incelbur blurb part four
the support on this little series has been amazing, i want to thank all of you for the likes, comments and reblogs. that support and exposure encourages me to post more and improve as a writer. so thank you. genuinely c:
also this is the longest part yet and an apology to everyone who was upset y/n didn't kiss wilbur last part lol.
part one + part two + part three
warnings: alcohol, masturbation, noncon somnophilia
wordcount: 2503
dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.
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INCELBUR who avoided you for two weeks to punish you for breaking his heart. he was furious at you, but angrier at himself. he wasn't surprised you didn't like him, no one does. and they shouldn't like him, he's an ugly piece of shit. he told his professor he was sick to skip your classes together, he couldn't see or smell you again because he'd get on his knees and beg for the forgiveness he doesn't deserve.
INCELBUR who still kept an eye on your social media, obsessing over every scrap of information he could find. he wanted to know if you were upset, if you were struggling. but you just looked as happy and carefree as you always do. it was like salt in his wounds, seeing you laughing and smiling with your friends, enjoying life in a way he doesn't know how too.
INCELBUR who got a message from you after two weeks, ignoring the notification for a few hours before curiosity got the best of him. its an apology of sorts, reminding him that you care about him. it makes his heartrate increase but he knows there has to be something more, you have to be hiding something. because if you cared about him you wouldn't hurt him like this. you ask if he wants to game with you, and he knows he should say no. he should tell you to fuck off and die, but he doesn't. he says yes. he doesn't know who he is without you.
INCELBUR who tries to put his walls up now that you guys are talking again, bury his feelings in his shoes and just be satisfied with a friendship. but he isn't. he wants you to be his girlfriend, to be owned by him. he'd be happy if you loved him, he knows you could fix him. make him a better man, teach him to love himself, he wishes he deserved your love. he knows he doesn't.
INCELBUR who drinks until his vision blurs when he see's you at another bar, another night out having fun without him. you post a photo of your little black dress and it makes him so hard he thinks he might pass out because of the lack of blood in his brain. all he wants to do is rip it off and explore your body with his hands and mouth, show you what a good lover he could be. he knows he shouldn't but before he can stop himself he calls you, his fingers fumbling on the phone screen.
"wilbur? do you need something?"
".... you. needed to hear your voice, need you to tell me you still like me."
"of course i still like you, wilbur. i've always liked you."
"why? why do you fucking like me? i'm disgusting, and you're perfect and happy. everything i'm not."
INCELBUR who feels like crying when you reassure him he isn't disgusting, tell him that you think he's sweet and cute. you tell him he's funny and way better than you at call of duty, and way smarter than he gives himself credit for. he asks you how you stay happy when the world is so awful all the time, how do you stay so beautiful when everything else is broken.
INCELBUR who doesn't believe it when you tell him you aren't perfect. he can't understand when you open up and tell him you don't feel beautiful, how you hate the way you look in the mirror and aren't happy everyday. how can you be sad? do you not see the goddess on earth in the mirror when you wake up? he hates hearing your insecurities, you shouldn't feel as bad as he does. it isn't fair, you don't deserve that.
INCELBUR who like he's been punched in the chest when you offer to come over to his house that night, ditch your friends to make sure he's okay. he hates that his first thought if you coming over to fuck him, sucking his dick to make him feel better. he knows that isn't what you're offering, you just want to come over and look after a friend. but a man can dream.
INCELBUR who agrees, scrambling to clean his room before you get there. he throws as much rubbish as he can into the bin until its overflowing, shoving his piles of dirty clothes into his wardrobe and shutting the door. he sees the way his sheets are stained and wishes he had time to throw them in the wash, you deserve better than the disgusting man cave he rots in for days at a time. you should have a castle and lush fabrics, not him. anything is better than him.
INCELBUR who thanks god his mum is away on a work conference when you show up, he's embarrassed by the fact he still lives with her in his 20's but he doesn't know how to take care of himself. he can't cook, doesn't know how to save money or do his laundry properly. he apologises for the mess, you tell him it's okay and you don't care. but you should care, he's a slob.
"sorry about coming over on such short notice, i just wanted to make sure you didn't do something stupid."
"i called you when you were busy with your friends, that was pretty stupid."
"well, yeah but you needed some help. there isn't anything wrong with that. you know you can always call me when you need help, that's what friends do."
"... i guess so. i'm just not used to having friends at all. i don't want to make people deal with my shitty existence."
"if i didn't want to deal with your existence i wouldn't have bothered talking to you at all, mate."
INCELBUR who thinks you are an angel. that's the only logical reason you make him feel this good. you sit on his bed listening to some music, and he finds himself opening up about all the things he's kept hidden. his absent father, his insecurities about his body, his paranoia that everyone is out to get him, his innate need for validation and love. you thank him for opening up and put your hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. he hates that such a simple gesture of love makes his dick stiffen in his sweatpants.
INCELBUR who listens when you tell him about your problems. how you worry about the future, distracting yourself with partying so you can ignore that voice in the back of your head that says you're a disappointment. he wishes he could press a button that would make you feel better, even if the button only worked once he would use it on you instead of himself.
INCELBUR who tells you he's a virgin, how he hasn't had a girlfriend or even kisses anyone before. he wants too, badly. any form of intimacy he craves like a drug he's never even had. it makes him insecure knowing how everyone around him did it years ago. it makes him feel like the biggest loser in the world. you remind him there's more to life than finding love but he doesn't believe it. he knows he would be happy if someone loves him, because then maybe he could love himself.
"honestly my first kiss was awful, it was with some guy when i was thirteen at school. if i'd waited for someone who actually cared about me it would have been more memorable."
"i guess, but at least you had someone who wanted to kiss you. no one has ever wanted to kiss me."
"... you sure?"
INCELBUR who thinks this must be some cruel joke when you offer to kiss him. he knows you've been drinking tonight, and you just feel sorry for him and his sad life so you're throwing him a bone. but even knowing all that he says yes, god yes. he can't say no to you, he'd jump off a sky scraper for you. you tell him the kiss doesn't mean anything and it'll help him get over that desire if he just does it, and see's its just a thing. a physical action and not some giant, life changing event.
INCELBUR who forgets to breath when you put your hand on his cheek, he can smell your perfume and the alcohol on his breath and he think's he's suffocating, drowning in you. then you kiss him. your lips are soft, gentle, loving. his hands find your shoulders, his fingers dig into the skin, he can feel the bones and muscles underneath and he knows he's already in too deep.
INCELBUR who could have died when your tongue slides against his bottom lip, gently asking for entry. he lets you, of course. why shouldn't he? he wishes he had brushed his teeth that morning but if he tasted bad you don't pull away, instead your hand moves from his cheek to grip the curls at the nape of his neck and tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss.
INCELBUR who's cock is so hard it hurts, the outline so clear in his pants but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed. he's kissing you, his first kiss is with the most gorgeous woman on the planet and she's kissing him back. His hands move on his own, moving from your shoulders to your waist, one gripping the fabric of your dress while the other snakes up to palm your breast. he moans into your mouth, his body shaking with anticipation of anything else, of more of you. all of you.
INCELBUR who whines when you pull away, giving him a small smile. you sit back but he doesn't move his hands, he isn't ready to let you go. he asks to kiss you again, and you chuckle. you tell him you're happy to make out some more but you aren't fucking him, he's too drunk. he wants to protest and tell you it doesn't fucking matter if he's intoxicated, if he was sober he would just be drunk on your lips instead. but he stops himself, he'll accept more kisses if it means you stay with him a little longer.
INCELBUR who makes out with you on his bed for what could have been hours or minutes, he can't tell. you grip his wrist to pull his hand away when it tries to sneak up your dress, so he grabs your ass instead. you're lying on top of him, your warmth seeping into his bones. eventually though, it stops and you get off him. he opens his mouth to demand you get back on him but suddenly you're asking to crash the night. now he knows he is dreaming.
INCELBUR who agrees, how can he resist you? he feels like such a slob knowing you'll be sleeping in his gross sheets but you asked, you know what you're getting into. he offers you one of his shirts to sleep in and he can't wipe the grin off his face when you agree. you disappear into the bathroom and when you come out you're just in his shirt and your panties, the fabric hanging around your thighs. his cock pulses, still painfully hard. god, you will be the death of him. he doesn't take his own shirt off, he doesn't want you to see his pasty, skinny body.
INCELBUR who spoons you from behind when you slide into bed beside him, one arm under your neck while the other grips your hip possessively. he leaves some space between his hips and yours, he knows you would have felt his boner when you kissed but he doesn't want to scare you away. you tell him goodnight, and nuzzle your head into his pillow. he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, he wants to tell you he loves you. but he doesn't. he just says goodnight, and thanks you for coming over tonight.
INCELBUR who can't fall asleep with you in his arms. he glances at his alarm clock to see he's been lying behind you for at least two hours, still hard as a rock. you're asleep though, serene and relaxed in his bed. he's imagined how you'd look asleep beside him but reality is better than his imagination. you look beautiful, your face relaxed and lips parted as you breath deeply. you should stay he every night, you look happy here. with him.
INCELBUR who can't resist shuffling forward until his clothes erection is pressed against the cleft of your ass. he bites back a moan at the pressure, he's leaking precum and its pathetic. he knows it's wrong but his hand on your stomach creeps up to your tits again, massaging the globes through his shirt until he feels your nipple harden. he pressed his face into the back of your hair, inhaling your scent as his hips rut gently against the curve of your buttocks.
INCELBUR who is being a creep. he knows that's who he is deep down, and he's desperate. he slides his hand up his shirt to play with your bare tits, his cock twitching with excitement when he feels your nipple against his palm. he wants to suck them, bite them. but he knows if he moves to much you'll wake up and be furious at him, so he keeps his movements and touches subtle. his hips roll in a gentle rhythm, its not enough to get him off but the pressure on his cock is enough to relieve some of his tension.
INCELBUR who presses kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders, sucking on the skin softly. he wants to mark you, to show everyone who belongs to him. he hesitated for only a moment before he presses his teeth into your soft flesh, increasing the pressure until he's confident you'll wake up tomorrow with a bite mark on your shoulder. he can feel the wet patch leaking through his pants from his precum and hopes to god you can't feel the wetness against your ass.
INCELBUR who doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he blinks his eyes open he reaches for you again. but you're not there. he sits upright, his head spinning from his hangover. he rubs his eyes, clearing his vision and scanning his room for you. but you're gone. your shoes and purse aren't there, the shirt you wore sits folded on his desk chair. he's filled with so many conflicting emotions he doesn't even notice the note on his bedside table.
INCELBUR who screams into his pillow, throwing a textbook against the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. of course you're gone, why the fuck would you give him the privilege of waking up beside you? god, he's such an idiot. why did he even think he had a chance with you? it was just some fucking kisses. he's just a charity case, not deserving of anything more than the scraps you give him.
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Her Heartbeat, Chapter 7:Her Vulnerability
Summary: Wednesday blames you as the reason she let her guard down, for the vulnerability that came with you.
Warning: Light Angst. Wednesday is back. !Mentions of death of a parent! Slow Burn.
Chapter 1
Previous Chapter
Worklist.
Your heart raced as you grabbed your phone, frantically dialing your dad’s number. This wasn’t a “handle it yourself” kind of situation. You had nine high people on your hands, one of them being Wednesday Addams, and you knew things could go downhill fast.
"Dad.." you began, your voice shaky..
He definitely sensed the panic in your voice. “What happened? Everything alright?”
“Uh, not exactly,” you said, glancing nervously at the group. “So... Dad, do you remember how you always said if I ever needed you, no matter how stupid the reason, you’d come?”
Your dad paused, immediately suspicious. “Yeah? What did you do?”
“Okay, first of all, this is not my fault.” You shot a look toward Rick, who was now trying to chase his own shadow in circles, laughing like a maniac. “But... everyone here might be, uh, high. And Wednesday, well, she’s... Let’s just say I need help. Fast.”
Your dad’s voice came back with a groan. “Hey! You told me you guys were camping, what kind of camps do they even run?"
“We were camping, Dad! It’s an accident!” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “Stop asking questions and just get here!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. What do I even bring to deal with this?” he asked,
You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Uh, a tranquilizer gun?”
Your dad chuckled. “I’ll figure it out. See you soon. Try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”
“Great,” you muttered. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be here... herding drunk cats.”
As you hung up, you sighed in relief but immediately felt the weight of the situation crash back in.
“Y/n,”
You jumped, nearly dropping your phone. “What the—Wednesday! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“You need to lift the magic.”
“Magic? What magic?” You frowned, thrown off by the comment.
“The one that keeps making me think about you all the time. Like right now. Like when I sleep.” She leaned closer, "It makes me feel... weird. Like... like I should stab you. But I can’t. I try, but it doesn’t feel right. Anyone else, I’d stab them. Like... like Brooke.”
You tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay, but let’s agree not to stab Brooke,” you said, gently taking her arm.
Just then you heard Alex shout from across the camp. “Oh, baby! You complete me!”
“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned, rushing over to see Alex, arms wrapped around a thick tree trunk, “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”
Alex, now fully invested in his "relationship" with the tree, was whispering sweet nothings into its bark. "You're so... strong. You never hurt me, even when I hit you. I think... I love you."
"Alex!" You groaned, "Stop groping the tree. It doesn’t love you back."
He glanced at you, wide-eyed and sincere. “She… she gets me. She understands me. I love her.”
You stared at him for a moment, wondering if you should laugh or cry. “Alex, it’s a tree.”
“Don’t insult her!” he cried dramatically, clutching the bark tighter. “She’s... she’s the love of my life.”
“Rick! Don’t get in the water!” you shouted as you caught sight of him staggering toward the lake.
Rick paused, looked back, and said, “But the water… it calls to me!”
“No! You’ll drown!” You sprinted over, grabbing his arm and yanking him back just in time. He stumbled but managed to stay upright, looking at you as if you’d just ruined his dreams.
“Aw, come on! I just wanted to see the dolphin.”
“It's a lake Rick! There are no dolphins! Stay away from the water!”
You sighed, glancing around the camp to see what fresh disaster awaited you. And then, your heart stopped.
"Wednesday, don’t stab Brooke!" you shouted, seeing Wednesday approaching Brooke with a knife in hand.
“Why not?” Wednesday replied, her voice dangerously calm. “She looks stab-worthy.”
For a second, you thought you were in the clear—until Wednesday moved behind Brooke and, with one swift motion, sliced off her ponytail.
Brooke just kept laughing. “Hey! Free haircut!”
“Wednesday, what the hell!" you cried.
She turned to you with an unsettling smirk, eyes still glazed but sharp. Without warning, she threw the knife at you. You yelped, dodging just in time as the blade embedded itself in the tree behind you. “Seriously?!”
She grinned, grabbing another knife from god knows where. “It’s a game, Y/n. You dodge, I throw.” You ducked again as the second knife sailed past your head. “How many knives do you even have?!”
“Enough,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.
Before you could react, she pulled out another knife from her coat.
“Okay, stop!” You ducked as the third knife soared past. “Are you done?”
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “No.” And out came knife number four.
You barely dodged it as it flew past your head and stabbed Alex's newlywed wife... "My love! Noooo" Alex cried holding onto the tree.
“You’re really good at dodging,” Wednesday mumbled, her words slurring together. “I might like that about you.”
You weren’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified.
“Wednesday! Are you done?”
She frowned, swaying on her feet. “I’m out of knives."
"Thank god," you muttered but before you could catch your breath you saw Mike, who was trying to roast marshmallows... without the stick. He held the marshmallows directly over the fire with his bare hands, completely unaware of the flames licking at his skin.
“Mike!” you ran over and pulled him away. “Are you trying to set yourself on fire?!”
He blinked at you in confusion. “I was just... hungry.”
“Use a stick next time!” you cried, handing him one.
You sighed as you glanced at Wednesday, who had wandered off again, staring at the moon like it had personally offended her.
You jogged over to her, grabbing her by the arm before she could do anything else drastic. “Wednesday, stay with me, okay? Get a hold of yourself, stop acting weird.”
“I’m not weird,” she muttered, looking up at the sky with unfocused eyes. “The moon is weird. Look at it... all smug up there... thinking it’s so important. I could take it down if I wanted to.”
“Sure, Wednesday,” you said, humoring her. “But let’s not fight the moon right now, okay?”
She blinked, swaying slightly. “Why not? It deserves it. It’s always watching... judging... Like Weems, Can we kill Weems when we go back?”
Rick was running back toward the lake again, you rubbed your temples. “Wednesday, please just sit down, we can kill Weems later, okay?.” you said before going for Rick.
“Rick! No!” You sprinted after him, pulling him away just before he could dive in.
“Man, you’re no fun!” Rick slurred, pouting like a child.
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to keep you all alive!”
Returning to Wednesday, you found her surprisingly obedient for once, sitting by the fire.
“You,” she muttered, pointing a finger at you again. “Why are you always fixing things? Its annoying.”
You sighed, catching your breath. “Trust me, I know.”
“But…” she paused, her brow furrowing in drunken confusion. “I also kind of like that you’re always… there.”
You raised an eyebrow at her, your heart doing a weird little flip despite the chaos. “Oh yeah? Well, I kind of like that you haven’t stabbed anyone yet.”
She smirked, getting up on her feet. “Give me some time.”
Just as you were about to respond, the distant ruffling from the woods.
Your dad had arrived, along with a few camp staff members who clearly had no idea what they were walking into.
“Okay,” your dad said, running a hand through his hair. “What the hell happened here?”
You crossed your arms, gesturing to the group. “This. This happened. Rick spiked the coffee. So… good luck. I’m getting Wednesday out of here. Give me your car keys.”
Your dad hesitated, his brows furrowing. "You don’t have a license yet, Y/n."
"I don’t care," you said firmly, glancing over at Wednesday, who was eyeing everyone with a dangerous gleam. "I need to get her out of here before she really does something."
He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, digging into his pocket and pulling out the car keys. "Here. And take this." He handed you a flashlight. "It’s dark out there."
"Thanks, Dad," you said, pocketing the keys and flashlight.
"Good luck," he called as you started to lead Wednesday away from the mess.
You led Wednesday through the dark jungle, her hand gripped tightly in yours, her steps unsteady but stubborn. Every twig that snapped had you jumping.
“You’re scared,” Wednesday observed bluntly.
You stiffened. “No, I’m not. I just don’t like… unexpected noises.”
“You’re scared,” she repeated, her voice softer now, less mocking. “I can tell.”
You sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little. It’s dark and creepy"
You walked in silence for a few moments, the jungle seeming to close in around you, the air thick and heavy, but what felt even more dense.. was Wednesday's proximity near you.
“I’m scared too.” her voice softer now, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.
You blinked, “What? You? Scared? Of what?” you asked, half expecting her to say something completely ridiculous, like hugs.
“I’m scared… of getting close to you.” Her words came out slowly, as if she were forcing herself to admit it.
That made you stop in your tracks. You turned to look at her, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.
“I’m scared about that too,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the sounds of the jungle. “I’m scared for you. That you’ll get close to me, and it’ll be... selfish.”
“Selfish?” she echoed, her brow furrowing. “Why would it be selfish?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn't.. you didn't want to lose her... not yet.
Wednesday’s gaze bore into you, waiting for an answer, but you squeezed her hand lightly, leading her forward through the jungle.
"Let’s just get out of here," you murmured.
She didn’t press further, just followed your lead, her steps slow but steady, her grip firm in yours. After what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the road ahead, your dad’s car parked at the edge of the road.
Relief washed over you as you reached it.
You helped Wednesday into the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel.
There was no way you were driving two hours to Nevermore in this state. Your house was only half an hour away, and you were way too tired to push through for that long.
“I’m taking you to my place,” you said, glancing over at Wednesday. “It’s closer.”
She blinked slowly, her head resting against the window. “I don’t care… as long as it’s quiet.”
You started the car, pulling onto the road and heading toward home. The drive was mostly silent, save for the occasional comment from Wednesday.
“You’re a terrible driver,” she mumbled at one point, her eyes half-closed.
“Gee, thanks,” you muttered.
“And why is your car so… bright?”
“It’s a normal car, Wednesday.”
“I prefer hearses.”
You chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spread through your chest despite the exhaustion. Even drunk, even high, she was still Wednesday Addams.
After what felt like both an eternity and a blink, you finally pulled into your driveway. You hadn’t been gone long, just a week, but somehow it felt like you’d been away for months. You missed it.
You helped Wednesday out of the car, guiding her toward the front door. She blinked at the house, her lips curling into a half-frown. “It’s… too clean.”
You raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Where are the cobwebs? The dust? It’s too… colorful. It offends me.”
You laughed softly, unlocking the door and stepping inside. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe I can add some cobwebs for you later.”
Wednesday grunted, following you in. “You should.”
You led her upstairs to the bathroom, handing her a towel and some spare clothes—luckily, you had some black ones. No way were you risking putting her in anything with colours. That might be the last mistake you ever made.
"Just… take a shower. I’ll be right outside if you need anything," you said, standing awkwardly by the door. There was a pause, and then the sound of water running. You heard her muttering something under her breath, but you didn’t ask what.
After a few minutes, she emerged, dressed in the black shirt and pants you’d given her. She still looked disheveled, her hair damp and wild.. and... human?
"Better?" you asked.
She nodded once, her eyes flicking over you. "Tolerable."
"Great." You led her to your room, where you helped her onto your bed. "You can sleep here. I’ll take the chair."
Wednesday stared at the bed with disdain. “It’s too colorful.”
“Would you prefer I get you a coffin?”
Her eyes lit up "You can?"
“No, I’m fresh out of coffins, so you’re stuck with this.” You said, watching as she reluctantly climbed onto the bed. She lay back, eyeing the bright blankets suspiciously.
"Sweet dreams Wends."
"Bitter nightmares Y/n."
You sat down in the chair, resting your head on the table, exhausted from the day. As your eyelids grew heavier, you couldn’t help but feel… content. Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the stress—it was nice. It was nice… with Wednesday.
Wednesday woke up with a pounding headache, one that reminded her of the few times she'd experienced her visions—but this one was worse. Her skull felt like it was splitting in two. She blinked slowly, squinting against the unfamiliar light filtering through the room.
Her mind began to sort through fragments of memories. The camp… those insufferable therapy sessions… the lake… She sat up abruptly, clutching her head as the pain intensified.
Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on your slumped figure, asleep at the desk. You were hunched over, your head resting on your arms, your breathing slow and steady.
For some reason, her mind didn’t leap to the worst-case scenarios like it usually did. Normally, she would have assumed she’d been kidnapped or poisoned or worse, but this time, her immediate reaction was different. You were there. And for some strange, infuriating reason, that put her mind somewhat at ease. She quickly squashed that feeling, she needed answers.
“Y/N.”
You jolted upright, startled and confused, your eyes wide as you tried to get your bearings. “Wednesday?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, still half-asleep.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice sharper now. “And why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train?”
You stood, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. “You’re at my house,” you said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, sorry about that. After everything that happened last night, I figured it was easier to bring you here instead of taking you all the way back to Nevermore.”
Wednesday’s gaze narrowed. “And what, exactly, happened last night?”
You grimaced. “It was Rick. He spiked the coffee, and… well, everyone got pretty messed up. You were high.”
A flicker of memory hit her like a punch to the gut. The coffee. Rick. Her emotions spilling out. She had been...drunk. And not just any kind of drunk—emotionally vulnerable drunk. A wave of nausea hit her. "I was what?"
"Yeah, you were... not yourself. And I had to, you know, keep you from stabbing people or throwing knives. At me, mostly." You gave her a nervous chuckle, trying to ease the tension. "So I took you home before you killed anyone."
Wednesday’s face darkened, her expression unreadable. She could vaguely remember the feel of the knife in her hand, the sheer frustration bubbling inside her, and then...she let her guard down. She had felt things—for you. Her hands tightened into fists.
"This was your fault," she said, her voice low, dangerous. “You. You're the reason this happened.”
You blinked in surprise, then frowned. “What? How is this my fault?”
“You.” Her eyes burned with anger, her lips curling into a scowl. “Yesterday, I let you in. And look where that got me—drunk, vulnerable, and completely out of control.”
Her words stung. You had never seen her so agitated, so vulnerable, and yet so defensive at the same time. Your heart sank a little, but you stepped closer to her. “Wednesday, it’s okay. I was there, wasn’t I? I’ll always be there if you need me.”
“That's not the point!” Wednesday snapped. “The point is that I’m never like this. I never allow myself to be anything other than in control. But you... you make me lose that control. You distract me. You’re the reason I wasn’t on guard, the reason I didn’t see it coming.”
For a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t often that you saw Wednesday like this—raw, emotional, admitting that she wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted to be. But instead of backing down, you felt your own frustration rising.
“So, what? You’re mad because I’m not a threat to you? Because I make you feel something?”
Her eyes flashed. “Yes!”
You stared at her, genuinely taken aback by her admission. “You’re blaming me for something you’re not used to dealing with that I had no control of.”
Wednesday’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "You had control, you entered my life. I never asked you to get close to me," she hissed.
You stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. You shook your head slowly. “You know what? Fine. Be mad. Blame me for all of it. Blame me because you’re scared to admit that you actually care about someone. Go ahead.”
Wednesday’s eyes flashed a bit of emotions, but you didn’t stop.
“Because I can’t do this,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I can't keep taking the fault just because you’re too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be alone all the time.”
“I am not alone,” Wednesday said coldly. “I choose this.”
You looked at her, and for a second, something shifted in your expression. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. “Fine. Then go. Be strong and alone, just like you always do.”
The words stung more than she cared to admit. She felt her anger surge again, but this time, there was something else beneath it—an ache she couldn’t name. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her mind racing.
Back in your room, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. The frustration, the anger—it was all swirling inside you like a storm. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but damn it, Wednesday knew how to push every button.
Still, you couldn’t just leave things like this. Not after everything that had happened.
With a resigned sigh, you stood up, running a hand through your hair as you headed out to find her.
Wednesday stood outside, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as the morning air bit at her skin. She stood rigid, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. What part of Jericho is she even in?
She was stuck in this place—your place. A house that felt almost too normal for her liking, too...warm. It was unsettling. And yet, it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the setting that rattled her. It was you.
She wasn’t going back inside.
Her pride wouldn’t allow it. She could navigate the situation on her own—she didn’t need help. Wednesday Addams never needed help.
You were the one person she could blame for her current predicament. Yet, somehow, you were also the only person she found herself thinking about.
Her head was still pounding, the remnants of the drug-fueled haze clinging to her like a persistent shadow. It was disorienting and left her feeling unusually out of control.
And that—more than anything—infuriated her.
She wasn’t used to this. Losing control, feeling vulnerable, feeling anything.
It was your fault. You had wormed your way into her life, into her mind, and now, into her emotions. And for what? You were unpredictable, infuriatingly cheerful, and entirely too comfortable in her presence. No one had ever made her feel this conflicted before. And she hated it.
No, she hated you. Right?
What had she said last night? What had you seen? She remembered the rush of emotions flooding her mind, the dizzying sensation of being drunk—something she never allowed herself to be.
And somehow, you had been there, in the middle of it all.
And you are still here now...
“Is it really that bad to let someone in, Wednesday?” She stiffened at the sound of your voice, not bothering to turn to face you.
“Yes,” she replied coldly, the answer immediate and sharp. “It would make me weak. Vulnerable.”
You sighed softly, taking a few slow steps toward her, careful not to intrude on her space but just close enough that she couldn’t ignore your presence.
“Vulnerability,” you mused, glancing down at your feet before looking back at her with a sad smile. “I wish I felt vulnerable sometimes. The vulnerability of a mother’s love."
Wednesday’s sharp gaze turned to you, a question forming in her eyes but remaining unspoken.
“My mother died giving birth to me,” you continued, "Talk about being born only to murder your mother,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t filled with your usual warmth. It was tinged with something deeper—pain.
That hit harder than she anticipated. Wednesday wasn’t one for empathy, but something about the way you said it, the way you tried to laugh off the tragedy, made something in her chest tighten. She wasn’t sure why, but the pain in your voice resonated with her.
“I watched as the others played with their mothers,” you continued, your eyes distant now, as if you were seeing something far away. “Dad tried, he really did. But he had work. The cars in his garage weren’t going to fix themselves.”
Wednesday stayed silent, her eyes locked on your profile. She could see the sadness in your eyes now, the weight of it pressing down on you like a dark cloud. You were trying to make a joke of it, trying to downplay the loss, but she could tell how much it still hurt you.
“Why am I telling you all this?” you asked, your voice softer now, more vulnerable than she had ever heard it. “Because, Wednesday... sometimes, the thing we think will make us weak or vulnerable... is actually the thing that’s missing. The thing that could make us whole.”
She remained silent, the words hanging in the air between you both. For the first time in a long time, Wednesday didn’t have a sharp retort, didn’t have some sarcastic comment to throw back at you. She just...stood there. Listening.
What the hell am I even doing?
Her mind raced, and she felt an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach. You clearly had nothing to hide, no ulterior motives that she could detect. Maybe...maybe she could trust you. But trust was dangerous. She had built her life around never needing to trust anyone. Why should you be any different?
Still, something about your words lingered in her mind, gnawing at her resolve. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, you had said. It was the missing piece.
For a moment, she considered the possibility. Maybe, just maybe, letting you in didn’t mean losing control. Maybe it was something else entirely.
She clenched her jaw, finally turning to face you. “Where does this leave us?”
You met her gaze, your expression unreadable for a moment. Then, you gave a soft, almost tired smile.
“What even is this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. It was a rare admission of uncertainty from her, and it made her feel exposed in a way she hated.
“I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging slightly. “But does it really need to have a name? This...whatever this is...it can just be ‘this’ till we enjoy each other’s company.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I clearly enjoy yours. I don’t know about you.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes, but there was no real malice in the gesture. “You aren’t entirely intolerable,” she muttered under her breath, her voice softer than usual.
You laughed at that, a genuine laugh that seemed to lift some of the tension between you. “High praise coming from you,” you teased.
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. The fact that she hadn’t immediately insulted you or walked away was enough of a response.
Then, after a moment, you stretched and yawned, clearly still recovering from the night’s chaos. “Anyway,” you said, “I clearly need coffee. Preferably not spiked" You took a few steps forward, then paused, looking back over your shoulder at her. “You coming?”
She sighed, her expression impassive as she finally moved to follow you.
Whatever this was, it went deeper than that. The things she did for you, the things you made her feel...they weren’t just born from friendship. But no, this wasn’t something romantic either, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure what it was.
And maybe, just for now, that was okay.
This didn’t need a name.
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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮
Jacob black x Reader
A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰
Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.
Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.
The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.
Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.
“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.
“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.
“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.
You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.
“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.
He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”
The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.
“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.
“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”
You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.
“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.
Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”
He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.
You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.
Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.
“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”
Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.
But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.
“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.
“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”
“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.
A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.
“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.
Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.
“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”
“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.
At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”
Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.
You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.
“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.
You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”
“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”
“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.
“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.
“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”
“Did you go to a doctor?”
“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.
“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.
All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.
You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.
“Hey, Jacob.”
“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”
“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.
He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”
You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”
He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”
“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.
“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”
There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.
“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.
“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.
You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.
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