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#wednesday addams x gn!reader
vorsdany · 1 year
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ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ (ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ)
Wednesday Addams x reader
Words : 5.5k+
Summary : You always flirt with everyone, Wednesday included. There’s a rule, though; you always call them by their last names. What happens when you break that rule with Wednesday?
Warning (s) : blood.. lots of blood. Death.. lots of deaths.
a/n : hope this makes sense.. that’s all I ask LMAO
requested by friend @ipharaohosiris and kiddo @mikavlcs .
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“Looking good, Addams.”
Wednesday cannot deal with this today. The sun has just taken its place on top of their heads, the heat raining down on them like hellfire upon sinners in the afterlife – and that, would’ve been the better circumstance, Wednesday muses. Because as the students fight for their lives under the bright rays from the sun, their hands and knees dirty, sticky with mud from planting the seeds of multiple deadly plants, you somehow find a way to gravitate toward the naturally gloomy girl, sending a searing heat erupting throughout her body worse than the sun could ever cause anyone.
Wednesday has lost her dark jacket, leaving her in the white shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up – the sight always sends you swooning, reminding you of the time you caught her digging up a grave illegally. You know it’s what she’d prefer to do rather than gardening, though you don’t starve yourself from admiring the rare show of a domestic Addams in her unnatural habitat.
“If you’re going to stand there without helping, you might as well leave.” The ravenette grunts from the ground, her voice harsh, surprisingly without malice laced in her tone. She glares all the same, though, even as you busy yourself with her bag of seeds and begin burying them into the soils you were provided with. Wednesday doesn’t correct you, her hands resuming their movements – she’s sharing her belonging – sure, it’s only seeds, but she knows you have one bag stashed in your left pocket, and the empty land behind her laid bare; it’s where you were supposed to plant your batch. You continue your torment of sending terrible pickup lines at her, your eyes crinkling at the ends as you crouch closer, hands operating expertly with the task.
“Listen. I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”
“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.”
Wednesday always thinks her parents are the worst at showing their love to each other verbally, for it usually makes her sick to the stomach, her previous dinner fighting to escape her esophagus as they begun their lovely banter right after the car door slammed shut. Turns out, she has yet to hear the worst of it. Never has she thought that anyone would express their interest in her by flirting openly on school grounds, yet the universe loves giving her the hardest riddles of life.
For example; how long will it take for Wednesday to give in and threaten you with her barbaric nature? Two seconds after sending her a wink. Does she have the full intention to carry her threat out? Yes, she’s already counting up a mental list of equipments she might need for your torture. Did she start to retort with her own horrific lines instead? Yes, and she’s still coming up with ideas to match your insufferably sweet ones.
“It’s a good thing we’re not in a horror movie. The cute ones always die first.”
“You’ve got beautiful skin. I can’t wait to wear it.”
They’re working the opposite way she’s been hoping for, yet her mind never supplies anything that could scare you away – she’s started coming up with more horrible lines that suggests she’s returning your interest, however you’re perceiving it. She only wants you gone, to have her space and silence to herself once more as she’s told Enid more times than the werewolf can count.
“Oh, c’mon, Wednesday. It’s not that bad. And if it was as agonizing as you claim it to be, we all know it wouldn’t have gone on for this long.” Wednesday hates to admit, but Enid does have a point, and it only aggravates the goth further. If anyone could guess the purpose of your flirting, basically the whole school could come up with an answer – however unreasonable it might be – like, “Oh, it’s a little game. No harm done.” Or something along the lines of, “Don’t worry about it, Wednesday. Trust me, it’s nothing personal.”, for they know it’s all talk and no games. So it seems you’ve been doing it since forever, and Wednesday feeling something is her fault entirely.
The more she avoids it, the more it invades her mind and soul, following her like an unwanted parasite living off of her good sleep and sanity. Her dead heart thunders in her chest each time you so much as brush your shoulder against hers, and something hot and red burns when you direct your attention to another. It’s unbecoming of an Addams to feel so strongly for someone who’s obviously lost in their own world, who spends so little regards to their surroundings and what she might feel. Wednesday swears to not let you affect her investigation on the hyde, and it’s working as well as she can expect.
So far.
Xavier keeps on tormenting her in classes and showing up in the most unexpected scenarios that leads to her suspects rising – while Tyler follows her instructions around like a lost puppy; Wednesday is beginning to think he must be mentally broken to answer her harsh glares with unnervingly sweet, if not as creepy, smiles.
If he wasn’t bothered by her tendencies for the horrors, then she’s not required to look out for his comfort. So when he stands in front of her door the night of the Rave’N, she resigns with a sigh and finds Thing gesturing to her closet sheepishly. Initially, she’s pondered about asking you, but as she suspected, you’ve already gotten yourself a date – Wednesday scolds herself for feeling even the slightest bit of disappointment filling her stomach.
Her eyes immediately look for any signs of you even in the hallway as she completely forgets about her plan with Eugene – the onyx orbs find Tyler instead, white plain suit for a plain looking normie, the boyish half-smile ever present on his face as he scans her over.
“…, You look beautiful.” Wednesday actively tries to not lose her mind, and the party hasn’t even started yet. Her eyes widen subtly when the hummer questions her about her promise, his dejected expression sending a bitter taste of guilt on her tongue as she makes another agreement to stake out the cave tomorrow. She hopes he’d be smart to listen and stay in the school.
The party is only starting when she arrives, finding Enid who squeals in delight at her decision to show up – annoyingly, she points to her back where you reside, a glass in your hand and without a partner anywhere near.
“Date bailed, best not bring it up. It’s causing a sour mood and it’s never good.” Such a pity. It seems you were thrilled to dance the night away, yet with a partner cancelling on you, you’ve decided to also reject each and every advances made to get you to stop glooming alone on the table.
Her feet carries her to you before she can stop herself, offering you a new glass to trade for the empty one in your grip. You accept it lightheartedly, before snapping up your gaze upon her – eyes trailing down her dress, then up again to meet her equally dilated pupils. A frown makes itself known on your eyebrows, raising your glass to your lips as you try to compile a set of words into a tangible sentence.
“Wait. Weren’t you meant to.. Ottinger-?” Wednesday averts her gaze, crossing her arms as she pointedly ignores Tyler’s awkward glance on her unmoving stance beside you.
“Change of plans. We’re going tomorrow.” You scrunch up your nose at her explanation, following her line of sight and wincing even more when you find the man in question, her date for the night.
“For him?” You raise your palms up in surrender when she shoots a glare your way, standing on your feet as she makes a beeline toward the dancefloor and you away from it.
Throughout the night, she keeps checking her back to find your seat vacant, your blob of hair nowhere to be found. She doesn’t see you again until her vision comes haunting her, and Eugene lays on the ground with a broken ankle, a bleeding arm added with a trauma that’s sure to stay with him for a lifetime. He calls out your name and your broken voice answers a few good feet away, followed by leaves crunching before you offer them a hand and help Eugene onto his feet.
“Fuck. The police will be here soon.” There’s an urgency in your voice that Wednesday fails to grasp, “And why is that bad?” You meet her eyes from over Eugene’s bowed head, sending her a look that says, ‘surely you’d understand’, and she does, her steps carrying on faster without much thinking.
“Oh my God. Is he okay?!” Thornhill intercepts your attempt at escaping questioning again, and Wednesday notices you’re breathing out harder in your rage. Your pale appearance and chapped lips don’t give you the best outlooks to any onlookers, as if you’re the one injured rather than the now unconscious boy in your arms.
“I bet this would’ve been a nice date, huh.” Wednesday sighs loudly as she retreats into her room, begrudgingly letting you in after Enid insisted you spend the night with them and not alone – an illogical demand, but you agreed soon as her bottom lip trembled, the night giving her more emotional damage than the ones attacked.
“Bloody and terrifying. Isn’t it perfect?” You refuse to stain the sheets in blood, and so you settle for the chair by Wednesday’s bedside, where her typewriter lays on the table – you ignore the way it calls for your name, curiousity eating you away.
While you inspect her writing equipment with an intrigued squint, fighting the exhaustion from engulfing you whole, Wednesday studies your form, limp and bent forward, as if you’re ready to fall onto the floor any second.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It’s Thing that scrambles to her sight, red staining his fingers as he taps the floor wildly. Blood drips from your chair and onto the wooden floor, your head now resting on your folded arms as your eyes slipped shut. Enid freezes on her bed, staring in horror as silence swallows the room, “Something’s not right..” Thing taps even more aggressively, tugging at Wednesday’s dress.
She catches you right as you slip from your position, your body finally running out of strength to hold yourself upright. Without a care and a weak tap on her arm, she maneuvers you onto her black sheets and you hiss as she rips your suit off, the sticky and still gushing blood pulling at your wound. You dare a peak at Enid who’s gone stark white in her frenzy, hurrying to the door – she doesn’t make it far before Wednesday stops her.
“Don’t make a big deal, Enid. Find Weems only.” The werewolf makes a small noise of affirmation before slipping through the door, knees shaking so badly she almost trips on herself several times.
“Dominance looks so good on you, Addams.” Your voice is muffled by her pillow that you’ve taken the liberty of ripping apart as pain courses through you, but she can still hear you clearly – her movements of removing your garments becoming harsher than intended.
“You couldn’t have told us you’re actively bleeding out?” Grunting as she presses a cloth against the gash, your hand finds her wrist to loosen the pressure to no avail, for she only puts her other hand on your shoulder to render your arm useless.
“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Even while dying, you still have the audacity to wink at her, your attempt at removing her strong push on your abdomen ceasing but your hand stays where it is, squeezing her small wrist for comfort instead. Wednesday fights back a grimace, an unwelcome guilt sitting in her chest.
It’s in the brief moments like these, short-lived and fleeting, that Wednesday feels like she knows you best and in turn, you feel her baring herself to you through her careful touches and softer words. She continually challenges you in the most random topics, her mission to keep you awake and talking working better when you don’t know the disguise she’s hiding under – though you’re sure to not let your eyelids drop, for you might miss the sight of her furrowed brows and pursed lips, the tender gaze in which she regards you with as she wonders what’s taking Enid so long.
“Never hide your pain again.” She demands. You exhale shakily through your nose, pouting dramatically at her demand as you feel the uncomfortable warmth of the blood seeping through her bed. “Next time, don’t ditch your investigation for a normie guy.”
Wednesday rolls her eyes. Of course, you’d hold that against her now, although she can’t retort with the fact that you’ve ditched her for some other classmate as a date, for it would expose her completely false and inaccurate feelings for you. The discussion ends there, the room replaced by a much heavier atmosphere when the principal steps inside – followed by police officers.
Well, shit.
“You’re accusing me?” Her expression remains deadpanned, as if the answer couldn’t be clearer when you’re sitting on the floor behind bars while she stands with her arms crossed on the opposite end.
“Why else would you be there? Eugene admitted that he didn’t see you until the monster disappeared – all the leads point to you.” One after another accusations keep on firing from her mouth, but your head starts getting heavy and you feel lightheaded; the pain on your abdomen ceases and moves onto your chest, a stinging agony that intensifies at her gaze that reeks of suspicions.
“Have you considered the possibility that I was the one who fought it away?” You fire back, frustration in your tone as you ball up your first on your damp shirt. There was a faint sound of shouting, perhaps principal Weems attempting to reason with the authorities, perhaps she’s the only one in the right mind about who’s the one making mistakes.
Or not.
Because you stay there for hours, cold seeping to your skin like a jacket, the chill tormenting your night after the commotion shifts to silence. It’s only then did you call out after hours of raking your brain for the Sheriff’s name, vaguely recalling it being spoken in passing from time to time.
“Galpin, Galpin. Donovan,” You try not to wince at the foreign name on your tongue as he comes into view, hat discarded and eyes bleary, keys in hand and no guns in sight. Bingo.
Stupid. She’s revoltingly, agonizingly stupid. Wednesday rummages through her brain on ways to take back her statement without seeming idiotic and unsure – if she takes it back now, there would be no point in the future to trust her again. It’s something she avoids happening; for someone to lose their trust on her words, however deceiving or manipulative they might be. Yet she’s lost it with the one that matters most – to you or your investigation? She ignores the taunting voice in her head. She knows it’ll be hard to be given the same courtesy of faith you’ve presented her.
Too many things are happening only in the first year of her time here, and she can’t deny the excitement of it – murder, mystery, deaths, although she doesn’t much appreciate the addition of feelingsand friendship. The latter, she’s learned to accept. The former, not so much.
“Eugene has been asking for you.” It’s days later that Wednesday manages to gather up the courage to approach you, the silent treatment not serving her well when all you do is exist only on the edge of her vision, disappear when she turns to seek you out, laugh and joke around and flirt with everyone but her, simply nodding without meeting her eyes when you pass each other.
Pausing as you digest her statement—announcement?, it proves harder to hate her when she directs all her attention to you and not her investigations that you’re beginning to think she’s given up on it. “He’s alive, isn’t he? Besides, what good would it do to have someone who tried to murder him near?” Without waiting for an answer, you walk past her and purposely bump her shoulder hard, heart constructing guiltily as you think about losing the poor boy’s friendship. It’s for the best, isn’t it? He’ll hate your guts sooner than later, and you know it’s better now than having a bond to break later.
Days pass by, and to sum it up; everything is turning into shit. Wednesday’s therapist is dead, the major is dead, and she’s beginning to wish for death itself when you continue to torment her in the worst ways possible – you’ve been present for most of these events, trailing after her to prove just how wrong she had been while avoiding her all the same. She doesn’t know how you manage it, but there are times where she thinks she could be redeemed, and the rest of it you choose to wave her failure in her face.
“It’s called vocal mind control,” The situation couldn’t be any worse – any outside activities have been cancelled and students are stuck inside school walls. Today, Teachers have decided a team bonding activity where you have to take out opponents by shooting literal arrows with a coloured blunt end. How ironic, using violence to avoid violence. You like it. And by the seems of it, Wednesday looks to be enjoying herself the most.
You’re on opposite teams, but since the teammate assigned to you were imbeciles, you’ve both found each other and settled for a plan to eliminate everyone just for fun, rules be damned. Groans and whines of defeat fill the huge clearing, amateurs suddenly dancing in victory after successfully shooting opponents with high points, all while Wednesday and you sit behind a tree hiding you from their peripherals. Her wide eyes are almost comical that you couldn’t contain a proud smirk to grace your lips, after so long, you’re winking in her direction – an action she doesn’t know she missed.
“I have to say a name. Only when I meant it will it work, but I avoid it just to be sure.” You hush at her, before losing your grip on the mind of a random classmate you picked to fight your battles and drawing your bow to point at them, giving Wednesday no time to digest the information dump and taking advantage from the element of surprise.
“Cheers, losers!” Green and red explode on their uniforms, making you the winner of the game until you recognize the Addams brushing her clothes absently as a threat. You take an arrow and poke her playfully with it, staining her black uniform in blue, followed by pressing the tip of it to her cheek for good measure.
“Oops. Sorry, Addams.” The ravenette freezes on her spot, sharp eyes glaring at your uncontrollable giggles, causing you to run in order to avoid the lunge of her knife that only missed your head by an inch and landed on a stray tree instead.
“Yeah, you better run, loser.”
Wednesday forces Enid to educate her on the internet to look up your powers, and made sure to delete any history regarding it to keep your secret. She doesn’t know the reason behind it; perhaps a pity, or the familiarity of feeling secure when she still had the knowledge of her own powers to herself. Her eyes scan the screen, and the obscurity of staring at a site with unknown source surely will send her to madness soon. She could ask you, but that’d require openly showing interest in the matter, so she opts to leave it for the library and puts her focus back on the Hyde. For the time being.
Her ongoing suspect; Xavier Thorpe. Suspicious, sure, it’s often wondered why he was always in places at the wrong time – no one can blame Wednesday for pointing the end of her knife at him. And if she hasn’t been blinded by her ability to tolerate Tyler more than others, you assume she would’ve guessed it right. Your assumption is half wrong, though, for the soft, all cute guy who works at Weathervane isn’t the topic that often occupies her mind.
Not by choice – Wednesday could admit her insistence of kicking you out of her brain has been a futile one. You’ve become her undoing, a distraction that takes her mind to the farthest place on earth, a parasite that keeps feeding and clawing away at parts of her brain, leaving nothing but a massive hole in it that causes her heart to jump and flip abnormally whenever you so much as let slip how annoying she’s being.
“I had a vision when I kissed him.” She moves to shove perfectly folded clothes into the suitcase with W. A. written on the front, a white envelope sitting on top of her bed with your name sketched on it.
“You kissed him?” You look mortified by learning the fact, Wednesday has to suppress amusement from showing on her face in the form of a smile – her regret of revealing the moment of miscalculation was humiliating enough.
“I fail to see how that’s the problem right now when you knew all along that it was him.” Your hand grips the piece of paper, turning it around to inspect the carvings of her handwriting.
“And what would you do? Believe me? Put me back into jail? Claim that I’ve bewitched you to trust me?” I’d believe you, Wednesday thinks. She’d believe you then, and even after finding out on your betrayal, she finds herself still capable of believing you now.
Just as she’s getting the door, you push the letter to her chest, refusing to accept her farewell ‘gift’ without a proper end to.. whatever this is. “It’s Thornhill,” For once, you hold her gaze for more than mere seconds, the contact not breaking even as she brushes your hand to take hold of the paper and clutch it in her hands. “She’s his master.” You confess, but she shows no sign of believing you, only averting her eyes to escape from the intensity of yours.
“I’ve outstayed my welcome.” Wednesday moves past your shoulder, the door clicking shut as she leaves you behind, alone to face the wrath of the upcoming night.
“My little pet sold me out, huh?” The strain on her arms from upholding her bodyweight begins to sink in as Wednesday gains back her bearings, dried blood coating her forehead and some sticking to her eyelashes, obstructing her vision. She guesses the pet meant you, though she doesn’t spend the time to dwell on the nature of your relationship with the teacher as Thornhill immediately laps into her villain speech – Wednesday feels she might fall asleep from it.
“I’m far from innocent.” A foreign, disconcerting voice prodded her brain, nudging her awake and alert as the teacher’s ongoing speech tuned out in the background. “I’ve killed, penetrated the minds of innocents to do the dirty work for me.” Wednesday recognizes the signature pause in your tone, remembering how they haunted her dreams and sent her heart stuttering – the unsteady thump, thump now mixes with the suspension and Thornhill’s gloating.
“Forgive me, Wednesday.” There’s a surge of what feels like electricity that shoots through her veins, her stomach dropping and her eyes search desperately for you. She finds nothing.
Before she knows it, she’s running towards the school after having her ancestor heal her through a possible possession, her limbs refreshed like she’s been reborn, the previous wounds closed and the only evidence of it being there is the blood still sticking to her like a second skin. Intercepted, she staggers on her feet to stop herself from slamming face first into Tyler, a growl leaving her lips and she clenches her fist, hurt but most of all angry, all she wants to do is to slam her fist into his jaw. She might’ve carried it out, had he not shifted into the Hyde and of course, she’s no match for the monstrous, bloodthirsty creature.
“Wednesday,” It’s a whisper, so close to her ears and brushing against her spine, goosebumps rising as she realizes what, or who spoke to her. “Run.” A mass of black slams the Hyde away and she’s left to meet the ground hard, adrenaline pumping in her veins preventing her from acknowledging any kinds of pain from the fall. Something in the back of her mind tells her to stay, but she looks the other way, feet heading to Nevermore, Stop. Stop your feet. Turn back. A scream rings out and hurts her ears, yet she keeps on running, leaving you to fend for yourself.
She knows. Your voice, your command is what drives her to move. She hates you all the more for it.
Defeating a Pilgrim wasn’t a hard feat, Wednesday discovers, although she doesn’t let it get to her head – there are other things to worry about; her undercover teacher currently unconscious on her feet, her other teacher possibly dead somewhere she hasn’t bothered to check, her werewolf roommate missing from the fight, and you. You’re on top of her worry list and Wednesday isn’t proud of it, for it means you must be special enough to move up her priorities.
The night is dark and cold, she sees Enid with a cheerful gleam to her eyes, naked as the day she was born, clad in only a pink jacket wrapped around her body with Ajax by her side, followed by you. Her attention shifts instantly, black orbs raking up and down your form as she takes you in, a limp on your left foot, blood on your face and dripping down the tips of your fingers. She doesn’t pull you into an embrace like Enid had done her, doesn’t wrap her arms around you to assure the remnants of evil is no longer in your life. Instead, her small hand circles your wrist and she leads you away from the crowd into the school, first to enter the gates after the never-ending chaos.
Wednesday doesn’t allow her feet to stop, keeping them working as she climbs the stairs, legs straining against the steps yet she makes no indication of resting even for a second. She does, though. When you slow down by a fraction, hand squeezing hers and your weight weighing both of you down, the Addams begrudgingly pauses to take a look.
Blood. Dark, crimson liquid dripping from your stomach. An old wound. Too old to be oozing red. She remembers clearly how it stained her black sheets that she had to assign the task of cleaning it to Thing; in which he’d initially refused. This time, there’s no bed for you to contaminate; only the stone steps and her palms, already wet from it as you bumped your head lightly against the wall and slid down the floor.
“Wednesday,” That’s her name; it all sounds ridiculous if she was to acknowledge the effect it has on her. It’s her name, the most normal thing someone could do is say her name to regard her. But you’ve never said it, not once in less than a year did she ever hear anyone regarded with nothing but their last names.
It takes less than a second and lasts more, the press of her lips on yours, chapped and dry, desperate and only when Wednesday tastes the salty tears did she register that you’re crying. You pull her in, shaky hands on the back of her neck and refuses to let her go – lips lingering for more after parting. It feels.. serene, new. Something she’d like to explore, if you allow it. If she allows herself. A different train of thought passes in your brain, though, as you try to memorize every inch of her you could see, could feel. Might it be the last thing you experience before death.
“Wednesday,” Her name sounds sweet on your tongue, like a melody luring her in with a spell, a drug she’s addicted to just after one sniff – she could get drunk on your voice.
Wednesday starts feeling a strain from her position, knees folded and an arm stretched on the side of your head, palm flat on the wall to support her weight and keep a distance; there’s a frantic beat from inside her chest, a panicked ring in her ears that tells her to run, go get help, but she’s stuck.
“Maybe,” The whisper sounds again. This time, you’re right in front of her instead of somewhere she couldn’t see, the tickle of it brushing against her mind – she could get used to it. “in another life.” A new-found fear grips her tight that the next second, she’s running and shouting for someone, anyone, as you let darkness clouds your vision and wish for her embrace more than anything.
Wednesday doesn’t move, her hand covering yours as it lays on your stomach, stone steps cold and providing an unrelenting discomfort. Her breathing is too laboured while yours stay slow and strained, shaky with each inhale as if breathing was an arduous task. The Addams rests her head on your shoulder, ears close to your chest to feel, listen and count the heartbeats that’s starting to take a longer interval in between the pumps.
“Forgive me.” For accusing you, for running away, for playing along your games, for being too late, for, for, for everything.
She listens, squeezes your hand, closing her eyes as a stabbing pain constricts in her heart, and her own heartbeats begin to overlap yours. She listens, until your breathing ceased and the thumps stutter to a stop. She has never despised death so much until now.
Wednesday always prides herself for having an outstanding self-control during dire times, yet as they snatch you from her arms in a less gentle way she’d have preferred, her so-called tranquility fell into a deep pit and she snaps. There are remnants of a headache in the back of her head and a heaviness settling on her shoulders, the others have to step in front and blocks her sight of the ambulance to physically restrain her from causing any further mayhem.
She doesn’t attend the funerals. Both Weems and yours, though she finally relents and tailed after her family for the memorials the school held. It’s not unlike Wednesday to brood the day away, her presence a dread people usually avoid. After such a victory, they’ve been celebrating and congratulating her heroic actions day and night that Wednesday considers setting off an explosion to take their minds off of her.
They’re happy. Something they shouldn’t be. Something they aren’t allowed to be – because they lost you, she lost you. These people are what you claimed your friends, yet they’re chatting away, cracking jokes as if there isn’t a missing member that made the inside jokes meaningful buried six feet underground. All Wednesday’s capable of feeling right now is fury, anger directed at them even though they’ve done nothing wrong other than being too cheerful to her likings.
You were, in her words, ‘nothing but a loud, bothersome buzz in her ears’ when Enid tried to comfort her some nights ago. But if so, Wednesday should feel relieved to have the quiet to herself again, to not have a burden, someone she has to look after in fights – though you’ve never been one, her body have always gravitated towards you without her consent. She shouldn’t have felt this way, yet she does. With all her dead, psychotic heart, she felt something she’s never granted herself to feel since her pet scorpion died when she was little; grief, sadness.
Love, her mother said. Over my grave, she responded. After musing about it, Wednesday finds her mother to not be that wrong, not entirely. Days are much more unbearable without you, the silence now becoming as much an enemy as affection from strangers. She loathed it. That she’s grown to rely on you, to seek you out, to expect you by her side. She breathes in the air, rain pouring down relentlessly against her umbrella. It reminds her of how you couldn’t enjoy this moment with her, and Wednesday once again curses at the world for it.
“Hi, Wednesday.” Her head turns around so fast, anyone watching would think she’d get a whiplash – empty. She’s alone, as she always is, but her attention is drawn to a splash on the concrete, the puddle rippling as if someone’s stepped on it. She must be losing her mind. It’s a long time coming, an anticipated case, given her nature and history.
An amused giggle rang in the quad. If it was anyone else, they would’ve ran away with their tail between their legs – but not Wednesday, oh, no. She’d run towards whatever was haunting her as she did with Goody. The difference this time; it’s you.
To say she’s not at least a little excited would be an understatement. You laughed again, as if knowing her line of thoughts.
“Missed me?”
A smile makes itself known on Wednesday’s lips, stretching her cheeks and showing her dimples.
Oh, you have no idea.
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reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! they are what keeps me going :) love yall <3
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writing-the-stars · 1 year
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May I request a (Wednesday Addams x fem reader) where reader visits Wednesday’s house, and they get caught cuddling by Morticia and so Wednesday throws reader off of her, and denies anything happened, but Morticia won’t let it go and teases her? Have a good day and thanks for reading my request. :]
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Pairing: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader
Summary: Wednesday indulges in a moment of vulnerability
Warnings: Rushed Ending. Not As Well Executed As I Would Like.
Word Count: 529
A/N: The amount of rewrites this little blurb underwent is ridiculous! Every time I'd start writing I'd get halfway through, think it was stupid, and completely erase everything I had written. I am now just forcing myself to post this because I know it will probably never get posted if I don't. I'm sorry you had to wait so long and I hope it's not too much of a letdown. Thank you for reading!
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Wednesday lay stiffly by your side– arms awkwardly wrapped around your frame as you held her close to you. Physical affection was something the macabre girl was still attempting to grow accustomed to, having previously only maintained physical contact to maim someone. Touching someone with such tenderness and intimacy felt foreign to the psychic, but she could not deny the odd sense of security she felt being encased in your arms. 
Wednesday heeded her mother’s warning about the dangers of her psychic abilities. She felt the pressure of losing herself to the darkness of her visions every day. The threat of being driven to isolation never bothered the raven-haired girl before, but now that she has begrudgingly found herself attached to people she did not want to lose, remaining balanced was a grueling battle she was intent on resulting victorious. 
The grounding of your arms helped with this ambition as you seemed to deflect feelings of distrust. You had always been a steadfast resource for the Addams girl. Never questioning her dubious midnight expeditions or unsavory schemes. You had always proven yourself faithful to her– a constant companion she had not realized she wanted until you. You made it easy for her to breathe, to allow herself small moments of vulnerability she could only ever share with you. 
It was gratifying to have moments like these. Moments where she did not feel the need to hide behind her biting wit and cold wall of apathy she had built around herself– not that she would ever admit that to anyone but herself. You provide her with a sense of safety she realizes she has been lacking. 
Being with you has begun opening her eyes to the logic behind what she once believed was her mother’s foolish decision. While she would never give up her own ambitions in life to be a housewife, she could see what lured her mother in. Though again, she rather act as a human doll for Enid than let anyone else know this. The infuriating smirk donning her mother’s lips when she brought you home this evening was enough of an “I told you so” for Wednesday to last the rest of her life. 
Of course, as Wednesday was starting to learn since her arrival to Nevermore, she could not always get what she wanted, and as her bedroom door creaked open– the slim frame of her mother lurking in the doorway– she knew she would be haunted by this moment forever. Still, the raven-haired girl thrusts your body off of hers in a futile attempt to preserve some of her pride. 
“Wednesday!” you exclaim– body thumping against the hardwood of her bedroom floor. 
Morticia raises a thinly shaped eyebrow– that maddening knowing smirk adorning her lips. 
“I was attempting to show them how to suffocate someone,” Wednesday announces, the pathetic excuse for a lie the first thing her brain could conjure in her disconcerted state.
“I see. And with affection no less,” Morticia replies, a teasing grin decorating her features. 
A giggle escapes your lips as Wednesday’s pallor rouges just the slightest tint. Her wicked mother will lure this over her head for all eternity.
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cannibalizedyke · 1 year
Note
(I LOVE YOUR NEW THEME)
wednesday x reader request/prompt: you bury/hide/get rid of a body together <3
sy u concern me sometimes😭😭 /lh /aff
THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU, MOVE ON AND SCROLL. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME.
🪦anything for you🪦
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word count: 297
warnings: DARK, murder, death, semi-graphic but not really
taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1 @puppy-coded @sw34terw34ther @starstruckwillows @katsukis1wife @manyfandomsfanvergent
“is he dead?” you asked apathetically, glancing at wednesday.
your girlfriend nodded once, still staring at the mangled body on the ground.
you sighed. “what did he do?”
she looked up at you. “he insulted you,” she said simply.
that shouldn’t have given you butterflies. it did anyway.
you looked back at the body and twisted your lips. “need help taking care of it?”
wednesday grinned—which was more like the smallest of smiles on her—in spite of herself and nodded again.
you bit your lip and tilted your head slightly to the right. “okay. help me get him to the woods.”
she grabbed his legs—or what used to be his legs; they were so brutally broken and bloodied you could hardly even tell what they once were—while you grabbed the upper half of him and the two of you hoisted him up and carried him into the forest a few feet away from you. neither of you had shovels or anything else to dig with so you kneeled in the dirt and started clawing in the mud with your hands.
it took at least half an hour and some significantly bloodied nails, but eventually you’d created a hole big enough for the body. the two of you dumped him unceremoniously inside and threw the dirt back on top.
“there,” you sighed, leaning back in exhaustion. “good?”
wednesday examined your handiwork and nodded, content. “yes.” she looked at you. “thank you.”
“of course.” you inched closer to her and gently caressed some dried blood off her cheek with your thumb. she shut her eyes. “i’d do anything for you.”
her eyes snapped open. “would you kill someone for me?”
you hesitated, momentarily searching your heart for the answer. “yes,” you concluded. “after all, you did so for me.”
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mgcldydrms · 1 year
Note
can you do wednesday headcanons with artist!reader?
wednesday addams x artist!reader:
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on most days, wednesday writes on her typewriter while you sit on her bed and draw on pieces of paper
you look up from time to time, a smile on your face before you continue your sketch
she finds you all around nevermore with a sketchbook in hand and pencils in your pockets
she usually joins you and reads a book while you draw
your main thing to draw these days is wednesday
you don't want to show her your sketches, but she makes you
"that's me. I like it. do you have more?"
you show her all your drawings that you keep in your room, not just of her, but of your friends and the school
you swear you can see a crack of a smile on wednesday's lips as she looks through them
she doesn't say or show it, but you know that she really enjoys your drawings
when you don't look, she snatches one of them and puts it in one of her pockets to take to her room
she places it next to her typewriter as a sort of inspiration, however, hiding it as soon as someone comes too close, especially enid, knowing that she wouldn't stop talking about it
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Text
Masterlist
I usually write gender neutral reader, but I might slip sometimes with female pronouns. There is no use of "(Y/N)".
Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader
Rainy days and tired souls
Summary: Natasha and R take a break after a tough mission, some painting, some crying, and some comforting.
Warnings: mention of injuries (nothing graphic), hurt/comfort, fluff. Soft nat ;)
Word count: 865
Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader
Study sesh gone wrong.
Summary: It's finals week and you are overwhalmed, Wanda helps you get through a rough study session. (College Au)
Warnings: Academic stress, being very overwhalmed, flow state is a bitch sometimes, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.
Word count: 862
Wednesday Addams x gn!reader
Mateine is the new caffeine
Summary: Wednesday tries mate for the first time, by the hand of her partner, R.
Warnings: None! Only fluff! soft!Wednesday
Word Count: 1178
Necromancy? No, cardiopulmonary resuscitation!
Summary: When the time comes, will reader be able to save her girlfriend? (or: The final battle, but make it angstier)
Warnings: Blood, Fighting, Death.
Word Count: 1281
Lucy Carlyle x gn!reader
The C in Concussion stands for Cuddles!
Summary: The aftermath of the screaming staircase case (Doubt Thou the Stars episode), Reader gets a concussion and there might be some cuddles involved.
Warnings: ghost-fighting (brief), getting a concussion (feeling dizzy and confused), hurt/comfort and fluff (I know, very surprising).
Word count: 1623
A little post-river pick-me-up.
Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thamesis fiasco.
Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.
Word Count: 1.9k
Sometimes it's just better (not to know).
(Multichapter)
Summary: When you get a gut feeling that something is targeting 35 Portland Row -and therefore your family-; how far will you go to protect it?
Warnings: angsty angstt, violence, a lot of nightmares and witchy stuff, reader has the gift of precognition.
Word count: 2.2k
Nancy Drew x gn!reader
When a Counterspell Backfires, Part 1.
Summary: After not taking it seriously for some time, breaking the curse Temperance casted on you and Nancy proves harder than expected.
Warnings: angst, deteriorated health mention, passing out.
Word Count: 1.3k
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evilwednesday · 4 months
Text
𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ──── wednesday addams & vampire!reader
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── tags. blood mention/drinking, reader's a vampire duh, no pronouns used, thigh riding, small master x pet dynamics at the end.
── word count. 1595
a/n. first wdw in weeks, wow... just a small thing for my vampire fellas. | masterlist
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Your leg bounced up and down, the almost inaudible sound of the heel of your shoes hitting the wooden floor annoying the girl sitting next to you on the bed, the movements of your legs and the way you chewed on your bottom lip enough to get her annoyed.
Closing the book, Wednesday turned to you, eyes alternating between the irritating move and your features.
“Can you stop with that infuriating sound? It’s distracting me.”
“Uh?” You look at Wednesday, eyes darting from yours to your bouncing leg in a silent answer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice it.”
“Now that you do, stop it.”
“I can’t control it.”
Wednesday took a deep breath, bringing her hand to rest on top of your knee, forcing you to stop. Somehow, your leg was still shaking under her touch and now, a heatwave spread inside your body at the sudden touch, a bright red color threatening to take over your vision, a sharp pain in your gums.
You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to take control over your instincts. But Addams being so close to you with her almost unnoticeable perfume and hand on your thigh, it was hard and any small thing coming from her was enough to get you to lose control.
“You’re starving, aren’t you?” All you could do was nod, not wanting her to see the sharp fangs that sunk on the inside of your mouth. Removing her hand from your leg, you felt a weight being placed on top of your body instead. “Open your eyes, let me take a look at them.”
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.
“I wasn’t asking. Open them now and look at me.”
Despise the calming way she spoke, her words and demanding tone were enough to get you to do as you were told, unable to resist the smell she had; It was like a spell placed on you.
Wednesday brought her hands to your face, opening your lips to see the sharp fangs you were hiding, pressing the tip of a finger under one, a single drop of raven blood poking out of the small wound was enough to cover your lower lip with her movement.
“Wends…” You warned with a hoarse voice, controlling the impulse to lick the sweet blood off of your lip.
The dark, silky sheets under your hands ripping off around your nails, stopping you from digging the skin of her waist. Knowing Wednesday, she would definitely make you pay for a new set.
Ignoring the warning timbre in your voice, Wednesday opened her white blouse, dragging the fabric away from her shoulder area along with the strip of her bra.
“Take it.”
“No.”
“If you want to keep that snarky tongue of yours, I suggest you to stop fighting and just do as I am telling you to.”
The second you focused on the cold, pale skin, of her neck, everything around you turned red, melting as you caught the sound of her blood flowing through her body, the steady pace of her heartbeat, muffling every small sound that surrounded the both of you.
All you could hear, see and smell, came from the small girl sitting on your lap. And that was all that matters.
The red, warm, sweet blood that kept her alive. The blood of a Raven, Wednesday being the last one of her bloodline known to you.
Noticing the lack of motion coming from your frozen body, the Addams girl gently tugged you by the back of your head, bringing you closer to her.
“Take it.” She whispered; fingers lost in your hair. “It’s all yours.”
“All mine…” You replied, lost in your red reality, barely processing what left her lips, all you could hear, loud and clear, was the pumping of her jugular, the sweet blood rushing through her veins.
Leaning in, your nose brushed on the cold skin, taking a deep breath. The ghostly touch causing the other to close her eyes. You opened your mouth, enough for the tip of your tongue to touch her, a surprised sigh coming from Wednesday.
“I profoundly hate when you do that.”
“Are you sure? Because I can hear every beat of your heart.” You placed a kissed near her collarbones. “And the way your thighs are pressing against mine.” Another kiss, a little bit higher.
“Stop talking. It’s an order.”
You laughed against her, hands slowly moving from the silky sheets to her thighs. “You’re in no place to boss me around, Addams.”
“I thought you enjoyed being my little pet.”
“I enjoy more when you’re my prey.”
Looking into your eyes, Wednesday could barely see the color of it, dark red mixed with golden strings covering most of your iris, pupils dilated in a black color. The veins under your eyes, disappearing and appearing as if it was following the beat of a music, little did she know it was synchronized with her own heartbeat.
It always felt like that, to be under her spell, if felt paralyzing, something in the way Wednesday smelled and tasted like, so sweet it was like drinking honey.
For her, having your teeth sinking in her neck, poison spreading through your saliva turning the pain into pleasure in just a few seconds. She would never admit, but being your personal blood bag made the pain settle in between her thighs.
She needed you as much as you needed her.
Why else would she sit on your lap and keep you around? Allowing you to follow every single step of hers like a lost puppy, holding you on a tight leash, stopping you from biting others like a misbehaved puppy.
Gulping, she licked her lips, your eyes following every single movement of her body. She felt like an addicted waiting for the next jet of poison, it’s been days since the last time you fed on her.
“Did you drink from somebody else?” You shook your head. You tried to, actually, blood bags, human blood straight from the vein, animal blood that you captured with Eugene’s help; they all tasted like garbage. “Then why are you refusing to do as I tell you to?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
A small grin tugged on her lips. “I want you to hurt me.”
A gush of adrenaline ran in the veins under your eyes the second you heard her whisper, eyes filled with a specific glow that you almost never see in Wednesday: excitement.
The moment your fangs dug in the cold skin, a low moan escaped between Wednesday’s parted lips, the fingers in your hair pulling you impossible closer. The hot, thick red liquid filled your mouth, the iron taste almost unnoticeable, being replaced by a sweet taste that only she had.
Throwing her head back in an attempt to give you more access to her neck, she didn’t even notice that small rhythm her hips were following against your legs, rubbing herself on you. Her scent, stronger than ever, filling every centimeter of your lungs like smoke.
Moving your hands to her hips, you bruised the covered skin as you helped her steady movements. Opening her lips to take a deep breath soon became a breathless moan, your name escaping her parted lips as you drank more and more from her, the poison spreading through her veins as you lick the open wound, capturing what escaped from your hungry mouth before biting her again.
Wednesday was weak in your arms, the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach getting hotter and hotter as she rounded her hips on your leg, a wet stain on the fabric of your jeans as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head and body falling back, being held by your hands.
Switching positions, you laid the small girl on her bed, dark silky sheets embracing her body as you laid on top of her to lick around her neck, not wasting a single drop of the precious blood that you couldn’t go without.
Kissing your way up to her face, Addams still had her eyes closed, a fainted reddish color spread on her cheeks as she came down from her high. When she opened her eyes, she was met with your golden ones, shining like a star in the night sky. She caressed your face, thumb swiping your lips to collect the thick liquid that covered them before gently sucking on them, maintaining the eye contact; a satisfied hum in her throat.
“Kiss me. I want to taste my blood on your tongue.”
As she commanded, you connected your lips together in a kiss that was soft at first, turning to bruising and desperate as her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, lips wrapping around your tongue to get more of it before she breaks the kiss, hands moving to your shoulders.
“What are you doing?” You asked, confused, as she tried to push you down, but you, being stronger than her, didn’t move an inch.
“I need your tongue somewhere else, and I need it now, so be a good pet and collaborate with me.”
Wednesday was nearly screaming inside, her weak body in desperate need of you, one of the collateral damages from your poison. And the way you smelled, the way your hands touch her body, it was a lot more than just the venom that rushed in her veins, there was something else in the brownish glow that stared at you. You smiled.
“As you wish, master.”
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teaaagan · 8 months
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Share
Y/N: Wends, you need to learn to share!
Y/N: So, if you have ten biscuits and someone asks you for one?
Wednesday: I would still have ten biscuits
Y/N: And if you have ten biscuits and someone takes one?
Wednesday: Ten biscuits and a dead body
Y/N: *sighs*
Y/N: What if you have ten biscuits and I ask you for one?
Wednesday: Then I would have five biscuits left
Y/N: Five?
Wednesday: Of course, I would give you half of them
Y/N: *actually touched*
Y/N: *smiles* 
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jacelion · 1 year
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Y/N: I will torture you now
Wednesday: *Smirks* Kinky
Y/N: I think you’re sweet and beautiful,
Wednesday: Wait-
Y/N: You deserve to be loved
Wednesday: *Backs up* N-No-o
Y/N: Your feelings and needs are valid and deseve to be heard.
Wednesday: I NEED A SAFEWORD!
Taglist: @fandomnerd9602 @thebisexualdogdad @6rookie-writer0110 @yuhck @yellowvxbes @croman2006 @oxydedoesstuff @lifespectator @multifandomimaginelover @multifandomxreader @deafeningsharkslimeempath @kingofthelizardpeople @devilsjacket @insomniac-astronomer @sixandsixteen @spiderfan922 @kneeeeellllll @reallyromealone @lnlnbb @the-protector-97 @therealdisneyfan2319 @gayformyspouse @ma1egamer @bumblesimagines @acethechangling @yoshirey @woodandwaxwings @hanni-luvr @ab1nsur @storiesofmarvelandtwilight-1232 @weepingwitchofthewest @sweeteagletidalwave @crimsonkokopelli @karmaspidr @kratosilverhand @ludwig-holy-blade @aloneodi @justacuteduck @bqffy @p4rallel-universe @reddeath125 @xenoncitadel @kaimeioneclipse @king-of-the-underworld-hades @eddieboi23 @redsxcks @jennaortegasboyfriend
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ampitrit3 · 4 months
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𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭 | 𝘫.𝘰
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pairing - jenna ortega x gn!reader
masterlist
(𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵!) 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩- 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦
word count- 2.4k
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you walked onto the stage into the direct spotlight.  snaps, claps, and small 'woo's' could be heard from the crowd as you waved to them. no, you weren't some small singer, though you were an artist. 
the stage was home to a beautiful venue where you were performing.  it was a slam. a poetry slam. you had been competing in them since you began writing poetry. over time you had built an audience. so most of the venues you were at had been sold out. you smiled as you approached the microphone.
"hi everyone, how you doing tonight california?" you waved to the crowd. you planted your hands firmly around the microphone. "before I begin this poem, I would like to congratulate everyone that has stepped onto this stage tonight. you guys were absolutely amazing," more claps were heard from the audience as you concluded your sentence.
your eyes scanned over the crowd, appreciating a moment of bliss. this was a very special slam. this was the first time you were presenting a newly written poem.  a poem about a special girl.
jenna, someone you had met fairly recently at a friend's birthday. the two of you instantly clicked. texts turned to calls, calls turned to outings. but it hasn't evolved from that standpoint. you knew a while into talking to jenna you had developed feelings for her.
she was so well-spoken and genuinely had things worth saying. she was opinionated and persistent, and she had the cutest dimples by god. there wasn't anything not to adore. she was the definition of perfect.
"so tonight I have a really special poem about a very special girl." the crowd hummed with 'o's and 'ah's. to which your smile grew wider. you loved the crowds you performed to. you nodded at the reaction as you kept speaking. "I know, I know, I'm not a love poet. but some people come into your life for a change of perspective you know? anyway, you guys ready?"
your gaze bounced off each person in the crowd as you let go of the mic. your arms fell to your sides. your eyes closed momentarily s you ran through the poem in your head, having memorized it.
(𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮: 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰. 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘴.)
"i want you to bite my lip so i can no longer speak, and then suck my ex-girlfriend's name out of my mouth just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations." you began, the snaps erupting from the sea of people. you smiled at the response before continuing.
"I'm going to be honest, I'm not really a love poet. in fact every time i try to write about love my hands cramp... just to show me how painful love can be." you showed your palms in front of you, extending and retracting your fingers to get your point across.
"and sometimes my pencils break, to prove to me every now and then love takes a little more work than you planned. see i heard that love is blind so i write all my poems in braille." laughs could be heard in the distance and you just nodded, a smile still plastered on your face.
"and my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless. i always believed that real love is like a supermodel before she's airbrushed. it's pure, and imperfect just the way god intended." you scratched your finger over your nose, licking your lips as you kept speaking.
to be honest, you don't remember writing this. you kind of blacked out in front of your laptop one night and found it the next morning in your drive. and it was beautiful. you felt like it had to be shared.
you had told jenna about the slam, and you prayed she wouldn't show up. but she has never shown up to any other slams you told her about. so the chances of her being here were low.
"see i'm going to be honest, i'm not really a love poet. but if i was to wake up tomorrow and decide i really wanted to write about love i swear that my first poem, it would be about you."  the snaps of people filled your ears once again. the claps were like thunder and the snaps were lightning.  
as you looked at all the prying eyes waiting for your following few words you oddly felt at home. the spotlight was a place of warmth and the crowds felt like family. it was all familiar, and not because you had performed a million times.
"about how i loved you the same way i learned to ride a bike: scared," people began to laugh even harder this time. "but reckless. with no training wheels or elbow pads so my scars can tell the story of how i fell for you. you see, i'm not really a love poet." you started fiddling with the rings on your finger. the poem was sure to stretch over three minutes, and at this point, you had to talk fast.
"but if i was i would write about how i see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window. you see, I've written like a million poems hoping someway, somehow you'll jump out of the page and be closer to me." your hands started to make grand gestures to match the gravity of your words. gripping your chest, you breathed with intensity. words meant everything to you. you are the person in love with poetry as the media calls you.
"because if you were here right now, i would massage your back until your skin sings songs your lips don't even know the words to. until your heartbeat sounds like my last name, and you smile like the pacific ocean. i want to drink the sunlight out of your skin."
the crowd was a jumble of hums, snaps, and claps. a collage of awe, admiration, and appreciation.
"i'd write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful even on days when everything around you is ugly. i'd write about your eyelashes. and how they are violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink."
your voice was now a mess of emotion and devotion. your hands were trembling at your intense emotion. and yet you still managed to hit every syllable with everything but aggression,
"if i was a love poet, i'd write about how i melt in front of you like an ice sculpture every time i hear the vibration in your voice so whenever i see your name on the caller id, my heart plays hopscotch in my chest. yo it climbs onto my ribs like monkey bars and i feel like a child all over again."
"i know it sounds strange but every now and then i pray that god somehow turns you back into one of my ribs just so i never have to spend another day without you. i swear, i'm not a love poet."
the crowd roared with disagreement after your mini-rant. it is impossible to not call you a love poet. you felt so vulnerable right now. it was already hard just putting these emotions into words and having the courage to express them to a full house of strangers in unrealistic.
and there was a sense of pride. not many people have the opportunity you do. you felt accomplished, and you had every right to feel this way. 
"but if i was to wake up tomorrow, and decide i really wanted to write about love: my first poem, it would be about you. and after all of that, she was like 'so how do you feel about me?'" you made a face, shifting your weight to one side.
laughter filled your ears as you broke out in a smile for the millionth time.
"and i said: put it like this, i want to be your ex-boyfriend's stuntman. i want to do everything he never had the courage to do... like trust you." you extended your arm pasted the microphone as if you were talking to her. like you were talking to jenna. you could practically see her short brunette hair and her adorable smile. you could imagine what it was like to feel her, and be near her.
"i swear that when our lips touch i can taste the next 60 years of my life. and some days i want to swallow stacks of your pictures just so you can be a part of me for a little bit longer." you calmed your nerves as you approached the end of the poem. your arms fell back to your sides after your aggressive movements had them everywhere. you sighed, continuing.
"if i could, i would sample your smile and then let my heartbeat do the bassline. we would create the greatest love song of all time. whenever, we stand next to each other, love i was the only one made for you and you can be at last my etta james. i'll be the oh child when you're in pain, or you could be the candy-coated drops of rain. even though it never rains in southern califronia. and together we could be music."
"and when my friends ask if you're my girlfriend, i'll say no. she is a musician. and me, i'm her favorite song." and with that, you stepped back from the microphone stand.
the ocean of people roared with claps and cheers as you whispered 'thank yous' taking a bow before walking off the way you came on. you ended up getting first place in the slam. apparently, the crowd was so moved by your words multiple people ended up in tears. others called their loved ones to let them know of their appreciation.
as you walked into the parking lot, tired, you noticed a figure leaning on your car. you were confused but kept walking. soon the figure's hair became clearer and the mask they were wearing turned into a black surgical one.
it was a small brunette wearing a mask. and you only knew of one person who looked like that. jenna. jenna as in the girl you had just performed about. it was apparent to you now that she had heard it, was she angry? was she here to tell you off? she didn't consent to being talked about even if it was from the best of intentions.
"jenna?" you approached the girl, hands quaking. you felt like you were going to faint like your legs would give out any second. you watched as she looked up at you and your eyes met. you swear you could feel your pupils dilating.
"hey, nice poem." she stated in a cold, standoffish tone. your eyes softened on the girl. you watched as she pulled down her mask, revealing her features. the same features that could make you melt. you noticed the sparkle in her eyes had dimmed. concern pooled in your stomach as you closed the distance between you two.
"are you okay? you seem a bit off" you were now shoulder to shoulder. you felt safe in her proximity. you felt at peace knowing she was with you.
"y/n. these past two months have been a dream getting to know you. you make me feel... something indescribable." she turned, her side pressed against the window of your car. you adjusted yourself accordingly.  the concern washed away though not completely. you were now mostly filled with curiosity. you cocked your head to the side to signal you were listening intently.
"and hearing you talk about a girl. it both broke and reassured me." she looked away, a glimmer of disappointment tainting her usual radiance. she was visibly upset.
"what do you mean by that?" you questioned her change in disposition. you were genuine. you cared for jenna, more than you let on. but there was something different about her. you cared for her more than you cared for anyone else. not just because you were in love with her but because of who she was.
"i hope you and whoever that poem was about are very happy, i really do. but part of me just kind of..." she trailed off. still refusing to look at you. it made you upset. she had always been so open with her feelings. she created this judgment-free, safe space to conversate about any topic that painted you intrigued.
"kind of..?" 
"kind of wished it was me. i wish you wrote a poem about me, i wish you wrote about my eyelashes,  i wish i was the one you melted in front of. i wish we were music, i wish you loved me the same way you learned to ride a bike. i wish it was me." her eyes were prickled with tears. the passion was crawling out of her throat, her voice cracking. her hands were pressed firmly against her chest when she spoke of herself.
her arms dropped, swinging by her sides. she just stared at you with intense emotion. tears still threatening to fall from her eyes.
"please, please say something y/n." the brunette whispered.
you were overwhelmed. had she just confessed to you? did she think that poem wasn't about her? your eyes went wide and your mouth was slightly agape. jenna was filled with embarrassment which was obvious by the way she pursed her lips together and refused to look at you.
"i think i'm feeling intense basorexia..." you muttered once again closing the space between the two of you. you took her face into your hands, both caressing it and wiping away any tears that had spilled from her eyes.
"i never know what half the words you use mean..." she shook her head still visibly upset. her hands came up to grip your wrists. her eyes stared back into yours and her perfect hair was draping over her shoulders in the perfect place. everything about her is perfect.
"basorexia: the overwhelming desire to kiss." you saw as her jaw dropped and you took your chances. smashing your lips onto hers you grinned at the small yelp she let out before eagerly kissing you back.
her hands moved like lighting but still somehow faster than light as she pulled you even closer to her. like she needed this. like she was waiting for this. her hands tangled themselves in your hair and she melted. melted like you but this time she melted into you. you practically caught her.
and you held her there. you held her for what you wanted to be forever. you wanted this forever, you wanted her forever, you wanted the two of you together forever. and that's what it was from here on out.
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eufezco · 1 year
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;Y/N'S CAMERA ROLL🪴🔪🌬️ DATING WEDNESDAY VERSION
enid s. version // tyler g. version
📸 — "You look awesome guys!"
Wednesday's breathing was heavy, showing how annoyed she was. It wasn't enough having her parents in Nevermore for the weekend but you also wanted her to take photos with them. "Oh, come on, your family is great. I love them." Gómez was more than pleased to take photos with her little storm cloud and you loved him because of how dedicated he was. You also took some photos of him and Pugsley, and Morticia and Gómez being really close to each other. At that point, Wednesday was about to explode.
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📸 — You just love when she makes a ball of herself. Sometimes she does it because she needs to think and it helps her to meditate, other times because she's overwhelmed and needs to be on her own for a little while. But other times she does it because she's aware of how adorable you think she looks.
You'd be walking around Nevermore and find a small black ball sitting on the ground, with her legs against her chest and trying to hide from everyone. You'd put your phone out of your pocket and take a photo before approaching her and sitting by her side with your arms pulling Wednesday closer.
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📸 — Photos when she's not paying attention. She could be doing anything and you'd need to take a photo of her because of how beautiful she looked. If she caught you, Wednesday would frown, not mad, just confused, and she'd ask you why would you do that.
She looked adorable with the cat ears, and she seemed so peaceful during her writing hour that you needed to capture it.
"Wednesday?" You called her after taking a photo of her.
She hummed.
"I love you."
Wednesday raised her head from the typewriter and her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. You couldn't see the expression on her face but you were sure that she was deciding what to do.
"I love you too."
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📸 — "Aw, you're literally pocket size."
She raised her eyebrows, not believing what you just called her. Wednesday Addams being called pocket size. "Give me your phone." She stated and tried to take it off your hands.
"You are so small I could just put you in my pocket."
"Stop it, y/n. It's not funny."
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You were enjoying the RaveN's dance with your girlfriend until some idiot had to ruin it. But covered in blood, Wednesday seemed to enjoy it more.
"Take a photo of me."
You frowned. "Are you sure? You're like soaked in blood."
"I know."
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shenachigans · 1 year
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I OWE YOU | Wednesday Addams
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PAIRING: Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader
CW: fluff, Wednesday and Y/n are not dating yet, harmless threats, sudden outburst because of trauma, mentions of trauma, Wednesday and Y/n have a crush on each other
SUMMARY: Wednesday accidentally reawakens a trauma, so she makes it up to you by letting you hug her, which turns into her spooning you on Enid’s bed.
A/N: First time writing for Wednesday and writing fluff.
WORDS: 2,450
(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)
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Ever since Wednesday first attended Nevermore, she would often see you in her and Enid’s dorm to fool around with your best friend. Bursts of laughter, blasting music, and gossip would resonate from the bright side of the dorm room to the plain yet elegant black and white side of the room. 
At first, Wednesday thought of the liveliness of Enid’s side of the dorm as a nuisance—an obstacle that prevents her from focusing on writing her novel. However, as months passed during the semester, she didn’t mind your presence. 
Wednesday would rather carve her eyes out than admit it to your face though. The tingling and unusual sensations she felt on her chest whenever you were around irked her. It was out of her character to feel attraction towards you, but love works in complicated ways. She grew fond of the thrill of breaking character—her way of saying how she loved the feeling of liking you.
When you first met Wednesday, you didn’t mind her too much, but you weren’t scared of her like the other students were when she first came to the school. She was just there, tagging along with you and Enid, but you never found her to be a problem despite her gruesome past and rumors. She was likable, but you put your feelings aside because you knew she wasn’t looking for a relationship, let alone romance.
You grew comfortable in her presence and treated her like any other while respecting her boundaries. Which boundaries? Physical contact boundaries. It was hard not to randomly tackle someone you knew into a hug as it was your love language, but you tried your best not to make Wednesday uncomfortable. You wish you could hug her at least once in your life. You always told her why you wouldn’t touch her so she wouldn’t misunderstand—if she cared anyway.
Wednesday never told you how bloody adorable you were when you apologized for accidentally sharing a skinship. However, she also wanted you to disrespect her boundaries. She also craved what others experienced—your stubble touches and death-gripping hugs. 
She wanted to feel more of your warmth against her cold-stone skin—another thought she would only think of when it was about you. She curses herself when she feels an irking feeling in her guts when she sees your arm wrapped around Enid’s as you three walk. Thing would always tease her for being touch-starved for you, even if he received threats as his replies.
──────────
Today is the first time Enid left you alone with Wednesday after she ran off like a leopard when Ajax suddenly asked her out. You didn’t want to leave Wednesday on her own just because Enid left. Hence, you stayed and waited until your best friend came back.
It was much quieter than the usual energetic night, but you nor Wednesday found the silence awkward. You two silently did your things as she dedicated an hour to her novel while casually having—well, trying to have small talks in between. Wednesday was not one to be disturbed while she wrote.
Thing was there to keep you company until Enid returned. He was an interesting fellow because he was only a hand, but he’s a sweetheart. You took selfies and played games on your phone with him until you two parted ways, as you scrolled on your social media while he read magazines from Enid’s shelf. You eventually fell asleep on your best friend’s bed after getting tired of not doing anything.
Wednesday didn’t notice your sleeping form until she had finished her hour of writing her novel. Thing even told her multiple times, but she ignored the poor appendage. After neatly stacking her finished pages in a pile, she looked at your figure, peacefully sleeping on her roommate’s bed as your chest rose and dropped with each breath.
She rose from her seat and approached you, making your soft snores audible to her ears. The bed dipped as she climbed on the bed to grab your unlocked phone to put it aside. Before she pressed the off button, she saw a selfie of you, Enid, and her winning the Allen Poe cup as your wallpaper. The smile she adores that adorned your face was so contagious it made her lips twitch upwards. She then closed your phone and placed it on Enid’s side table. 
Wednesday sat on the bedside and watched your sleeping figure—curled into fetus position—with soft eyes. She leaned in to kiss your forehead as if someone had controlled her body to do so. As soon as her lips touched your skin, you flinched awake as if you had a nightmare. 
Your instincts made you grip Wednesday’s shoulders and slam her onto Enid’s bed as you straddled her. You and Wednesday were caught off guard—eyes wide and huffing from the sudden actions as you looked at each other. You looked at her as if she was an assassin sent to kill you during your slumber, not your friend.
“How dare you,” you gritted as you looked down at her with stern eyes—an expression she hadn’t seen on your face before, catching her off guard again. It must’ve been because of the murderous intent that shone in your eyes as you looked at her. 
Wednesday thought you were always rainbows and butterflies, but she was mistaken. Everyone has a dark side buried within their hearts, and you only masked it with your joyful and innocent mask. She does want to see that side of you—how gruesome your other self was—but tonight was not the right time.
She tried to cup your cheek to get you out of your trance, but you gripped her wrists and pinned them above her head, burying them onto your best friend’s bed. Shen then huffed and called your name with tenderness without realizing it.
“Y/n L/n, calm down,” Wednesday muttered. Her voice snapped you out of your little world, and your eyes widened when you realized the position you forced upon you two. You quickly got off Wednesday and crossed your legs before her as she did the same. 
“Sorry. Instincts,” you muttered as you looked down, embarrassed by your sudden outburst. “Normies would sneak up on me and do bullshit during my sleep before I went to Nevermore—became a habit, y’know?”
You thought you stopped attacking people who touched you as you slept, but it seemed that Wednesday proved you wrong. You knew you, Thing, and Wednesday were the only ones in the dorm, so you didn’t need to react like that. 
Was it because her touch felt so foreign?—something you never thought she would do? Did you suddenly attack her because the chills you felt from the warm touch of her lips caught you off guard and made you think she was someone else?
“Trauma should be the right word,” Wednesday stated as she looked at you with her signature death stare before looking down to massage her wrists to release the tension from your death grip. “Do that again, and you will have to sleep with an eye open.”
“Very funny, Addams,” you chuckled before getting up from the bed to leave Enid and Wednesday’s dorm to head to your own since it was getting late. Enid must’ve lost track of time and forgotten how she left you in the dorm With Wednesday because of Ajax. “I’d like to see you try. It’d be a challenge for you since I barely sleep.”
“Where do you think you are going?” Wednesday asked as she raised a brow—eyes following your figure as you shuffled about to get out of bed. She can’t have you leave now that you two are alone for the first time without any prying eyes. She needed to do something before you retired to your dorm. “I don’t remember telling you to leave.”
You were taken aback by the tone of her voice, as it was something you’d never heard from her before. You two are constantly surprising each other, and you find that quite romantic. First, you catch her off guard with your outburst. Second, she surprises you with her unusual tone. 
“I don’t remember needing your permission to leave, Wednesday Addams,” you jokingly shot back as you returned to your sitting position on Enid’s bed. You cross your arms and lift your chin to look down at her to return her unspoken staring challenge. “I’m going to my dorm since it’s late. Why are you asking me to stay, hm? Longing-for-my-presence much?”
“Embrace me,” she simply states, making you choke on air from the sudden command. She looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as you went on a coughing fit. “Don’t die a dull death, Y/n.”
“Y-You want ME to hug YOU?” you mumbled, flabbergasted, as you regained your composure—patting your chest as you did to help you breathe. “Never thought THE Wednesday Addams would request a hug from a plain, old me.”
“It was not a request. It was a command. I’m only doing this because it seems that I reawakened a trauma of yours. Consider it as returning what I owe you,” Wednesday glared as her arms slowly spread wide, expecting you to jump in her arms as you did with others. “Don’t sit there and wait until I change my mind.”
“Of course, of course, your highness,” you teased before approaching Wednesday. Your comment made her furrow her brows with discontent, and her arms fall to her sides. Your teasing went too far, it seems. “W-Wait! I was just joking!”
Wednesday had already gotten out of Enid’s bed as pleas spilled from your mouth. She looked down at you with a bitter expression—not that you could notice—before she spun on her heel to walk to her bed. Before she could take a step, you had stood on your knees on the bed and hugged her from behind, catching her off guard. She noticed it was different from your bone-crushing embraces as it was gentler, but she liked it.
“I got carried away,” you mumbled against Wednesday’s back as you wrapped your arms around her waist, securing her in place. Her hands gently held onto your hand, making you tighten your hold on her as you thought she was breaking free, but she didn’t. “You’re huggable material, Addams. It’s cute—you’re cute,” you chuckled, content with the embrace.
“Describe me with the word ‘cute’ again, and I will not hesitate to chop your tongue off with a butcher’s knife,” Wednesday muttered as she turned to face you, making your head press on her chest. She looked down at you and saw how you looked up at her with mischievous eyes as if you were content with irritating her. “You can let go now. It seems that your usual self is back.”
“Oh, no, no. I’m still traumatized, Wednesday,” you countered and buried your face further against her. She stiffly stood there as you hogged her body to yourself. She didn’t return the embrace, but you were grateful for the one-sided embrace as it was better than nothing. 
You basked in her coldness, but you could feel a slight warmth near her heart. It was comfortable, and you were happy. You two stayed in that position until you opened your eyes when an idea crossed your mind. You let her go to proceed with your plan, but you missed the slight scowl that painted her face.
“This sudden adrenaline rush won’t make me calm down easily. I command you to give me cuddles,” you huffed and pointed at her, then at Enid’s bed before laying down in a fetal position. “You’re the big spoon. Now, come,” you smiled as you patted the spot behind you. “This is part of what you owe me.”
Wednesday stood there like she was rethinking her life decisions by letting you embrace her. You simply lay there and waited for her to comply with your command. She huffed when you had no plans of changing your mind and proceeded to tuck herself into bed, not spooning you—laying on someone else’s bed was embarrassing enough for her.
“Suit yourself,” you huffed at her stubbornness, which you found cute, before succumbing to darkness again as all the adrenaline seeped out of your body as quickly as it came. 
After a few minutes, Wednesday laid on her other side to face your back, watching you sleep. You weren’t in a deep sleep Wednesday thinks because you were still aware of your surroundings. She eyed your sleeping figure before scooting closer and hesitantly draping an arm around your waist. 
At first, the position was awkward since Wednesday hadn’t embraced someone in bed before, but she got more comfortable when she relaxed her tense body since she found your warm soothing. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, basking in your soothing scent and lulling her to sleep. She can’t believe she’s letting her pride fail her for something as trivial as this.
“I knew you would cuddle me eventually,” you muttered, half-awake, making her slightly jolt. “You make a great big spoon, Wednesday. We should cuddle more.”
“Don’t make me change my mind,” Wednesday seethed, but you just lazily snuggled closer to her hold as you found comfort in her arms. She expected a comment, but you went back to sleep, content with the warmth of her body. “How rude,” she mumbled, a slight smile washing over her features before she followed you into the pit of darkness.
The rest of the night was peaceful as you and Wednesday slept on Enid’s bed. Wednesday had never had such a nice rest—almost cursing herself for letting her guard down during her sleep, unlike how she usually does. The dorm was unbothered because Enid had retired to Yoko’s dorm since her shared dorm was at the top of the floor. She couldn’t risk Ms. Thornhill catching her walking about in the hallways.
Unbeknownst to you, Enid almost lost her fingers the next day when she woke Wednesday with a snap of her phone camera as she attempted to take a picture of you and her roommate sleeping in a picture-worthy position. Your best friend could’ve also lost her feet if she didn’t comply with Wednesday’s command to delete the pictures of her camera roll. 
“Ajax declined her date offer,” Wednesday butted in when you asked Enid about her foul mood. However, the real reason why Enid was in a gloomy mood was that she couldn’t keep the cute pics of you and Wednesday peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms. Wednesday knew Enid would post it on her blog, so she had to threaten her to gatekeep your cuteness.
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© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.
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eddieboi23 · 1 year
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Future partner
Wednesday: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. 
Y/n: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to their knees and sob while apologizing profusely* 
Wednesday: That one. I want that one.
Pt 2
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Xavier Thorpe X  GN!Reader - Tied Up
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A/N - I was listening to a Deftones playlist, and my mind went to very unholy places, so I decided to write it (I already posted a version of this, but I didn’t like it so I rewrote it) enjoy (if u want me to finish this then submit an ask lol)
Warnings - it gets heated but no actual smut
THE BOOK IS CALLED ‘’JAY WISEMAN’S EROTIC BONDAGE HANDBOOK’’
DEFTONES S3X PLAYLIST (THE PLAYLIST IS NOT MINE, I FOUND IT AND I LOVED IT OK? DON’T JUDGE ME)
Seeing your boyfriend in chains definitely did something to your brain, but given the circumstances it was in, you didn't want to say anything since it could have been a tad bit traumatic, so you decided on dropping a hint about what you wanted. A big hint.
You had ordered a book. The erotic kind, to be precise. Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage handbook to be even more precise. Being an Addams, you already knew the basics to an extent, but decided on reading further into it, so as not to hurt your boyfriend if he decided he was into that.
A week after ordering it, it arrived, and you read it in less than a day. It was pretty interesting, but more importantly, full of tips, how-tos, and safety precautions one had to take.
You couldn't just blatantly give it to him in the middle of the pentagon-shaped courtyard, so you decided to change the covers of the book to those of a poetry book you took from the school library. To be honest, you've never even read the book, but it would have to do.
So on one chilly Friday, when you had bought the ropes and everything you might need, you set out to find Xavier and set your little plan into motion.
While you were walking down the stairs, you ran into your sister, Wednesday, who was probably going to her dorm since it was her writing hour. ''Hey sis, what a lovely afternoon, isn't it?'' You asked her, unusually happy, which made her raise her brow in question. ''Hi, it will be a lovely afternoon when a thunderstorm appears. What has gotten you in such a weird mood? Is it that poetry book you're carrying?'' She said in her usual monotone voice while trying to sneak a peak inside the book. ''Maybe, maybe not, enjoy writing your murder novels, I have shit to do'' You grinned, while walking away, leaving her to question if it was the book or something else, you're not usually THIS cheery.
You found Xavier in the courtyard, painting something on its walls as usual. He didn't notice you standing behind him and jumped a little bit when you wrapped your arms around his torso with a ''hi love'' to accompany your actions. ''Oh hey, what's up?'' he asked, putting one of his hands over yours while continuing his work on the wall. ''What are you painting? Another ''tortured artist'' work?'' You questioned with a small smirk playing on your lips. ''Ha ha, very funny. You're never going to let me live that down, are you?'' He retorted in a mock serious voice, while he was quite obviously grinning as much as you were.
You unwrapped your arms and moved so you were standing next to him before you said in a smug voice, ''I got you something, don't open it in front of people, love. Read it, alright?'' You handed him the book, which he took after cleaning his paint-stained hands with a small towel. ''Poetry? Why can't I open it in front of people? Did you write a murder plan in there or something?'' He joked after taking a look at the book. ''You'll see,'' You stated, and before you left to do your own thing, you gave him a quick kiss on the lips and sent him a wink, walking away. Curious as to what was so important about the book, he opened the first page, in which he found a note in your handwriting, '' When you read this and have decided if you're into it, find me in my dorm :))''. He took off the sticky note and looked at the title, which made him slightly blush since it read ''Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage Handbook''. He quickly shut the book and decided that he'll read it after he finished the painting. Xavier was intrigued, to say the least. Of course, you'd be into that, he thought with a slight chuckle.
It was very convenient since you didn't have a roommate and had a queen-sized bed with a metal headboard. You definitely didn't expect to see Xavier standing in your room that evening, dressed in grey sweatpants and one of your Metallica t-shirts.
''Hey, you.'' You said, walking to him and giving him a hello kiss. He instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist. It looked like he was contemplating something, so you raised your brow in a questioning manner. You didn't even get to ask what was bothering him when he responded with a yes.
You had a confused look on your face when he let go of you and went to your bed to find something he had put there earlier. Xavier raised the disguised handbook and then handed it to you. ''Open it,'' He said. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down on your bed, waiting.
You opened the book and found your note inside, but in addition to the original one, you found a ''yes'' scribbled under your text. You smiled, closed the book, and put it on your desk before going to sit beside him. ''Are you sure?'' You asked while moving strands of hair that had fallen into his face behind his ear. ''Yeah, I thought about it, and since you know what you're doing, at least I hope so,'' he chuckled while you grinned at him, '' I'm open to trying it.'' You didn't need any other confirmation. You smashed your lips onto his in a heated kiss, while he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. Testing the water, you lightly bit down on Xavier's lower lip. You could feel he was fighting against the noises that were creeping their way out of his throat. ''Wait, I forgot to lock the door, shit,'' He exaggeratedly whined when you got up, and let his back fall against the soft mattres of your bed. You quickly locked the door, checked that it was really locked, and turned on some music. Xavier recognized the playlist immediately, and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't turn him on. Before going back to him, you rummaged through your closet and pulled out a box in which the ropes you had previously bought were in. Xavier was watching your every move and you could feel his lustful gaze.
You carelessly dropped the ropes on your bed and got yourself comfortable in Xavier's lap. He raised his body to meet yours and kissed you again, this time it was a lot more passionate. Your mouth slowly opened up, enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours. He didn’t notice it, but you had placed a hand on his neck, slowly moving it upward to grab a fistful of his hair and roughly pull on it. Xavier couldn't contain himself anymore and let out a low moan.
You smiled into the kiss and let your hands wander lower down his body, to the hem of the shirt, your shirt, that he'd been wearing, and helped him out of it. He let out a groan as the cold night air collided with his naked torso. You instructed him to move up against the headboard. Before you did anything, you reminded him of the safe words, green for go, yellow for pause, and red for immediate stopping.
After making sure he was comfortable, and you had scissors on your nightstand, you began to tie up his hands with the soft rope, carefully, not to restrict blood flow. While you were focused on the task at hand, Xavier began placing kisses on your neck. You yanked his hands back to tie them to the headboard, making his back hit the mattress again. He was slightly panting, his eyes full of want and need. You admired the sight before you, it wasn't a thing you see every day, but you already had the picture engraved in your mind. You lowered your head so you could kiss him again, your lips moving in sync. When you lifted your head, he whined at the loss of contact, but you were already moving lower, starting to attack his neck with hickeys that would be visible for a week at least. Xavier moaned softly when you found that one spot that felt the best and continued your work there. You were so caught up in the moment you almost didn't hear the two knocks on your door. You chose to ignore them, hoping the person would go away, but they didn't and continued knocking. ''For fucks sake,'' you whispered, annoyed at whoever was standing outside your dorm. What made you freeze in your place was the new principal's voice.
''Turn that music down. I have received complaints about the noise from other students,'' She tried to shout over the Deftones song playing in the background. You cleared your throat and yelled '' Sorry, I'll turn it down.'' ''You better, and if I hear another complaint about it, I'll make sure you can't play that music at all.'' She hollered, irritated since it wasn't the first time you'd done this.
You made your way to the speaker and turned the music down a little bit, so it wasn't too loud, but loud enough. ''Now, where were we?'' You turned to Xavier, still tied up on your bed, watching you, lips slightly parted, waiting for your next move.
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pandorascripts · 1 year
Note
heyyy :) can i request wednesday x reader where she sneaks into wednesdays room to sleepover and enid was sleeping in yokos room for the night and forgot smth and went back to their dorm and walks in on them making out?
fugly slut
summary: enid catches her OTP (who said they weren’t together) snogging. she’s pissed and had Mean Girls on her mind.
warnings: making out, wee bit spicy, swearing
paring: wednesday addams x reader
note: written quickly, proof read a bit, not sure if there’s any mistakes :^
————
You watch as Enid’s retreating form bounces merrily off the walls. Wednesday had told you to come over tonight, it’d be safe seeing as her roommate was crashing with a friend. Most people would’ve told you that it’s a bad thing to go into a relationship and hiding it, but seeing as you and Wednesday are academic rivals, the two of you don’t want the school knowing. 
You tap on the door four times, letting Wednesday know it was safe, and a second later you’re dragged through. A rough yelp is muffled as Wednesday presses her lips against yours, her left hand fumbling to lock the door.
You hold her head with both hands, pressing her back into yourself. With the door now locked, Wednesday grabs your hips, hiking your shirt upwards. She doesn’t take it off, much to your dismay, instead she pushes you around and against a wall. 
“No one likes a tease, Wednesday,” you whisper, donning an uncontrollable smirk.
“You’ll get what you want in due time, no need to be greedy.”
You chuckle, although it doesn’t last long. With Wednesday’s lips now on your neck your laugh dies out, a shaky sigh taking place. Featherlight lips make their way down, pressing into the small portion of your shoulder that was exposed. 
Wednesday’s hands grab your shirt, lifting it up and off, before quickly attaching her lips to yours again. Your hands grab Wednesday’s jacket, wanting it off as well, but then the worst thing you could imagine happens. 
The door opens. 
Enid liked to say she loved people. She loved how no matter how moody or damaged they were, there was always an innocent soul underneath. No one was truly evil, no one truly wanted to hurt others, they had unfortunate incidents in their lives in which cause them to act accordingly. 
But as Enid walked into her dorm, after forgetting a blanket, and saw her two best friends, who had both assured Enid they despised each other, making out, she realized people were liars. They were crude, and pests, and no one deserved to be on this Earth. Liars suck, and a thought crossed her mind. That thought happened to be a line from Mean Girls.
“You are the nastiest skank bitch I’ve ever met!” she shouts, stomping over. “You two told me you weren’t screwing!”
Wednesday takes off her jacket, handing to you so you were at least decent for this conversation. 
“Enid —“
“No! I’ve been trying for months to get you two together, and you don’t even tell me when it happens? What am I, chopped liver?”
“We’re trying to keep it on the down low, Enid,” you speak up, looking charmingly disheveled.
Enid’s eyes flicker away from Wednesday’s settling on yours. “You told me you’d rather die than get with Wednesday.”
You shrug. “I’d rather die than do anything, really.”
“Not helping!” Wednesday whisper shouts, looking over to you. In a much more hushed tone, she says, “You look very attractive in my clothing. Look through my closet later.”
An angry grunt from Enid cuts off your reply, your smirk dropping as you stare at your socks. 
“I hate the both of you.”
“Enid, I’ll buy you that Squishmallow you’ve been begging for if you go back to Yoko’s.” Wednesday turns to you, out of sight from Enid, and winks. 
“Really?! OH-EM-GEE!” she squeals, rushing up to Wednesday as she hugs her. “I love you. Alls forgiven, be gay do crime!” 
With that, Enid leaves the room, waking all of Ophelia Hall with her screams.
You lean back against the wall, sighing. 
“Well.” You pout, night spoiled and one more person knowing your secret. 
Wednesday walks up to you, the devilish smile you love so much and the mischievous glint in her eyes back again.
“Well, the dog has left, and we’ve got this huge dorm to ourselves…”
Wednesday’s hand brushes against your arm as she rests it on your bicep. Her other hand holds your waist. 
“And you look so incredible in my clothes.”
You smile, leaning down into her face. Neither of you say anything, sharing hot breaths and mischievous smiles. With your lips practically against hers, you know damn well what she’s thinking. 
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evilwednesday · 5 months
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𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ──── wednesday addams & fem!reader
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── tags. soft wednesday, implied sex at the very end, no pronous used, but the word 'girlfriend' is used once. wednesday and reader are both adults.
── word count. 1.521
a/n. i'm late for wdw, i know, but i could not let y'all and @wesstars down... better late than never, right? i hope you like it and im sorry for any mistakes.
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When you moved to the small town of Jericho and started working at the only coffee shop around, you didn’t expect to get anyone’s attentions, especially from the local “freaky”. Wednesday Addams was full of surprises and secrets and, apparently, everyone here knew a bit about her.
Gossips followed you around like fog in the morning after a raining night, the eccentric Addams always being the subject that echoed inside the brownish walls of the cafe.
“I’ve heard she eats raw meat,” a high school student dressed in black and blue uniform said to her friend, no caring enough to at least whisper.
The other just nodded, not paying attentions to her surrenders, not even when the little bell above the entrance door jingled.
“My father told me her dad killed someone in Nevermore when he was a student… imagine being the daughter of killer.”
“Imagine being the daughter of a former police officer who was expelled from the police force for not being able to solve a simple case that happened more than 20 years ago.” The tranquil voice caught your attention, causing you to turn on your heels behind the counter.
Wednesday was standing next to the table where the two students sat, arms crossed and a deadly shine in her eyes. You smiled.
“Miss Addams, please stop terrorizing the small girls, they know nothing about life,” you spoke once you saw the reddish color in the girls’ cheeks.
“They better learn fast; life is not gentle.” She turned her head to you. “And neither am I.”
“Oh, should I fear for my life?”
You tilted your head, trying to get Wednesday’s attention in order for the girls to go back to the other students of Nevermore. The raven girl redirected her body towards you, taking steps until she was standing in front of the cashier.
“You most definitely should.”
Head motioning for the girls to leave, you placed both of your hands on the icy, black marble that covered the top of the counter.
“If I die, who’s going to make you your favorite cherry muffin?”
“Before I met you, I survived just fine without the sweetness of it in my daily life, I’m positive I can do it again once you’re gone.” She lifted her chin. “Now stop staling and bring me a double expresso, no sugar and a cherry muffin before I start terrorizing you instead.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes as she turned to sit on the costumery table.
Putting the cherry muffin in a plate, you turned to the Italian coffee machine with an empty white mug in hand and freshly brewed coffee in the other.
As the bitter liquid slowly filled the porcelain, flashes of the first time you were face to face with Wednesday took over your memory. She was so small in her black and white Nevermore uniform, looking like an old school cartoon, disappearing behind the other students as she patiently and quietly waited in line to order. She stared at you, taking two steps ahead when the last person in front of her moved away with their order in hands, taking a seat with the others, black eyes that didn’t blink and looked dead, the pale white skin didn’t help either. Not a single mark on it, you noticed, except for the adorable freckles that spread over her small nose bridge and covered the area around her cheek bones.
She was polite and calm, unlike the others, speaking in a monotone voice that actually surprised you.
Wednesday ordered a small size expresso with no sugar. You offered her a muffin, freshly out of the oven and still warm. She was reluctant in saying ‘yes’ at first, but something in you convinced her.
Once the mug was filled, you placed it side by side with the muffin, smiling and murmuring a small ‘I hope you like it’, to which she replied with: “Thank you,” extending her hands to take the plate and mug of the counter.
She looked at the red-blood muffin before looking at you, giving you a small nod of her head before walking to an empty table.
You watched as she sat herself down and stared at the small cake in front of her, you licked your lips, curious to know if she would like it or not; it was your favorite, after all.
Wednesday tilted her head to the side, analyzing the sweet in front of her, internally admiring the color of it and how the powdered sugar on top of it reminded her of snow covered in blood.
Taking the wrap of it, she hesitantly took a bite of it, slowly chewing it. You bet your lips, anxiously standing behind the counter. She then took another bite, and another one, and another one, rapidly finishing the muffin.
You smiled to yourself, finally changing the focus of your attention.
Now, almost 7 years of the first interaction, you still secretly admired Wednesday as you waited for the coffee to fill the small sized mug. But now was different, she started drinking a double expresso to maintain her brain awake and cherry muffins became a part of her daily life.
But only if it was made by your hands.
Once the porcelain turned bitter black, you left your place from behind the corner and sat them down in front of the goth, taking the empty seat in front of her.
“Thank you,” Wednesday said simple, eyes focused on the yellowish pages that had all her attention.
“A new case?” You asked curious, taking a look around the nearly empty coffee shop.
“A runner found two dead bodies at the woods on Saturday, the captain assumed I’d be interest and gave me the case this morning.”
You pursed your lips, a tight knot in your stomach as your eyes analyzed the super graphic images that decorated the table. Pushing the images away from your point of view, you wondered how Wednesday could eat the red-blooded muffin while looking at actual blood.
As if she could read your mind, black painted nails reached for the small cake, her eyebrows sewing together once she saw what you did, “Care to explain what this is?”
You pursed your lips, containing a smile. On top of the sweet, a white skeleton’s head was drawn, black, deep-hollowed eyes filled with dark chocolate chips with a sewed-like smile under and dark red blood dripping from its eyes.
“I made it for you, Halloween is near and I figured you’d like it.”
“I can see that. What I want you to explain is why there’s blood coming from its eyes. Bones can’t bleed, there’s no tissue that can carry blood vessels or veins, it’s just bones.”
You rolled your eyes, “It’s a cupcake, Wens. Just eat it.”
“Fine.”
When she took the first bite, dark red filling dripped onto her hands. It was a mix between the sweetness of sugar and the sourness of cherry combined together that only you could do it perfectly.
“So… did you like it?”
Wednesday chewed and swallowed everything, licking her lips to capture the remained syrup, missing a small drop on the corner of her mouth. The tip of her fingers covered in the cherry liquid.
“It’s too sweet, next time don’t add any sugar to it. It’s not healthy. And it’s also too sticky and messy. I need a napkin.”
Reaching out for her hand, you sucked the tip of her fingers, closing your eyes at the sweetness that filled your mouth.
“You don’t need a napkin, you have a girlfriend to clean it for you.”
Wednesday widened her eyes at your action, looking around to make sure nobody saw that. The coffee shop was empty as it was almost noon and everyone was either at work or at school, only the two of you occupying a space inside.
“That was unnecessary.” She said with an affected tone.
“It was very necessary, I needed to see if it was too sweet.” You stood up, taking the empty plate in hands. Before returning to the kitchen, you leaned into her personal space, noses touching and the smell of her perfume filling your senses, that small drop being the only thing you saw in front of you. “You have some here too.”
The moment the tip of your tongue licked the red syrup, so close to her lips, Wednesday grabbed the mug near her hands, squeezing it hard enough to break if it was made of fragile material.
Before standing up properly, you pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, tasting the sourness in it.
“I’ll make sure the next ones aren’t too sweet for you, cara mia.” You winked, rapidly walking back to the counter to start preparing the muffins for the afternoon clients. And for your bitter girlfriend that cursed you under her breath for fogging up her brain with your tongue, taking away all the concentration she needed to solve this murder case. One that would need to wait after she locked the door, turned the open sign to ‘closed’, and dragged you by the hand to the supply closet.
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teaaagan · 7 months
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No
Yoko: Wednesday, can you...? 
Wednesday: No, sorry. I'm busy
Y/N: *walks into the room* Wends, can you...?
Wednesday: Yes, of course
Yoko: You have got be kidding me!
Enid: Seriously?! What did you expect? wednesday is physically unable to say 'No' to Y/N
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