're welcome-"

There was sunlight coming through the dusty windows. Wednesday could see her reflection in your glasses. "Shut up."

"Sweetheart," you finished with a grin.

The pencil that was thrown in your direction missed you only by an inch.

—

When Wednesday walked out onto the balcony of her dorm the next night, the wolf was already there.

She got a little taken aback by it, halting in her steps and gripping tighter onto the case of her cello. Wednesday immediately discarded the possibility of it being a coincidence or just a wild animal passing by. The wolf was there for her.

Those caramel eyes held a staring contest with Wednesday, and they eventually won. Satisfied, the wolf then lay down on the grass… and waited.

Long beats passed by until Wednesday finally sat down on her chair and adjusted her cello to be played. Her movements slow and calculated, all too aware of the heavy stare on her.

The moon was bright in the night sky, and Wednesday briefly glanced up at it, partly searching for some kind of reassurance but only finding that it wasn't a night of full moon.

When her gaze found the wolf again, she saw it looking up at the moon as well. The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Wolves sing for the moon, maybe that's why this one took a liking to the Addams girl.

There was hesitance on the way Wednesday's fingers hovered over the strings. Save for the occasional twitch of its tail, the wolf was unmoving on the grass, patiently watching.

Wednesday could tell the wolf to leave again, part of her knew it would obey. She didn't. She only closed her eyes, and started playing.

—

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find — some of them old, pages fragile to the touch and covered in a thick layer of dust.

The place was mostly deserted as per usual, and Wednesday saw no harm in staying. A table waited for her in the middle of the tall bookshelves, the only one hidden from sunlight.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little thrilled at the prospect of a new mystery. Things have been dull at school without an evil pilgrim trying to destroy it.

Though she was able to read in peaceful silence for all of ten minutes.

"What's with the sudden interest in furs?"

A heavy sigh left Wednesday's lips when she heard your voice. She sat straighter on her chair and chose to ignore you, pointedly turning the page of her book and focusing on it.

You hopped up on the table, sitting there cross-legged so you could face Wednesday, "you know your roommate is one, right? I bet she'd be happy to answer your questions."

See, there's a reason why Wednesday is bothered by your presence. Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. It's a feeling that's been there once before, fleetingly, much smaller than it is now. But she's no stranger to what comes with it.

"I don't remember asking for your advice," Wednesday said, still refusing to look at you, her bangs hiding her eyes from you.

"Ouch," you mumbled, leaning back on your hands, "was just trying to help."

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping. And it's not like she paid attention to the last three lines she just read in the book anyway. Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again; the dim golden light of the table lamp framed your profile and the way your hair fell over your shoulder — for a second, it reminded Wednesday of her wolf.

Her wolf. The thought jolted her back to reality and she cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as if you'd be able to read her thoughts.

"When are you gonna stop chasing after me like a lost puppy?" Wednesday didn't sound half as confident as she should for those words.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

The air felt electric, there was something enticing about the way you refused to back down sometimes. Wednesday felt the hair at the back of her neck rising with a shiver. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under already — or at least fighting for air between her and this damn table. Wednesday couldn't decide which outcome she liked best.

Wood scratched against the floor as she suddenly pulled back the chair beside hers; "sit down properly, stay quiet," without looking at you, she shoved one of the books in your direction, "we're looking for a werewolf who can transform without a full moon."

—

Nothing. There was nothing in any of the books.

Wednesday walked back to her dorm without having learned a single thing. None of the books in the school had anything remotely close to the creature she saw the past two nights. Frustration was eating at her insides because she was running out of leads to follow, a dead end steadily approaching.

She went up the stairs of Ophelia Hall in a haste, pushing the door to her room out of the way and causing a loud thump that got Enid jumping on her bed, almost throwing her cell phone to Wednesday's side of the room.

"Jesus Wednesday, what did the door do to you?" Enid grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Wednesday didn't respond, she threw her black backpack by the feet of her bed and came to stand in front of Enid. "What do you know of werewolves that can transform without a full moon?"

Slowly, a frown came to Enid's features. She turned off her phone when Wednesday kept glaring at it. "Nothing? Werewolves don't usually change without a full moon," Enid explained, confusion evident in her tone.

"And what if they did?"

"Then they're most likely not a werewolf."

Wednesday clenched her jaw in annoyance, she tugged at the tie around her neck, taking it off and messing up her hair in the process.

"Uh- my mother used to tell me about people who could shift into wolves at will, when I was younger," Enid kept going, wondering if that's what Wednesday was after.

The tie fell to her feet and Wednesday came to sit beside Enid; "tell me."

"Well, I don't know much about it, just that they're technically not werewolves. At least not like me," Enid shrugged, her colorful nails tapping her knee as she searched her brain for the stories she heard as a kid. "Oh, people used to call them hellhounds… pretty creepy if you ask me," she grimaced momentarily, "because they could change form whenever they pleased, and their… looks didn't help either, it made others scared of them. Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name in the early 50s, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows," she shrugged, "maybe that's why no one has seen one for the past twenty years or so."

—

Wednesday didn't sleep that night. She kept staring at her ceiling and going over everything that Enid had told her. And the only other thought on her mind was you. It was inevitable, too fitting for it to be a coincidence.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

For a week straight, Wednesday waited for the wolf to appear every night so she could start playing her cello. And every night without fail, the wolf was there; same place, same time. It would lay down, watch her, and then leave.

—

On the tenth night, Wednesday wasn't on the balcony of her dorm. She decided to break the pattern.

There was no moon in the sky tonight, it almost looked like a storm was brewing. The air was frigid outside, the grass already coated with a thin layer of ice. Wednesday enjoyed the cold, but even she was reprimanding herself for having only one coat on.

Glancing down at her phone, Wednesday saw that it was already five minutes past the usual time the wolf showed up. She wondered if it saw the empty balcony and left. Or maybe it wasn't going to show up at all tonight. She felt strangely disappointed at the thought.

A twig snapped behind Wednesday, causing her to hastily turn around with a gasp lingering on her tongue. The trees stood tall in front of her, creating a blanket of pure darkness between them, nothing could be seen. Nothing, except a pair of golden eyes. For a moment, they looked like they were floating on nothing, intently watching the girl in front of them as if she was prey.

For several beats, Wednesday waited. And then, one paw stepped out of the woods and into the grass, causing a chill to run down her back — not from fear, at least not only fear.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Admittedly, it was bewitching.

The wolf, even on all fours, was almost as tall as Wednesday; and still, it kept its distance. If she didn't know any better, Wednesday would say it was afraid of her.

The night was suddenly calm, with not a single soul around to witness. Wednesday had come all the way down here tonight to put an end to things, discover who this wolf was and the reason behind all this… stalking?

Yet any words had died on her tongue and she found herself taking a step closer. The moment felt strangely delicate. When the wolf didn't move, she took two more steps.

Wednesday was reaching out before realizing it. The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

Wednesday didn't dare breathe, trapped in a moment that felt unreal. But her attention was soon caught by a glint of color, dangling from the wolf's neck.

The wolf backed away as soon as Wednesday tried to take a closer look, bright eyes looking at her one last time before it bolted away into the woods.

—

The next night, her wolf didn't show up. And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

A loneliness that shouldn't be there, but it was.

Wednesday found herself slipping away when the moon was highest in the sky, her bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden floor as she walked the empty hallways of Ophelia Hall. Maybe a walk out in the cold would take her mind of off foolish matters.

She walked until she eventually reached the main doors that led outside, stopping short of crossing the threshold. There was a figure sitting on the grass just ahead, cross-legged and looking up at the moon.

Wednesday would recognize you anywhere. She wondered why, for a fleeting second. "What are you doing?"

You tensed when you heard her voice. You had heard her coming, you heard the soft pattern of her steps down the stairs. You just weren't expecting her to talk. You didn't turn around to face her when you spoke; "admiring the moon."

Subconsciously, Wednesday's gaze shifted to the natural satellite in the sky, before settling back on you. She could barely make out the silhouette of your nose and cheeks, but she could tell you were smiling. Foolish. She thought to herself.

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

The Addams girl let out an indignant scoff at her own inner thought, reprimanding herself for even coming up with it. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous of a floating rock.

"What are you doing up?" You eventually asked, your voice gentle into the night.

If you turned around, you'd see Wednesday chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to chase away the mess of feelings swimming in her stomach. You'd see her take half a step toward you before deciding against it, and instead rushing back inside without giving you an answer.

But you didn't need one. Part of you already knew why she was there. It was the same for you, and it was bittersweet that you ended up meeting in the middle anyway, even if for a moment. Part of you wanted to run after her and just tell her.

—

You weren't sure why you did it.

On the first night, it was mere curiosity. You could remember the coldness of the grass beneath your paws, announcing the inevitable arrival of winter. You could remember the howling wind, causing your ears to twitch as the fur there felt sensitive to the force of it. You could remember the first drops of rain hitting your nose as you walked and how that's when you heard the first note of her song.

You followed it easily, soon finding yourself in the gardens that her balcony overlooked. And even seeing her all the way from down there, she was nothing short of entrancing. It was like you could feel her emotions through the music.

You never meant for Wednesday to see you though, even if all she'd see was a black wolf. But it happened, and yet you kept coming back, night after night; you couldn't help yourself. You started missing her. Because listening to her play felt like an escape from your unfortunate reality. It put you at ease.

But you should've known Wednesday would not settle for so little, you should've known from the moment you found her in the library, already digging up every last bit of information on anything regarding werewolves. You should've stopped then.

You didn't. Instead, you allowed her even closer, close enough to touch. On that night, part of you knew she'd already figured it all out.

—

It was a gray day outside. Fitting, you thought to yourself; as it was also your most dreaded day of the year. There was no more dodging it, you could fake sickness or an injury only so many times until it gets too obvious.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

It's tradition. That was what your father always told you. It's keeping the memory of our ancestors alive. As if they were anything worth remembering.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally. He had called you yesterday to let you know he'd be coming, as if you weren't stressing over it for a whole week already.

There was a chilly air outside, you could feel it even before walking out the doors that led to the quad; and it was right as you were making your way out, that she bumped into you. A quiet grunt left her lips at the impact, and she only didn't fall to the ground because your hands steadied her; your hold warm on her waist, keeping her body the closer she's ever been to you.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school. It just happened. Maybe it was your incredible bad luck; or those dark eyes that sometimes put the midnight sky to shame with their beauty. The teasing came with the package of your growing feelings for her, it was your natural defense mechanism whenever your heartbeat skyrocketed at the mere smell of her perfume. Though you could swear that, sometimes, you managed to get her cheeks a tad rosier than normal. It got you wondering if it was wishful thinking to consider the small possibility of her returning your affections.

"You good?" You asked, subconsciously squeezing her waist.

Wednesday stumbled back when she realized that if she leaned forward just a tad more it would result in her nose brushing yours. She blinked multiple times to focus back on you, yet the first thing her eyes found was the light pink pendant of your necklace, the very same she saw on the wolf the other night.

For someone who's always so hard to read, she let the facade slip pretty easily this time. Wednesday's features did something complicated, as if she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

"You're my wolf," the words rolled off her tongue against her volition, her wide eyes darting from your necklace to the dark sunglasses resting on top of your nose.

An awkward chuckle escaped you. You felt a lot more timid than you thought you would, "what?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw, she felt anger but wasn't sure towards what; "you're the wolf I see every night, aren't you?"

Your lips hovered yet no words came out, you took a step away from her. If it where any other time, you'd be happy to bounce arguments off of her until inevitably confirming her idea; but her timing wasn't ideal, "W-Wednesday, now is not a good time-"

"Why did you hide it-"

"What part of 'hurry up' did you not understand?" A gruff voice interrupted both you and Wednesday. You only gulped and looked down at your feet, while Wednesday turned her head to see a tall man walking towards you. He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

"I'm sorry, father," you mumbled as he dragged you away and you tried to keep up with his steps. You turned around to give Wednesday a last tight-lipped smile, "see you later, Wednesday."

—

The sun was nowhere to be seen when your father dropped you back at school again.

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

Part of you was grateful to have come back late, Nevermore's hallways were mostly empty at this hour already so you didn't have to explain your looks. It's not like you couldn't have freshened up at your family's cabin, you just didn't want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

So you hurried into the first bathroom you found, not really considering the fact it was a communal one and anyone could walk in on you.

—

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed. She had pending matters with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.

So of course she kept an eye out for when you'd return to school. She saw the car drop you off by the gates, following after you as soon as you walked inside.

When Wednesday pushed open the bathroom door, you were standing in front of the mirror, damp paper towels in your hand as you tried to clean a rather nasty cut on your cheek. Your sunglasses rested atop the sink, giving Wednesday a clear view of your eyes; they were a shade of caramel she was all too familiar with, the same ones that have been keeping her company at night.

You tensed up when you noticed her, your hand freezing midair as you were about to throw the paper into the trash can.

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably as none of you seemed to know what to do next. You were shifting on your stance, breathing unsteadily and Wednesday feared you might run away, again.

She took a single step in your direction and asked the one thing she came for; "why have you been stalking me?"

As if breaking from a trance, you looked down and away from her; allowing your hair to fall from behind your ear and hide your profile. "I wasn't stalking you."

"What would you call standing outside my window at late hours of the night only to watch me play the cello?" Wednesday raised her eyebrow pointedly.

You chuckled humourlessly, "now you make me seem like a creep." You felt small under her piercing gaze, embarrassment twirling inside your stomach. Sure, when she said it like that, it sounded weird. But you were just enjoying good music, right?

You slowly turned around to face her, your hands gripping tightly onto the sink's edge behind you. "You never told me to leave," you said quietly.

Any words Wednesday might have thought of died on her tongue. She felt uncharacteristically shy knowing that it was you who'd been witnessing her late-night lullabies. Yet she was also glad that it was you, and not someone else.

You shrugged weakly, focusing your gaze on your feet, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I heard you one night and-" you glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile, fragility still lingering on your heart and making your vision blur over. Even under the cheap artificial light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen; alabaster skin contrasting with soft dark hair, sharp eyes, and burgundy lips — she had your heart on a leash.

"And I was blown away," you continued quietly as your feelings escaped you, "it was like I could feel what you were feeling through the music, and it was so freeing… I had to come back to it."

There was a distant ache in Wednesday's lungs, because she refused to breathe. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage as she took in each of your words. No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you," you breathed.

"Why keep it a secret?" She asked then.

Her sudden gentleness startled you. You've never heard her voice so soft. "I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

It's because of the way your voice breaks at the end, that Wednesday finally looks at you. And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

And you weren't hers. Wednesday knew you weren't hers to worry about, to care for, to protect. Yet she had the annoying urge to do it all anyway.

She wordlessly closed the distance between you, the sound of her boots loud against the bathroom tiles. Taking a few paper towels, Wednesday dampened their edge under the running water of the sink. She hesitated before coming closer, it felt like crossing a line, walking down a road with no way back. Her eyes never left you as she came to stand in front of you.

Your grip on the sink's edge was bruising, knuckles white. You were so quiet, so on edge, so shaky; your eyes had a darkness around them, your lips quivering. It felt all wrong. Wednesday hated seeing you like this, without your usual light.

She raised her hand slowly, stopping short of reaching your cheek, "may I?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth rushing to your heart at the delicacy you didn't know she was capable of. A barrier had fallen between you. When you leaned against her touch, Wednesday started gently cleaning the few places still stained with blood on your skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Wednesday couldn't hold the question back anymore. A different kind of anger bubbled in her chest — one that was mixed with an unusual sense of protectiveness. "Your father?"

"Not him," you choked out, unable to look her in the eyes — not wanting to, "not directly."

Wednesday frowned at that, her eyes tried to chase after yours but you avoided her.

"He makes me do it." A tear rolled down your cheek, you bit into your lip to contain a sob, "he always makes me do it."

Wednesday would never dare call herself an empathetic person, but her chest clenched in pain to see you hurt. One of your tears fell on her thumb that rested on your cheek, and she wanted to take all the pain to herself.

"But I hate it, Wednesday," you told her fiercely, desperate for her to believe you, a new batch of tears coming to your eyes when you finally looked up at her, "I hate the killing."

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

And as you walked through the gardens together, Wednesday could feel the shift in the air. You had told her about the 'stupid tradition', how your family gets together once a year for the hunt, and how you felt dirty, disgusted at the feeling of sinking your canines into the white fur of the rabbit. Yet they still make you do it.

The door to her dorm came before yours. You stopped in front of it with her, nothing but the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling to make you company. The moment felt more intimate than it should be. Wednesday didn't look like the girl who threw pencils at you in class — there was a faint blush to her cheeks and her pupils were blown wide — she looked like someone you could love.

"Why don't you ever take it off?" Wednesday asked, shooting a brief glance at the necklace hanging from your neck.

You take the light pink pendant between your fingers, tracing the nooks and crannies in it, "it was my mom's," you said softly, "she was the only person who ever told me I didn't need to be what others said I was. That I didn't have to carry the sins of my forbearers."

Wednesday nodded softly, glancing up at you before she turned around. Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, she looked at you from over her shoulder, "if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

On what was usually the worst day of the year for you, Wednesday managed to make you go to sleep with a smile.

—

There was suddenly an unspoken thing in the air.

Wednesday went about her day as per usual, following her routine precisely. But there was something making her feel as if spiders were crawling around inside her stomach; it happened each time she walked into a room hoping to find you there, each time she'd feel you looking her way and doing a poor job of pretending otherwise, each time she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door. She felt a little silly, waiting on you like this even if you hadn't given her the slightest hint you'd be coming at all.

But she hoped you would.

It was two minutes past the usual time she'd go out to play her songs, that Wednesday heard three knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal you on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt.

"Hi," you greeted with an awkward smile.

"Hello," she bit back a smile of her own.

You followed after her when Wednesday quietly made her way outside. You felt a little out of place, up here instead of down there on the grass. But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

You figured you'd never be able to settle on watching her from a distance anymore. Not when you'd just had a taste of listening to her music so loud and clear, of watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her — she could feel it though, the weight of your gaze; it was enough.

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon. Maybe you always have been, for all of those nights you laid outside in the cold only to watch her play. She wondered for a moment if that is what love looked like.

And maybe that's the reason why, before even getting up, she decided she'd take that gamble.

"You are so amazing," you breathed out, your lips hovering as you gestured around in search of words good enough to describe your feelings.

Wednesday put her cello aside, getting up from her chair to take the few steps that separated you.

"I mean, every time that I hear you play I'm just-" you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

"I'm just in love," you told her in nothing but a whisper.

Wednesday had taken a hold of your jacket, and she halted only for a second when the word love left your lips. She didn't say it, but the way she was looking at you with the softest of eyes held a lot of love too.

The kiss she pulled you into might have been long overdue, given both of your eagerness. You were quick to grasp her waist and pull her body as close to yours as humanly possible.

Wednesday cupped your cheeks, holding you in place as her nose bumped yours and she gave a gentle nip on your lower lip.

She kept her lips on yours until her lungs screamed for air, pulling away slowly, feeling each one of your deep breaths grazing her lips. Wednesday felt your nails gently pressing against her spine, she felt you trace a path from her jaw to right below her ear where you chose to place a lingering kiss.

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A/N: This is a storyline I'm definitely willing to expand, so if you have any requests regarding Wednesday and her wolf, feel free to send them in.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[danzaloreley]

don’t know how to be something you miss | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Wednesday recalls pieces of your story together through memories, and wonders if you miss her too.

A/N: People asked for a part 2 so I'm delivering. Soft!Wednesday because I can, so I will. I have to say that reading the first part is kinda essential to understand this one. This was based around this song that was suggested by @abelvrla, and this one that was suggested by @tuboficecream. The writing process for this was so weird, I feel like I genuinely blacked out while writing it, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing and that's what came out. So, sorry if the quality is questionable; but hopefully not.

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

On the three-week mark, Wednesday goes looking for you.

She hates doing it; admitting that the mistake was hers. But she also hates that it took her this long to do so.

Because each day away from you feels like dying, little by little.

You resemble a ghost to her sometimes. She has glimpses of you every day yet never manages to get close enough to properly grasp you. It's unfair, because you have a hold on her; and it comes with this everlasting longing, a phantom pain in her heart that weeps in your absence.

She still wonders if it's the same for you, or if she fell alone and you don't miss her as she does you.

Wednesday considered, for a brief moment, to let it go — to bury your hoodie in the confines of her wardrobe and never look at it again and just forget about you. The Wednesday from a year ago would do just that, and call the Wednesday from today pathetic for even thinking otherwise.

But living in the past takes her nowhere. Wednesday would never forgive herself for not trying to save what you two had.

So she goes looking, and she finds you in Xavier's art shed. She knows you're there because your bike is leaning against the wall outside.

There's an instant bitterness in her mouth.

It's a gloomy day outside, fluffy clouds coming together to form what looks to be a storm. Wednesday sees it from between the trees as she walks the woods.

A year ago, the prospect of a storm would make her smile.

Not today. Rain brings back memories. And Wednesday doesn't want memories.

Taking in a deep breath, Wednesday pushes open the wooden door. You're sitting on a stool with a big canvas in front of you; there's a brush between your fingers and your tongue is poking out of your mouth as you concentrate on the image you're painting; a stroke of black paint is smudged on your cheek and Wednesday catches a glimpse of a black braid on your canvas — she really tries not to let her mind wander onto what it could be.

The door shuts close behind her with a soft click, finally drawing your attention. The shed feels too cramped for the tension hanging in the air. Breathing is a challenge already.

"Wednesday?" Xavier is the first to speak. Wednesday hadn't even noticed his presence.

"Did you need something?" He keeps going, annoyingly because he's invading her moment with you.

Wednesday doesn't look at him when she speaks, she has an unblinking stare focused on you; "I was hoping we could talk."

You lower your brush, trying to clean your cheek with the back of your hand but you only end up smudging more paint there.

It's been five seconds already and you're not talking. Wednesday takes it as a rejection. And somehow her broken heart still found a way to beat, thundering against her ears. It's almost deafening.

Wednesday bunches up the fabric on the cuffs of her jacket, her nails forming half-moons on her palms to ground herself.

"Give me a few minutes to change," your voice cut the silence and you gestured to your clothes, a little ruined with paint - you always had been a bit clumsy. "I'll find you."

There's an almost nonexistent softness to Wednesday's eyes. Because there's a barely there smile on your lips.

—

Rain is pouring down violently, the power has gone out in the whole school and now candles are the ones that illuminate Wednesday's room.

She hates the sound of the drops hitting her window and the roof above, they're loud, they bring with them the familiar cold air. It feels like loneliness, abandonment.

A knock comes from her door and Wednesday scrambles to open it. You're standing on the other side, a white and red hoodie keeping you warm because you couldn't find your favorite one.

Something about you instantly warms up the whole dorm when you walk in.

"I've been waiting for you," you tell her, keeping your hands behind your back. Ever since Wednesday snapped at you, you've been holding yourself back from reaching out, even if it hurt. If she wanted to make amends, you wanted it to be her decision.

Wednesday gulps, her gaze moving up and down your body before she has the courage to look you in the eyes. She feels out of place, maybe a little lost. She's unsure what's the next step on all this.

"I-" her words are tangled, everything she had perfectly planned is now a mess inside her mind, "I believe I owe you an apology."

You nod softly, the orange glow of the small flickering flame of the candle that rests on Wednesday's desk is reflecting against your skin. You look like her favorite dream.

"Okay," you tell her in all your tenderness, "for what?"

It's most unkind, though; Wednesday thinks to herself as she clenches her jaw. Because you know her, you know this isn't easy, yet you still want to hear her say it.

Wednesday huffs with remains of annoyance and shifts from one foot to another, she wants to reach out and hold you, bring things back to how they were. The distance feels worse now than it did when she saw you from the opposite side of the cafeteria. Maybe because you're just a step away from her, yet she doesn't feel within the right to take that step.

Thunder rumbles outside, and with it, the tight feeling weighing down on Wednesday's chest increases. She blinks once, twice. Her vision blurs over. She feels she's one word away from winning you back or losing you for good.

"I said things I didn't mean the last time we spoke."

You pursed your lips, taking half a step toward Wednesday; "you said your life was better before I showed up."

Wednesday instantly shook her head, "that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

"That I was scared." The words roll off Wednesday's tongue before she has a chance to filter them, she closes her eyes for a beat, cringing at her own sudden vulnerability. She decides you're worth it.

"I didn't know what had happened to you that day," Wednesday tells you, tone tight, "I never-" she hesitates, and you take another step closer. One of your hands comes up to Wednesday's cheek to tuck back a loose strand of hair there. It's laughable that the small touch is almost enough to get Wednesday to crumble.

"I never cared about someone to the point of feeling like I'm being drowned to death at the mere thought of harm coming to them," she finishes in a rush. So fast that some words almost mend together into one, but you manage to understand.

It's only when your thumb brushes it away, that Wednesday realizes a tear had slipped past her defenses and was rolling down her cheek. She looks away from you then, severely embarrassed.

"Love scares you," you whisper. It's not a question, you know it's a truth.

Wednesday is as still as a corpse, the only things moving are her eyes, incapable of choosing where to focus.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday," you promise, because you knew she had to hear it. Then, you finally bring the hand that was behind your back to rest between both you and her.

When Wednesday looks down, she sees you holding onto a small box. Black in its color and resting perfectly in your palm. She frowns, glancing up at you in confusion. All you do is extend the box further toward her.

Wednesday relents and takes the box from you, careful as ever. She doesn't dare breathe when she opens it.

Inside, rests a necklace. The pendant in it has the shape of a Black Dahlia.

Wednesday doesn't need you to say a word. That's what you went to get on that day.

A sob cuts its way through Wednesday's throat, and she's suddenly losing any last bits of composure she had. Tears make a steady path down her cheeks.

You had come back to her with a physical manifestation of your affections, and she called you an inconvenience.

Apologies stumble past Wednesday's lips before she can stop them.

"We're okay," you tell her in the same heartbeat, sneaking your arms around her waist and pulling her body to yours. You grip her tightly, any last remaining distance between you disappearing.

Wednesday buries herself in your embrace, feeling the cold finally seep away from her skin and be replaced with your warmth.

"I missed you," her lips brush your skin with the confession and you feel the words in your heart.

You hug her tighter; "I missed you too."

There's a soft whimper that slips Wednesday at the knowledge that she was, after all, someone worth missing.

Wednesday's cheeks are a bright shade of pink when she eventually, reluctantly pulls away from you. It gets a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

She's holding the necklace tightly, it makes you smile. "May I?"

You take the necklace from her hands, whispering for her to turn around and she does so without hesitation. With delicate fingers, you close it around her neck.

It's a perfect fit, the dark flower resting perfectly over her chest.

"You look beautiful," you tell her with a smile.

Wednesday brings her hand up, tracing the pendant on her necklace. It makes her feel like she's yours, and she doesn't hate it.

Raindrops are steadily trickling down the window, the flames of the candles around you give the room the most intimate of feelings. You like it when the lights are out. And while looking around, your eyes catch a glimpse of a pop of color resting on top of Wednesday's bed. You walk closer to get a better look — because there wasn't supposed to be color in her side of the room.

And there, beside Wednesday's pillow, rests the lilac hoodie you've been incessantly looking for these last weeks.

With a chuckle, you pick it up, "I've been looking everywhere for this."

"You left it here," Wednesday tells you quickly, she's not looking you in the eye and the blush of her cheeks has just increased. It's almost like you've stumbled upon a secret she didn't want you to find. "I've been meaning to return it." Her voice is as quiet as you've ever heard it, and you think it's all too adorable.

Bringing the hoodie closer to your nose, you could feel Wednesday's perfume on the fabric. Your skin fills with goosebumps upon imagining her wearing it. You walk closer to her and reach around her to drape the hoodie over her shoulders, admiring the blend of her dark braids over the lilac.

Wednesday's dark eyes drift down to your lips, it's like she can read your mind.

You tug at the hoodie, pulling her close to you. You peck her lips, "you can keep it," you whisper against her, "looks much better on you anyway."

And Wednesday kisses the words, her hands sneaking behind your neck and trapping you to her. She kisses you as if she's not sure you're real yet and is trying to convince herself through your lips.

Wednesday can hear the raindrops hitting her window but all she feels is you.

Maybe she'll learn to love the rain again; as long as you stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[danzaloreley]

obvious

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Wednesday-level threats, that’s about it

A/N: hello! this is bad but it was fun to write. as always, not proofread cause i’m lazy. happy reading <3

anon requested: Reader and Wednesday are dating and reader is super affectionate; always kissing Wednesday’s cheeks, holding her hands, and just generally being physical like that. Reader doesn’t really think much about it until Enid mentions one day how surprised she is Wednesday let’s reader perform so much pda. Which makes reader suddenly stop. (Wednesday notices this ofc and is like “wtf???? Why did you stop?”)

Summary: Things aren’t as obvious as they seem, for both you and your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Word Count: 2.1K words | wednesday masterlist

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

The entire student body was shocked when word of your relationship with Wednesday Addams spread across Nevermore.

You were outgoing and friendly while the Addams was intimidating and unapproachable. The two of you were an unlikely duo, the epitome of opposites attract.

It was remarkable to those around you, how the goth girl who hated being touched would let you hug her and live to see the next day.

The sight of Wednesday visibly relaxing in your hold was a stark contrast to the tenseness that permeated throughout her body whenever someone brushed their shoulder against hers in passing. 

Although the affectionate gestures were offputting to others, it was second nature for you.

Not once had you considered the fact that Wednesday loved to keep people at arms-length and then some.

In your mind, she was just your other half, and with touch being your love language, it only made sense. 

That was until Enid brought it to your attention. 

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was an average day in the quad, your boisterous classmates scattered throughout the open area when you walked up to the table that you always sat at.

Wednesday’s back was toward you, so you took the opportunity to sneak up on her.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you kissed her cheek quickly before settling in the seat beside her, as your backpack hit the floor. 

The Addams turned her head toward you, staring at you impassively. You failed to notice the tiniest hint of a blush that graced her cheeks. Wednesday was grateful for your obliviousness. 

“Do you have a death wish?” She questioned monotonously as you gave her a wide smile.

“Yeah, only by your hands though,” you responded easily, sending her a wink before turning your attention to the bubbly blonde sitting across from you. 

“Hey Y/N, how’s your day been so far?” Enid smiled at you widely as she awaited your response, taking a bite of her sandwich which she chewed lazily.

“It’s been alright, but it's even better now that I’m here with my favorite girl… and Wednesday,” you laughed with Enid at your own joke before cringing as the girl beside you jabbed her elbow into your side.

The werewolf found the action even more amusing, her giggles increasing tenfold.

Your eyes met Wednesday’s as she glared at you, silently warning you to retract your statement. 

“Aw Wens, you know I’m kidding. You’re my favorite person in the whole world,” you interlocked your fingers with hers under the table, bringing your conjoined hands up to your lips, placing gentle kisses on each of her pale knuckles. 

Her eyes raked over your features in thought, before abruptly standing up.

“Where are you going? Did I upset you?” You worriedly looked up at her as she let go of your hand, scared that you offended her. 

“It’s foolish of you to think inane words would disrupt my psyche. I have a Hummer meeting to attend,” Wednesday said, shrugging her backpack on.

“Come to my dorm tonight,” the raven-haired girl stared down at you, adjusting her blazer that crinkled slightly from her movements.

“Okay, but why?” You asked curiously, head tilting to the side. The action made Wednesday’s heart flutter, but she would never say that out loud.

“Enid needs help with her psychology homework,” she nonchalantly replied, so caught up in observing you that she forgot the werewolf was even present. 

Wednesday was quickly reminded when you turned your attention to the blonde. 

“You do? I thought you said the class was easy,” your eyebrows furrowed together, further evidence of your cluelessness.

You missed the threatening glare your partner sent Enid’s way.

“Uh… yeah I lied. I’m actually really struggling and need your help, pretty please,” Enid’s eyes fluttered back and forth between you and Wednesday, a nervous smile on her lips. 

Luckily, you didn’t question it and agreed to assist her.

And with that, Wednesday left without another word, your eyes glued to her retreating form with a small smile on your face.

God, you loved her.

“You two are so cute it’s actually disgusting,” Enid dramatically grimaced at the lovestruck look on your face. You smirked at her, a teasing glint in your eyes. 

“Please, like you and Ajax don’t act all lovey-dovey when you’re together,” you wiggled your eyebrows at the wolf, taking the tray of food Wednesday had left on the table and eating it yourself.

“Yeah, but with Ajax and I, it’s not unusual for us to show some PDA. You and my roomie on the other hand, it’s shocking but in a good way,” she clarified before taking another bite of her sandwich as you processed what she said.

“Why is our PDA shocking?” Confusion was plastered across your features, Enid staring at you like you’d asked the stupidest question to ever be spoken.

“Wednesday hates being touched. It took me forever to get a hug from her, and I live with her! It’s a miracle she lets you touch her at all, let alone in public.”

Silence took over as you sat in thought, mindlessly picking at the food you no longer had an interest in eating. Enid was right.

Wednesday always made it clear that affection was something she despised. Perhaps you got excited by the euphoria of being with the girl you love, letting it cloud your judgment. 

Surely your girlfriend would have mentioned if your advances made her uncomfortable, right?

Your mind was swimming as the bell rang, indicating the end of the lunch period.

In a trance, you stood up, said goodbye to Enid, and walked to class. Before you even made it through the door to botany, you’d come to your conclusion.

You’ll give Wednesday the space she didn’t ask for.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

Wednesday was completely and utterly flabbergasted. For the past week, you’ve been different. Your personality around her was intact, but there was something severely lacking; physical contact.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday was at a loss. 

The goth girl recalled every interaction she had with you prior to the sudden change, but her efforts to rationalize your behavior were fruitless. 

Wednesday detested how the circumstance got under her skin like parasites.

Her thoughts were plagued with you, even more so than usual. Writing became an insurmountable feat that she failed to overcome.

She felt pathetic, not finishing the chapter of her novel that she was so close to completing. 

The raven-haired girl cursed her father in these fleeting moments. She simply must have inherited this pitiful need for her lover from the man. It was his fault that now, she resembled a lovesick buffoon. 

It was agonizing to be so close to you, but feel so far. 

Wednesday normally found your obliviousness endearing, but now she wants to commit every single degree of murder because of it.

Each lunch period, she would sit beside you, hoping for some semblance of comfort she so desperately craved, but to no avail. Even when she put her pride aside, she was literally left empty-handed.

How did you not notice her hand resting on her thigh, wide open for the taking? How did you not notice the astronomical distance between your bodies?

How could you ignore her ice-cold cheeks, desperate for the warmth of your lips to paint them with color?

The old Wednesday would ridicule this newfound version of herself. However, you changed her.

Whether it was for better or for worse, well that was a debate the goth girl had during times like this.

She shamefully reduced herself to obvious pining for the sake of having you close.

So… why weren’t you taking any of her hints?

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

It was obvious Wednesday didn’t want you near her. 

Ever since you decided to give your girlfriend space, all she has done is look at you. She made no moves to initiate contact, just staring at you with emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. 

Admittedly, your mission was not an easy one. It took every fiber of your being to keep from holding your girlfriend’s hand or brushing away strands of hair that managed to escape her tight braids.

You felt as though you were punishing yourself, positive that you were the only one suffering.

However, your outlook changed the day Wednesday came knocking at your door.

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

You were sat at your desk, back hunched over as you scribbled some notes down. You’d been in your dorm all day, declining the offers of your friends to head into Jericho. 

It was a Saturday and while everyone was hoping the day would never end, you wanted it to end faster.

Your study session came to a halt when three resounding knocks came from your door.

You smiled to yourself, knowing who was on the other side waiting for you. You stood up from your chair, groaning as you stretched your arms out.

When you swung the door open, you were met with Wednesday glaring daggers at you.

The Addams pushed her way into your room, not giving you the chance to greet her. 

Bewildered, you shut the door and turned to face your storm-cloud of a girlfriend.

She was standing in the middle of your room, dawning her checkered sweater that was slightly oversized and some black sweatpants.

She was so adorable even though she looked like she was gonna kill you right now.

“Well, hello to you too Wens,” you said sarcastically, accompanied by a playful roll of your eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” Wednesday probed, blunt and to the point as always.

If looks could kill, you would be decomposed.

“The real question is; what isn’t wrong with me? Yanno what I mean?” you rubbed the back of your neck, giggling out of fear for your well-being.

“Did I do something to offend you?” The raven-haired girl’s tone was firm, a trace of concern mixed in.

“Of course, not. You did nothing wrong. Why would you think that?” You took a few steps closer to the girl but made sure to leave room between the two of you.

Wednesday’s eyes focused on everything but you as she let out a deep sigh. Despite being a writer, she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

Oh, the irony.

“You have not been close to me all week. I demand to know why,” the Addams tried to keep her composure, but the little shake in her voice was a dead giveaway to her nervousness.

You were taken aback by her words, shock evident on your face before it was quickly replaced by a look of utter confusion. 

Honestly, when were you not confused?��

“I know you don’t like to be touched, so I thought space was what you wanted,” you said, sincerity dripping from your tone like honey.

Wednesday blankly stared as you shuffled in place, an indication of your anxiousness.

“You’re correct. I hate being touched by other people, but you’re not other people, mon cher,” her gaze softened, taking two steps closer to you.

Her hand cupped your cheek and your eyes fluttered shut, the coolness of her skin sending electricity throughout your body.

”You’re the exception,” Wednesday whispered quietly, like she didn’t want anyone but you to hear. She was so close you could feel her breath on your lips.

There was no time for you to respond before the girl pressed her lips to your own. 

You reveled in the feeling of her soft lips, your breath taken away at the tenderness of it all. Your arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her as close as you possibly could.

When air became an issue, you reluctantly pulled away.

Your forehead connected to hers, basking in the silence and Wednesday’s presence. A beat passed before you opened your eyes, reluctantly pulling back to stare at the girl.

“I’m sorry, Wens. I won’t distance myself ever again,” you mumbled, head still in the clouds from the most passionate kiss you and the Addams ever shared.

“It was idiotic of you to do so in the first place,” she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah… well, Enid reminded me you aren’t the affectionate type. So, I-,” your sentence was cut short as your girlfriend interrupted you.

“She will die a slow and painful death,” Wednesday spoke apathetically, pecking your cheek before moving out of your grasp, much to your dismay.

“Where are you going?” You whined, already missing your girlfriend’s touch.

“To kill Enid,” she responded casually, twisting the doorknob and walking out.

You laughed to yourself, knowing her threat was an empty one.

The werewolf was one of the few people your girlfriend tolerated. Wednesday would never hurt Enid…right?

Your eyes widened, bolting out of your dorm to save your best friend from your murderous other half.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

[danzaloreley]

Want Your Slow Dance | WDoE Epilogue 2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wednesday has very little interest going to the Rave'N Dance again. She can tell you're a little disappointed but she's satisfied you'll let her be...until you're considering going with one of the gorgon girls as "friends". Jealous!Wednesday

Warnings: jealous!wednesday. possessive!wednesday. Soft!Wednesday. slow dancing & kisses intimacy, the one time wednesday partakes in pda.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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

Note: epilogue 2 but could also be read as a stand alone <3

Epilogue 1

Count: 3.1k

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Wednesday admits she's made a mistake. 

It's seldom that she makes mistakes, and just like all the other ones she's made with other people, she's finding it difficult to make amends. It's even harder because you're not even upset with her. 

This was a problem Wednesday created all on her own, and she was the only one stuck sulking over it. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you grin at her, leaning in to kiss her cool cheek. Wednesday feels the warmth of your lips and threads her fingers through yours, squeezing them firmly. 

You linger, and Wednesday doesn't move to pull away. Your wings unfurl and flutter in excitement at how much you adore your girlfriend.

"Careful," Wednesday sternly warns you. "You'll split open your wounds."

You look sheepish, but only because it would undo all the careful and tender caring Wednesday has poured into healing your wings. 

"Why are you here?" Wednesday asks as she pulls you toward her desk. She was in the middle of her hourly writing when you showed up, and it was the perfect time as she was aware you were supposed to go shopping with Enid and Yoko today.

"I wanted to see you before I left to go shopping," you admit softly. "It just felt like I might not make it through the dresses and frills if I didn't see you first."

Wednesday remains silent. Her eyes move away, looking downwards. If you didn't know Wednesday Addams, you'd think she was losing interest in your words since there was no physical difference to see. But you knew better.

The way she continued to hold your hand and—you lift one hand to caress her cheek as your fingers land on her ear—the hot shell of her ears.

"Cheesy?" You ask, a smile on your lips. 

"Disgustingly so," Wednesday grimaces, but you only laugh. "You're disgusting."

"I think you like it...and me."

Wednesday knows there's no point in denying it ever since you've discovered the horrible secret of her blush being in her ears. She merely sighs, turning her face to kiss the inside of your palm as she looks at you warningly. 

"Tell anyone and—" Wednesday pauses. She takes a deep breath in frustration. She can't even plot your murder, something she typically excels at.

You grin wider as if you know.

"Tell anyone, and you'll be sleeping alone all next week."

Your jaw drops. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday's typing rhythm has been thrown off since you left. She typically leaves her phone tucked away elsewhere to not distract her during her ritual writing hour, but today was an exception. 

Any day you're not with her during the writing hour is an exception. 

Wednesday types a few sentences before pausing, her mind drifting. She tries to threaten herself with suffering if she doesn't focus, but nothing could make her suffer more than what distracts her.

She thinks back to why you're going shopping with Enid in the first place.

"The Rave'N Dance is coming up."

Wednesday paused her reading but didn't set her book down. The day was still a little cool, with spring not quite in full effect, and the two of you had opted to spend time together near the river under the shade of a tree.

"Is that so," Wednesday answered with no particular interest in her voice.

"Mhm," you hummed, placing your hand over Wednesday's on the grass. "I've never been before."

Wednesday felt the warmth of your hand over hers and was slightly impressed with how you generate and retain heat despite being in the cold. She turned over to look at you, taking in how you didn't hold any singular expression on your face, but Wednesday knew better. She could see the glint in your eye, the way your throat constricted when you swallowed. 

"It's nothing special," Wednesday advised, her voice disinterested as she recalled last year's dance. "Even when someone tried to sabotage it, it was done poorly."

"Oh," you said quietly, and Wednesday turned her hand upwards so you could hold hands, easing your disappointment. You stroked the inside of her palm as you asked softly, "So, you don't want to go this year?"

It was silent momentarily as Wednesday carefully considered her words. "I admit I have no vested interest, but if you're interested, I encourage you to experience it with Enid and her pack of gazelles."

"Gazelles?" You raised your brow at your girlfriend. "And that makes you what?"

"I believe I told Enid last year that I was a wounded fawn."

You snorted, shaking your head at her. "That seems inherently wrong for some reason—I just can't put my finger on it."

"Nevertheless, go enjoy the frivolities if you so choose."

You looked at her, obviously disappointed but doing well to accept it. It was a quality that Wednesday appreciated in you. You never pushed Wednesday to change her answer or forced her to attend things she had no desire to be a part of. 

You kissed her cheek. "Okay," you said. "If you say so."

But what a blunder that was. 

What an inherently foolish mistake to make, and Wednesday only wishes she could turn back time to halt her mouth from opening and rejecting your obvious advances to get her to be your date to the stupid dance. 

Wednesday's used to keeping people at a distance, fully enjoying they wouldn't be brave enough to bother her—except for Xavier, whose offer has been declined with a hollow laugh and walking away—but that wouldn't be the case for you.

The second the student body discovered that Wednesday Addams was not taking her girlfriend to the Rave'N Dance, it was like all hell broke loose.

Every single day for weeks, Wednesday had to deal with some insufferable outcast muster up the courage to ask you to be their date. Watching them physically take a deep breath and drag their feet towards you was aggravating.

Wednesday just wasn't going with you; it wasn't like you were going separate ways forever. 

But it was bearable, especially watching you decline all of them in that polite façade you put on for others. It was a reminder that they would never see the real you. That version of you only belonged to Wednesday, and even on the slim chance someone saw it, they could never have it.

It placated Wednesday into only silently glaring at those stupid enough to approach and ask you. Watching them stutter from her look before being declined by you was adequate—until that gorgon girl you so senselessly continued to be friends with came to ask you.

Wednesday huffs as she types a few more sentences, her mind drifting again.

The clatter of noises rattled around in Wednesday's ear as she refused to move to the side as students filed out of the classroom. She arrived punctually as always to your class so that the two of you could walk to botany together. 

Wednesday spotted you packing your things up with little haste as you usually did. You turned and saw Wednesday, waving as you put the last things in your bag. You were walking towards her, getting closer, when someone stopped you.

That annoying gorgon girl, the one that you insist, was merely enthused and with a firm touch. 

The one that Wednesday had stoned over and over when she put mirrors into the bathroom where the gorgon girls were. 

Wednesday still detested her despite your reassurance and pleading.

You were stopped and listening to whatever was being said to you. You seemed deep in thought after, looking up in contemplation before you looked back at your friend, nodding. 

You continued walking along with her, smiling as she grinned at you.

"Alright, I'll see you later!" 

"Bye," you waved, continuing to smile until the gorgon girl passed Wednesday with an unsure nod of acknowledgment before she kept going. 

Once it was just the two of them, you turned to Wednesday, your smiling shifting into something only Wednesday was allowed to see.

"Hi, Wednesday."

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That," Wednesday deadpanned. "What did that girl want?"

"Oh, Thea?" You tilted your head as you walked, Wednesday following along. "She just asked if I wanted to go to the Rave'N Dance with her."

"I see," Wednesday unclenched her fist. "She's surprisingly chirpy for someone who's just been turned down."

You turned your head to look at Wednesday, blinking as you said, "I said yes."

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, causing you to stop as well.

"What?" Wednesday asked but then followed up with, "Why?"

You shrugged, tilting your head as if you were confused. "We're just going as friends. We'll be hanging out with Enid and stuff."

"Then why did she need to ask you?"

"Well, I'm sure we can do other stuff together when everyone pairs off. Like the games and oh—the slow dancing. As friends."

Wednesday wonders if she still had those mirrors lying around somewhere.

Wednesday stopped typing. She looks at the time and finds the hour has nearly passed. Looking at her paper, she decides she cannot continue writing despite how little work was done, and Wednesday refuses to compromise the quality of her work.

With a reluctant sigh, she grabs her phone and sees she has yet to receive a text from you. Contemplating her options, Wednesday quickly sends you a text before putting her phone back on the table, screen-side down. 

Deciding to go on a walk, Wednesday makes her way around the academy. With it being the weekend, most of the campus was dead, with students out in Jericho town to get shopping done for the dance. 

The school is abuzz with excitement, and Wednesday can't find it more nauseating. She's passing by the greenhouse when she hears a familiar voice.

"Oh, what about this one? This one matches her eyes."

Wednesday peers in and sees the gorgon girl—Thea—with another student and holding a flower.

"Can you turn this into a corset?"

"Hm, it'll be hard but I probably can. You're really putting a lot into this Rave'N Dance," the other student says. Probably the head of the gardening club. "I thought you said you were going with a friend."

"Yeah, but no reason I can't do the date stuff with her. I'm sure she'd appreciate a corset—"

More words were coming from Thea's mouth, but Wednesday couldn't hear them over the burning rage building up in her chest and thundering in her ears. 

Mirrors wouldn't cut it, Wednesday decides. Stoned and then shattered into a million tiny pieces, and the ground into dust was the only acceptable answer. 

Wednesday's about to step in when her phone vibrates in her pocket. 

It's from Enid. 

Wednesday reads the words, a plan formulating in her mind. Well, there was only one way to fix this without having to murder someone and be expelled (which was a shame), and also without having to directly confront you about her mistake. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday hears scuffling approaching the door, and she turns, walking towards the door to open it as she's fully expecting to see Thing back with the dress. 

But all she sees is her roommate.

Her roommate, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with Thing on her shoulder and a clear garment bag with a dress in it, stares at her before passing over the bag.

"Wednesday, if you get Thing to use his five finger discount again, I will put you in jail."

"The fact that you think there's a cell that could keep me locked up is what makes you endearing at times."

"Ha-ha," Enid laughs dryly. She watches as Wednesday inspects the dress a little longer before. "Cutting it a little late, aren't we? Why couldn't you just have said yes when fairy berry asked you in the first place. I'm guessing you're just going to crash her date tonight?"

Wednesday ignores the nickname that Enid stubbornly uses for you. "It's a ‘friend’ date," she dismisses. "I'm aware the hierarchy for events like these would have girlfriend at the top."

"You're so insufferable."

"Thank you."

Enid sighs. "Alright, let's just get ready together. I have a feeling your hair will take ages to get right."

"Weren't you going to get ready with Yoko?"

"I texted her to meet me here. C'mon, let's get going. Also, you owe me for this dress."

"I wouldn't have to if you had just let Thing use his discount."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

As Enid predicted, they were late, and the dance started 20 minutes ago. Enid bids Wednesday goodbye the second they arrive before she drags Yoko off to the punch bowl where Ajax and Xavier are. 

Xavier grumpily looks at her again as if to tell her he's annoyed she's at the dance again after turning him down and saying she wasn't going. It's all in jest, but Wednesday raises her brow at him anyway. He merely shakes his head with a chuckle before returning to the group. 

Wednesday sees Bianca talking to Divina, they have boys hanging around them, presumably their dates, but they seem uninterested. 

After that, Wednesday's quick to find you. 

Wednesday feels something crawl into her heart at the sight of you across the dance floor. It was like you were reaching into her chest with your hands, unknowingly dredging deeper to grasp her heart, threatening to take it with you.

There was a part of Wednesday that didn't want to hand it over to you. She didn't want—

You turn sharply and look over at her, somehow always alert to her presence despite being in someone else's company. The way your eyes land on her, seeing Wednesday and lighting up. 

It was yours—her traitorous heart belonged to you. You no longer needed to reach inside her chest because her heart leapt out and crawled into your palms. 

No one has ever looked at Wednesday like that. It wasn't the fact that you were happy, because there were already people who were glad to see her. No, it was—like something was settling in you. 

You look at Wednesday, and it's like you see home. And for someone like you, who has never had a home, Wednesday feels...honored. 

In Spanish, there was a word called querencia: a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self.

Wednesday would give that to you as long as you stayed with her. 

The song changes, and suddenly, Wednesday feels her feet move toward you. The slow beat reverberates as the sea of students moves out of her way. 

It's almost too long and too short when she reaches you. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile, "didn't think you were coming."

"I changed my mind."

"I know."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What do you mean? I haven’t told anyone I would attend. Enid only discovered earlier today due to Thing’s blunder."

You smile, turning over to your gorgon friend, leaning over to whisper in her ear. Wednesday can't quite make it out over the noise, but she catches parts that suspiciously sound like, "Thanks for asking" and "Enjoy your night," Wednesday has a sinking feeling she's fallen into one of your traps again.

"You tricked me," Wednesday accuses, unsure whether to feel betrayed or impressed. 

"Not really," you smile at her, grabbing hold of her hand. "Thea did ask if I wanted to go as friends, and I said yes, but I later told her that you'd probably show up, and if you did, well," you shrug. "I'd like to spend the evening with you."

"So, you played into my covetousness and practically spurred me into coming to this inane event despite knowing I had no interest?" Wednesday deadpans. 

You shrug, seemingly unsure if Wednesday was actually annoyed or not. 

"I am annoyed," Wednesday confirms, watching your shoulders drop in dread. 

Wednesday smirks. Serves you right. 

She grasps your hand. "But I'm annoyed at the fact that I should've said yes when you were being obvious and attended this event with you, inane or not, because you wanted to go and I strongly despise the idea of you going with anyone else—even as friends." She says the last words with a crinkle on her nose as if she didn't believe your gorgon friend really saw it as just friends. 

You smile, squeezing her hand. "I think this wouldn't be as fun without you here."

"Fun is hardly the adjective I'd use to describe this affair," Wednesday drawls. "But I suppose it's a little better than last year."

"A little?" You say with mock offense. 

"Be quiet and dance with me," Wednesday pulls you closer, lifting your joined hands up, while her other goes to the small of your back.

The two of you sway to slow music, watching others around you dance. You can't help but notice that Enid isn't dancing with Ajax but talking to Yoko against the wall. 

"You're good at this," you comment, returning your attention to Wednesday.

"Of course," Wednesday raises her brow at you. "Dancing is a customary and essential skill in the Addams family."

"Along with torture and mayhem?" You tease but Wednesday smirks.

"And I excel at all."

"I recall Enid telling me you had some unique moves last year," you hum. "Are you going to show me them?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I can try, but most customary fae dances involve their wings and flying," you tell her, your middle finger stroking the back of Wednesday's hand. 

"Oh?" Wednesday muses. "Sounds intriguing. It's unfortunate someone was idiotic enough to rip open their wings and extend their healing time."

You let out a laugh, a warm feeling passing over Wednesday at the sound, and she is at a loss at how much you've entangled her into you. These things you make her feel are simultaneously enjoying and torture. 

Wednesday is obsessed. 

"You're welcome that someone was stupid enough to do that and save your butt."

"I had it handled."

"Uh huh," you say amusedly, raising your brow at her. 

Wednesday doesn't say anything else. She knows she would've been dead without you. And despite your stupidity, she showed her appreciation to you over and over the weeks you were in the depths of your recovery.

Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, and you lean your face closer, not caring who is watching and staring. 

They would probably never understand how you and Wednesday worked. They would never truly get how someone who smiled as much as you did, drawing those into your gravity, could end up with someone who repelled most people. 

But they were getting a glimpse of it right now. 

A hint of a unique smile and an unfamiliar dangerous glint in your eye—something many will tell themselves, was a trick of the light. 

It's all they can do as Wednesday moves her hands to cup your face, shielding it from view as she closes the unbidden gap, noting your lips and tongue faintly taste like a grape lollipop. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Hope you enjoyed <3

Temp taglist is still open for 25 more people to be notified when the oneshots and sequel is up! Comment or reblog on this post only or part 10 to be added (pls don't send to my inbox bc i will miss it 💔) you can still always follow my library blog for notifs @missmonsters2-library

[danzaloreley]

pretty secrets

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe and is set before chapter 10 (but can also be read as a stand-alone)

Summary: Wednesday thinks you're hiding something from her, and she doesn't like when it starts to rob her of her time with you.

A/N: Hi, yes, here's me procrastinating on other projects just to write this boatload of fluff.

Masterlist

You've been acting secretive lately.

To anyone less aware, it might go unnoticed. But Wednesday had sharp senses.

And when regarding the subject of her affections, her senses are extra sharp.

The changes started a little over a week ago. You'd say you're busy after classes yet not tell her why; you won't allow her into your dorm anymore or, if you do, you always need a few minutes alone to 'tidy it up'; and she once caught you and Enid gossiping around, big smiles on your faces — especially yours — though when she asked what it was about, you changed the subject before giving her a definitive answer.

It's meaningless to worry about it, childish even, yet it bothers the Addams girl. She feels as if there's a small barrier between you that shouldn't have been there anymore.

She, of course, would never let you know about it.

"We happen to have a common free period after lunch today," Wednesday informed you out of the blue, keeping a steady hold of the Hibiscus flower as you carefully plucked out its petals — for someone who loves nature, Wednesday was strangely surprised when she learned you were willing to 'destroy' it, in order to make tea.

You froze your motions with the tweezers as you glanced up at her, "yeah?"

Wednesday nodded once, shifting her gaze to the flower when she felt a familiar distant warmth on her cheeks, "maybe we could enjoy it together, coffee perhaps?"

Wind came through the open doors of the greenhouse, rustling the many leaves around, along with a few rogue wisps of your hair that Wednesday was itching to brush back. The place inside the glass walls and amidst the plants became as much of a safe haven for Wednesday as it was for you.

You gave her what was half a smile and half a grimace, raising your hand to tuck your hair behind your ear; "I won't be able to, I'm sorry."

There was no denying the sudden melancholy in Wednesday's features. The adorable pout on her lips.

"We could go tomorrow, though." Under the table, you bumped her boots with your sneakers, trying to get her eyes to meet yours again.

Running her thumb over one of the few remaining burgundy petals of the flower, Wednesday sighed, her dark eyes cast down, "of course, mi flor, however you prefer."

—

Wednesday Addams walking around Nevermore's hallways on nothing but her dark long-sleeve pajama shirt, black and white polka-dot pants and hair up in a bun was a sight to be seen, luckily no one would be out at this hour — and if she did bump into someone, she would just have to kill them.

But she didn't have many options. She couldn't sleep.

Her talk with you from earlier still bugged her, making her glare at her ceiling as if it personally offended her whilst most unkind scenarios popped up in her mind. Didn't you enjoy her company anymore? Were you unhappy with your relationship and slowly pulling away?

She had to know, and there was no way she'd be waiting until morning so she could ask like a normal person.

Wednesday knocked on your door and you answered rather quickly, indicating that you too, were still awake at past one in the morning.

"Hi," your smile was instant when you saw her on the other side of the door, biting back a comment about her rather adorable clothes, choosing instead to stash the sight on your best memories, "is everything okay?"

"May I come in?" Was all Wednesday asked.

You hesitated, "uh- yeah, just a second."

Wednesday saw herself, yet again, having a staring contest with the dark wood of your door while you most likely hid something from her. She tried to ignore the unpleasant twisting of her stomach.

You opened the door again not a minute later, motioning her in and closing it back again after she was inside.

Maybe it was because your soul could read her heartbeats as if they were a favorite book, but Wednesday appreciates that she sometimes doesn't have to say a word for you to know.

You came into her space slowly, giving her all the time to tell you otherwise. Wednesday instead took the tiniest step toward you, her gaze going down and back up to your eyes.

With a gentleness only she witnessed, you raised your hands to both her cheeks, gingerly pushing back the longer strands of her fringe; your fingers tracing her cheeks and raising the hair at the back of her neck. You then leaned up until your lips could leave the faintest of kisses on Wednesday's forehead.

Her eyes fell closed the second your skin touched hers, like the perfect spell.

When you pulled back, your hands traced their path down until you held onto her own. Your fingers intertwining.

"What's bothering you?"

Wednesday's eyes blinked open lazily, her mouth dry because of the tenderness you gifted her with.

"Have you been… unhappy with us?" Wednesday asked, sounding the most hesitant you ever heard her.

You frowned as if she spoke in a foreign language you had no idea on how to begin understanding; "of course not, why would you say that?"

Setting her jaw tightly in place, Wednesday chooses to focus on your dirty sneakers haphazardly resting near the door instead of your eyes. "You don't seem to want to spend time together anymore, and I feel you're not telling me something."

You couldn't help but grin, because how foolish of you to think she wouldn't notice.

"If you're unhappy, you must tell me," she pressed, taking another step closer to you as her hands gripped yours tighter, "I know I'm not the… perfect partner but-"

"You are," you interrupted her in the same heartbeat, bringing one of her hands up to your lips so you could kiss her knuckles, "and there's no one that could make me happier," you promised against her skin before letting go, walking around her and to your wardrobe.

Wednesday watched with a deep frown as you shuffled through your stuff, her skin still tingling.

"I was going to wait to give you this on a more… special occasion," you told her, biting onto your lip as you looked at your creation in your hands, your heart beating loudly in your chest. With a deep breath in, you turned to face Wednesday again, "but since you're so impatient," you teased, "I guess now is as good a time as any."

The moonlight coming through your window illuminated it perfectly. Vines and tiny branches formed the perfect shape of a crow, little bits of it still adorning moss and small leaves but it added character; on its beak, it held a tiny basket made of the same material — undoubtedly by your skilled hands — inside it, rested a little potted cactus.

You extended the gift for Wednesday, holding onto your breath as you watched her wide eyes move from your face to your hands and back. "I made it for you," you encouraged shyly.

With careful hands, Wednesday took her gift. Her fingers traced over the shape of the bird as she still strived to come up with words.

"I will admit that I got a little excited about finishing it," you chuckled timidly, "I'm sorry it got a bit in the way of our time together."

Few people have gifted Wednesday with something so 'simple' yet so meaningful, this was the result of probably hours of work for you, and you did it for her.

"Now you'll always have a piece of me in your room too," you told her with a fond gaze.

Wednesday glanced back up at you with the beginnings of a smile threatening to show on her lips.

You scrunched your nose, "cheesy, I know."

Whatever unkind thoughts Wednesday had in her mind were vanquished right away, replaced instead by a nauseating emotion she couldn't get enough of.

Carefully placing the gift on your nightstand, Wednesday took meaningful steps toward you until she could take hold of your waist and her lips were just a breath away from yours. "I'll treasure it forever," she said quietly, like a secret against your lips.

She had no intentions of going back to her room for the night.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[danzaloreley]

Spotlight

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: During an unprompted visit, Wednesday discovers something that you’ve been trying to hide.

Warnings: competetive!wednesday, overuse of parenthesis, this exists outside of canon bc i didn’t wanna come up with characters to replace thornhill and weems lol

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this was requested by an anon (dino, hi), hope you enjoy!

Wednesday could not stand most of the Nevermore population.

Keep reading

[danzaloreley]

everyone but her pt.22

Summary: A hidden part of your past comes back to haunt you. At least you've secured a special place in an unusual family's hearts. You would be paying off the debt for the rest of your life.

Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder (in a flashback) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

A/N: I've had a clusterfuck of a week and it's only Wednesday morning, so I'm giving y'all this 20mins early because I love y'all dearly 🫶

The sun was out, shining down and leaving a nice little burn to your skin. It was the perfect day to be running around Niagara Falls with Nicky. People were all around, the birds were out, and you were already far too full from street food. It was perfect.

“What next?” Nicky asked once you had both finished your ice creams; you had strawberry and he had vanilla.

“Hmm,” you hummed aloud, looking carefully over everything.

There were carnival games all around, those were always fun. But they cost money, so maybe not those. Go-karts would be fun, but you weren’t tall enough to drive them and Nicky was a bad driver. You could always go see the birds again, but Nicky had gotten bored. There had to be something you could both do.

Oh!

“The skywheel!” You shouted. No one could see, but your little wings flapped under your shirt.

“Really?” Nicky asked, his hand pressing gently on your back to keep your wings steady. It was comforting. “Why? You can see that view any time.”

“But you can’t,” you said. He looked down at you. “I want you to see what I see!”

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and you turned around to look at the skywheel.

It was so much fun! The birds were out, the sun was shining over the water, and the man at the bottom let you go around three times! Even Nicky had fun, pointing out people, talking about how pretty the sky was. Maybe he could appreciate the view a little better when you tried to fly without permission next time.

“Can we go to the gardens tomorrow?” You asked while you picked at the nachos Nicky had gotten. They had tomatoes on them. Yuck.

“We can,” he said. He wasn’t really paying attention to you, but that was okay because you weren’t paying attention to him either. “If you want to.”

“Are we camping again tonight?” You asked. All the tomato pieces finally rested in the corner of the paper tray and you could eat in peace.

“Yeah,” Nicky said with a sigh. “We’ll head out when you’re done eating.”

“Aren’t you still hungry?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “Finish it.”

“Here,” you said, pushing the tray a little closer to his hand, “I saved the tomatoes for you.”

He hesitated, but after looking at you for a minute he reached forward and grabbed a nacho. They were going cold, but you were just happy to share. You had noticed he hadn’t been eating as much since you had left Nevermore for the trip, and he definitely needed more food.

Besides, it was yummy, why wouldn’t he want some?

After watching the sun set over the falls, it was time to start the trip down to where you had both camped last night. It was a nice little spot down by the nature trails below the falls. You had met some nice people down there when you arrived. They had even loaned you a tent!

“Hold my hand,” Nicky said when the street lights were on and you were taking a shortcut through one of the alleys. “Don’t let go.”

“Why not?” You asked, but reached for his hand anyway. It was warm.

“Just don’t,” he said again. His head was looking all around, but you were very focused on the cotton candy the nice man at the cart had given you.

“A little late to be wandering around, don’t you think?”

Yours and Nicky’s heads turned quickly to see two men walking into the alley behind you. They were tall, even taller than daddy. They had some nice smiles on their faces. Were they taking a shortcut to the trails too?

“We’re just going home,” Nicky said. You opened your mouth to argue - you were going to the campground, not home - but he gave you a look that had you shutting your mouth again.

“All alone?” The other man asked with a tilt of his head. “Your parents let you walk alone at night?”

“We can help,” the first man said. “We know a nice place you can both stay.”

“No thank you,” Nicky said. He pulled your hand as he backed away, making you stumble over your own feet. You nearly dropped your cotton candy. “Come on.”

Nicky kept his eyes on the two men as he continued to pull you with him. You tried to walk backwards just like him, but you stepped on something and stumbled, dropping one of the rocks you had snuck into your pocket. Without questioning it, you turned around and bent down to pick it up, your wings fluttering under your shirt to help you straighten up again.

“Would you look at that,” the second man said, and Nicky froze. “We found ourselves a little Outcast.”

“Nicky is too!” You said.

“Y/N, hush-”

“-No no, let her talk,” the first man said. They were walking closer. “You like to talk, kid?”

“All the time,” you said with a smile. He was smiling too.

“What do you like to talk about?” He asked again. The second man was moving sideways. Where was he going?

“Birds,” you said without hesitation. “Oh, and rocks! Wanna see the ones I found today?”

“I'd love to see them," he continued. He took another step closer. "Why don't you come with us to our house and you can show us all the rocks."

"Ok-"

"-Don't touch us," Nicky interrupted, harshly pulling you behind him.

“Don’t get so defensive,” the second man said. You turned your head and saw him standing behind you both. “We just want to give you kids a place to sleep.”

“I thought you wanted to see my rocks,” you said with a huff. The men got closer.

“How about you just come with us,” the first man said as he reached out and grabbed your arm.

“I said don’t!” Nicky shouted.

He dropped your hand and ran head first, hitting the first man's stomach. They both hit the ground hard. You tried to go help, but a big pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back into a big body.

“You’re gonna stay here with me,” the second man said in your ear. He smelled funny.

But the moment the first man hit Nicky with his knee, you lunged forward. Those big hands pulled you back, but you just ducked down further and he let go. Then it was your turn to hit the first man. You knocked him off of Nicky and felt your knee scrape on the ground.

“You fucking brats,” the first man spit out. He pulled something out of his pocket. Nicky was still on the ground holding his stomach.

The moment you saw the knife in the first man’s hand, you turned around to run. You knew to run away from danger, Nicky had taught you that. But you didn’t get very far before you felt someone pick you up. One hand covered your mouth and you bit down hard.

He screamed and dropped you to the ground again. It hurt your feet. You tried to run again, but the man knocked you over. He turned you around, his body pressing you into the hard ground. You turned your head and saw Nicky fighting with the second man.

It didn’t look like Nicky was winning.

“Just stay still,” the first man said above you. He smelled funny too.

Fight back, a little voice in your head said.

What had you seen Nicky do before? He had gotten into fights before, what did he do? Oh! You threw your head forward, feeling the sharp ache when it connected with the first man’s nose. He grunted and pulled back a little bit, but then you felt something hit the side of your face.

Everything started ringing and the alley started spinning. You could feel him pressing into you again, and your wings started to hurt from the ground. Fight back, the little voice said again, so you did. You threw your arms and legs out everywhere, trying to hit something. But then you felt something sharp press against your neck and you stopped.

“Just kill ‘em already,” the second man called out. He sounded like he had been running for a long time.

“With pleasure,” the first man said above you.

No. You felt the knife press into your neck and the sting that followed. What did you do? What were you supposed to do? Nicky had never taught you how to fight a knife!

Knock it away, the little voice said, and grab it.

You thrashed around again, making sure to hit the hand that was holding the knife. The first man groaned again and you kicked your leg up. You don’t know what you hit, but he screamed and rolled off of you. You scrambled to your hands and knees and looked around.

There was the knife.

Your fingers touched the knife right when the first man got on you again. He tried to grab the knife too, his hand much bigger than yours. As soon as you felt your hand grab it, you turned around and swung it.

“Fuck!”

The first man pulled back really fast, holding his cheek. Something red was coming out from between his fingers. He pulled his hand back and you both looked at the blood, and your eyes went to the big cut on his cheek.

“You little bitch,” he said in a mean voice. “Come here.”

He lunged at you again, but you closed your eyes and held the knife out in front of you. Something hit the knife, pushing you back onto the ground again. You heard a gasp and opened your eyes.

The knife was sticking out of the man’s shoulder. He looked at you in shock before his mouth turned into a frown. When he tried to grab you, you pulled the knife out and stabbed him with it again, this time in his hand.

He reached forward, grabbing your wrist and pulled you back. But instead of pulling, you moved forward and he fell onto his back with you on top of him. Stab him, the little voice said; it sounded mean. Without any hesitation, you grabbed the knife with both hands and brought it down. And you did it again. And again. And again again again again again-

-Something warm splashed against your face. The man was screaming, so you closed your eyes and tried to tune him out. You hummed. But you kept bringing the knife down over and over and over and over and over and-

“-Y/N!”

Smaller hands held your wrists, stopping you from bringing the knife down. You opened your eyes again and saw Nicky looking at you. He had blood on his face and clothes and a few cuts all over. Was he okay?

“Let me have it,” Nicky said softly, and he took the knife from your hands. Your fingers felt stiff like they didn’t want to let go. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know. What had just happened anyway? You were supposed to be at the campgrounds with Nicky about now, right? Why weren’t you both down there with those nice weird people from the other night?

The man wasn’t moving underneath you.

“We have to go,” Nicky said. He was looking all over. “We need to go.”

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up to your feet. Your legs were all wobbly. Nicky grabbed your hand and started pulling you. You looked back and saw the two men laying on the ground. They were really still. Were they okay?

“We have to go,” Nicky said again as he pulled you further down the alley before you both started running-

“-Smith!”

Your head shot up from the hole you had been staring into the table. The quick movement gave you a headache and made your bruised side throb; jail had not been kind to you. Nothing could have properly prepared you for the difference between the singular Jericho cell and an actual jail down in D.C.

People here were mean.

“You’ve got another date with the detectives,” Officer Hartman called out once you still hadn’t moved.

“Better get movin’, cupcake,” your new bestest friend Erin said with a smug look that you wanted to beat off her. Again. “Hartman might scuff up that pretty face of yours.”

“What would I do without your all-encompassing wisdom,” you mumbled as you stood up, inhaling lightly as the bruises on your torso pulled.

“You sure you graduated highschool?” She asked. “Cause you’re sure actin’ stupid as hell.”

“Still smarter than you and your white trash girl group,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“Wanna say that to my face, Outcast?” Erin asked, standing abruptly to be toe-to-toe with you. In  your peripheral, you could see the rest of her gang starting to circle up.

“I thought I did,” you said. She was smaller than you, but far more aggressive. Surprisingly. “I guess your ass and face look the same, that’s my bad.”

“You little-”

“-Summers!”

Erin’s fist stayed cocked and ready as Officer Hartman casually walked up to the group, one hand resting on the baton on her belt. A shiver went down your spine at the sight of it; you certainly didn’t want to be on the other end of it again any time soon.

“Everything alright over here?” Officer Hartman asked, looking between both you and Erin.

“Just showing my little friend the ropes,” Erin said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Oh, you wanted to beat that off her too.

“You can show her later,” Officer Hartman said before turning to look at you. “Let’s get going, kid.”

“See you later, girly pop,” you said with your own smile before you blew a kiss in Erin’s direction.

You’re going to get your ass beat, the voice at the back of your head said. It was almost nice to hear; it had been a few days and you were getting worried it had disappeared. Wow, you were really attempting to make friends with the voice inside your head. Did that make you crazy?

Yes. Yes, it absolutely did.

“Assume the position,” Officer Hartman ordered once you were out of the common area.

It was a bit odd to be accustomed to the cold bite of the shackles placed around your wrists and ankles. To find a certain comfort in the way they were chained to the belt around your waist. You didn’t know what the explanation was, but it was probably something you needed therapy for.

Therapy is for pussies, the voice said. You didn’t necessarily disagree.

“You gonna behave today?” Officer Hartman asked when she started leading you to the interrogation room.

“Yes ma’am,” you said confidently.

“Good girl,” she said. “Maybe we’re finally beating that arrogance out of you.”

You didn’t say anything in reply; it was better that way. But her words made your side throb again. How bad was it now? It had been two days, surely it was looking nice and ugly at this point. But you hadn’t looked at it yet; you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not that the detectives would care, nor would anyone else you were going to come into contact with.

“Welcome back, kid,” Detective Waller said when Officer Hartman led you into the interrogation room.

“Afternoon,” you said quietly as you let Hartman unshackle you and then cuff you to the half-circle thing on the table. You didn’t know what it was called, but it was kind of fun to run the cuff chain back and forth on it-

“-Stop it,” Hartman ordered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickly sitting back in your seat to look at Detectives Waller and Pearce. You didn’t like them. Something about them wasn’t trustworthy.

“How you been?” Waller asked once Hartman left the room. He and Pearce seemed more laid back; you certainly did not.

“Fine,” you said. You refused to look up from where your hands were chained to the table.

A lot of precautions for a single 18 year old, the voice mused.

“I hear you’ve been making friends,” Pearce said, his voice always softer than Waller’s. “We can help you with that problem, you know.”

“You’ve just gotta tell us what happened,” Waller finished. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk. “We have proof, so just tell us how it went down.”

“We don’t need to know about the domestic,” Pearce said. “We have an entire room full of people who saw what happened.”

“Just tell us about Niagara,” Waller finished.

This again. They had been asking for over a week at that point. Why couldn’t they just let it go? You hadn’t even remembered it until they brought it up that first day. Maybe you had done it, sure, but how were you supposed to remember all the details?

“Quit looking at your hands,” Waller said harshly. “Look at me.”

And you did. You looked up at him and instantly felt like you were a kid again. The way they were both looking at you like a child about to get scolded. Like all the times when you would get in trouble with your mom and dad and be sent to your room to think about what you did.

It made you feel small.

“We’ve got your prints on the murder weapon,” Pearce said, attempting to take over the conversation. “Just tell us what happened and we can get you away from Erin.”

No he can’t, the voice said.

You kept your mouth shut.

“You’re making it pretty hard on yourself, kid,” Waller said. He leaned further; he was getting too close. “You know what happens when you refuse to cooperate?”

“You already arrested me,” you said. “So you clearly feel confident enough without a confession.” Waller narrowed his eyes. “Not much else you can threaten me with.”

“We can always have you transferred to a different block,” Pearce said with a tilt of his head.

“I hear Block C has a soft spot for Outcasts,” Waller continued.

Don’t listen to them.

“I’m sure you’d make a lot of new friends over there.” Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“You can be cellmates with Miss Byrne.”

Fight back.

Your ears were ringing.

“I think she’s in for killing an Outcast, isn’t she?”

Don’t let them do this.

Your heart wanted to jump out of your throat.

“Think she did. Five, if I remember right.”

“I’m sure she’s rehabilitated now though.”

“Probably wouldn’t even think twice to-”

“-Good afternoon, everyone.”

All three of you whipped your heads toward the door to see a man walking into the interrogation room. His dark hair was slicked back except for one or two strands hanging over his face, and his light goatee was, honestly, pretty fabulous. He kind of reminded you of Zorro.

What was Zorro doing in your interrogation room?

“Can we help you?” Pearce asked when it was clear Waller was still too busy glaring at the new man.

“Jair Moreno,” the man said with a big, bright smile. “I’m here to talk with my client.” He had a comfortingly deep voice, and a stunning accent. It reminded you of Mr. Addams.

“Client?” Waller asked.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” you said with a frown, finally able to voice something.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here, no?” He said. His smile turned less performative when he looked at you.

Don’t trust him.

“She never asked for a lawyer,” Waller continued. You almost wanted to laugh at how red his face was getting. He was mad.

Good.

“If you keep him around, we can’t talk to you anymore,” Pearce said with a smile that was a rather pitiful attempt at comfort. “We can’t help you.”

“I…” you looked back and forth between the detectives and your (supposed) lawyer. “I would like to talk with him.”

“It’s your funeral, kid,” Waller said with a huff, pushing his chair back harshly and shoving past Mr. Moreno.

“You have the room,” Pearce said quickly before following suit, though in a much less aggressive way. Both you and Mr. Moreno watched and waited until the door clicked shut again, and you were finally alone.

“My apologies for being so late,” he said with a friendly smile as he sat down in the seat across from you. “It took two days to find you.”

“I appreciate you coming, Mr. Moreno-”

“-Señor,” he corrected. “It’s a simple difference, but it makes the white men uncomfortable in these parts.” He winked as if he was letting you in on a little secret.

“Señor Moreno,” you said; the word didn’t sound as pretty coming from your mouth, but he smiled and nodded at you once anyway. “But I can’t afford you. And I never called you.”

“No you didn’t,” he said quickly, “a close friend informed me of the situation. Said you’re like another child to him.”

You wracked your brain to think of who could have possibly called someone for you. Everyone had seen you getting arrested at the Rave’N, so it wasn’t like you could pick from who had known. And you were close with a lot of parents. Had it been a teacher? No, probably not. It certainly wasn’t Sheriff Galpin; he liked you well enough, but you were also a major thorn in his side.

It’s a trap, the voice said. You physically shook your head to get it out. Now wasn’t the time for paranoia.

“I don’t know who would have called,” you finally said. He was being far too nice, it was starting to be a little creepy. Maybe it was the time for some paranoia.

“No?” You shook your head slowly, and his smile fell into something smaller, much more comforting. “Gomez Addams gave me a call.”

Oh.

“Well then I certainly can’t afford you,” you said immediately. Señor Moreno laughed a deep belly laugh.

“He said you would say that,” he chuckled. “That’s why I’m taking your case pro bono.”

“That’s not a smart business decision,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands and away from his gaze. His eyes reminded you of Wednesday’s; dark, like perfectly stained wood.

You’re going to owe them, the voice said. You’ll never be able to repay them. You’ll be in their debt for the rest of your life.

“But it is my decision to make,” he said. You didn’t look up from your hands but nodded absentmindedly.

You felt small again.

“Let’s go ahead and get down to business,” Señor Moreno said.

You nodded and braced yourself for whatever it was he was going to say. You hoped it wasn’t going to be all bad news. There was only so much more you could take.

“Let’s talk about the domestic first,” he said, and you nodded. “We won’t deny it happened, that would be foolish. But what was your emotional state at that moment?”

He blamed Outcasts; he blamed you. Your fist pounded into flesh and bone again and again and again and ag-

“-I don’t know,” you said with a shrug and another shake of your head to get the image of blood out of your mind.

“Were you aware of what you were doing at the time?” He probed. “Or did you only realise afterwards?”

“I…” you sighed. “I didn’t know until after.”

“And it happened impulsively?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall go with an extreme emotional disturbance defence,” he said. “I’ve used it in New York, I’m sure I can find a loophole here.”

“So it’s actually going to trial?” You asked, your shoulders sagging. You couldn’t handle a trial.

“Not necessarily,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. It was almost hypnotising. He was actually pretty handsome.

Don’t be a whore.

“Now tell me about this double homicide,” he said, looking down at notes that you hadn’t even realised he had. “They have yet to declare it either a murder or manslaughter because of your age at the time.”

“Uh, I was 9- 10,” you blinked frantically. “10, I was 10. Nicky was 14.” So young? “We walked west for a few days and had a mini vacation.” The knife flashed under the street lamps. “Two guys trapped us in an alley one night and tried to kidnap us.” You blinked hard again. “Or not, I don’t know, they just tried to get us to go with them.”

“What happened next?” Señor Moreno asked. His voice was far too soft and quiet, it was unsettling. He shouldn’t be so gentle.

“Uh, Nicky got into a fight with one of them and I got in a fight with the other,” you mused as you shook your head slowly, your eyes darting back and forth but not seeing anything. “The one I was fighting pulled a knife on me, so I knocked it out of his hand and…”

The knife came down again and again and again again again again again-

“And you fought back,” Señor Moreno finished for you.

You inhaled sharply, not realising you had been holding your breath. The room suddenly felt too cold and too enclosed. Your wings itched under the makeshift harness the jail had forced you to wear. You wanted to get out. It was too much, you wanted to leave.

“A double homicide sure, but sounds like self-defence to me,” he said. 

“Technically I only killed one,” you mused, blinking a few times to clear the haze so you could look back up at Señor Moreno.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said with a light laugh.

“Guess Nicky was right though,” you said to yourself. “I’ll always remember Niagara.”

“What did you say?” Señor Moreno’s head shot up from his notes. You frowned at him. “Where did you go?”

“Niagara Falls?” You said hesitantly.

“Which side?” He asked. He was leaning over the table to get close to you, his hands reaching out to grab your own. You let out a sigh; you had missed the touch of soft hands.

“Uhh,” you shook your head and your mouth flopped open and closed a few times. “The left side?”

“No no, which country,” he corrected quickly. “Were you on the American side, or the Canada side?”

“I don’t-”

“-What were the falls shaped like?” He asked. He was talking far too quickly, it was making your head spin.

“I…” your eyes swung left and right, over and over as you tried to remember.

“See that?” Nicky asked, pointing to the falls. You could see them perfectly from your spot on his shoulders. “What does it look like to you?”

“A waterfall,” you said with a giggle. He lightly pinched your thigh.

“What else?” He asked with his own little chuckle.

“Umm.” You tilted your head so you could think better. “It looks like a U.”

“It’s a horseshoe,” he said. “Pretty cool, right?”

“A horseshoe,” you said with a slow, dazed nod of your head. “It looked like a horseshoe.”

Señor Moreno let go of your hands - you instantly missed the warmth - and leaned back in his chair. His hands went behind his head and he smiled. He looked at you, looked into your very soul, and smiled. You frowned. What was he smiling about?

“You’re not going to trial,” he said with a chuckle.

“How do you know?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your palms were getting itchy. And sweaty.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. “We have a meeting with your parents and their lawyer.”

“I can’t see them,” you said quickly, eyes going wide. “I can’t.”

“They can’t touch you,” he replied. “If they’re smart, they won’t even talk to you.”

It didn't comfort you, not really. What would it matter if they couldn’t talk to you? They would still be there; you would have to face the people who were supposed to care for you. Love you. Who should have been on your side from the very beginning, not getting you arrested.

“You’ll come back for me tomorrow?” You asked.

“Right after we post your bail,” he said with the most genuine look you had seen since arriving at jail.

“You promise?” You asked again.

He looked at you for a moment with a tilted head and slightly furrowed brows. What was he thinking? He’s not coming back for you, the voice said. But he reached out and placed gentle hands over yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“I promise on my abuela’s grave,” he said softly. Oh so softly.

It made you feel small. But in a good way.

Just the knowledge that you were going to get out was enough to make the rest of the day go by faster. You didn’t even care that Erin and her girl gang were glaring daggers at you the whole day. The only thing on your mind was getting to get out of this fucking jail and get back to the real world again.

You ignored the fact that the real world also sucked.

And that you were not prepared to deal with the real world yet.

Because you’re a coward, the voice in your head said.

You still slept like a baby.

The next morning you took your time heading to the showers; you had picked up on the fact that everyone either showered immediately, or not at all. If you waited just a little longer, the odds of you being alone were exponentially high. It worked out perfectly, and since you weren’t too worried about being late to anything anymore, you took your time. 

Even though it was a bit cold by that time, it felt nice as it cascaded over your face. With your eyes closed, you could just focus on the sound of the water. The goal wasn’t necessarily to wash off anymore, just try to keep your heart and mind in check. You were almost there. Just a little longer.

The water shut off only a moment later, and you let out a frustrated sigh. Of course you hadn’t been keeping track of the time. But it was okay, you would be out soon and could get a hot shower later if you really wanted it. Now all you need to do was dry off and-

-something hard hit the back of your knees and you immediately fell to the ground. The vibration travelled up your palms and the crack of your knees on the tile resonated through your bones and, if nothing else, the bruises that would paint themselves on your skin would be stunning. Wednesday would appreciate the grotesque colours, that was for sure.

You pushed yourself up and looked down at your palms to see the already reddened, sensitive skin on the heels. It ached, and both of your forearms throbbed lightly with each heartbeat. That was going to be a pain in the ass to-

-something rough pulled tight against your neck and yanked you back off your knees. Your hands instantly lifted to pull against it, trying to get your fingers underneath to ease the pressure on your throat. You could feel yourself being pulled backwards across the slick floor until you came to a stop.

Pull it away, the voice ordered. You couldn’t breathe.

Erin stepped in front of you.

“Hey, girly pop,” she said with a grin as she crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Heard you’re leaving today.”

The thing around your throat pulled tighter; it made you choke.

“We couldn’t let you leave without a goodbye present,” one of the women behind you practically taunted.

“Maybe afterwards you’ll learn not to run that big mouth of yours.” Erin’s grin was malicious at best, downright demonic at worst.

They were smart. You knew they were. The moment they pulled whatever was choking you tighter and your hands tried to pull it down, Erin swung. A solid punch that left your ears ringing and the world spinning. The throb in your eye was instant. Only when you were truly dazed did they really get started.

They were smart.

The bruises on your side had already ached before this. Now they genuinely hurt. Each new blow and kick stole what little air you had left in your lungs, and you didn’t know what to do. Did you keep trying not to suffocate? Or did you try to fight back? You couldn’t do both, you were outnumbered.

Fight back, the voice said. But how could you do that when you felt something crack in your side and you couldn’t fucking breath-

“-What’s going on in here?”

It was as if a switch flipped in the room. They instantly released you, and you gasped for air like your life depended on it. You sputtered and coughed, falling forward onto your hands and knees again except this time you didn’t pay attention to the pain in the heel of your palm.

No, this time you were too busy trying not to choke on your own blood.

“Five to one doesn’t seem too fair.” Miss Ethel’s voice echoed off the tiled walls; it sounded fuzzy through the ringing in your ears.

Something red was going down the shower drain.

“We’re just wishing our little friend good luck in the big outside world,” Erin said quickly. At least that’s what you thought she said, you couldn’t actually tell.

“Get going,” Miss Ethel said. You squeezed your eyes shut when the volume of her voice sent a migraine shooting down every nerve in your body. “Now.”

And just like that, they left. Left you on the floor of the showers with a foggy brain and the taste of blood on your tongue. Stand up. No. No, you didn't want to stand up. You wanted to curl up on the cold ground and lay in a pool of your own blood until the foggiest eased and your throat was no longer on fire.

"Come on, baby, get up," Miss Ethel said in a far softer voice that had reminded you of Abuelita.

Her old worn hands held you by the shoulders and steadied you, not rushing you but there as a crutch. As you moved and stretched and stood up, she was there to support you the whole time. Only when you were back up to your feet did she look up at you with a frown.

"So you’re only good for starting fights, not finishing them?” She asked, looking you up and down to assess the damage.

She needs to shut up.

“Just caught off guard,” you mumbled. Your mouth filled again and you spit near the drain; it was a mesmerising dark red. “I can finish fights.”

“Not today though, I see,” she continued. “Decided to be a gentleman, did you?”

“I had it,” you huffed. Something in her eyes reminded you of someone. Someone who cared. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I can see that,” she said with a solemn nod. “You certainly look like someone who had it covered.”

You gonna let her talk to you like that?

“Listen, baby,” Miss Ethel said, her voice dropping a tone and sounding more like a friend. Like someone who cared. “Stop pushing people away. Soon they’ll quit trying.”

“They already did,” you mumbled, your head falling. Your eyes squeezed shut again as a hammer started pounding away at the inside of your skull.

“Then get them back,” she said. You didn’t open your eyes but could feel her hand on your still-naked shoulder. “All that rage and loneliness has to come out sometime. Don’t put your friends on the receiving end and keep your head up. Sad birds still sing.”

“You sound poetic,” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. “Not like someone who murdered her husbands.”

“Read it in a book somewhere,” she said with her charming smile that was missing a few teeth. “Even black widows have some wisdom buried deep down.”

You chuckled lightly before inhaling sharply. Something was definitely broken, probably a rib. It was sticking into your lungs and it just hurt. Every breath, every movement, it hurt. But you took a slow, deep breath and stood up straight again.

No giving up.

“Let’s get you dressed and ready to be picked up,” Miss Ethel said. “Before anyone comes looking for you.”

Miss Ethel helped clean the bit of blood off of you and tidied you up the best she could with what she had. You picked up the towel that had been wrapped around your neck only moments before. It was rough and white. The scratchiness in your throat came back.

You looked brand new by the time you put your suit back on and was escorted out of the jail. It was weird to be wearing the suit, but you supposed it was all you had. Certainly better than nothing, at least. If it wasn’t for the newly blackened eye and broken nose and bruised jaw and… well, anyway, you would have looked ready for the Rave’N.

In theory.

“Dios mío,” Señor Moreno said when he met you outside the jail, running up to you and checking over your face.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just wanna go.”

“Of course,” he said with a simple nod before withdrawing his hands. “Then let’s get going.”

He led you to the front where a car was waiting, and you hesitated. These things weren’t just dangerous anymore; now they had rightfully killed Nicky. Sure, you had been in the police van on the way down, but this was… it was different. It was smaller and more dangerous.

It was scarier.

Just get in, the voice goaded you. And against everything you had, your feet carried you until you got into the passenger seat.

You couldn’t recall the ride to wherever you were meeting everyone. Nothing about it registered in your head, almost like a blackout. The only thing you became aware of was sitting down in the chair in that big empty room and waiting for everyone else to show up.

That was pretty scary.

“Good morning, Y/N,” someone said in an accented voice, and you and Señor Moreno turned around to greet everyone.

You remembered the man. Vaguely, of course. He was a friend of your dad’s, someone he had gone to law school with. Stokes; Luke Stokes. He was older now, had more grey in his hair, a few more wrinkles. If you remembered right, he had favoured you over Nicky.

But you averted your eyes the moment you saw your parents enter the room.

“You’ve certainly grown into a stunning young adult,” Mr. Stokes said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” you said in a raspy voice; it itched your throat again. Everyone quickly sat down and you let your eyes fall to the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Stokes asked once everyone was settled. “You mentioned you were open to a plea deal?”

“Of course,” Señor Moreno said with his own smile. “A trial would be tedious for everyone, no?”

“I’m glad we agree,” Mr. Stokes said as he started shuffling some papers. It was an irritating sound; he wasn’t even looking for anything in particular, you could tell. “Let’s make this simple. Miss Smith pleads guilty and only serves 7 years.”

“I’ll make it simpler,” Señor Moreno retorted, leaning back in his seat. You felt his foot kick yours slightly. “She pleads guilty, pays her fine, and goes to anger management.”

“Absolutely not,” your dad cut in loudly. You flinched and reached your hand out on instinct; Señor Moreno grabbed it quickly under the table. “Assault and murder?”

“Marcus-”

“-No!” His voice was far too loud, only being drowned out by the racing pulse in your ears. “It’s insulting.”

“We have witnesses for the domestic and prints for the murder,” Mr. Stokes said. Your eyes were closed but you guessed he was trying to calm your dad back down. “Why would we let her off without a sentence?”

The domestic was a simple emotional disturbance,” Señor Moreno said nonchalantly. “Her brother had just died tragically, any juror would understand.”

“And the murder?”

“Just so happened to occur on Canadian soil.” He sounded cocky.

Watch their reactions, the voice said. Again, without any intention to do so, your eyes slowly opened and you looked up across the table.

Your dad was furious; his skin was darkened and there was a fire in his eyes. A dangerous fire. He was looking directly at you like he wanted to lunge across the table and strangle you where you sat. Maybe he did. Maybe he would.

I’d like to see him try, the voice growled. And for the first time in a while, you agreed.

“The United States would never extradite one of their own,” Señor Moreno continued, “let alone a small Outcast child who was defending herself from kidnappers.”

“Any jury would still convict,” Mr. Stokes said. “It’s a good deal, Moreno. Just accept it and let’s all go home.”

The room fell silent. A silence so thick you could choke on it. Everyone was looking at everyone else, watching, waiting to see who would speak first. You didn’t want to take the deal. Seven years in prison? Not even a jail, a prison? You could hold your own, but you would rather die than be subjected to that. There already was very little to live for. It would be the final straw.

Señor Moreno squeezed your hand before leaning forward on the table.

“We will have to reject this deal,” he said with a sigh. “A trial will be tedious, but well worth it.” He looked directly at your dad and you noticed the slightest smirk on his face. “I suppose the knowledge that my client is an Outcast will come to light during the trial.”

Your parents’ faces fell instantly. A laugh tried to bubble up from your throat, and you quickly coughed and cleared your throat to hide it. You bit your bottom lip hard as you looked back up to meet their eyes. For the first time, you saw something that almost made the pain worth it.

They were scared.

“I hope your clients are ready for-”

“-Hold on,” your dad interrupted. “There’s no need for that.”

“So you will accept our terms then?” Señor Moreno asked with a tilt of his head. You turned your head to hide your smile.

Gotcha.

He squeezed your hand again as your parents leaned closer to talk to Mr. Stokes. With another turn of your head, you looked at him. He had a cocky smile on his face that was reserved only for you. And truthfully, you trusted him.

“We’ll agree to your terms,” Mr. Stokes sighed, “but the battery remains on her record.”

Shit.

Señor Moreno looked at you again, waiting patiently for an answer. If a violent crime went on your record, you would never be able to move on. You would have to disclose it to jobs, everyone could look it up and find out. It would ruin your life.

But at least it was a life…

You nodded once.

“We accept,” Señor Moreno said quickly, holding his hand out for Mr. Stokes to shake it.

You hoped you hadn’t just handed your life over to something you couldn’t fix.

—---

The next few days were total chaos. Señor Moreno had allowed you to stay in his guest room before the next day of court. It was a kind gesture, truly it was, but the bed was too soft and the house was too quiet. There was no way to get any sort of sleep so you just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts consume you.

Then he took you to the doctor, letting them check you over. Two broken ribs, one fractured, a broken nose, and some deep bruising. Nothing too horrifying, you had dealt with worse. The horrifying part came when it was time to pay and Señor Moreno didn’t even let you see it. He just paid for it all himself.

“Any child of Gomez’s is a child of mine,” he said with a charming smile.

It made you feel small. And a little warm inside.

Don’t get soft, the voice said, it’ll ruin you.

The day of court was far simpler than you had thought it would be. At least it was now that you had Señor Moreno on your side. The judge accepted the plea and let you off with a simple “you’re young, don’t throw your life away.” You just mumbled a “yes sir” and left with Señor Moreno guiding you out of the courthouse.

“What now?” You asked as you pulled on the tie around your neck. It was a shame the only nice outfit you had was your suit to the Rave’N; it had quickly turned uncomfortable.

“Now you go home,” he said with a smile, still guiding you down the steps of the courthouse. Thanks to your parents’ aversion to Outcasts, there had been little to no publicity. “You’ll start your anger management once the new year starts.”

“And the fine?” You asked. 

It had been weighing on your mind since the judge had issued it; $15,000. There was no way in hell you would ever be able to pay that off. A few dozen feet away, your parents descended the courthouse steps, eyeing you for a moment before they looked elsewhere. Your hand quickly travelled to the crystal pendent the Addamses had given you; you still kept it around your neck at all times. 

“I can’t afford it.”

“It’s already taken care of.”

You stopped fidgeting with the crystal and nearly tripped over the last stair. Señor Moreno held his hand out to your arm to steady you before you could look up. Mr. and Mrs. Addams were standing near their car with Lurch still inside. Mrs. Addams had a soft smile while Mr. Addams immediately went to clap Señor Moreno on the back.

You didn’t bother trying to keep up as they started talking in Spanish. Abuelita really needed to teach you.

“How are you feeling, little bird?” Mrs. Addams asked softly as her hand reached out to brush against your cheek. You instantly leaned into the gentle touch.

Stop being vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you said even though you both clearly knew it was a lie.

“Thank you again, Jair,” Mrs. Addams said, and you turned just enough to see Mr. Addams and Señor Moreno walking closer. She still pulled you closer until her arm was around your waist.

She was being far too soft with you, it was making you nervous. But it also left you feeling cared for, maybe even loved. Fuck, when had you truly last felt loved? Mama Weems aside simply because she still had to work all the time, of course. Shit. Now you were just getting sad.

It’s pathetic.

“Of course, Tish,” Señor Moreno said with a smile. “Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“We will,” Mr. Addams said.

Everyone bid their goodbyes to Señor Moreno and watched as he walked away, leaving you with the Addamses. It made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t properly express. How much of their money had you wasted on this whole situation? How much time had you stolen from them?

“Are you ready to go home, little bird?” Mr. Addams asked. He still looked to be in good spirits.

You opened your mouth to answer but instantly felt that lump in your throat again. It was not going to cause you to cry, not now. You closed your mouth and nodded once instead, and thankfully they took that as an acceptable answer. Mrs. Addams opened the car door for you to let you in and soon the drive had started.

You couldn’t remember anything that happened on the trip, or even the ride to the Addams house itself. That alone was enough to get your heart racing once again, but you chalked it down to the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks. More than a few weeks. Fuck, how long had it been since the harvest festival? How many weeks had you missed out on?

Fuck.

You had barely gotten out of the car when you felt something crash into you, knocking you back. Your feet steadied the rest of you, but the ache in your body stretched down every nerve it could find. Small, slender arms were wrapped around your neck and, at the familiar scent of her perfume, your own arms wrapped around her waist as your eyes fell shut.

“Never again, cara mia,” Wednesday mumbled into the side of your neck. “Please.”

Oh, how could you possibly say no to that? When you could hear the rare emotion in her voice and feel something wet drop onto your skin? When her nails were digging into your suit and holding you as if you would disappear in an instant? When you could feel her pulse under your fingertips and even just the feel of her body against yours made you feel home?

She’s going to become a distraction, the voice warned. But a distraction to what? And in the end, did you even truly care? Did you care when she felt like home and comfort and warmth all at once? No. No, you didn’t care. You would let her be a distraction to the whole world if that’s what it took to keep her in your arms.

You didn’t bother with an answer, just held her tighter and inhaled deeply once again. The stress of everything started to melt away, even if only for a moment, and you just held Wednesday as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe something inside you would break, leaving not even your sanity intact if you let go.

You wouldn’t let her go again.

You would pile corpses in front of her door before the world took her from you again.