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letorip · 2 months

Text

somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega

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melrodrigo · 2 months

Text

on your knees - c.s.

Cairo Sweet x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s day and Cairo really needs a date.

Word Count: idk i’ll fill it later

A/N: Hiii, here to feed my babies. Beware the last few parts because i did nawt proofread this. Will come back to edit it eventually! Thanks for all the love

“Come onnnnn, go on a date with me?” The girl in front of you practically begs, leaning forward till her whole body is pressed up to the front of your desk.

“Very funny.” You tell her, dryly.

Cairo’s been whining all week about not having a valentine’s date, but you don’t know why she specifically chooses to whine to you about it. After all, you had heard from around school she had a crush on Mr.Miller.

Your nose crinkles in disgust at the thought. Their coupling would be wild at best, and illegal (not to mention boring) at worst. It would be like seeing Einstein and an Instagram model holding hands. Except Mr. Miller wasn’t Einstein, he was Henry Miller. A spectacularly boring middle aged white guy.

To be completely transparent, you wouldn’t have minded going on a date with Cairo. Since, truth be told, you might’ve had a (tiny) crush on her.

You let your mind wander, think of what it would be like to take her out. The perfect date.

She loves nature, so it would be outdoors for sure. She doesn’t love extravagant gestures, you’d probably make her a little picnic. Your train of thought is cut short by the evil voice that tells you she could be fantasizing about a certain professor on your imaginary date.

Cairo breaks your daydreaming by falling to her knees beside your chair, hitting the carpet with a loud thud.

Your eyes widen, and you quickly grab her shoulders and try to push her up, but she refuses. For such a small girl, she sure had a lot of strength.

“What do you want me to do, beg? I can beg.” She tells you, still on her knees, dress pooling atop the rug.

You’re ashamed to admit the position has a bit of an effect on you. But who could blame you? Anyone would be flustered if Cairo Sweet was looking up at them like that…

It’s a little awe inspiring, seeing Cairo so, desperate. You’re not sure what’s brought this all on, but the cold cut Cairo you once knew has disappeared completely from the equation.

“Cairo.” You hiss, eyes darting between the door and the girl in front of you, praying that no one comes in.

“What’s it gonna take for you to go on a date with me?” She whines again, reaching for your shirt cuffs for something to hang onto.

There’s a swoosh and a quiet “oh!” that brings your attention back to the door.

Mr. Miller.

He stands somewhat awkwardly, smiling the type of smile that somehow indicates he’s unhappy. His eyes narrow when he notices it’s Cairo on the floor, his beloved teacher’s pet.

Okay, now you really need Cairo to get up. You support (force) her up and onto half of your chair, reprimanding her quietly as Miller walks past, coughing.

She straightens only slightly before settling once again on your lap, claiming it’s more comfortable and “a more suitable place for her to focus on her studies”.

“Why don’t you just sit at your desk, hm?” You point at the table, a single chair, smack dab in the middle of the classroom, in front of Mr.Miller. She was such a nerd.

She stares back at you blankly, big brown eyes making you a little distracted.

“That’s not mine.” She says, and you breathe out a laugh. The tension breaks. Her eyes crinkle lightly at the sound.

“You’re so weird.” You mumble, but allow her to sit further into your lap, no doubt much more comfy than her previous position.

“Can I sit here the rest of the class?” She asks, a little bashfully. You give her a pointed look, but nod nonetheless.

“Whatever you want.” You tell her, and she seems happy with that, taking her laptop and notebook out, ready to learn.

You see her lock eyes with Mr. Miller, who looks very confused. She smiles shyly and breaks the contact by nudging herself into the crook of your neck.

Oh.

Maybe all this was just to make Mr.Miller jealous.

You frown at the disturbing thought. Cairo’s breath tingles your skin as she tilts her head up so her lips are right beside your ear. The sensation makes you shiver, quite unwillingly.

“Now will you go on a date with me?” She whispers, huskily. Her confidence has returned, cocky like the Cairo you know so well.

You weigh your options.

You do really want her to get away from Mr.Miller…it might be a good time to slap some sense into the young girl.

“Alright.” You say curtly, already regretting your decision.

Cairo removes herself from your neck, smiling wide. For a second it quells your anxieties, her milky white pearls blinding.

She turns back as more students start filing in, ready yet again to learn.

You can’t focus for the duration of the class, mind wandering. Valentine’s day was tomorrow, what were you going to say? What were you going to do?

You stay quiet until class ends and all the way while you walk her back to her home. Cairo pokes at you a couple times to try and get you out of your head.

“Don’t forget flowers!” Cairo teasingly yells from ahead of you, already one foot into her house. You straighten up, dumbly answer with a “You got it!” and a face palm once she’s out of sight.

Okay. This was it. Last night was spent toiling on your bed, writing a script of what you’ll tell Cairo, prepared lillies- her favorite flowers, and a batch of the best things you could possibly find in your fridge.

Bread, butter, freshly sliced tomatoes, lettuce, and two slices of turkey left, you’re all ready and set.

The script is tucked away into the back pocket of your jeans, snug and cozy. It radiates warmth that makes you think it’d be terribly rude to ever take it out.

You sit down onto the grass, arms on both sides straightened, palms rubbing uncomfortably with the tablecloth.

“I shouldn’t be this nervous.” You remind yourself, but it does almost nothing to quell your worries.

You can’t keep lying to yourself, the truth swims in your head and you’re afraid it’s going to leave your lips the second Cairo arrives. You aren’t nervous about the letter, or anything to do with Mr.Miller. In fact, you’re nervous about the date.

A tiny part of you, no matter how much you try and shun it away, hopes that, maybe, just maybe, if Cairo liked this date, she might start liking you.

The minutes count themselves down too fast, and it’s almost time. You sit straighter, checking your shirt for any wrinkles.

You see a tiny figure make it’s way onto the lawn, and you have to bite back a smile when you realize it’s Cairo.

She looks almost shy as she walks up to you, twiddling with her thumbs.

It’s like a wave washes over you when you finally see her up close. She’s wearing a gray turtleneck, with a denim jacket over it, hair all nice and wavy. She looks unbelievably good.

It takes a second for you to grab your bearings and act like you weren’t just blatantly staring at her.

“You look beautiful.” You say, as casual as you can muster, and Cairo breaks out into a smile. You notice she’s wearing water liner, and it makes your knees feel like jelly. She’s only ever done makeup like this once, during your school dance, and it had all but made you swoon.

“Yeah?” She muses, mindlessly. Bending down and sitting on your makeshift picnic cloth.

“Yeah.” You breathe, even though you can tell she didn’t really need an answer to that. She reaches for your face, pushing a stray hair back.

“You look good too.” Is what she comments, all soft like.

You’re a little ashamed to admit you dressed up particularly for this occasion. Some rosy pink blush, your favorite lipstick just for her.

You cough awkwardly, and it breaks you both out of your trance. You reach for the food and serve her her plate.

You get a good while into talking and laughing that you bring up Mr. Miller.

“So…do you have your eye on anybody right now?” You ask nonchalantly, pretending like you haven’t mapped this whole conversation out in your head a million times.

Something flashes in her eyes but it disappears so quick you can’t tell what it is.

“You know you can tell me anything,right?” You tell her, and you mean it. Whatever or whoever it was, you’d be fine with it. You wouldn’t just stop being friends with her because of complicated feelings. She mattered more to you than that.

She bites her lip, then speaks quick, like she has to get it out before she overthinks too much.

“Yeah I am interested in someone. In this school, actually.” She says.

You feel your heart drop to your ass, you’d hoped against hope that the rumor wasn’t true- but with this new information, it had to be.

So much for ‘being okay with anything.’ That’s it. It’s over for me.

“Oh?” You try and ask, but it comes out as a little squeak. Cairo shoots you a weird look, but continues telling you about it.

“Yeah…I really like her. I just, I don’t know if I should pursue it.” She purses her lips.

Now it’s really time for your heart to flip. Her? Did she say ‘her?’

“Yeah, I did.” She confirms, small smirk playing on her crimson lips.

“Shit, did I say that out loud?” You ask her, cheeks heating up immediately. She gives you a quick nod.

Oh god.

“You like a girl?” You ask again, disbelieving.

This time she huffs, sounding almost impatient.

“Yes, I like a girl.” She says, exasperated, with a bit of bite in her tone. Something defensive and possibly jealous stirs up in you fast and quick. Why does she look annoyed?

You can’t help but answer in the same way.

“Okay, so who is it that you like so much?” You ask pointedly. The fire in her eyes that was there just moments before simmers, and just like that, she reverts back to her normal self. It’s almost concerning how she does it so quick, like the flip of a switch.

She suddenly looks nervous again. You give her a small encouraging nod, take her hand in yours as support. They tremble slightly.

“I like you. And I know you probably-” She continues but all you can hear are the echos of her first statement.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

I like you.

You retract from her hands, surprised beyond belief. You regret it immediately when her smile drops.

Her mouth is moving rapidly, and you use the best of your abilities to try and hear what she’s saying.

“I mean why do you think I even begged you on this date? I swear your head is so thick-“ Her words pass through your ears in intervals, and finally, after she’s done, and looking at you expectedly, all you can do is croak out a weak, “You don’t have a crush on Mr. Miller?”

Cairo blinks once, twice.

“What?” But there’s no fear or judgement or any hint of any emotion except disbelief.

Huh, so she didn’t know about the rumor.

“Who said I have a crush on Mr.Miller?” She asks, nose scrunching in disgust. You sigh, looking up to the sky and thanking god.

At this revelation, you’re elated. You scooch just a tad closer and tell her about the rumor. When you’re done, you expect someone shocked, or weirded out, but all she does is letout a hefty laugh.

“God, just because I like a class doesn’t mean I want to fuck the teacher.” She smiles, and you marvel in the way she’s able to shake it off so easy. She’s always been like that, carefree.

You let your mind wander to what she said before. She turns her head to look at the scenery, allowing you guys to sit in comfortable silence.

You say her name, a simple sound, but it makes her look up into your eyes, curious.

“Did you really mean what you said? You like me?” You ask, soft.

She gives an adamant nod, assuring she really does. God, you could not focus right now. She looks so pretty.

“I like you too. Like, a lot.” You breathe, and watch as her eyes sparkle.

“Really?” She blinks, in a state of vulnerability you’ve never seen. You can’t believe that she wouldn’t believe it. You give her the same nod, grin breaking out on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” She asks, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your lips.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted- you can’t even speak.

Her kiss isn’t what you’ve always imagined. Something soft, something gentle. That’s how it always was with the first kiss. You should’ve guessed long ago Cairo wasn’t just anyone.

She surges in, grabbing your face tight like if she lets go you’ll disintegrate. She’s so rough, and you can’t get enough of it. She climbs over your body and settles in your lap, grabbing the collar of your shirt to deepen the kiss.

You break away when it gets too much, both of you panting. Her cheeks are now another shade of pink you can be proud of causing; her hair messed up in a way that makes you want to grab her and kiss her again. And so you do.

You guys stay like that, laughing and talking and kissing till it’s dark out.

“It’s a good thing I forced you on this date, isn’t it?” She muses, rolling in your arms.

You giggle, high from the endorphins.

“You didn’t force me, it was a two person thing.” You try and justify, hoping she doesn’t think you didn’t want the date.

“It’s sweet of you to say that, but we both know you would’ve never asked me out.” She tells you, booping her nose against yours.

“Oh shut up.” And you take her lips in another kiss before she can retort.

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader

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woewriting · 4 months

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ──── wednesday addams & vampire!reader

── 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

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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celiastjamesoscar · 8 months

Text

Exile

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: you and Wednesday were best friends when you were kids, but after Nero’s death, she became cold and distant, and your former friendship turned into a rivalry. Ten years after your friendship ended, unusual circumstances force you two back together.

Trope: childhood friends to enemies to lovers

Warnings: small violent at beginning, angst, death of Nero. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 12.3K (what’s a word count?)

The sound of children laughing rang throughout the woods on a crisp fall morning. The trees were beautiful vibrant colors that painted the landscape with shades of fiery red, golden yellow, and earthly orange. The crisp air that one could taste in their lungs carried a gentle rustling of fallen leaves while the scent of decaying foliage filled the atmosphere. The ground was adorned with a carpet of fallen leaves that created a soft crunch when the two children ran through the serene woodland.

Even though one child chased the other with a small ax, the two had the same fun. The one with the ax was a taller girl with jet-black twin braids who wore all-black clothing, expert for her white collar shirt. She wore a giant smile on her face as she chased her best friend, Y/N.

You were shorter than Wednesday but had just as much fire in you as Wednesday did. Where Wednesday’s eyes were as black as night, you had a gray and green eye that you used to hide behind sunglasses until Wednesday told you they were the most beautiful things in the world, “You shouldn’t hide what separates you from others, Y/N. Especially if it makes you all the more beautiful.”

You wore brighter colors than Wednesday, but you both shared a love for darkness. You were nothing without Wednesday, just as Wednesday was nothing without you.

The two made an odd pair, but one was never seen without the other. There were times when Morticia had to pry her daughter away from you to find that you had snuck back over sometime in the moonlight. Whenever Wednesday would practice her cello, she would invite you to play the piano, and together you two would create the most heavenly sound that would make angels cry. The contrast was there, but they fit together like puzzle pieces.

As they ran through the woods, you tripped on a small branch and fell to the ground, causing worry to overtake Wednesday as she sprinted to the fallen girl. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Wednesday asked as she knelt beside her friend, but her worry quickly disappeared when you sprang up and tackled her to the ground. You removed the ax from the taller girl’s grasp and held it to her neck. “I appear to be the victor,” you said with a giant smile contrasting Wednesday’s grim expression.

Wednesday leaned up and shoved you off her as she stood up and brushed herself off. “That’s hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday replied dryly as she helped you off the ground.

“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you shot back while standing up. You lived for the playful banter with Wednesday and would rather lose your tongue than go without annoying Wednesday for a day. You handed Wednesday the ax back so she could be the Hunter again, and she placed it in its holster on her hip.

As you two were getting ready to start a new game, a voice rattled the trees around you, “Wednesday! Y/N! Time to come home!” The two shared a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously; they both hated it when Morticia ruined their fun, but they started their walk back to the house nonetheless.

As they walked, Wednesday felt bold and pulled you into a headlock and brought the smaller girl’s head against her ribcage. You didn’t even have time to protest before you felt Wednesday’s knuckles dig into your scalp. You squirmed against Wednesday’s hold, but it was useless; the taller girl was stronger than you. So, you did what any sane person would do; you bit down on Wednesday’s forearm that was keeping you in place. Not enough to hurt the assailant, but just enough to let go of you. And just as you predicted, Wednesday let go of you and grabbed the area that the smaller girl just bit. “Why did you do that?” Wednesday questioned as she rubbed her arm back and forth.

“Uh, because I can?” You retorted as you motioned with her hand, giving Wednesday an attitude that the other girl scoffed at. “Let us go, my compact companion; we have tasks at hand,” Wednesday said as she grabbed your hand, and the two ran back to the Addams’ residence together.

“You have to stop calling me that,” you whined. Wednesday had her collection of names to call you, and the shorter girl hated them.

“It’s not my fault you’re shorter than me; blame your genetics,” Wednesday replied with a dry tone but a slight smile that caused you to smile once you saw it. Wednesday never smiled at anyone except you; Wednesday made a lot of exceptions for the more petite girl, even though she would never admit it.

When they arrived at the mansion, both girls were out of breath as Morticia came outside to greet them. “Hello, my little doves. Did you two enjoy the hunt?” Wednesday’s mother asked them as they went inside and took off their shoes.

“Yes, Mrs. Addams, I always have fun with Wens. She’s the best,” you breathlessly replied as you followed Wednesday up to her room.

Morticia was always fond of you; she loved how her morbid daughter seemed to light up when she was around you, and she knew that her daughter could always rely on and trust you. But all great things must come to an end.

Wednesday held her bedroom door open for you as they entered. The room was dark and cold, but it had character, like Wednesday. There were two giant windows that Wednesday always kept covered on the opposite wall of the door. There were collections of knives hung up on the walls, and the shelves were littered with bookshelves, and in the corner of the room was a cello right next to Y/N’s piano. A small fireplace was built into the wall and had a black, round table in front of it that sat only two. A black bed was in the center of the room with its headboard against the wall, and at the end of the bed was a small bed bench that was purple, Y/N’s favorite color. Above Wednesday’s bed were two swords mounted onto the ceiling; one had a black handle with the purple initials of W.A. etched into the ricasso, while the other had a purple handle with your initials engraved in black. You found the swords a bit odd, but according to Wednesday, it made her feel like Damocles.

You messed with the record player beside the fireplace and put on your favorite record. Soon, the upbeat saxophone of ‘Bop’ by Dan Seals filled the room. Wednesday rolled her eyes when she saw you recreate John Travolta’s ‘Twist’ dance from Pulp Fiction.

I want to bop with you, baby, all night long

I want to be-bop with you, baby, till the break of dawn

I want to bop with you, baby, all night long

“Come on, Wens. You know you wanna dance with me,” You said as you started making the swimming motion from the dance. Finding that she could never say no to Y/N, Wednesday rolled her eyes again before copying Uma Thurman’s dance to match you. When Wednesday did the snorkel dance move, you laughed at the taller girl’s awkwardness, and Wednesday smiled at the thought of making you laugh.

Out of breath, the two finished the dance, and they both had giant smiles as their eyes copied their lips. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked as she stuck out your hand and slightly bowed.

“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday stated but took your hand and allowed the girl to spin her.

Twenty minutes had passed when the clock on the fireplace dinged, telling Wednesday it was time to walk Nero. “It’s time for me to walk Nero, but I will see you when I get back,” Wednesday stated as she moved toward the area that was reserved for Nero and got him out of his cage, and put him on his leash.

The three walked down the front door together and left the house together. “See you in a minute,” you said as you walked away from Wednesday. The taller girl sent you a small wave as she walked toward town with Nero.

You arrived home and did what you usually did when Wednesday was away; you waited. You knew Wednesday’s schedule to the tee: wake up at six, morning torture with Pugsley at six-thirty, breakfast at seven-thirty, play with Y/N at eight until her walk with Nero at ten-thirty, come back at eleven and practice her cello with Y/N until twelve-thirty and have lunch at twelve-thirty five. The hours between one and three were filled with any ‘spontaneous activities’ Wednesday might want to do, and at four, she read until five, had dinner at six, and did nightly torturing with Pugsley (or Y/N if you consented) at six-thirty until bedtime at eight-thirty.

So when you checked the clock and saw it was ten-thirty-five, you left her house and skipped to Wednesday’s. As you approached the house, there was a sudden shift in the air, and you could taste it on your lips: death had arrived. You cautiously walked up the stairs and knocked on the door, something you never did. You were always around Wednesday so much that Morticia told you that you didn’t need to knock anymore as she could ‘sense’ the girl’s presence.

When the door opened, you knew that something had happened; you just hoped that Wednesday was okay. Gomez was standing before you with a grim expression as he ushered you in. Your eyes landed on a weeping Wednesday, and your heart broke. You moved to sit next to the goth girl and opened your arms, and Wednesday immediately hugged you and buried her face in the crook of your neck. You rubbed her best friend’s back as she continued crying; you didn’t know what to do, but you only knew that you wanted to be with Wednesday.

The following day, Wednesday had a funeral for Nero, and no one but Y/N could attend. The two girls shed a tear as they both placed a flower on his grave, and you comforted Wednesday once more. Later that night, in Wednesday’s room, Wednesday had allowed you to sleep in bed with her. The two girls were cuddled together, staring at the swords above them, when Wednesday broke the silence, “You are far too dear to me, Y/N. The pain I have felt the past two days is something I never want to experience again, and I certainly do not wish to experience it all over again because of you.”

“Don’t worry, Wednesday. You’re stuck with me till life do us part,” you replied as you hugged your best friend, never wanting to lose the girl.

At just six years old, Wednesday had lost her beloved pet and experienced grief for the first time, and she knew that she would have to grieve every single person in her life at some point. So that night, she made a vow; never to be close enough to someone where she would shed a tear because of their death, and that meant letting go of who she loved most: Y/N.

At first, it was very subtle: Wednesday would smile less around you, and she would spend less time working with you on your music. It was so subtle that no one but you noticed, and it hurt you. Then, more significant things began to happen; Wednesday would purposely fill her schedule with things to do that didn’t involve you, and when you two did hang out, she made sure to try and distance herself from you. And then it all came crashing down on Wednesday’s seventh birthday.

You had a small box in your hand as you walked up the steps to the front door of the Addams mansion and knocked, patiently waiting for someone to open the door. Only a few seconds had passed before Morticia opened the door and towered over the small child. “Hello, my darling. Wednesday is in the greenhouse,” Morticia said as she stood aside and let you into the house before shutting the door.

“Thank you, Mrs. Addams. I haven’t seen her in a couple of days, so I hope she won’t be angry,” you innocently said as you ignored the pain in her heart that Morticia seemed to pick up on.

Eager to change the subject in fear of you becoming sad, Morticia asked as she led you to the greenhouse, “I’ve already told you that you can stop calling me ‘Mrs. Addams,’ My child, so why do you continue?”

You shrugged your shoulders at the comment. You didn’t know why you still spoke to the woman in a formal tone, but it felt weird on your tongue to call her anything else. “I don’t know, I think it’s a respect thing for me,” you replied as you opened the door to the greenhouse. Morticia nodded at the child’s words before whispering, “Have fun with my little death trap.”

You smiled at Morticia’s words as you entered the greenhouse. You knew precisely where Wednesday would be and didn’t pretend to look for the goth girl.

Wednesday was cutting black roses from their stem when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She didn’t bother turning around; she could recognize those footsteps in the crowd of a thousand people. “What are you doing here, YN?” Wednesday asked in a dry tone that caused you to stiffen.

“It’s your birthday, and I wanted to give you something,” you said as you approached Wednesday and set the box next to her. “I know you love your birthday, as it is one more year closer to your death, so here’s your present to celebrate.”

Wednesday gave the more petite girl a suspicious look before putting down the rose and scissors and picking up the box. It was unnaturally light, so she doubted it was a weapon or bomb. She slowly took the lid off the box, and any words died on the tip of her tongue once she realized what it was.

It was a small, black, crocheted scorpion that took you hours to make. She also saw a small note underneath the scorpion, but she didn’t pick it up as her vision became red.

She didn’t know why she was angry. All Wednesday knew was that she wanted you gone. “Get out,” Wednesday hissed as she set the box down and grabbed a knife from her boot.

“What? Why?” You asked as you slowly backed up from Wednesday as your eyes fell on the knife. Of course, Wednesday would make the occasional threats, but you had never believed them; until now.

“Friends are nothing but liabilities, and they only hold me back. So. Get. Out.” Wednesday repeated as she backed you against a small flower pot. She no longer had control over her emotions, and every second she spent with you only seemed to anger her more.

“Wednesday, please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you would have liked the gift. Please, I’m your best friend, and I-” Any words you were about to say got caught in your throat as Wednesday brought the knife up, cutting a straight line on your left eye. The cut was three inches below your eye and an inch above it.

The two stood there in disbelief as neither could believe what happened. Only when blood started pouring out of your cut, and you collapsed onto the floor did Wednesday do something; she called out for her mother’s help for the first and only time as she held you in her eyes, trying her best to fight back tears.

Morticia ran out to the greenhouse and instantly scooped you into her arms as she yelled for Gomez. The man came burling down the stairs and could not contain his tears as she saw your blood-covered state.

The couple quickly rushed you to the hospital, and once you were checked into the ER, the couple notified your parents. They arrived within ten minutes of the phone call, and they were everything but calm, from questioning how Morticia and Gomez allowed this to happen to demanding that Wednesday be punished.

The two sets of parents seemed to be at each other’s throats while Wednesday tried her best to disappear. She felt nothing but guilt for hurting her Y/N, and she wanted to do everything possible to make it up to the girl. So when Wednesday got her chance to see you, she practically sprinted into your room.

You were lying in a hospital with the entire left side of your face bandaged up, and Wednesday could see some blood seeping through. Wednesday slowly approached the bed and gently grabbed your hand. As if repulsed by the touch, you quickly pulled your hand away from Wednesday’s and brought it to your chest. You glared at Wednesday with your right eye before hissing, “Get out.”

“No, Y/N, you don’t understand-” Wednesday started but was quickly cut off by Y/N.

“I’m nothing but a liability to you, Wednesday, so leave,” you said as you crossed your arms and looked away from Wednesday, refusing to cry in front of the taller girl. ‘I think I’ll miss you forever; like the stars miss the sun in the morning skies,’ you thought as you watched your best friend leave.

Wednesday nodded her head and slowly walked to the door, and turned to face you one last time. “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.”

You were once her crown, and now she was in exile seeing you out. She gave you so many warning signs, but you never learned to read her mind.

When she left the hospital, she felt nothing but shame and guilt that filled her body the entire car ride back home. She cleaned the blood off the floor before going to her room, where she sobbed for the second and last time.

School was different after that happened; the former best friends refused to meet each other’s gaze and soon found that their previous partnership turned into rivalry, constantly competing to be number one. It was an unfair competition, as Wednesday was more naturally gifted than you, and she seemed to beat you at everything, but you refused to give you. You would spend hours perfecting your craft, and when it came time for the archery competition, you beat Wednesday by a single point. Any chance for friendship was ruined when you accepted the first-place trophy and sent Wednesday an evil glare when she was awarded her second-place trophy.

Their rivalry continued like this for numerous years, always for captain for a particular activity or number one in their grade, but just as before, you always seemed to fall short. It continued for three years until you suddenly stopped showing up for school.

Wednesday believed that she had beaten you so far into the ground that you decided to stop coming to school. But after two weeks had passed and Wednesday had not seen her former best friend, she became curious and decided to stop by your house.

Only when Wednesday saw the ‘for sale’ sign in your yard, she allowed herself to be swallowed by guilt. She had pushed you too far in their competition for first and had made you move. Wednesday realized that she might never see her Y/N again, and regret flooded her mind as she slept on the purple bed bench with your sword in her arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I think we are getting a new student today, and I'm totes excited!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped to Wednesday’s side of the room. The last person to arrive at Nevermore Academy was Wednesday herself, so naturally, Enid was ecstatic to meet someone new.

“You know I do not care for new faces who share the same boring personalities as everyone else here,” Wednesday mumbled while she typed on her type-writer.

Enid huffed at Wednesday’s remark before glancing at her roommate’s work. Wednesday noticed the action and quickly sent an elbow into Enid’s side, causing the girl to groan in pain. “You also know I hate it when you try to read my work. I have no idea why you keep trying to read anything; you know the result,” Wednesday stated as she continued typing.

“Whatever. Just humor me for a moment,” Enid said as she put some space between her and Wednesday, avoiding any elbows that might be sent her way. “I will not humor you but continue.”

“So, from what my sources tell me, she’s from Italy, not like the normal part of Italy, but the mob part!” Enid informed while using her hands to talk.

“Enid, just because someone is from Sicily doesn’t mean they are in the mob. And if she is, I would like to interrogate her about it; it could add a new element to my novel,” Wednesday said.

The brighter girl walked to her side of the room and grabbed her phone. When she picked it up, she made an obnoxious sound before sprinting to Wednesday. “She’s here Wednesday. You have to come and meet her!” Enid exclaimed as she lightly pulled on Wednesday’s arm, causing her to receive a death glare, but she allowed herself to be drawn from her seat.

The two quickly walked down the stairs and arrived at Weems’ office. “Why are we standing creepily outside Weems’ office?” Wednesday questioned as she glanced over her shoulder at her roommate.

“Because, silly, she’s in there talking to Weems right now, and when she comes out, I want to be the first to greet her. And I’ve already volunteered to give her a tour of the grounds,” Enid exclaimed in a hushed tone as if the stranger and Weems were pressed against the door, spying on their conversion.

“And what will I do? I am certainly not talking to another half-brain student,” Wednesday said dryly as she stared at the door.

Enid rolled her eyes at the goth girl’s statement; she had made Wednesday talk to someone new only once to find out that the person only talked about horses and the patriarchy. “You can glare uncomfortably on the sidelines then,” Enid replied.

Wednesday was getting ready to retort when she heard shuffling from behind the door and soft-spoken words that she could not make out.

“Howdie, friend! I’m Enid, and I’ll be giving you the tour!” Enid enthusiastically said as she attacked the girl with a hug.

All the air from Wednesday’s lungs had been sucked out as she stared at the stranger before her. She prayed to the old gods and new that this wasn’t some evil joke, her punishment for raising the dead. But when she saw the stranger smile, she knew this was her Y/N.

You stood before Wednesday with a human highlighter wrapped around your waist. You were wearing black slacks with a black button-up, and Wednesday felt a heart pick up as she admired you in her color. Where you once had chubby cheeks, they were now thinned out, and you had a jawline that could cut glass. You were once a short and stocky kid, but now you towered over Enid, and your muscular arms wrapped around the rainbow girl. It seemed like everything about you had changed, but nothing at all as well. You still had that bright smile and charming personality, as always, but Wednesday’s heart sank when she saw the scar on your eye. It took her a moment to notice it as you wore black sunglasses hiding your beautiful heterochromia.

“Ah, good, you’re already here, Enid, to give Miss Y/L/N a tour, and you’ve brought Miss Addams as well,” Weems said as she stepped out of her room and stood next to Enid and you. Wednesday nearly melted onto the floor when she saw you pull back from Enid and stand up straight, just a few inches shorter than Weems. She noticed how your smile faltered at the mention of ‘Addams’ before you played it off and plastered a fake smile on your lips. The air that was once filled with playful curiosity was one of tension, anger, betrayal, and longing.

“Addams,” you said with no emotion in a thick Italian accent as you extended your large and callused hand toward Wednesday that engulfed the goth girl’s small and cold hand. When your hands touched for the first time in ten years since the hospital, you both felt an electric charge pass between you two, and time seemed to stand still for a moment while the rest of the world disappeared around them.

Your covered eyes locked with Wednesday’s, and you both knew you felt an undeniable spark that sent shivers down your spines. Unspoken words seemed to flow between their fingertips as if their souls were communicating through the simple touch. They both felt the unexplainable and undeniable chemistry rushing back and flooding their minds as they looked at each other for the first time in seven years.

“Y/L/N,” Wednesday replied as she eagerly dropped your hand and wiped her palm on her pants as if it would erase the spark she felt.

Enid and Weems both shared a look as they watched the awkward encounter between the two girls, clearly displaying that they have a history between them. Enid cleared her throat as she stepped between you and Wednesday, “alrighty then, shall we get started with our tour?”

Your mood switched on a dime, and you instantly beamed at Enid’s words. You smiled down at the girl and locked your elbow with hers, and rested your hand gently on her arm, “Of course, my dear, let us begin our journey.” Wednesday pulled her eyes at your remark but walked a few paces behind you and her roommate; she knew this would be the start of a very unfortunate friendship.

“Welcome to the quad,” Enid said as she unlocked your arms and motioned around with her hands. “It’s a pentagon,” you replied as you looked at your surroundings.

Enid rolled her eyes at your comment; great, now she’d have to deal with two Wednesdays as if one wasn’t enough. “You know, Wednesday said the same thing when she first arrived too. I have a feeling you two will be the best of friends!” Enid stated in a cheerful tone after releasing that her roommate can have more than one friend.

“No,” the formal best friends said simultaneously and sent each other a glare, and if Enid picked up on it, you were glad she didn’t say anything.

“Allow me to give you a rundown on the social scene here at Nevermore,” Enid said as she walked around the ‘quad.’ “There are many flavors of outcasts here, but the four main cliques are Fangs, Furs, Stoners, and Scales,” the brighter girl stated while counting her fingers.

As Enid gave you the tour, you half paid attention out of respect for the girl trying to sell Nevermore to you, but all you could think about was the more petite girl standing a few feet behind you. You could feel her eyes burning holes into your back, but you couldn’t face her again, not after everything you’ve been through. There was once a time when you would have laid down your life for Wednesday; now, you could barely breathe the same air as her without getting angry. You knew it was stupid to hold a grudge for this long, but Wednesday was your first and only love, and you would be damned if you let her see you weak again.

When you finished the tour, Enid took you to your room, which was, unfortunately, in Ophelia Hall. “O-M-G! You’re rooming with Yoko! She is my best friend,” Enid announced before looking over at Wednesday, “well, besides Wens, obviously.”

Your heart sank at the nickname for Wednesday. Only you were allowed to call her Wens when you were children, and she barely let you do that. And now, here she was, allowing someone dressed like unicorn vomit to call her that without so much as an idle threat.

“‘Wens?’” You questioned with an eyebrow raised as you looked between the two roommates. You were glad you started to wear your sunglasses again so that neither girl could see the sadness in your eyes. But Wednesday knew you all too well, and she saw how your posture faltered when Enid called her that, and she saw the barely noticeable frown that tugged at your lips. ‘My name should only ever leave your lips,’ Wednesday wanted to say, but she held her tongue.

“Oh, yeah. That’s my nickname for Wednesday. She told me that no one has ever given her one before, so I decided to give her one,” Enid said as she ushered the two girls back to her room, “Come on, I wanna show you mine and Wednesday’s room.”

At the mention of Wednesday never having a nickname, you dropped your fake smile and looked at Wednesday, who was refusing to meet your gaze. ‘Do I mean that little to you where you would erase even our happiest memories?’ You thought when Wednesday finally looked up at you, and for the first time today, you saw emotion in her dark eyes: regret.

“I love the window,” you said as you entered Enid and Wednesday’s room. You loved the contrast between the two girls and how they seemed to get along perfectly; it reminded you of when you were young and Wednesday’s favorite person. Now, the girl barely looked at you.

“Thanks; the first day here, Wednesday took off her side of color and then put tape down to divide our room. And now look at how far we’ve come! I’m like the only one here who Wens actually cares about!”Enid exclaimed as she spun in her circle with her arms outstretched, clearly happy to be buddy-buddy with Wednesday. You nodded your head, trying to push back the tears that weld in your eyes at the mention of Wednesday caring for someone else before your eyes snapped to something on Wednesday’s wall.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you moved to get a closer look at the object that had caught your attention, causing both of the roommates to follow you.

“Oh, that’s one of Wednesday’s favorite weapons. She doesn’t let anyone touch it, not even me,” Enid said as her eyes fell on the sword mounted to the wall above Wednesday’s writing desk. Your eyes scanned over the sheathed sword and fell to the purple handle before you turned and looked at Wednesday. “May I?” You asked in a barely audible voice.

You expected Wednesday to shoot you down before you even finished speaking, but the girl gave you a curt nod, not trusting her voice at this moment. Your hands reached up and took the sword off its mantle, and you slowly took it out of its sheath and set it down on Wednesday’s desk. You turned the sword over and admired the sharp edge as you carefully ran your pointer finger along the blade’s edge; you could easily tell that Wednesday had been sharpening it routinely. Your finger finally made its way to the helm of the sword, and you turned it over and sucked in air as you let out a small chuckle.

You read your initials that were still engraved in the sword before your saddened eyes finally looked up at Wednesday’s guilt-ridden ones. Wednesday thanks the gods that you had your eyes covered, as she knew her heart would have broken ten times over if she saw the sadness in them.

“Well, then,” you said with a shaky breath as you sheathed the sword and placed it back on its mantle, “it’s a beautiful blade, Wednesday.” Your eyes caught something in the corner of Wednesday’s desk, and you felt every single emotion wash over you like waves crashing onto the shore: a small, black crocheted scorpion sat on top of an unopened note. Before you could comment on it, Wednesday’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“I know it is,” Wednesday spoke honestly as her eyes danced across your face while you picked up on the double meaning behind her words.

After several seconds of awkward tension, you cleared your throat and walked to the door, “Alright then, I’ll, uh, leave you guys to it.”

Wait!” Enid shouted as she skipped over to you with her phone in hand. “Let me get your Snapchat so we can talk some more,” she said as she pulled up Snapchat. You smiled politely as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and opened up Snapchat, and allowed the werewolf to add you, and you accepted her friend request when it popped up.

“I’ll see you later, Enid,” you said as you opened up the door to walk out, but you stopped and turned around to face Wednesday, “see you around sometime, Addams.” As you left, only one thought ran across both of your minds: ‘I can’t say hello to you and risk another goodbye.’

When you left the room, Enid immediately turned to face her roommate. “What was that about?” She questioned while staring down at the goth girl.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Wednesday replied as she walked over to her desk and began working on her novel. She had emotions come back that she had not felt in nearly ten years, and she needed to get them off her chest, writing out different scenarios of her killing Y/N.

Enid stomped to Wednesday’s desk and turned the small girl around in her chair. She grasped Wednesday’s shoulders and tightly gripped them as she spoke, “Yes, you do. Do not lie to me, Wednesday, or I will paint the side of your hot pink.”

The more petite girl rolled her eyes at her roommate’s comment before prying the hands off her shoulders and returning to her typewriter. “We used to be friends, and now we aren’t; end of story,” Wednesday flatly replied.

“I don’t believe you, I know there’s more to the story, but I won’t pressure you,” Enid defeatedly said as she walked over to her bed and lay down. Of course, she was dying to know the history between you and Wednesday. Still, she would never force Wednesday to talk about something uncomfortable, so she decided to wait it out and see if she could get an answer from either you or Wednesday first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two roommates walked into fencing class and heard the ringing of metal crashing together, and saw that Bianca was in a match with you. The two watched as you blocked Bianca’s advances and matched each of her assaults with double the force, causing the siren to walk backward toward the end of the mat. With one final blow against Bianca’s foil, you cause her to step backward off of the mat and ultimately lose the match.

Bianca let out an angry huff at the loss but shook your hand afterward. “You gave me a nice challenge, and I respect that. I hope to go up against you again soon,” the siren said as she walked off the mat.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky next time and beat me,” you joked as you started to take off your gear when your eyes landed on Wednesday. Before you had moved, you and Wednesday were always in fencing competitions, and it seemed that the two of you were always paired to go against one another. Naturally, you lost every time you went against her, but that was seven years ago, and you spent the past seven years perfecting every little thing that Wednesday was better at.

“Coach Vlad, I was wondering if I could go against someone else before class ends?” You questioned as you stood up. You knew that if you publicly challenged Wednesday that she couldn’t turn it down, and you also knew that she believed she was still the better fencer, so both of those gave you an advantage.

Coach Vlad studied your expression and determined that you only asked to prove a point, so he let you. “Who will you be challenging, miss Y/LN?”

“Addams,” was all you said as you stared at the girl dressed in an all-black fencing attire. Wednesday’s ears perked up at you challenging her, and she knew she would clear you.

“Very well, Wednesday, if you accept the challenge, stand the opposite of Y/N,” Coach Vlad stated with a hint of excitement. He loved watching the way the Addams sparred with his students; she was graceful yet coarse, which reminded him of when he was a student here at Nevermore.

Wednesday walked over to the mat you were standing on, her eyes locked with your covered ones. She wondered what made you wear those sunglasses again, and she missed those eyes she once called home.

“En garde,” Coach Vlad yelled as the atmosphere crackled with tension. The room falls into a reverent silence as the match begins. With grace and precision, you and Wednesday engage in a mesmerizing dance of footwork and technique, each exchange showcasing your guys' skill and determination.

Their moves were swift and calculated, their attacks and defenses fluid, each striving to gain the upper hand. The crowd of students watched in awe as they witnessed a display of finesse and competitive spirit.

Wednesday made the first aggressive move, launching a series of rapid lunges, attempting to catch you off guard. But you proved your prowess with deft parries, countering with swift ripostes that keep Wednesday on her toes.

As the match progressed, the intensity escalated, and their footwork became even more intricate, seeking to exploit any opening in their opponent's defense. The clang of metal echoed through the hall as their foils met in a series of fierce clashes.

Neither competitor gave an inch, their faces showing steely determination. You and Wednesday are evenly matched, your skills complementing each other, creating a mesmerizing spectacle for the crowd.

With each point you and Wednesday scored, your fellow students held their breaths, afraid that if they cheered, it would mess you two up. Yours and Wednesday’s adrenaline surged, and your focus sharpened, all distractions fading away as you two immersed yourselves entirely in the moment.

Time seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into eternity as the match neared its climax. With one final burst of energy, you executed a daring feint, catching Wednesday off balance. In that split second, you placed your foot on top of Wednesday’s and advanced, causing the more petite girl to fall backward onto the mat. You stood over her and shoved the tip of the foil into her chest armor.

“I appear to be the victor,” you said as you towered over Wednesday before she quickly jumped up from the ground and stormed out of the hall, with you right on her heels.

“That was hardly a win; you cheated,” Wednesday stated as she stomped toward Ophelia hall. “And stop following me.”

“I might have cheated, but you’re still the loser,” you retorted as you quickened your step to walk beside Wednesday. “And I’m not following you; we live in the same hall.”

Wednesday said nothing; she couldn’t argue with the fact you two shared a hallway, but she still didn’t like it. You watched as Wednesday threw her door open and slammed it shut with a smile on your face; it felt good to have that playful banter back.

Naturally, your rivalry with Wednesday continued as if it had never left; you two constantly competed for the correct answers in your classes, and you two refused to fence with anyone else. It became so toxic that teachers started putting you two out in the hallway during class, like little toddlers who were being disruptive.

“I had a marvelous time ruinin’ everything,” you joked with Wednesday as it seemed you two were sitting outside your potions class once more. You had your back pressed against the stone wall next to the door, and Wednesday opted to sit next to you but kept a few feet between you.

“I do suppose ruining the activities of others is tolerable with you,” Wednesday said as she looked over at your beautiful smile that she once loved and felt her own lips twitch upward.

“I know my antics should be celebrated, but I’m glad you tolerate it,” you said once you saw her scary attempt at a smile.

At the week's end, Enid invited you to her room for some “girl talk.” You had no idea what girl talk would involve, but you wouldn’t pass up a chance to piss Wednesday off.

“Welcome to my dreamhouse!” Enid exclaimed as she opened the door and ushered you into her room. You knew it might be ill-tempered to say this, but you were jealous of Enid’s room. You loved the giant window in the center that emitted different colors throughout the room, highlighting and contrasting the two drastically different sides.

You followed Enid to her side and sat down on her bed with her. You allowed the werewolf to paint your nails a dark purple. She asked you questions about your past and what you wanted to do in the future. You told her that Criminal Justice intrigued you and you thought about becoming a detective at some point. In turn, you asked her what her future plans were, and she told you that if her parents allowed her, she would want to explore the world and see all the beauties she offered.

After you two had fallen into a peaceful conversation, she finally asked the question plaguing her mind since you first arrived, “So, how did you get that scar? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You swore you could hear a hairpin drop right when you felt the moment stop. It was as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room and replaced it with tension. Your eyes shot to Wednesday, who was previously typing on her typewriter but stopped when Enid asked the question. You quietly cleared your throat before speaking, “I, uh… it was my fault. I did something stupid without asking for permission, and I paid the consequences. That’s all.”

Wednesday felt her heart shatter into a million pieces when she heard you blame yourself for what happened. She wanted to run to Enid’s side of the room and tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she would do anything she could to take it back, to have you back. She felt a single tear run down her cheek as she returned to her novel.

Not believing your story, Enid didn’t say anything else. She knew there was something more to the story, but she didn’t want to pressure you into telling her. “Well, I think it makes you look ten times hotter,” Enid confessed with a sly smile and a wink. She ignored how her hearing picked up on Wednesday’s heartbeat increased with jealousy at the comment.

You slightly chuckled at Enid’s comment before looking at Enid’s own scars that she sometimes tried to cover up. They were out of place on the brightly dressed girl, but it added a hint of toughness and bravery to her look that almost made you laugh. “What about your scars?” You politely asked, but Enid tensed up at your question.

“Oh. I got them from saving Wednesday last year,” she responded quietly as she continued painting your nails. She refused to meet your gaze, and you felt bad for asking about them, but you wanted to know more. “Why do you cover them up then? You shouldn’t be ashamed of your scars; they prove your loyalty to Wednesday.”

A slight grin tugged at Enid’s lips; she had never had anyone, but Wednesday tell her she was brave. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s just,” she paused as she glanced up at you before continuing her work on your hand, “my mother hates them and says I should be ashamed of myself for ruining any chance I have at finding someone.”

“You shouldn’t listen to your mother, Enid. I think those scars are beautiful, and they display your bravery,” you said as you reached up with your hand and gently traced the scar above Enid’s eyebrow. When a small tear fell down Enid’s cheek, you wiped it away and gave her a soft smile, and Enid knew right then that you were the most authentic person she had ever met. No one has ever been this honest with her, and she cherished your friendship.

Enid let a few quiet minutes pass by before she asked you about your first week at Nevermore, and you told her your honest thoughts. You enjoyed the classes but felt that some students cared too much about their social status and that you loved walking in the woods at night, causing the girl to stop painting your left ring finger.

“You do what at night?” Enid questioned harshly as her bright blue eyes stared into your soul.

“I go for midnight strolls by myself. Weems never told me not to.”

Enid scoffed at your words before glaring at Wednesday, who was working on her novel. “Wednesday is actually the reason we can’t walk around at night.”

At the mention of her name, Wednesday straightened her poster and turned around to face you two.

“Do not blame me for the shortcomings of the town sheriff for being unable to keep the people safe from his own son,” the goth girl stated in a threatening manner with an undertone of regret that you picked up on. You noticed the way Wednesday’s eyes seemed to gloss over with anger when she mentioned the sheriff’s son, and you could only assume something happened between them, which caused your heart to stink at the thought.

“I’m not blaming you, Wens. I’m just stating that you and your boy toy did play a part in ruining our time outside at night,” Enid said innocently as she went back to pairing your nails; she didn’t notice how you tensed up, and you're surprised that she didn’t hear your heart break in two. Your heartbroken eyes shoot to Wednesday’s pained ones, and you can practically read the thoughts behind her eyes, ‘I lost myself when I lost you.’

Even though you still had your eyes covered, Wednesday knew what you were thinking, ‘how could you betray me like this?’ You two were children when you last saw each other, but now as almost adults, you knew that all those feelings you felt for each other were more than platonic; it just took you two a lifetime and a half to realize it. As you two stared at each other, you felt all the love you once felt for each other return in an instant; feelings that come back are feelings that never left.

“‘Boy toy?’” You questioned as your eyes refused to leave Wednesday’s. You knew you would only get hurt by asking, but you had to know.

“It was a moment of weakness, Y/N. Nothing more,” Wednesday spoke with emotion for the first time as her voice broke off towards the end. She quickly cleared her throat and excused herself to the balcony with her cello before you had time to respond to her.

When Enid finished up your nails, you two were getting ready to do a face mask when she got a text. “Yes! Ajax just texted me to hang out with him! Is it alright if I leave you here? Or you can go back to your room if you want?” Enid asked as she stood up from her bed; you ignored the name at the top of her screen that read ‘Yoko.’

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while and hang out with Thing but go have fun,” you said with a faint smile as you watched Enid leave. Honestly, you missed Thing almost as much as you missed Wednesday. Anytime Wednesday would be away, and you were over, you would always hang out with Thing, and right now, he was definitely your favorite Addams.

You chatted with Thing over the sound of Wednesday’s cello for nearly twenty minutes as you did his nails and filled him in on what has happened to you in the past seven years. You told him stuff that you would be too afraid to share with Wednesday, not out of trust, but in fear of what she might do to the people that hurt you.

Only when Wednesday’s cello started to pick up and play a heavy melody did you stop talking. You listened to the way the smaller girl seemed to pour all of her emotions into her song, a song that was full of yearning, hurt, and regret. You listened as there was a slight shift in the music that resembled anger and frustration before turning into a declaration of love. And when the song finally ended on a note that sounded like longing, you got up and walked out to the balcony.

“That was a lovely song,” you said as you walked past Wednesday and rested your elbows against the balcony edge.

Wednesday gave you a quiet ‘mhm’ as a response as she set her cello to the side and joined you at the stone railing, making sure to keep five feet between you for homosexual purposes.

The two of you quietly enjoyed the starry night with a crescent moon above you.

“The sky is so beautiful tonight,” you said, gazing at the stars and moon with your sunglasses still on.

“It is,” Wednesday agreed, but she wasn’t looking up at the sky at all.

When you looked down at Wednesday, she was already staring at you with a tiny glint in her eyes. She subconsciously moved closer to you til she was standing a few inches away from you, and she slowly reached her hands up to take your glasses off. You turned to face her, quickly backing away, and put a foot between you two, “the fuck are you doing?”

“Take it off,” Wednesday stated in a dry tone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because this ‘nerdy girl takes off her glasses and everyone finds out she’s actually really hot’ will not work on you,” you replied with sass in your voice.

“No, it won’t because you are not attractive in the slightest way,” Wednesday retorted while still staring into your soul.

“Thank you, Addams.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know,” you said with a smile as you turned and leaned your elbows on the railing once more and continued staring at the stars. “You are my compact companion, after all,” you teased.

Wednesday rolled her eyes at comment; it felt like it was a lifetime again when she would call you that, and now you turned it against her. She had to agree with you, it was an awful nickname.

“All the pretty stars shine for you, my love,” you said after a couple of minutes had passed. “it’s from a song,” you added to clear up any confusion that might have been stirred.

Wednesday looked over at you, but you still had your eyes fixed on the sky, but she noticed how your hand slowly inched toward her own, and she picked up on the double meaning as she placed her palm over the back of your hand. She gave your hand three gentle squeezes before returning inside with her cello.

After that night, you two continued with your rivalry, of course, but something had changed that worried Wednesday. She didn’t know what that change was, but she felt it like a gentle shift in the air before a big storm; she knew something had changed between you two, but she didn’t know what.

On Tuesday of the following week, Nevermore was hosting an archery tournament that lasted all day that you and Wednesday were competing in. As the day dragged out, numerous Nevermore students were booted from the competition, and when it came down to the final two competitors, no one was surprised when they saw you line up next to Wednesday.

“I think I’ve seen this film before,” you said as you grabbed an arrow and notched it before slightly pulling back on the string. The memories of your last archery competition came flooding back as you watched the beautiful girl to the left of you grab an arrow.

“And I didn’t like the ending,” Wednesday finished as she notched her arrow, drew, and let it loose, nailing the target's bullseye. You scoffed at her words before drawing back your arrow and firing, hitting the bullseye a few centimeters away from Wednesday’s.

As the contest continued, you and Wednesday engaged in a back-and-forth display of remarkable archery skills. Each shot was precise, and the competition grew fiercer with every arrow released. The crowd of students that had formed around you two was captivated, witnessing a display of talent that would mold the archery competitions of Nevermore for ages.

As the final round approached, you and Wednesday were neck and neck. The tension was palpable, and the spectators held their breath in anticipation. You looked over your left shoulder at Wednesday as you notched and drew your arrow. The smaller girl’s eyes stared into your covered ones, and you saw the way her eyes danced across your face as if she was trying to place a curse on you.

With a shaky breath, you turned away from Wednesday and looked at your target before you slightly lowered the tip of your bow; it was so unnoticeable that no one picked up on it besides the girl who was soul bound to you.

You let the arrow loose and smiled slightly when you saw it hit the outer ring. Wednesday sent you a slight glance before drawing back on her arrow and letting it fly, nailing it right in the center of the bullseye.

The crowd around them let out a few cheers and applause as Weems got the trophies ready. “I knew you could do it, roomie!” Enid exclaimed as she skipped over to Wednesday and gently shook the girl’s shoulders. Wednesday nodded her head at Enid before she walked onto the makeshift sports pedestal podium for first and second. She stepped onto the stage for first and watched as you stood on the one for second, and you sent her a smile that confirmed everything she needed: you threw the match for her.

When Weems handed you two your trophies, you had a giant smile as people took your picture, while Wednesday bore an uncomfortable expression.

“I appear to be the victor,” Wednesday said as you two walked back to Ophelia Hall together. The sun was just setting, and the light seeped into the hallway, creating a romantic lighting that seemed a bit on the nose for you.

“It appears so,” you replied with a gentle smile as you flipped your trophy around and read the words “2nd place winner” underneath your name.

Wednesday scoffed at your comment before glaring up at your towering figure. “You aren’t going to finish the saying?”

You tapped your pointer finger on your chin, acting as if you were thinking profoundly. “Why would I? You didn’t cheat,” you said honestly and dropped your hand back down to your side.

“No, but you threw the match,” Wednesday said as she approached her door with you a few paces behind her. She wanted nothing more than to bring you inside and cherish you, but she would never stoop to her mother’s way of life.

“If I am capable of such an outlandish thing, I’m sure I would not do that just so you-of all people-could win,” you said with a serious tone but your smile told Wednesday you were joking and it made her cold, black heart ache for something for had felt once and only with you.

Deciding against her better judgment, Wednesday set her trophy on the ground, and before you had time to ask her what she was doing, her left hand gently grabbed your neck and pulled down as she stood on her tippy-toes to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. Your entire body heated up at the contact, and a smile overtook your face. The kiss lasted longer than it should have, as Wednesday’s lips lingered on your cheek as if she was making you a promise that she would one day taste your lips.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Wednesday said as she picked up her trophy and entered her room, closing the door on your shell-shocked expression. You had butterflies dancing in your stomach as you walked back to your room with a gentle smile on your face and went to sleep with the thought of Wednesday’s lips against your skin. As you drifted off to sleep, Wednesday stayed up all night writing out the way you made her stomach feel like a thousand spiders lived there and the way your hair warmed her black heart. She once vowed to push you away to avoid the pain of losing you, but every waking moment she spent without you had caused her to feel that pain tenfold. Even if she would lose you at the end of your lives, at least she would have had the honor of calling you hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The eerie gothic ballroom was cloaked in darkness, dimly lit by flickering candlelight that cast haunting shadows upon the ancient stone walls. Heavy velvet drapes, tinged with a rich deep crimson, adorned the tall arched windows, adding a sense of mystery and opulence. Gothic-style chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, their twisted metal work resembling gnarled branches, and their candelabras emitting a spectral glow. The air is filled with a subtle scent of incense, adding to the mysterious ambiance of the room as Wednesday prepared to entire the ballroom.

It was the Grimoire Soiree, Nevermore’s official gothic ball, that was hosted at the end of the Fall semester every year. Wednesday was naturally intrigued when she heard of a gothic ball and believed attending one might add a new element to her novel, including murder. Still, now, as she watched her peers walk into the ballroom, she felt out of place. Her heart yearned for the one who wouldn’t be attending.

It had been several months since the archery contest, and you and Wednesday had not talked to each other. Neither of you knew what to say, but you both wanted to say everything. You two continued with your rivalry, but there was a shift in the air when you two competed against each other, like you two were silently rooting for the other, and it gnawed at both of your hearts.

Deciding to face the music and the calling of her heart, Wednesday walked down the stairs and entered the room.

The polished black marble floors, etched with intricate patterns, mirror the gloomy setting as if reflecting the dark secrets concealed within the ballroom's history that enticed Wednesday. Elaborate gargoyles and stone statues of long-forgotten figures stood sentinel in the corners, their solemn expressions lending an air of solemnity to the space. Crimson roses, tinged with black, were carefully arranged in vases throughout the room, their haunting beauty contrasting with the darkness surrounding them.

As the haunting melody of a haunting organ filled the air, the students of Nevermore were clad in elaborate gothic attire and moved with an aura of elegance and enigma. The atmosphere was both haunting and enchanting, transporting the attendees to a realm of forgotten tales and otherworldly delights that overwhelmed Wednesday. Just as she was about to leave, an overly happy voice exclaimed, “Wednesday! You look amazing!”

The smaller girl wore a mesmerizing black gothic ball gown that is a sight of dark enchantment, featuring a flowing skirt that gracefully grazes the ground. Small black accents on the skirt add a touch of intricate detailing, enhancing its allure. The black corset, elegantly laced in the front, complements the gown's bewitching aesthetic and leads to long, puffy sleeves that exude an air of Victorian charm.

A small cutout on the chest, just above the corset, added a daring yet sophisticated touch, leaving a hint of mystery while maintaining an elegant appeal. The gown encapsulated a perfect blend of gothic elegance and captivating allure, making it an ideal choice for Wednesday's hauntingly beautiful ballroom event.

Wednesday turned around, and she noticed that her flamboyant roommate, who usually wore bright, borderline blinding colors, was in a darker-colored ball gown. The ball gown itself was a mesmerizing creation, enveloped in an enchanting dark purple hue that exudes an air of mystery and sophistication. It had a black corset adorned with dark purple accents that added an element of striking contrast, enhancing its captivating allure. Its intricate lacework and velvet accents add an extra layer of elegance. At the same time, its flowing silhouette gracefully captures the essence of gothic charm, something that Wednesday had never seen on Enid before.

The gown caught Wednesday off guard, and she believed that Enid somehow pulled it off, highlighting her piercing blue eyes that would blind anyone. Wednesday might have even given Enid some form of a compliment, but she knew that Enid didn’t need that kind of ego inflation.

“I appreciate your words, Enid. And you,” Wednesday wanted to be nice tonight but struggled with the words, “Do not look ridiculous.”

The werewolf beamed at her roommate's words, and a smile formed from cheek to cheek. “Awww! Thank you, Wens!” Enid said as she turned to walk toward Ajax but then suddenly turned back to Wednesday as if she had forgotten something. “Oh, and your lover was looking for you earlier; she said she has something to tell you.” And with that, Enid disappeared into the crowd of dancing students with Ajax. Wednesday’s cold heart picked up at the mention of you wanting to talk to her and beat rapidly against her chest. Her eyes scanned the room for you as an all too familiar saxophone interrupted the organ.

As if it was magic, Wednesday’s dark eyes immediately found your heterochromia ones in the vast sea of swirling gowns and powdered faces. You were standing on the opposite side of the room, wearing a gothic suit that consisted of a slightly ruffled white shirt, adding a touch of romanticism to the ensemble. Over the shirt, there was a black cavalier vest adorned with mesmerizing purple tapestry, creating a captivating contrast of colors and textures. Completing the look was a sleek black jacket, lending an air of sophistication and dark allure. The suit is further enhanced by a small yet elegant collar chain featuring a black scorpion on both collars, adding a subtle yet distinctive element of gothic charm to the overall attire.

Put on your Bobbi-sox baby

Pull up your old blue jeans

There’s a band playin’ down at the armory

Know’s what rock and roll really means

You two gravitated towards each other at a slow pace before picking up as your hearts quickened with excitement, and soon, you two were standing face to face. “Hi,” you said breathlessly as you got lost in Wednesday’s eyes.

“Hi,” she replied as she looked into your beautiful eyes for the first time in seven years. She had forgotten just how beautiful they were; the green eye seemed to dance with the room's lighting while the gray one gave Wednesday a feeling of comfort, the dark color reminding her of her own material home in New Jersey.

I want to bop with you baby, all night long

I want to bop the night away

I want to make it a night like it used to be

“May I have this dance?” You asked as you slowly started to do ‘The Twist’ from Pulp Fiction. Wednesday smiled and began doing Uma Thurman’s part of the dance as if you two were just six years old again and dancing in Wednesday’s room. You two smiled and joked the entire dance and felt the whole room disappear as the song drew to a close. “Shall we dance again, my fair lady?” You asked when the dance was finished as you stuck out your hand and slightly bowed, just as you did ten years ago.

“You’re exhausting,” Wednesday replied when the room began waltzing to the beautiful melody of ‘Merry-Go-Round of Life,’ but she took your hand. You placed your free hand just underneath her shoulder blade as her spare hand rested upon the shoulder of the arm that was under her shoulder blade. As the music played, Wednesday allowed you to lead the dance and found herself in a trance as she stared into your beautiful eyes that she missed.

“Stop staring into my soul,” you commented as you spun around with Wednesday.

She huffed at your words and playfully stepped on your foot before continuing the dance. “I’m not staring into your soul; I am just admiring your breathtaking eyes,” she confessed honestly while you two continued your fluid movements. “Why did you start covering them again?”

You tensed up at her words but continued with the graceful dance. “The only person who found beauty in them was gone,” you said shyly as you gave Wednesday a tight-lipped smile. The smaller girl frowned at your words; she didn’t know what to say without confessing her undying love for you. So she stayed quiet and let her eyes drift over to the scar on your face and let regret and pain wash over her like waves on the shoreline. “I never meant to hurt you,” Wednesday mumbled out as she let the pain show on her face. You were her best friend, her soulmate, and her home, and even though she didn’t know that it was either you or no one when she was just a child, she now wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let anything or anyone harm you again; even if that meant protecting you from herself.

So, she dropped your hand while dancing and left you out there standing. Crestfallen on the landing as Wednesday left you in the ballroom and disappeared outside.

You snapped out of your disappointed state and were quick on her heels as you followed her outside. “Wednesday, what’s wrong?” You asked as you followed her to a water fountain and watched her sit down on the side.

She was sick to her stomach; she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she had an internal battle with her heart and brain. Her brain told Wednesday to run in the opposite direction, never to talk to you again. But her heart was telling her to run toward you, to embrace you with her loving heart that seemed to only beat for you. She felt nauseous as her thoughts bounced around; what if you didn’t feel the same way toward her? The last time you two were friendly with each other was almost eleven years ago when you guys were six. What if by showing you this much softer side of her, you reject her and use her weakness as a spear to her chest? Nearly killing her but leaving her alive just enough to continue living a life of nothingness. Your heart was glass, and she dropped it.

But what if you felt the same? What if your heart only beat for her, and you would rather die than not have been able to call her yours? All the moments you two spent at each other’s throats during competitions as you sent her little glances and silently prayed she would win so that you could see her eyes light up.

“Enid said you had something to say to me, Y/N,” Wednesday finally spoke as her thoughts ran rapidly in her mind. She needed to know what you wanted to say to her; she could not die in peace without knowing.

You stared at the alluring girl who refused to meet your eyes. There were thousands of things you wanted to tell her, but you didn’t know how. “Wednesday, there’s things I wanna say to you, but I’ll just let you live,” you said quietly as Wednesday’s eyes finally met yours. Wednesday dryly laughed at your words as her eyes glossed over with tears. The last time she had cried was because she lost you, and now, she was crying because she had finally found you. All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, was killing her. Wednesday’s hands were shaking from holding back from you. When you said her name, everything just stopped; she didn’t want you like a best friend.

Wednesday’s eyes darted across your face, looking for anything resembling rejection. When she found only love and longing in your ocean eyes, she took in a deep breath and spoke in a broken voice, “I used to look at you and see my best friend, and now I can hardly look at you without picturing our bones resting together in a grave dug for two. I left you in there because I cannot live without knowing if it meant more to you too as well. I would rather die than bear these feelings alone.”

The words that left Wednesday’s lips took you off guard; you had a speech, and now you’re speechless. “What do you mean by that, Wednesday? Are you telling me that you have feelings for me?” You asked with disbelief on your face; you needed to know if she was confessing her love for you, but you weren’t quite sure if that’s what she meant.

“The sun rises and sets with your smile. At least it does for me. You’re the only thing on this planet worth worshipping. In simpler terms: I want you. I’ve always wanted you. It just took me ten years to realize it. I’m your jazz singer, and you’re my cult leader,” Wednesday confessed as she stared into your eyes, already accepting rejection.

“Wednesday, you don’t have to bear those feelings alone,” you stated with a sigh of relief. Wednesday’s eyes smiled for her as she pushed herself off the fountain, and slowly walked toward you. She stopped a few feet in front, giving you space to run away if you desired.

“I once had someone tell me I was destined to be alone, but I would like to be alone with you. If I’m enough - if you want me, if you’ll have me - I’m yours, only yours, Y/N,” Wednesday admitted with a silent prayer.

“Wednesday, I have only wanted you since we were kids. I only wanted you as a best friend then, but now, when I look at you, I only see my other half. I would rather die than not be able to call you mine, even if it’s just for a second.”

Slowly, Wednesday stepped to you until you were close enough to touch, begging you to make the first move she has always been afraid to take. “For the past ten years, I have been trying to form a way to apologize for the way I treated you, but every time I come up with something, I only see you in that hospital bed,” Wednesday admitted.

You gently reached out to Wednesday’s hand and brought it to your cheek. You gave a small kiss on the palm of her hand before moving it to cup your cheek as your free hand wiped away the lone tear that fell down Wednesday’s cheek. “I forgive you, Wednesday. I had forgiven you the moment I moved; I thought I would never see you again,” you whispered with tears in your eyes as you brought your forehead against Wednesday’s.

Wednesday sighed in relief as she brought up her other hand and cupped your cheeks. You pulled back from her, and Wednesday wanted to cry. You placed a kiss on her forehead that felt like a promise, then kissed her nose, silently telling her everything will be alright, another on her cheek that felt like you would wait however long for her, and finally, you kissed her lips with so much love Wednesday almost died. She let a small, choked-up gasp escape her lips before gently kissing you back. For the first time in ten years, you both finally felt at home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A blanket of snow fell upon the Addams’ residence that coated the peaceful house as Morticia Addams shot up in bed. She gasped for breath as her eyes panicky shot around the room.

The action woke Gomez up, and he reached over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp before reaching out to his wife. “Cara mia, what’s wrong?” He asked with worry laced in his voice, but his worry faded when he saw a giant smile plastered on Morticia’s face that accompanied the tears of joy in her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her husband and pulled him against her, in complete disbelief at the vision she just had of her daughter. She pulled back from the embrace before exclaiming, “Our darling viper has found someone to share her grave with!”

Gomez lit up with excitement at the mention of Wednesday having a lover; words could not express his joy when his daughter finally fell to the Addams Family Curse. “My love, this is dreadful news! I cannot wait to meet them,” he said with a smile on his face.

Morticia laughed at her husband's words before placing a hand on his cheek and stroking it with her thumb. “Don’t worry, Gomez. You have known her since she was a child.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: if you recognized ‘the sun rises and sets with your smile’ quote, I love you so much 🫶

#wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #enemies to lovers

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jazzyoranges · 5 months

Note

Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

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house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

be mine?

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: You and Wednesday have a reputation to uphold. Is it worth it?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Profanity. haven't written in a long time so its probably trash.

Note: Where Wednesday is a lovestruck fool and I just really wanted to write about it.

Word Count: 5.4k+

Preview: 'The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relish in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers.'

“Wednesday, I have to go…” You mumbled, disconnecting your lips from the girl.

“Mhmm.” She mutters back agreeing but continues tightly gripping the back of your neck with her cold hands.

“Enid and Thing are gonna be back soon.” You say breathlessly against her mouth, trying to gather some semblance of control of the situation. But let’s be real here, you lose all sense of self-control around the Addams girl.

“We’re…gonna…get…caught.” You mumbled through her hot open-mouthed kisses. God, you’re an idiot for not picking her up and throwing her on that bed.

“Wednesday.” You pull away, slightly pushing at her shoulders. Dark, blow-out pupils meet your own, the two of you – breathing hard. Her blinking is unfocused, clutching you tight to steady her breathing.

“What?” She blinks once again, this time looking into your eyes.

“Enid and Thing?” You remind, fondly amused at her tousled appearance. A sign that she allowed herself to lose herself in your presence. Wednesday would rather be caught dead than not have everything be to her liking. So, for her clothes and usual twin braids to be undone and disorderly made your head feel a bit woozy. You take the time to fix the mess her fringe had become as your breathing evens out.

“Right… Yes.” Wednesday untangles herself from your touch and your body’s reaction was instantaneous – already cold from losing contact with her, craving it in silence.

You and Wednesday caught yourself in the midst of a secret. You’ve been dating? Fooling around? Hooking up? You haven’t exactly talked about it, but it’s been going on for about two months now and none of your friends had caught on.

See, you and the Addams had quite a reputation; forming a rivalry of sorts. It was well-known around the school that you and her did not get along, like at all. You both always compete to outdo and outrank each other; whether it be in class, extracurriculars, or for no reason at all. Your friends often caught you two bickering over some trivial matters, engaging to rile each up then eventually escalating to points of threats of bodily harm – which is when your friends would have to step in and physically separate you two.

Before this… situationship, the only similarity you two had was your friend group, who knew to never leave you two alone for fear that the arguing and tension would boil over and you two would finally fulfill threats of harming each other.

Once you had a common goal to achieve, after being paired up for a school project; You and Wednesday found each other more than... decent. A deadly argument and kiss later, an undefined relationship blossomed.

“Come back tomorrow night. Enid is sleeping over at Ajax’s dorm, we will have the room to ourselves.” Wednesday says, murky, lust-filled eyes flickering to your mouth as she takes her thumb to smudge away remnants of her lipstick on your lips.

“Can’t get enough of me already?” Smirking, unable to resist teasing the girl.

“Please, as if you were not the one who was practically begging me all day to sneak away with you.”

Eyebrows rising to your forehead, “Me?” You retort in disbelief. “You kept making your eyes at me.” Gesticulating with widened eyes to emphasize your point.

“What eyes?”

“You know, the eyes you make at me when you wanna get down…” Wiggling your brows at the insinuation while hers bumped together in displeasure.

“I don’t make those eyes.” She grits, “And don’t call it that, ever.” But she pursed her lips in annoyance because her desires were so easily read by you – it made her black heart thud harshly against her rib cage; turning away from you to hide the tint of redness painting on her cheeks and ears.

She hated how easy it was for you to bring these emotions out of her, it made her want to vomit.

“You may go now.”

You chuckled, deciding not to push her buttons and point out how adorable you thought she was. You reach over and peck her cheek from behind. “I’ll see you later, Wednesday.” The raven-haired girl was more than glad she was facing away from you so that you didn’t see her cheeks reddening even more.

You make your way out of her dorm, smiling to yourself. You couldn’t keep it at bay even if you tried; overwhelmed with a fuzzy feeling that Wednesday always manages to make you feel. Keeping your head down, you walk down the hallway and away from her room.

“Y/N?” A voice called out, breaking away from your daydreaming.

“Enid! Hey.” Your eyes slightly widened, “what are you doing here?”

“I live here?” She responded with amused confusion, racking her eyes over your figure. You were looking slightly dishevelled, fidgety.

“What are you doing here? You live on the other side of campus, and it’s almost curfew.”

“Um… Wednesday.” The werewolf’s brow upturned at the mention of her roommate, curiosity sparking in her.

“Something about a lead in her investigation.” The lying was nothing new to you; having been doing it for months now since starting your relationship with the Addams girl.

Enid continued eyeing you, not completely believing Wednesday would ask you for help, but also knowing her roommate. That girl would never let a petty dispute derail her progress on an investigation. So it was plausible at best.

As Enid continues to observe you, she sees a tiny smudge of colour on your shirt collar and on the skin under. A shape of lipstick, she deduces. “Oh alright! Well, I’ll let you get back to your dorm. I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

Letting out an internal sigh of relief that you didn’t set off too much suspicion from the werewolf. You smile widely and give an acknowledging nod, “Goodnight, Enid.”

Enid continues to watch as you walk away and eventually out of her eyesight when you turn a corner. She skips to her room with a slight pep in her step, opening the door widely to scan the room for her gloomy friend.

Her gaze lands on the Addams typing at her typewriter. “Good evening, roomie.”

Barely sparing the werewolf a glance, Wednesday regards her friend with a simple, “Hello.”

For a brief moment, silence takes over the room and Wednesday can practically feed Enid swaying on her feet from behind her. Her roommate obviously wanted to say something. “Spit out whatever you feel you must say, Enid.”

“What did you and Y/N get up to tonight?” The mention of your name made Wednesday straighten her already perfect posture; back stiff and strained.

“Y/N was having trouble with our previous lesson in Botany. I offered to tutor her, she clearly needed it.” The goth lied with ease; imperceptible to most, fooling almost anybody – perhaps even Enid, if she didn’t just catch you two in a lie.

“Weird. That’s exactly what she said when I saw her.” Wednesday's features fight to remain impassive. For a moment she wonders if you had slipped up and exposed the secret.

“Well – not weird, ‘cause why would it be weird that she said the same thing? Ha, anyways I’m gonna go get ready for bed now.” Enid excused, and with a turn of her heel, leaped to their shared bathroom; smiling widely in secret.

Wednesday decides to ignore her roommate's rambling not sure if she wanted to divulge the details of her odd demeanour.

– –

Granted, You and Wednesday got along more often these days it still didn’t stop the fact that you were both stubborn; annoyingly so. Whilst the arguments were not as vicious as before, you and the goth still definitely loved to get under each other’s skin.

You think it gives Wednesday the excuse to be more aggressive and take out her frustrations on you – not that she ever needed an excuse.

So the next day, when Enid leaves her herbology class and down to quad to meet her friends she wasn’t expecting you and Wednesday to be at each other’s throats again – Now Enid wasn’t expecting love and rainbows and crap from you two but these last two weeks have been surprisingly calm and cordial, after what she found out last night she deduced it’s because you two have finally recognized that you two are true love!

Which leads Enid to her confused present self.

The werewolf took a weary glance around the table – the group caught in the middle of an impending warzone. It was like walking onto incoming traffic, really. Just an accident waiting to happen.

Enid takes a seat next to Yoko, who – even with her sunglasses on – can be seen with slight fear in her expression. “What is it this time?” She whispers to the vampire.

“Our roommates are at it again.” She explains, “I think Y/N accidentally spilled her elixir on Wednesday’s bag in potions class – well, it started off as that. Now we’re at threats of violence.” Yoko rolled her eyes behind the frames; slightly torn between being scared or fed up with you two.

Down the table, your and Wednesday’s argument continues to ensue.

“I already said I was sorry! What more do you want from me!” You scowl, eyes burning with annoyance – already fed up with her incessant nagging.

“Perhaps I’ll cut off your tongue as punishment and use it as a sponge to scrub away your sorry excuse of potion off of my belongings!” She threatens, her brown orbs turning darker than you thought was possible.

Wednesday is certain her journal and notes were ruined because of your clumsiness. This is what she gets for pairing up with you; your mere presence distracted her which caused her to absentmindedly place a flask too close to your elbow – you can guess what happened next.’

You mildly gulp in fear at her tone, but your pride trumped any terror she can inflict. “Kinky… but I’m gonna have to give it a hard pass.”

“You are insufferable.” Wednesday retorts, crossing her arms – aggravation clear as day on her face.

“And you’re not as scary as you think you are.” Smirking when it breaks the tension. “Actually, you’re quite adorable, knowing all I know about you.” Your voice drops an octave as you lean closer on your elbows; discreetly eyeing her up and down; your words heard only by you and Wednesday.

If looks could kill, man, you’d be six feet under.

“But seriously, I said I was sorry. If you don’t want the apology, you don’t have to take it. But that’s all you’re getting from me.” With that, you left to stand and gather your things then turn to walk away.

Wednesday doesn’t miss the dismembered hand scurrying to keep up with your pace as you made your way back inside – Thing will surely pay for his disloyalty. Though deep down she couldn’t exactly blame the hand, her bag slightly reeked from the inside – thanks to you; no way Thing’s vainness allows for his soft, supple skin to touch such a surface.

For a moment, Wednesday sits there in silent fury, watching as you walk off. Clenching her jaw, she swallows her pride, gathers her things as well and chases follows after you.

Enid and Yoko, along with the rest of their friends who were watching the show, let out a sigh of relief as the goth girl left. The seemingly thick tension around the table dissipating.

“Um… should someone maybe follow them? You know – cause they might actually kill each other this time.” Xavier reasoned, wearily glancing in the direction Wednesday followed you in. “Just not me, please! Not after last time.” The boy visibly shivers at the memory.

“Ugh! I’ll do it.” Yoko relents – but Enid is reaching for her arm before she can stand.

“No!” Everyone turns to look at the werewolf’s sudden outburst. “Just leave them be, they’ll be fine.” She reassures.

“I don’t know Enid, it seems kinda bad this time.” Eugene cuts in, apprehensive.

“It seems bad every time! But we can’t always play ‘referee’ here. Let’s let them settle their differences on their own.” That seems to convince everyone else as they relent and decide not to follow you two. Enid prays her suspicions about you two are correct – even though she’s 80% sure already. Because she cannot be caught in the middle of your fighting again.

– –

The rough tug on your hair has your head jerking sideways away from the softest pair of lips you’ve ever tasted – face almost smacking the shelf in the tiny closet the Addams girl had dragged you in.

Wednesday’s lips violently nip at your throat; sucking, biting, tugging, releasing, then soothing with the coolness of her tongue. It has you throwing your head against the wall in a groan but her grip was tighter, preventing any sort of movement as she continued her assault on your neck.

“Shit – Wednesday.” You slump against her, tightening your grip on her waist when she bites down even harder at a particularly tender spot.

“That hurts.” Squirming as she continues to suck at the spot, the pressure turning into pain until she finally relents – releasing the skin with a ‘pop’ sound. Your hand instantly clamps down to ease the thudding pain.

“It’s supposed to.” Was all she said before she tenderly grabs the back of your neck to slot your lips together; this time much softer; way too soft for someone like Wednesday Addams.

The kisses exchanged were gentle and slow; Wednesday was taking the time to relist in the moment of having you this close. Committing to memory the taste of your mouth against hers; the feeling of your breath fanning against hers; the sounds of your satisfied sighs against hers. Her gentleness has your mind in a cloudy haze. When she finally pulls away, she’s reaching for your cheek, caressing it in the softest manner – something Wednesday didn’t even know she had in her. But that’s what you do to her – make her do things she didn’t think she was capable of.

You stare into her dark orbs with a lovestruck look that you hope doesn’t seem too obvious.

Unbeknownst to you, Wednesday finds herself caught in a similar trance.

“It still stings,” You pout, hoping to gather some sympathy points. Wednesday merely rolls her eyes before grabbing your wrist – still painfully clutching your neck – lowering it.

She eyes her creation with a smirk; her mark is big, the innermost part already turning purple, covered by a ring of angry red skin – pride swells in her chest at the sight of you marked by her. The bruise would surely be a tough one to cover up.

Instead of Wednesday’s usual quip, you were pleasantly surprised when all she did was lean down to carefully and tenderly kiss the spot, rubbing a cautious thumb over it while blowing a cool breath to ease the swelling skin. All you could do was stare at the top of her head with heart eyes as you swooned. It was pathetic of you really – that one girl managed to make you weak at the knees with a simple touch – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. No, not when Wednesday Addams is in your arms, touching you, like that.

When Wednesday pulls away, she looks at your, still, pouting lips and connects them in another soft kiss; unwinding the pout. When she pulls away, she stares up into your eyes, “Better?” She asks so sincerely and your heart just about expanded five times its size at her tone.

You nod slowly, a soft smile tugging on your lips in appreciation for the goth’s affection. “Way better.” You pepper kisses on her jaw. Then, you pat her ass twice and give it a squeeze as you relinquish your hold on her waist.

“We should head back out. I’m pretty sure we already missed the first half of class.” You smirk cheekily, keeping your hand at its landed destination.

“Take your hand off my bottom, Y/N.”

“No thanks.”

She sighs irritably though she still hasn’t made one move to take your hand away from her ass. Actually, she seems rather comfortable still being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“Why must you ruin every moment?” She murmurs in defeat.

“We were having a moment?” She huffs irately at the way your head tilts to the side when you ask the question. You were bewitchingly attractive even with that stupid smirk on your lips, but even still, Wednesday refused to swallow her pride this time – so she wills herself to pull away.

You let out a hearty chuckle, grabbing at her waist again to bring her even closer so you can plant a long kiss against her lips. Wednesday’s reaction was – as it always would be – instantaneous as she reciprocates the kiss when her hand finds its home on the nape of your neck, pulling you close.

“Seriously though, we need to leave.” You say when you finally, for the last time, pull away.

“Fine.” She untangles your mess of limbs to grab her backpack that was hastily thrown on the floor, slipping it on. “I will see you at lunch.”

“Mmm, nope. Detention.” You remind, and she huffs at remembrance. Why must you always get into trouble – not that Wednesday can speak but at least don’t get caught… as much.

“Don’t worry baby, we have tonight remember? Detention can’t keep us apart.” You foolishly try to wiggle your brows.

Wednesday rolls her eyes, walking over to the door handle, “You are insufferable. Call me that again and I’ll truly chop your tongue off.”

“But you love that–” the door shuts. “–about me.”

– –

“That was not scary.”

“It’s not supposed to be scary. It’s a parody of scary movies. They’re making fun of it.”

“Then they should not title it ‘Scary Movie’. It sends the wrong message to its audience… I should burn your copy of all five installations of this abomination.” You chuckle amusedly at her statement kissing atop her head.

The night had been a success. You and Wednesday had spent the evening watching a healthy dose of a variety of films, mostly horror as it was the only genre of movies Wednesday can stomach. You had cuddled, kissed, had sex; it was perfect. You lay there in utter peace, tangled up in bed together; no sense of where and which pair of limbs starts and ends.

It was nice having the evening to yourselves. Between classes and sneaking around your friends, you two don’t get many moments like these often. You made sure to cherish and appreciate them more. It made you feel like you were in a relationship. Even though you two haven’t exactly defined what this is – you find yourself simply appreciating the mere fact that you are the only person who gets to do this with her and that is more than enough for you.

And now, you both laid there – dressed in nothing but underwear and each other's shirt – Wednesday leaning her head on your chest as you twirl a strand of raven hair. Both on the precipice of sleep, the warmth radiating from your tangled legs becoming a gentle tug to give in, with the TV playing aimlessly in the background as an aid.

Just as Wednesday nestled her face closer to your neck – about to follow suit and doze off, she hears the sound of footsteps and keys jingling. Wednesday springs into action, startling you awake with a hand on your chest. She gives no verbal warning before she’s shoving you by the head under her thick duvet covers.

The door swings open followed by footsteps and your eyes instantly widen. “Hey, Wednesday.”

“Enid. Yoko.” Wednesday greets while you’re mentally freaking out about both of your roommates being so close to the truth.

“Yoko just tagged along with me to grab an overnight bag for my sleepover at Ajax’s,” Enid explains, grabbing her things.

“Ouu! Scary Movie! Didn’t think you’d like these. Cute hair by the way!” Yoko points out excitedly,

“You know of this abomination?” Wednesday inquires, choosing to ignore the other comment.

“Yeah, Y/N made watch all of them when she first moved in. It’s like her favourite or something.” They truly were.

“I’m not surprised, they’re awful. Of course, she would like these.” If she could see your face right now, she would see how offended you are by that statement. The nerve!

“So then why are you watching it?” Enid asks bemused.

“It was a recommendation from someone.”

“Huh… alright. I’m slightly offended you’re taking recommendations 'cause I’ve been begging you to watch The Great British Bake Off with me.” Enid squints, playfully glaring.

“I did not have a choice in the matter.” She mutters under her breath, only for you to hear. Wednesday discreetly wacks your hand away when you hit her thigh in jest.

“Anyways… speaking of Y/N.” That makes you and Wednesday stiffen, “have you seen her? ‘Cause after classes, she came by the dorm and hasn’t been back since. Enid and I have been in there all night. No signs of her still.” Yoko inquires with a mysterious lilt.

“No. I have not.” She lies smoothly like she always has.

“Oh really? ‘Cause after the bag incident we saw you follow her. Oh man, please don’t tell me you killed my roommate, it’s so hard to find one you actually like.” Yoko rambled, lost in her own thoughts. Enid had to forcefully lay a hand on her shoulder, Wednesday surely doesn’t miss the exchanged silent look between the two friends.

Could she – could they know? The Addams is nothing if not attentive, she was never wrong.

“Chill, Yoko. What she means is have you seen Y/N? We’re just worried.” Enid slid in and took the lead, plastering on a smile but it looked more like a grimace.

“ I followed her, merely to argue some more, then we parted ways for our next class. I did not see her again after that.” Wednesday answers with half-truths, your make-out session during second period did start off as an argument until it wasn’t.

“Alright…” Enid relents.

She knew better than to try and break Wednesday down. That girl was like a brick wall of information. She could probably trick a polygraph test. Enid should’ve gone to you first – if they could find you. With a goodbye, Enid tugs Yoko along and out the door. Wednesday waited a few more seconds, using her heightened hearing to see if the pair had actually left. Only when she was sure, did she pull you from under the covers.

“Jesus Christ, I felt like I was gonna suffocate.” You gasp, flinging yourself on your back as the high of almost getting caught begins to wear off.

“You would have been fine.” She side-eyed your dramatics.

“We just pulled a Chandler and Monica in London, babe.” You joked, grinning childishly at her. The goth’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at the reference.

She pinches your side with a firm clinch and you groan flinching away. “I do not know what insipid pop culture reference you are citing and I said don’t call me that.”

“FRIENDS?” All you get is a blank stare.

You sigh in defeat – remembering who you were talking to. “Nevermind that, do you think they know?”

“Yes.”

‘Fuck.”

– –

Wednesday was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. She was the human embodiment of the ‘DANGER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION’ sign – and people warily did so.

You and Wednesday have not had alone time, not since your last close call during movie night.

She and you had agreed to keep things ‘chill’ and ‘slowing down’ which meant cutting your already reduced time together to practically non-existent, at this point. Wednesday finds herself deeply regretting agreeing to the foolish agreement. She hasn’t been alone with you in two weeks and Wednesday is growing distressingly annoyed.

Your period of separation has made Wednesday realize that she finds herself always wanting to be around you – slowing down, be damned. Because if slowing down and hiding this relationship you have with her meant more of this strange, painful feeling in her chest then she wants no part of it. The pressure is fleeting but it always comes back when the goth sees something that reminds her of you; in these last two weeks, it seems you have plagued everything in her surroundings because the goth simply cannot rid her thoughts of you.

Wednesday doesn’t think she can do the hiding and sneaking anymore in favour of keeping up this enemies/rivals facade.

Why torture yourselves by keeping apart from one another?

She fumes at the thought of how idiotic you two have been – she was mad, mostly at herself for not seeing it sooner. She supposed it may be healthy for her to acknowledge her fear of love; romantic love no less is a contributing factor to why she hasn’t spoken about what your relationship means. Because Wednesday Addams doesn’t do love.

But now as Wednesday furiously clanks at her typewriter’s keys; her usual graceful and fluid motions were anything but as her heart physically constricts at her last interaction with you – her beliefs could be swayed.

You two were sitting in botany class, doing well to avoid Enid and Yoko’s watchful eyes. It seems the pair have taken it upon themselves to start their own investigation on your and Wednesday’s relationship – lurking around your guys’ shoulder, always watching.

They were close to your scent that night, so you needed to throw them off your trail.

Hence the period of separation, but none of that mattered anymore because you were rejecting her, again.

Wednesday sees you sliding a haphazardly ripped paper with new writing, it read:

“im sorry u know i still cant come over. still too risky :(“

Wednesday’s aggressive typing catches up to her when she realizes she’s made an error; pressing an incorrect key. She clenches her jaw at the mistake and the memory of your rejection.

She reaches out to grab the stack of fresh paper that was laid out in advance but realizes she had used it all up from her previous mistakes. You have been the reason for her scatterbrain tonight and it seems her disorderly is catching up to her. She never makes a mistake during her writing time.

Wednesday pushes her chair back, standing to make her way to the closet to grab more paper. She glances a brief look at the clock on the wall, noting the time. It was late evening and the friend group should all be at your and Yoko’s dorm by now.

After your last class with Wednesday – where you dejectedly rejected her invitation – your friends all hurriedly made Friday night plans. They came up with an evening at the Weathervane and then a movie night at your and Yoko’s dorm; they insisted Wednesday tag along for the event but with her increasingly irate mood she knew she would not be good company.

She didn’t miss your pleading glances at her as if to say ‘please come’. Wednesday is not sure why would want her there anyway, seeing as you and her still had a facade to keep up and that you haven’t made a single advance towards her in the last two weeks.

She bitterly looks away from the clock at the last thought.

Wednesday steps into her closet, making swift steps to the cabinet she knew had more of her typing paper, but her feet stumble at the sight of your shirt absentmindedly thrown over some of Wednesday’s clothes. She must’ve chucked it there after changing in the morning.

The goth reaches out to grab the fabric, bringing it up to her nose to smell the comforting scent – it was fading, terribly so. It felt like you were fading, it had been two weeks after all.

Wednesday screws her eyes shut in annoyance at the two words; two weeks, a sour reminder of her time apart from you.

With that overwhelming agitation rumbling in her chest, again. Wednesday thought: enough. Dropping your shirt where it was found, her heavy boots clunk against the old hardwood floor as she leaves her room. She makes the familiar trek out of Ophelia Hall and to the fastest way to your dorm.

She thought of the fury of demands she would hurl at you, once she pulled you away from everyone. She doesn’t exactly know what those words are going to be yet – and footing stumbles at the thought. All she knows is the pressure in her chest is growing uncomfortably painful and the only remedy she can think of is you.

Before she knows it, she’s reaching your door, bringing a tightly-wound fist to the surface banging down; loud and hard.

It took a few seconds, but there you were, opening the door with a confused frown on your face and Wednesday’s semi-rehearsed fury of words toward you was gone. Behind you, she can see your guys’ friends all pretending not to be watching but failing miserably.

“Wednesday? I thought you said you didn’t want to hang. Did you change your mind?” It was Enid who calls out from her spot inside the room.

“No.” She responded immediately, but she was still only looking at you; unable to break her stare. You were looking at her with such a concerned gleam in your eyes as you took in Wednesday’s dishevelled appearance from her trek over here. The goth’s heart skips a beat. No one has ever looked at her like that before.

“Are you okay? What happened?” You sprang into concerned questioning, allowing your act of hostility toward her to slip away. Suddenly the space between you and Wednesday as you stand on opposite sides of the threshold feels too far.

Abandoning all rational thinking and consequences that may come after, Wednesday reaches forward and grabs at your waist – knuckles in a tight-white grip around your shirt. She’s pulling you out into the hallway, lips pressed together in a frenzied but gentle manner. Your hand gingerly cups her jaw, as your body surrenders to the familiar feeling of her kiss – the door slamming shut behind you, no doubt giving your friends a snippet of the show.

You can kind of hear excited screaming and loud talking behind the door. But you tune that out and focus on the girl in your arms.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against hers, trying to swallow shallow deep breaths.

“What was that for?” You ask breathlessly against her lips.

Her gaze turns soft, gulping before starting, “I could not go any longer without having you near. These last two weeks have been agonizing. Being alone, without you was torture – and not in the way I usually enjoy. It was… debilitatingly painful to exist without you. I wish to never experience it again.”

You were the human embodiment of heart eyes right now.

“So, please. Don’t do that again.” Wednesday pleads with – she’s sure – is the most pathetic expression right now; desperation clear as day. But she can’t bring it in herself to care anymore. No, not when she brushes a soothing thumb to your lip and you react with a giddy smile.

“What about what the others might think?” Nodding towards your room – which has seemingly quieted down; if you didn't know any better, you’d say your friends had their ears up against the door, listening in.

You were practically already putty in her hands but figured you’d tease and ask for good measure.

Wednesday briefly glances at the door; scowling in thought. When she looked back at you, she was shaking her head with a frown.

“I don’t–” She hesitates, gathering her thoughts, “–I do not care about what anyone else thinks… I just want you.”

And with the softest doe-eyed look, you’ve ever been given, your heart swells ten times its size. You reach forward to slip your tongue in her mouth to bring her in for another searing kiss that you hope encompasses all you feel for the other girl.

You pull away for a breath, gasping as you say, “Be mine.”

She whispers a hoarse, “Yes,” as she tugs on your bottom lip with her teeth; nodding slightly; noses bumping together.

You hear a thud from behind the door at Wednesday’s response.

On the other side, Yoko and Ajax have caught a fainting Enid in their arms.

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday imagine #wednesday fanfic

3K notes · View notes

shdysders · 3 months

Text

mistake

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara makes a mistake she can't undo

word count: 3.4k

warnings: violence, blood, stabbing, blood & death.

author’s note: feel like my writing is deteriorating, so sorry this might not be the greatest.

When you heard that Mindy and Ethan had been separated from the rest of the group, you immediately knew nothing was going to go according to the plan.

Everything had happened so fast. First accusation news about Sam had streamed on television, then Quinn's bloody corpse had fallen on top of you, then Anika wasn't able to make it across the latter, her bloody hands and Ghostface's shaking had made her slip. You had lost two of your friends in less than fifteen minutes.

You hadn't heard of the killings in Woodsboro until you had met Tara the first day of junior year, but she made sure to tell you everything that had happened the closer the two of you got.

Based on everything you had heard, you understood why Sam was so protective over Tara, the Carpenter sisters had been through more than normal people have in a lifetime.

However, even though you were nothing but nice and understanding towards Sam, she didn't seem to like you.

The first time Tara had brought you home to the apartment, Sam had kept a burning gaze on you for the whole time, like she wanted to burn you alive.

You thought that she would warm up and eventually trust you like she seemed to do with Anika, Quinn and Ethan, but she never did.

And it only got worse once Tara had called you her girlfriend in front of her, a huge disagreement broke out, so big that Sam had sent you out of the apartment.

You never got to know what Sam had said after that, but you did know that the glares you got from Sam only worsened and so did the small comments she would make about you when she thought you didn't hear.

Such as now, when Sam and Tara were walking in front of you, the theater being the destination. You had this gut feeling that Sam was currently talking about you. You just knew she was, even tho you couldn't hear her voice nor did you see her head moving like it normally did when she spoke, you knew.

But your mind changed thoughts when she rapidly turned on her heel, stopping when she was in front of Danny who had been walking closely behind you, alongside Kirby.

"Not you." She said, her voice cracking.

"What?" He answered almost immediately, like he had been expecting it.

"Don't trust anyone remember?" Sam replied.

You watched the scene with worried eyes, what Sam said reminded you way too much of something she had told Tara when she thought you weren't near. "We don't know you.. not really."

His face expression looked hurt, almost taken aback when Sam spoke. "You know me."

"You're not Woodsboro." She spoke quickly, rage lacing her voice.

Tara looked down at her shoes after that was said, her lips finding a home between her teeth. You knew she was scared, because you were as well. You had no idea how things were going to go down, you had never experienced something as brutal like this before.

You were seconds away from putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, before she looked up at you with tears pricking her eyes.

"That goes for you too." She swallows thickly, trying her hardest to look into your eyes.

You furrowed your eyebrows, panic rising through you. "W-what?" Your voice came out as a stutter, not believing what she had just made it's way out of her mouth.

Tara just nodded unsurely, her eyes looked sad and were filled with doubt. You couldn't understand why. If she was sad about it, why would she say it?

"Tara I- you can't be serious." You spoke again, voice growing shakier by the minute.

She knew very well how terrified you were about the situation as it was, and yet she still chose to leave you out of the plan alongside Sam's unknown fuck buddy? If it didn't make you shake out of fear you would've been infuriated.

"You're not Woodsboro." She stated, same thing as her sister but in a different tone, she'd tried to sound calm, but her voice was filled with uncertainty, shaky with worry.

You knew she was right. You weren't Woodsboro. You had never been to the place nor did you knew it existed before Tara came along. But the fact that she didn't trust you enough to know for certain that you weren't Ghostface, made you feel the need to fall apart. Did she really think you would kill your friends? Let alone hurt them?

The thought made your eyes sting, and before you had the chance to wipe the tears away, they fell.

"Tara please I promise I-" You felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable over basically nothing.

All eyes were on you as you tried to keep the tears from falling, you felt ridiculous. But you were terrified.

You couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in this situation. Not only because you were scared of being alone, but also because you had to protect Tara.

Although you knew Sam would do a perfectly fine job of keeping her safe, but you wanted to do it, you had to. You wanted to prove to Sam that you loved Tara almost the same amount as she did, you wanted to prove to Tara she could trust you with her life.

You could see that Tara wanted to give in, tell you that you could come along and that she trusted you with her whole being. Her eyes were filled with regret and doubt. But you could tell that she wasn't going to change her mind anytime soon.

She just watched you, biting her lips hard enough to draw blood. Seeing the look on your face just made her want to squeeze you in a hug hard enough to make you faint.

You looked so scared, and the fact that she knew how scared you were about the whole situation, made everything worse. She had noticed the terrified look on your face that hadn't left since the attack at the apartment, your trembling hands and the layer of tears in your eyes that never fell.

Tara actually thought that you looked more scared than both Sam and her combined.

"Y/n please just stay here." She tried to reason, as if she wanted this. But she did want it. She wanted you to be safe.

You wanted to argue, tell her that you would refuse to come along. But you knew that you wouldn't get anywhere with it, Tara was stubborn, she always got what she wanted somehow. And you didn't want Sam to see you argue with Tara, that certainly wouldn't help you get on better terms with her.

So you gave in, even though you knew Tara's life was at stake. Sam will take care of her, you tried to tell yourself.

You quickly wiped the tears on your cheeks with your hand, even though everybody had already seen them.

Tara's eyes never left your figure as she watched your trembling hands. "Fine." You almost spit, voice cracking with worry.

Tara nodded at that, happy to hear you give in. You didn't pay attention to anybody's reaction other than hers, they didn't seem to matter.

She walked closer to you, placing a kiss on your faintly tear stained cheek. "Be safe." She said, as if she wasn't the one that was about to walk into a situation that she would either leave traumatized or not leave at all.

"Be safe." You repeated, before you watched them all walk away towards the building.

Seeing as Sam turned her head to Tara and whispered 'good call', as they walked away.

But when you turned around to try and make a decent conversation with Danny, he was nowhere in sight. Making even more worry creep in your bones.

***

You had been pacing around in the same place and pattern for 20 minutes without any progress, Danny was gone, and your phone was dead.

The streets where dead and empty.

You had half a mind to just run to the theaters and do the exact opposite of what Tara had instructed you to. But you knew well enough that both of the Carpenter sisters would quite literally murder you if you stepped a foot into their plan.

But eventually the worry and stress got to you, like it always did. You didn't care if you were going to get murdered whether if it were by Tara or Ghostface, if it was for protecting Tara, it was a good reason.

However, before you had the chance to change your mind or consider the other options, a glove-covered hand landed on your face, covering your mouth tightly.

The yelp and screams you tried to make was inaudible, nobody could hear them.

You felt a surge of fear and panic, unable to hear your own scream. The street grew eerily silent as you struggled to break free, your heart pounding in your chest. Rush of intense vulnerability and confusion, as you desperately searched for a way to escape the grasp of the unknown assailant.

But you knew who it was. It was Ghostface.

You tried to kick them with your legs, but none of them seemed to hit. The person was holding a strong grip on your mouth, and the other arm was firmly placed around your waist. You were unable to move out of any of the grips, the person was too strong. And you weren't.

Your panic was making it harder to breath, and you were beginning to feel as if you were about to faint any second.

You tried your best to remove the grip with your hands, gripping hardly on the muscular arms, trying so hard to get them away from you.

The tightened arms had veins all over them, yet another reminder that it was impossible for you to get away.

It was Danny, you tried to tell yourself over the ringing in your ears. It had to be Danny. He had left the second you were alone with him. It had to be him.

Muffled screams and ringing ears were the only noises you could make out. If the person behind you was speaking in a voice changer to you or not, you had no idea.

The panic you felt was replaced with relief when the thought of using your elbow to hit the individual behind you entered your mind.

But you never got the chance to do that.

Seconds before your elbow was about to meet the Ghostface mask, you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen.

All of the movements you were making stopped the second you realized what it was.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Seven times you could feel the sharp piece of metal enter and exit your abdomen. A gasp escaped your mouth after every single one of them.

You tried to scream, but nobody was around. Your wide eyes scanned through the street, yet again seeing that nobody was there. It was all empty.

Normally the streets of New York would be filled with drunk teenagers and late night workers, whether it was night or afternoon.

But when the news about the killers got out, everybody stayed inside. Some people didn't even bother to leave for work, and of course no parties. Even the homeless people seemed to have found another place to stay at.

You didn't realize that numbness was spreading through your legs until the potential male had slowly began to loosen the grip he had on your figure.

Before you had time to think, he had completely let go.

Suddenly you felt dizzy, you couldn't feel your feet, you couldn't feel your legs, you couldn't feel anything.

You could barely feel your legs giving up, nor did you feel your body hitting the ground as you tried to cover up the damage that had been made on your lower stomach.

Regardless the sharp pain in your body that almost made it impossible to breathe and the dizziness that got worse every time you moved, you tried to crawl towards the fence that was just centimeters away.

Your hands bloody from trying to add pressure to your wounds made trails on the asphalt.

You couldn’t tell if you had placed your hands on the right place, considering that the stab wounds were all over the place. And you didn't even dare to look down, because you could guarantee that it wouldn't be a pleasant sight.

Your eyes were starting to close by themselves and you were struggling to keep them open.

Everything hurt.

The pressure you were putting on the wounds was now becoming lighter, your hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them.

Tara would be here soon, you thought, desperately.

She would be here soon, everything would be okay; no more Ghostface attacks, no more Sam hating you, and no more unexpected death cases of your friends.

Your mind focused on Tara.

Her brown hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her dimples and her breathtaking smile. Her voice, her touch, and her joyful laugh.

Your eyes closed, and this time you couldn't stop them. The pressure on your wounds was no longer existent. The color in you was gone. You were gone.

Last thought being the girl you wanted to marry.

***

Tara left the building with a lump in her stomach, as big as a bowling ball.

Her body was filled with worry and guilt, but a part of her felt relief. She was relieved that everything was over now. No more Ghostfaces. She was done with them, truly.

Tara couldn't wait to see you. She was going to tell you that the decision she made was right, that she was happy you stayed behind, because you stayed safe.

But when Danny had walked into the theater, tackling all kinds of officer in his way, he was all alone. You weren't there, you didn't come with him.

Danny told them that the two of you had lost sight of each other rather quickly after they'd left, that you probably just needed to be alone and breathe for a moment.

Tara knew that you would be upset with her, for not allowing you to come with them, for not letting you protect her, like you always told her you would, even if it meant dying.

Although she had hoped for you to at least come to see if she made it out alive.

Danny had called the cops and ambulance to arrive at the place as soon as he got the chance. That's why the only thing in Tara's sight was ambulances, police cars and the fire department.

Chad had miraculously made it out alive, same with Mindy and Kirby. And even though that made Tara want to cry out in happy tears, she couldn't let herself feel anything until she had seen you.

Safe and secure. Like you should've been.

Panic began to rise within Tara as minutes passed without any sight of you.

Sam stood beside her, trying to sooth her younger sister with comforting words. But they didn't make anything better for her.

After the whole showdown, the two Carpenter sister's had talked, really talked.

Sam had tried to explain to Tara that she didn't actually hate you, the opposite really. She thought you were lovely and a perfect match for Tara. But she didn't want to take any risks.

She wanted to show you the walls to her trust weren't easy to break. And then she thought that if she acted rude towards you, you would eventually leave; meaning there was no need for Sam to let her guard down and open up to people she didn't know.

But Sam knew how much Tara loved you, she had been listening to her sister's rambling about you everyday.

That's why Sam could feel her heart sinking down her entire being when her eyes met with a stretcher where a body was placed, a morgue sheet on top of it, which was filled with blood.

Sam prayed that it was somebody else. That you had walked somewhere else to breathe just like Danny had assumed.

She felt the need to distract Tara before she had the chance to see it, but it was too late.

She had already seen it.

Tara screamed out your name in a sob, straight away assuming that you were the person underneath the white cover.

The woman who had been pushing the stretcher had stopped, turning around to try and give the man behind her any sort of information about the deceased individual.

Tara's legs moved faster than she could process, Sam following shortly after.

Heart pounding, hands trembling. With a swift of motion, she grabbed the edge of the wrap and pulled it upward, revealing your pale and peaceful face.

The vibrant hues that once painted your face were now gone, leaving behind a pale and ghostly visage. The colors had been drained from you, you no longer looked like yourself.

Tara could feel herself gasp loudly at the sight, turning around with a hand placed on her mouth.

A surge of sickness overwhelmed her. A gut-wrenching sensation, as if her stomach was about to revolt. She felt like she was on the verge of throwing up, basically feeling the acidic liquids rise within her.

It was you. Her girl. Dead. Gone.

Sam had the same reaction to the sight, gasping and putting her hand on her mouth, preventing from letting out any tears or sounds. Chills running down her spine.

Stop it. Pull it together. Tara. Tara needs you. Sam told herself.

Gaze shifting from your body and the bloody sheet upon you to her younger sister, who was sobbing beside her, about to fall down to her knees.

But when Sam put a hand on Tara's shoulder, she stood straighter. "No!" She shot up, voice raspy.

She looked at you again, but this time not caring for the feeling inside of her throat that threatened her. "She's not dead." Tara spoke again, trying to convince herself that you were alive, that she could save you.

"Tara-" Sam tried, but Tara had no interest in listening to her sister.

"Y/n. Baby, look at me." Tara gently brushed her fingertips against your cheeks, but quickly pulled away when she felt the chill that pierced through her body, for they were once a source of warmth and comfort, now distant and cold.

You were always warm.

The tears streamed down Tara's face, leaving even more mascara smudges on her cheeks, falling and leaving marks on her blue shirt. The shirt that you had gotten her.

"Sam, Come on! help me please" She begged for her big sister's help, still hoping that you could be saved.

At that sentence, the woman who had pushed you turned around, she seemed to have heard Tara's pleads and begs, filled with hope, wishing that you were alive. "Oh honey, this girl has been deceased for over an hour...we can't save her."

The woman spoke apologetically and looked at Tara with sorrowed eyes. "I'm so sorry." She ended. Tara was about to scream at the lady, yell at her and tell them to at least try, you weren't gone. There was no way.

But before Tara got the chance to argue, Sam had pulled her into her chest, embracing Tara with a hug. And at that, Tara broke.

The sobs left her mouth faster than she could take them in, she didn't have any space to breathe.

"She's gone." She cried, her tears staining the older woman's shirt. "And I wasn't there to help her." Tara rambled, talking rapidly before the next sob would escape.

Sam didn't know what to say. She just stroke her younger sister's hair, trying to soothe her sobs.

She had never seen Tara this vulnerable and emotionally ruined, not even when she had reunited with Tara at the hospital the previous year.

Tara's body shook violently as each sob left her mouth.

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

Tara had been so confident with her decision only minutes before. She thought she had made the right move.

But it turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life.

A mistake she couldn't take back, and had to live with for the rest of her time alive.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sadie sink x reader

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wesstars · 7 months

Text

heaven on earth (ii)

wednesday addams x fem!reader (mostly gn, only term used is “girl friend”)

summary: your friends-with-benefits situation with wednesday isn’t so friendly anymore, but if you could only uncover your own eyes, you might’ve noticed. wc: 5.5k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI! all characters involved are 18+. kinda ooc wednesday, painfully oblivious reader, bad fluff, fluff to smut, top!reader and bottom!wednesday, semi-public (car) sex, mild blood, biting, mild overstimulation. a/n: not sure how I feel about this lol. special thank you to 🕷️ anon for her ideas and workshopping <3 comments/asks welcome, as always!

read part one here! this can be read standalone, but is intended to be a continuation.

masterlist

For the fifth time, Wednesday slapped your thigh to get your attention. “Turn it down.”

You huffed a laugh, and figured it was time. You were playing your ‘obnoxious’ pop playlist, full of mostly Taylor Swift and random Korean bands. It was collaborative with Enid, and likely one of Wednesday’s least favorites. Lowering the volume, you tossed Wednesday your phone.

“Alright, it’s your turn.”

The two of you were driving back from a day trip to a nearby town—actually, you were supposed to be driving back the rest of Enid and Co, also, but while Wednesday was beyond ready to leave, they all wanted to stay and do something called a “holy trinity.” How someone could have so much alcohol in so little time was so bizarre to you, but then Wednesday, of all people, rolled her eyes and downed three shots in just as many minutes, and seemed no worse for wear.

Seemed was the key word there—not a quarter of an hour later, she’d grabbed onto your arm, grip slack, and her eyes were becoming unfocused, roving all over your face only to miss your eyes and tack onto somewhere lower.

You’d coaxed her to eat something after that. Post French fries and buttered bread (she’d kill you after she knew you’d made her eat such unrefined food,) as well as a bottle and a half of water in, she’d mostly walked it off. You figured it was time to get Wednesday home. As far as you knew, the rest of your friends were still out, though you’d made Yoko promise to text you when they were leaving and when they got back. The windows were open in the car; the wind lifted Wednesday’s fringe off her forehead. You glanced over to where she was gingerly operating your phone, punching in letters on Spotify. Your heart twisted.

You didn’t really want to admit that weird feeling you had the first time, and all the rest of the times, you saw Wednesday. It was a sort of jittery one, with a swoop in your stomach, that made you want to prod her into a conversation. You’d gotten quite a bit more than you’d bargained for, from that first fateful kiss in the classroom, to every secret, heady rendezvous after. The last time you two had been intimate—fucked, in your bed—had left an indelible mark, natural as a shadow settled neatly in your chest. The bickering and play fights had only made things worse, and you knew you had to ignore it all, for Wednesday. To keep things the same, because… something’s better than nothing, right?

You supposed that “something” was where you were right now. Being her ‘girl friend,’ with a space in between, sex and unrequited feelings included, was the best place that you could ever be with her. You had those close moments with her that you could cherish, but also that emotional distance that Wednesday undoubtedly wanted. Perfect. Your childlike sentiments were ones that you were likely to carry in your heart, deep down, for fucking forever. They were never going to see the light of day.

Lilting piano filled the car, shoving images of you and Wednesday seated together before the keys into your mind. Your phone dropped back into your lap.

“Nocturne? In E minor.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“I’m surprised you know.”

“Hey!” Indignant, you nearly shot something back that was sure to start one of your bickering matches again, when an unfamiliar sound rang through the car, lovely as the music, but something you’d never heard before.

“Did you just laugh?”

Wednesday’s mumbled denial was covered up by your own laugh, bordering on hysterical as your heart picked itself up and started racing.

“Do not insult me like that,” Wednesday grumbled, rubbing the hem of her sweater between her fingers. “Focus on the road. Dying with you in a car crash is too pathetic to even consider.” Though her words were sharp as always, her even tone had something in it that, if one wasn’t careful, could be mistaken as gentle.

You snorted again, unable to stop laughing. “And if a double decker bus…” you sang, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel. Wednesday’s glare nearly sliced you clean in half, and you were smart for once, shutting up immediately. She wasn’t laughing anymore, and some part of you mourned that.

After Chopin played Liszt, Liebestraum no. 3, and you wondered if Wednesday knew how to queue on Spotify. You followed the winding road up the mountain. You’d be back at Nevermore soon, but selfishly, you didn’t want this to be over. It was an odd time, with no bickering, no siege, no sex, and who could blame you if you were feeling particularly, disgustingly, sentimental? Blame the Liszt.

Turning the car off the road, you pulled into a deserted vista point. Carpe diem, you thought, throwing caution to the wind and the car in park.

“Why have you stopped?”

“Weds, we’re looking at the sunset.”

“I do not need to see it, it happens every day—”

“Oh, come on,” you laughed, unlocking the car doors and stepping out. With the wind whipping around you, blowing your hair every which way, you ducked to peek into the car. “Humor me, I guess. Don’t you feel sorry for me, or something?”

She gave you a pointed look. “I do not.” But she followed you out the car anyway.

Leaning on the hood, you looked out at the scene as she joined you. Spiky evergreens stretched out across the stony slopes, with the last vestiges of snow clinging to the tops. The sun stretched its longing light into the rapidly darkening east behind you, pulling taut the shadows and blanketing everything in an aureate shine.

You glanced over at Wednesday—despite her earlier protest, it seemed as if she was tolerating this. The tension around her brow was gone, and her arms hung relaxed by her sides. The silence wasn’t rare, but it felt reverent anyway. Your heart adored her in her outfit; it was something your mind refused to register. She was in black knee high boots, made of some leather you couldn’t pronounce, an inky dress, flowing in the wind, down to her thighs, and a soft deep gray sweater. There was a sort of bleeding sentiment, beginning to seep into your everyday life, into wondering what Wednesday would think of the book you were reading, imagining her reaction to Bianca’s quip, overthinking her hand clutching your sleeve in the courtyard.

You deliberated, vaguely, what it would be like if you tumbled down the mountainside, into those trees—would the wood be cushioning or bruising? It was a serious consideration, with all that you were feeling. Those damned feelings, ones that Wednesday would undoubtedly scorn, made you kick up the gravel underfoot in frustration.

Beside you, Wednesday cast an uninterested look over you at the noise, silently judging. A beat passed. She grabbed the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, and pulled you into a bruising kiss.

“I am going in the car. The back seat. Be not afraid.” She retreated, and gave a little smirk, one reserved for the golden light and dark trees.

It was purely unfair, as the blood rushed from your head to pool in your stomach, making your heart work overtime. Stumbling to the back seat, you’d barely sat down before Wednesday reached over to the console and locked the doors. She’d taken off her boots, leaving her legs clad in white socks scrunched around her calves.

She climbed into your lap without preamble, squeezing your hips with her thighs. The car roof meant she had to duck her head just a bit, giving you the perfect opportunity to press your lips to hers. Having Wednesday on top of you was the kind of thing that made your head spin. And spinning you were, down into that deep unending abyss where there was only the smell of hot sugar, pine, and iron.

The Midas touch of the setting sun made Wednesday seem even paler, from her exposed knees to her small hands, glowing like some ethereal being. She kissed you as if she could wrap her teeth around you, like searching for sweetness in the corners of your mouth. Sure enough, there was something about her, a sense of urgency, that threatened to take in all of you.

“This dress is nice,” you murmured, pushing it up her pale thighs, rubbing away the red marks her boots left on her calves. Your hands continued upward, to the light dampness of her inner thighs.

“You said you liked it last time.” Wednesday immediately glanced away, as if she hadn’t meant to say those words. There was a faint flush to her cheeks again, but the two of you were fogging up the car windows.

You ignored the pulsing in your stomach that traitorously screamed she wore this for me? “It’s enchanting,” you said. “Like a witch of the wood.”

You nosed your way into the nape of her neck again, a favorite spot of yours, unable to stop your stupid mouth from running. “I adore it…” You pulled her tighter to your lap, skimming the seam of her underwear at the juncture of her thigh. “Can I touch you, Wednesday?”

“Get on with it,” she said, breathlessly, indulging you with a quick quirk of her lips.

Skimming the back of your hand up between her thighs, you sent your other hand to palm her chest through her dress. You felt her through her panties, the fabric soft and smooth from her slick. Dipping your hand below the waistband, you wasted no time finding her clit. Her breath came down hard—it was her tell, you knew, even when her face remained mostly impassive.

She was sensitive today, back arching with a small gasp as soon as you touched her. Hand shooting past your head, Wednesday grabbed onto the headrest, hard enough for the leather to creak. Her outstretched arm was right next to your head, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss the inside of her elbow.

She sighed, unfurling tendrils of a storm in smooth skies. “You have all of me,” Wednesday said, something soft.

You press a kiss to Wednesday's forehead, equally soft, as you curl your fingers again. “If only, Wednesday,” you said, unthinking.

Wednesday froze, squeezing her other hand on your shoulder hard enough to leave pretty bruises under your collared shirt.

You pulled back, cocking your head. “What is it?”

She furrowed her brow at you, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, then glanced away quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Your fingers traced another circle around her clit.

“Stop asking.” Her voice was firm, but it had a waver in the middle, like she’d almost changed her mind.

“I’ll stop asking,” you whispered, “if you tell me what’s up.” Her eyes were glazed over with a sheen not unlike her slick that coated your fingers, something shiny and sweet.

“You’re hopeless,” she said, not even a second before she clapped her hand over your mouth.

What an Addams wants, an Addams gets, you surmised, blinking quickly. You rubbed your free hand up and down her thigh, trying to soothe her, but she only moved her hand to grip your jaw, her intent the sear of fire through the underbrush.

“I do not like repeating myself,” she said quietly, “so listen closely.” She shifted closer to you on your lap, car leather squeaking, settling on her knees so your nose was in her collar. She reached down and gave you a handkerchief from her pocket. Knowing what she meant, you pulled your fingers from her warmth, feeling a hard lump in your throat. “And make no noise.”

You nodded. She looked wild on top of you, hair mussed from your make out session, the apples of her cheeks a dusty rose.

“Honesty colors me,” she said by way of explanation. “And you talk too much, so this is how it will have to be.” She seemed to think for a moment, biting her lip. Her burgundy lipstick contrasted so starkly with her gray sweater, as if she was the only screaming color in a black and white world. She might hate that, you mused absently. Maybe she was more a whirlpool of the blackest black, sucking in all of the color and light around it so that you had no choice but to be drawn in, to the only real thing you’d ever known.

“You’re stupid,” Wednesday started, matter-of-factly. “Just like everyone else.” You nodded, used to this sort of thing by now. “But your particular brand of stupidity is showing its truth.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, arms automatically going around her waist while you leaned back to look at her. Where she was going with this, you had no idea. You only knew that that whirlpool was making its way closer and closer to you.

“At first, our… arrangement was indeed purely physical.” She paused. “But things have changed, quite drastically. I do believe I’ve reached a… point of no return, but I have since found a balance.”

Wednesday locked her eyes on yours, unflinching. “I give myself to you time and time again-” the words were unfamiliar from her mouth- “yet, you seem to give no indication that you know. ‘If only?’ It’s nearly laughable.” She gave a huff, though her gaze was contemplative. You cocked your head, mind uncomprehending, mouth dry.

“You have my heart, beating or still.” Her words rang quiet in the car. Your own heart started up again, with all the betrayal of a thrumming bass. You tried to push it down, but it didn’t erase the reality of what Wednesday had just said—did Wednesday ever lie? She was good at it, sure, but you’d long learned that Wednesday’s word was her end. “And it appears as though you are completely unaware.”

“Unaware?” You broke her rule, and you could see the tick of annoyance in her eyes. But you plowed on anyway. “Are you saying that you have my—that I don’t know that I have your—that you like me?”

“My devotion is more than that,” Wednesday said casually, “but it may be that you’re unable to handle that at this time.”

Sure enough, you could feel your body informing your mind that you were hyperventilating, Wednesday’s weight on your lap the only thing keeping you from shooting off to Saturn.

“I don’t—” you struggled for your words, the usual wit you showed while bickering with Wednesday, the strategy you’d used to defend Jericho, absolutely nowhere to be seen.

“Need I pull stars from the sky to prove myself to you?” she said, raising an eyebrow in amusement, as if she wasn’t blowing through every poorly stacked defense of yours. It would be just like Wednesday, for every word of hers to be devastating and world shifting. No one knew Wednesday Addams and remained unchanged—that was just the kind of person she was, romantic as murder via blade. Perhaps to her, your wide eyed reaction was enough of a damning confession. “You’ll be the end of me, but what bliss that would be.”

“Um,” you started, eloquently. “You’re… you’re not thinking straight,” you rasped out, mind freezing. You could feel your back stuck to the seat, unyielding. “You’re—”

“If I didn’t know you and your oblivious tendencies, I would think that it is almost insulting of you to doubt me.” She gave a small sniff, chin held high. “You think that just because you do not recognize my words, means that I am not in a right state of mind?”

In one fluid motion, she pressed her forehead to yours, and cradled your face between her two cold hands. Your name felt like salvation from her lips; “believe me, I’m wide awake.”

Your jaw went slack, and you were sure you looked as much a dumbass as you felt.

“I intended for my… vulnerability,” Wednesday’s voice wavers on the word, “to be a sign for you, but either you are just that unobservant, or you are unwilling to admit to what is right before your eyes.”

“I’d never not pick up on something on purpose, Weds.” Your brain was wading through a thick mud, unable to turn at the speed that Wednesday wanted.

“Does that mean that you are willfully disregarding the way I show myself to you?” Finally, in her words, you were able to see the exact vulnerability that she had alluded to.

“No, I’d never, I just… didn’t want to hope,” you said, embarrassed. “Romance isn’t your thing.”

“It’s not,” she replied simply, quietly. “I understand your reservations.” Wednesday’s hands held an imperceptible tremble, but her gaze was strong.

“No—of course I—” your throat tightened, but you felt the weight falling from your shoulders anyway. That was something you recognized. “Of course I like you.”

The silence rang yet again, and Wednesday’s eyes widened, the onyx of them turning warm as molten metal. The exact expression in them was hard to place, but it calmed you, in the wake of speaking aloud something you’d been afraid to admit to yourself.

A thought occurred to you, more clear than any you’d had since Wednesday had opened her mouth. “Even if we’d never—if we never have sex again, I’d still l—like you.”

Despite the way you stumbled into and over your words, Wednesday’s dark eyes on yours grew warm, pupil blurring into iris; the corner of her mouth gave an upwards tick.

“In the cracks of light,” Wednesday whispered, reverent as prayer as her fingertips traced your cheekbone, “I see the heaven on earth I’ve won with you.”

She kissed you then, and you couldn’t hold back any more. It was something like pure relief—though your mind still didn’t quite comprehend Wednesday’s confession (confession!), your heart broke the dam, pulling you down past inhibition. Spiraling to Wednesday’s gravity, it was as natural as breathing to give in.

Wednesday, all knowing as always, must’ve seen the way your resolve broke. She slid her mouth against yours, open and hot, unhurried but eager. The car leather under your thighs was as warm as Wednesday on top of you—not even she was immune to the rays of waning sunlight, it seemed.

“You know,” you muttered, between capturing her lips, “it’s just like you to say all that about moving heaven and earth. Most people just say ‘I like you.’” It wasn’t a complaint by any means; with your hands on her waist, you’d have it no other way.

“As I said, it is more than that.” She took a breath, completely steady and confident, now. “You consume me, completely.”

“And you, I,” you said softly, as if you could do anything but agree to her heady desire. “I’ve got you, Wednesday.”

Her forehead dropped to your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around you. It took a moment for you to realize that in her silence after your words, she was grinding down, near imperceptibly, into your lap.

“Mmm, my love,” you murmured, the significance of the endearment not lost on you, “look at you.” Sliding a hand up her back to her hair, you felt her braids through your fingers. You ran your hands down once more, under her sweater to feel the muscles around her shoulder blades. The heat you felt through her dress from where she was pressed to you, through your trousers, was something out of a darkest dream, unable to be forgotten.

Wednesday leaned up again, eyes sharp as a lance, to brand you with a kiss. She bit your lip, breaking through skin, and you grinned at the pain. It was hard and harsh, comforting like the thin edge of a knife. You felt the blood seeping into the seams of your teeth, rain in scorched earth. Intoxicated, you seemed to float closer into that sweet and dark whirlpool.

“That hurt, Wednesday…” you leaned in, voice dropping. “I wanna…” There was a beat of silence where you could only taste the copper in your mouth, sweet as you knew the slick between her thighs to be. You shifted your grip to her hips, bruising, and the soft little moan Wednesday gave in response spurred you on. “I wanna hurt you.”

You did, helplessly. Of course, you would rain hell on anyone that so much as lifted a finger against Wednesday, but to hold her trust that came with pain—you wanted that from her, to know when she hurt, when she wanted to hurt. Whether it was holding her back from the edge, or flying and dropping together to the bottom, bodies crashing against one another, you wanted it. Like something out of a classical myth, with wings of wax or blood, you would burn and be burned to feel the weightless warmth of that golden light.

There was no hesitation for Wednesday, just a look in her eyes that you’d come to know intimately as hunger. “Hurt me.” Her voice was low, nearly fond, in your ear as her eyes tracked the blood collecting on your lips. She leaned towards you and licked, tongue to your teeth, translucent saliva mixing with the burgundy. “I want it to hurt—I want you to hurt me.”

When she leaned back, her lipstick was stained with your blood, and it made you want to bleed if only she was the one taking it. You leaned your temple to her jawline, eyes burning at the sun through the windshield. Your hands continued once again up her thighs, just as reverent as before. The two of you never could do anything by half—you were always Wednesday’s. Realizing it, speaking it aloud, confessing or not, couldn’t have changed that. Despite that, as you rocked back and kissed the blood off Wednesday, you felt as though you were on your knees, professing everything you were. Giving one last cheeky swipe of your tongue on her lips, you went to tug Wednesday’s panties down. She followed your lead easily, tossing the expensive garment somewhere to the side.

“My sweet girl,” you sighed, something possessive curling in your words. “What would you like?”

“Everything.” There was a devout way about her utterance that had your hands shaking with the desire to fulfill her. “Touch me.”

Crossing one arm around her to clasp the back of her neck, you brought her face close to yours, the tips of your noses brushing.

“Everything? How much can we do with ‘everything’ when you’re so sensitive, angel?” On cue, Wednesday’s eyes slipped shut as you drew a finger along her pussy to find her wet and wanting.

“Don’t you think you should be the one to answer that?” Her voice, bold and challenging, shook up your stomach like champagne. You were completely, utterly ruined before Wednesday Addams, and it was a nearly celestial ruin, so bright and beloved it nearly hurt.

You didn’t hesitate, slipping your finger in and grinding your palm on her clit. You didn’t miss her knees sliding further apart, that elusive grin gracing her face as she tipped her head back. Only her tight hold on your shoulders kept her from falling into your lap. Your mouth tasted of iron, such a contrast to Wednesday’s burnt sugar sweat on your tongue as you licked a stripe up her jaw to bite her earlobe. Drawing every small sigh out, you took your time, curling your fingers the way you knew she liked. You squeezed your hand, heavy where her shoulders met her neck. The jagged breaths she took in response made you crave more, and your stomach burned with contentment when she let you press another finger inside of her.

Wednesday’s half lidded eyes tracked down your neck, hunter to the scent of fear, leaving a shiver in her wake. It was inexplicably easy to discern what she wanted, even as she threaded her hands in your hair, something tingling and distracting.

“Go ahead, I know you want to.” Like blood rushing back into white fingertips, her soft lips were on your neck, undoubtedly leaving a smear of lip stain that you’d have to be chastised to wipe off. Almost as if she’d read your mind, she was sucking at your skin, impatient. Already you could feel the raised welt, and the way her tongue soothed the strain.

“You’re mine,” she breathed out, harsh despite the way she was panting with every twist of your fingers.

“Yeah,” you whispered, the haze of being Wednesday’s blurring your every action. “I’m yours.”

You curled your fingers, and had to bite down a moan as her teeth sank deeper into your neck, a cause and effect that you’d kill for. You swore as she set sight on your jawline, the sweet shock of her hot tongue making you shiver.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered darkly—it seemed she was satisfied with the state of your neck, since you could feel the skin throbbing pleasantly. She leaned back, proffering her own throat.

“I was always yours,” you said easily. “I can just…” you trailed off as your sharp teeth met her skin in the spot you knew she liked, making her cry out, “show you better now.”

Wednesday’s hands tightened in your hair, pulling a broken gasp from your throat. Her smirk, challenging as she took in your reaction, only spurred you on. It was pure selfishness, when you grinned lazily as she tugged. You gave as good as you got, though, each curl of your fingers and shift of your hand had her trembling.

She was close; you could feel it in the uneven cadence of her breath, almost as erratic as yours. Pulling the collar of her sweater aside, you worked your tongue against her jugular, her pulse tempting and honey sweet in your mouth. It was nearly tangible between your teeth, soft and solid, the pounding of her pulse, just milliseconds away from your own.

“C’mon, Wednesday,” you whispered in her ear, “just like that.”

Her breath stuttered, climbing up higher to the returning lump in your throat. It was always a marvel, the way that Wednesday was so incredibly responsive to you, your touch or your words. The hard catch of her lip between her teeth made you grin, and you reached out, tugging it free. You leaned in to kiss her forehead as you slipped your thumb in her mouth instead, your fingers never stopping.

“Wednesday.” She turned her glossy eyes towards you, and it was the closest you’d ever seen her to coming without really falling. “Let go.”

At your words, she gasped, and you could feel her cunt pulse around your fingers as she came. Her teeth bit into your skin and her eyebrows knitted together ever so gently—you loved to watch her come undone. She was all soft moans and flushed cheeks, open in a way that she hardly ever was otherwise. It unfurled something bright and warm in your chest, spreading out into your fingertips. You felt as hazy as she looked, the smell of her spilling into the air and undoubtedly lingering in your chest.

“That’s perfect, love, you’re so good for me.” You shushed her as she panted, eyes unfocused beneath her mussed fringe, but searing into yours. You continued your palm on her clit, holding her tight as her body stuttered. You moved your hand to cup her face, smoothing over unshed tears along her waterline.

“You’re…” Wednesday gave a low groan as you hit that sensitive spot inside of her again, none too gently.

“Yes,” you answered gently. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, won’t you?” She nodded, eager, as she pushed her hips into your hand, even though it made her whole body shiver.

“Fuck—”

You hummed in response, feeling her cunt open even easier now that she was impossibly wetter. As you worked a third finger into her, Wednesday’s spine went rigid, a whining, desperate sound you’d never thought you’d hear breaking from her throat. She grabbed your hand, and her palms were damp. Her grip on your wrist was tight, just as much keeping you from progressing as it was keeping you from pulling away. You leaned in by her ear. “Does it hurt?”

She gave a jerky nod, jaw clenched and lips parted. You would turn a storm on its head for those ways that Wednesday strayed from her control, especially when you were the one guiding that meandering path. Pressing the heel of your hand into her clit, you laughed, small and indulgent, as she clung tighter to you, a strained little cry escaping.

“Good girl, Wednesday… you’re taking it so well, aren’t you? You’re taking me so well, darling…” Fisting the front of her sweater in your hand, you pulled her off balance, tugging her close so her lips fell to yours, easy as breathing. Swallowing every single prized whimper that fell from her, you kissed her slow. Wednesday was already sensitive, but this was intense for even her, you could tell. Her breath came shakily against you as you pulled away, having smeared her lipstick to your content. Fingers sliding punishingly against her clit, your laugh rumbled low in your chest as she keened, soft and just a bit pleading.

“Very good, Wednesday, my love,” you coaxed. Her gasp, more like a sob, washed over you in a satisfaction that made you shudder. The slick from her previous orgasm clung to your hand, making it easy to keep up your punishing pace. Her tears shined like sea glass in her lashes, as devout to the cause of ruining her cheeks as the dusk outside was to darkness. You had no idea how much time had passed, only that if she asked, you’d stay right here with her until daylight again.

“I’m—” A whine rose from her throat, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You can do it, baby-” your thumb circled her clit as your fingers found their way impossibly deeper into Wednesday- “just for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she repeated, mindlessly. This world where Wednesday let herself trust you to take care of her was one you could live in, drown in, make your home in. You raised your hand to the juncture of her neck and jaw, heavy and comforting. Reminded of every time Wednesday had put her hand in that same place on you when you were on your knees in front of her, more intimate than anything, you tugged on her wrist, instantly missing her hold in your hair. Intertwining your fingers together, you held your hands together in between you and Wednesday.

Without a warning, her fingers tightened around yours, so hard that her knuckles turned white. You could see that how hard she came took her by surprise, too—eyes wide open and pupils blown. It was breathtaking, you thought, just how much tension was in her, all tense shoulders and choked cry. Her nails dug into your skin, her grip tethering you from dropping off with her. It stung, and you loved it, the maroon of your blood welling up just enough to smear her fingertips.

Wednesday’s head fell into the nape of your neck, nuzzling like she could find the world’s secrets in your skin. Hand still in hers, you wiped away the smeared burgundy around the corners of her mouth with your thumb pad, fingers lingering.

“That was devious,” she murmured, words blurring around each other.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled. She nodded, somewhat resolutely. You eased your fingers out, tucking them surreptitiously into your mouth. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Wednesday, but she only narrowed her eyes.

Even in her post-orgasm daze, Wednesday looked dangerous. Her fringe was all over the place, getting caught in her eyelashes, and you could finally attribute the pink in her cheeks to something a little more than the fogged up windows. Surely, this was heaven on earth, having Wednesday with you, steady as planetal orbit. You shifted her to sit sideways in your lap, making sure her knees didn’t burn from the leather. She was watching you, carefully. It was almost as if she was trying to memorize you, the studious way she looked at you, like she was the sole messenger for a world that wasn’t allowed to take you in. It made your heart pound, finally in accordance with your head. You let her take her time in your arms, rubbing her shoulders. The little press of her lips was back, something you had adored for something dangerously similar to ‘forever.’ She seemed content in a way she hardly ever was, the haze in her eyes clearing as she studied you.

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you,” she commented, not unkindly.

You looked down into Wednesday’s face, at the night air drifting through her hair again. You could feel the sting from the little crescent shaped marks that her nails left. It was a warm contrast to her cold hand in yours, clasped between you. “You changed me, Wednesday.”

wednesday: you have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul… i love, i love, i love you.

reader: huh?

a/n cont’d for those brave souls that made it this far: yes, wednesday’s dress has pockets. isn’t that wonderful?

I’m SO BAD at writing fluff. plus, reader is the most unreliable narrator to unreliably narrate. should’ve put “painfully oblivious” as a warning for part one too.

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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2K notes · View notes

halfmoonaria · 3 months

Text

stalker

pairing: jenna ortega & reader

summary: jenna can't help but watch you when you can't see.

words: 1.2k

warnings: stalking & sexual content.

Jenna didn't mean to watch you, honestly.

But your window was right in front of hers, and your curtains were always open; doing the opposite job and didn't cover your room at all.

The first time she noticed you was when she finally had a free day, which was unexpectedly super boring for her. She had nothing to do.

That's when you caught her attention.

You were walking around in your bedroom with barely any clothes on, technically half naked if you will. You were talking to someone on the phone, smirking and twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

You walked all around the room, not noticing the burning stare Jenna held on you for the whole time you were on the call.

At first Jenna had stood behind her curtain, only her eyes peeking out for her to see you. But when she noticed you didn't plan on catching her soon, she got braver; standing so her whole figure was visible. So she could see you better.

She only had one window to see you through, so unfortunately she couldn't see you when you were in the other rooms of your apartment. But that wasn't something she worried about, since you were in the bedroom almost every single time she began watching.

She knew it wasn't right, and she tried telling herself to stop. But ever since she saw you that first time, on the phone, barely any clothes on, she couldn't help herself. She was captivated by you, infatuated.

So she began to watch you almost every night. No matter what you were doing. She couldn't get herself to stop.

She had been lucky enough to watch you change almost every night. When you changed in the morning, when you changed at night or when you stripped to use the shower.

The thing that was taking her through the rough days of stunts and acting, was the fact that she would be able to watch you when she got home.

Eventually she had watched you so many times that she had learned your shower schedule and what time you used to go to bed at night.

There were a few nights where she would notice you going out in fancy clothes, she assumed that you were either going out on dates, or that you were going out to party and drink at some club.

She hadn't had the guts to follow you anywhere yet. She knew that paparazzi of some kind would find her, exposing herself if you noticed the flashing cameras.

But when you would arrive home again, late at night after those 'events', Jenna would watch you again. She had been so lucky that she would see you bring home all kinds of women and men as one night stands.

She would watch everything. From beginning to end. From the moment your clothes started dropping to when you were panting on the bed.

She enjoyed watching you with women the most, because she could think that it was her, that she was the one that was above you, pleasuring, preaching and worshipping you, that she was the one that undressed you, or that she was the one to kiss every inch of your body.

She would be different than all the other people you brought home with you.

Jenna had never heard your voice, your laugh, your personality or your moans. But she still felt like she knew everything about you. She knew your bedtime and morning routine, your favorite movie that she had seen you watch on repeat, and what lingerie you wore most of the times when you got laid.

Embarrassing as it was, Jenna had actually gotten off to watching you more than once. There were some days you didn't have to do much at all, and some days she did it when she caught you having sex with some random woman.

She couldn't help it. One second she was just sparing glances into your window, and the next her hand had slipped into her underwear without her noticing.

It's not like you were going to notice right? You were clearly busy with other things.

She had seen you masturbate twice. And it had been heaven. She could see everything so clearly, every moan, what you said and the movements you made.

Jenna had imagined that she was the one you were thinking about. She thought about it so much that it began to feel real.

She felt so dirty. She knew it was wrong. But she just couldn't get herself to stop. She had tried to distract herself so she wouldn't watch you, but it never worked, she always ended up looking anyway.

She had tried to go to sleep earlier; so that she wouldn't catch you and your one night stand pleasuring each other. But the thought of you doing something without her watching made it hard for her to sleep, so she always ended up standing at her window nonetheless.

Since you guys didn't live in the same building, she hadn't seen you 'in person' yet, which she was very happy about. Not that she didn't want to meet you, just that she wouldn't have a single clue what she was going to say or do, what she would act like.

How could she ever meet you knowing she had been watching you for months? She obviously wouldn't tell you, so that wasn't the problem. But knowing that she had been doing that without you knowing almost made her feel the need to throw up.

She knew it was wrong. Every single day she told herself the wrongs of it. But it was like an obsession, like a moth into flame, she knew how bad it was, but she couldn't stop. She just couldn't.

When she watched you she didn't feel like herself. She didn't care about the industry, the stunts and the long hours of working, she didn't care for any of it. All she could feel herself caring about was you, and the things that she could see you doing.

No matter how wrong she felt and knew it was, it felt too good to stop.

It pained for her to know that she would never be able to have you, let alone meet you.

She didn't know you. But watching you she could assume and tell that you had a rather simple life.

You didn't get work calls all the time that you had to be on for hours, you didn't have to record interviews with uninteresting questions and people, you didn't have to wake up at six am to go to set and film stunts that would leave you exhausted.

Your life seemed fun and exciting. You went out to clubs and out on dates, something Jenna couldn't even remember she had done in the last five years.

Your life was so much different than Jenna's, and that's why she knew that your paths would never cross, not even if she tried.

She wanted to stop so badly, the guilt was eating her alive. The fact that she watched you every single day, knowing how you were as a person, while you probably had no idea who she was or that she even lived near you.

She knew almost everything about you, and you knew nothing about her.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega smut #tara carpenter #mabel x reader #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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crazyoffher · 7 months

Text

THOUGHTS & PRAYERS.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: drunk at a party, it takes you more effort to calm jenna's actions than you expected.

warnings: smut (18+) — masturbation, strap-on referred to as “cock”, praise, teasing, small mention of light choking, finger sucking, nipple sucking, slapping (yippee!), shortly withheld orgasm, begging -> mentions of alcohol (drunk!jenna), weed, and use of vulgar language. dom!r + sub!j

word amount: 4700+

a/n: happy (very late 😭) birthday, wes :) @wesstars

“Maybe we should go, Jen.”

You tugged the short girl by her arm mindlessly, failing to remember her drunken, unstable frame of mind. She stumbled into you, her hands moving to stabilize herself on your chest with a sharp yelp of terror.

Your hands wrapped around her waist to keep her upright, sending fake smiles to those who eyed the two of you. “Sorry! This is what I mean, Jenna. You’ve had enough to drink; why don’t we call it a d-”

“No!” Jenna’s face buried itself into your chest for a split second, seemingly to catch her breath, before she pushed herself off you with a lazy grin. “I’m fine, love. Go,” she pushed your chest playfully, “and enjoy yourself for once! I’ll be by the table.”

Her speech slurred, and you reminded yourself to give a couple of her friends an earful later for getting her into that state. You watched with a sigh as she stumbled into the house's living room, shoulders tense from your worry, and you laughed at the irony of her words. She was the one causing you the stress she claimed you needed to get rid of, so how could she advise you to unwind?

You followed your feet to the backyard of the house, where the view of a softly illuminated pool area and the scent of the outdoors offered a welcome contrast to the raucous noise of people chatting loudly over booming music and the lingering smell of alcohol and marijuana (along with whatever else was circulating inside the house). The only break in the noise was the group of four people by the hot tub, engaged in animated and playful banter.

The pool shone as you grew closer to it, sitting down on the edge of it with your knees hugging up to your chest. You never liked loud things or partying, and everybody you met and knew found humor in it, as that was mainly what your entire acting career was built around. You couldn’t go a month without being dragged to a lousy party that consisted of at least one person trying to get you high, and hell, the only reason you went to the one you sullenly found yourself at currently was because of your girlfriend.

“Uh, hey.”

Your mind snapped away from your lost thoughts, and you turned to be met with a girl who gave you a delicate smile, wrapped in a towel with wet hair dripping down the top of her back and onto the covering fabric. “Can I sit with you?”

You only nodded, the tips of your fingers drumming along to a beat that played in your head, to try and disregard the half-naked girl beside you. She didn’t seem to be much of a bother, though, awaiting only the soft company that she felt you would provide.

“Not a talker, I suppose?” Her head quirked up from its formerly bent stature, turning with raised eyebrows in the hope that you’d answer her question, which you did. “Not really with people I meet, let alone a girl that seems to be naked underneath a towel.”

Her smile grew at the monotone joke you spurred, and she let out a mild breath to resemble the humor she found in it. It was only when she first sat down that you realized, from your peripherals, that there was no strap of a bra or bathing suit visible on her shoulders, and you almost knocked yourself in the head in a physical manner for not realizing sooner.

You questioned her. “Come on; aren’t you freezing? It’s like 45 degrees out.” Your neck craned away, feeling your tenses of shivers overcome you, and you pondered how the girl seemed unfazed by the chilly weather. “I grew up in Minnesota. I used to go skinny dipping in frozen lakes, so I think I’m good for this weather.”

Her speaking to you made you feel uneasy in a way, considering the lack of clothes she stood in and the thoughtless conversation she was advancing toward you. Jenna would undoubtedly give you an earful for even allowing her near you, but you shook the thought away at the girl's following words and the overcoming fact that Jenna was probably cornered by flirtatious men at that moment.

“Plus, this wasn’t even my idea.” She gestured to her covered body, and you picked up on the fact that she was referring to her lack of clothing. “It was my boyfriend's over there. Bet me around twenty bucks I couldn’t last in that volcano pool even in this weather, but that sucker quit before I was even getting started.”

Her finger stretched outward, pointing in the direction of a man covered in two towels, visibly shaking from the frostiness, and you let out a small snicker at the sight. Alright, maybe it wasn’t such a tense situation then, but you still couldn’t help but worry about Jenna in the back of your mind and whether you should go check on her.

As if the universe could read your mind, your phone buzzed with a custom ring that you had designed for Jenna’s messages, and the semi-naked girl's eyes widened at the sight of you practically clawing into your pants for the device. You pulled it out with strength, almost dropping it into the pool in the process, before hurryingly clicking on Jenna’s message.

Com gt me i thined ive hac enuh two drivnk

Where are you?

K154hen flerr

“What do you think this says?” You pointed your phone toward the girl, darted a finger at the most recent text sent by Jenna, and her eyes squinted in an attempt to decode. “Kitchen floor?”

“Bingo.” You rang, pulling yourself up from the concrete floor, and the girl held onto her towel as she managed to get on her feet. You darted your eyes between her and her boyfriend, who still sat there, wrapping a third towel around him that seemed to be for the remaining people in the hot tub, and you raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to go and retrieve my drunk girlfriend.”

“I might as well go with you,” she said as she adjusted the towel, turning to glance at her boyfriend. “I left his and my clothes in a room upstairs, and I think he needs his.”

“Be my guest.” You moved to the side, allowing the unnamed girl to go ahead, to which she sauntered, giving her boyfriend a warning of her temporary absence as she headed up the small hill to the back door with you trailing behind. The stench of weed and alcohol hit you like a flash flood, and you mentally recoiled at the stench that seemed to have grown stronger.

“Jenna?” You called out as you turned to the kitchen, swerving past girls and guys who were spilling their drinks, and you spotted the girl on the floor with a tired expression etched on her face. A smile grew on her lips at the sight of you, though it dropped almost immediately when her eyes met the semi-naked girl behind you, who whispered to you with curious eyes, “Hey, I think you forgot to mention you were dating Jenna Ortega.”

“Hey!” You lunged forward at Jenna’s attempt to stand up, holding the drunken girl in your grip when she stumbled on nothing but air, though that didn’t deter her attitude toward your new friend. “Keep away from my girlfriend!”

“Jenna,” you warned, sending the girl behind you a look of sorrow, to which she just nodded, “Relax, baby. You’re drunk, you know that?”

“Nuh-uh.” She pouted, clinging onto your torso in an iron-grip hug to try and divert you away from the girl, sending her looks of anger that she seemed to back up at. “I’ll go get my clothes.” She pointed to the stairs behind her all the while backing up, to which you nodded while trying to stabilize Jenna further.

“Yeah, leave, you whore!”

“Jenna!” You scolded her, and she muttered something incomprehensible before burying her face in your chest. You could smell the mixture of alcohol and her perfume, and that alone told you enough about her current state. “You got it?”

“Mhm.” She hummed when you had to pull her away from you and set her on her feet, only for her to take one step forward and crash into the table in front of her. You held back a laugh and put on a face of worry, pulling Jenna up only to see her laughing at her tumble.

Once more, she wrapped her arms around you and buried her face into your chest with a sigh, her drunken haze spurring more than just her inability to walk stably. “Do you know what I would love to do?” Her words were slurring, and she gave out a slight giggle at the end of her sentence, giving you a small idea of her next words.

“What is it?”

She spoke one word that you couldn’t comprehend before she giggled again, moving her face from your chest to raise herself an inch or two on the tips of her shoes, her lips grazing your ear as she spoke out a slurry, “For you to bend me over this table and fuck me raw for everybody to see.”

Your eyes widened immediately, and you felt a small burn in your stomach when her fanged teeth nibbled gently at your earlobe and her hands slid down your abdomen. You could only thank God and your alcohol-addicted party-thrower friend for managing to get 95% of the party attendees drunk out of their minds.

“Freaky and tempting,” you said, leaning into Jenna’s touch and watching a small grin tug its way onto her face, “but no.” And so you pushed her away, getting a small whine out of her while her hands bawled into fists on your shirt, trying to pull you closer to no avail.

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, your hand gripping the base of her right one as you tugged her along and out of the kitchen area. “Now come on. I can’t drive you home without the fear of you somehow making us crash, so you are going upstairs.” You pointed to the staircase that the two of you advanced toward, and Jenna let out a small giggle at the thought of you and her alone in a guest bedroom, her mind rushing to dirty thoughts.

It took a while, with emphasis on the ‘while’, to get Jenna up the stairs; her legs seemed to have forgotten how to raise themselves, so with multiple rounds of struggle, you ended up dragging her by her torso up the stairs while she laughed wildly. Your key plunged into the hole of the lock, cracking open the door with the small piece of metal your friend had gifted you when he first bought the mansion, seeing as he kept all his guest doors locked for privacy.

“Okay, ther- baby, no.” A grunt left your mouth when Jenna attempted to pull you down on the bed with her; a loud whine of her own left her mouth when you pulled away your hand that was formerly in her grip, trying to be pushed down into her crotch.

Her head dug into the bed, whining from the sexual denial you granted. “Why not?”

“I’m not going to touch you when you can’t give me a truthful form of consent, baby. I’ll be back.” You turned to the door, shaking your head at Jenna’s loud groan at the idea of your temporary departure. “We’re dating, for fucks sake! How much more consent could you need?”

With a slight hop in your step, you hurried down to the kitchen, where you had previously encountered chaos, to get water bottles with the intention of trying to sober Jenna up. You ran into your friend on the way back up, and he gave you a good laugh at your explanation regarding Jenna before approving your request to stay the night.

“Just don’t fuck in my bed, ‘aight?”

“I promise I won’t!” You meant it at the time, though your statement didn’t withhold itself later, to his demise.

“Jenna?- oh!” You shut the door behind you quickly, gulping at the sight of Jenna sprawled out on the bed, her pants long discarded on the edge of the bed along with her underwear, and her hand in between her legs. She moaned breathlessly, finding relief in rolling her hips into her hand, and she bit her lip to suppress a moan when she locked eyes with you.

“Please, baby, this isn’t enough.” She begged, her hand circling her clit with a sloppy pace, and her heaving breaths contracted her sentence. “Need you so bad, please.”

Your hand dove for the door handle from behind you, turning the lock, and that gave Jenna a glint of excitement; she’d finally get what she desired and-

“No, and drink these.” You put your hand up, referring to the four water bottles that you managed to stack into a single hand, before walking forward to set them down on the nightstand beside the bed.

Jenna’s hand retracted from her clit, the nub throbbing with need, and she pulled herself up with the remaining strength that held her to sit on the edge of the bed, facing you. “I can see it,” and even through the slurs, her voice still sounded like honey, “You want it too, and this is me giving you my co-consent, or whatever the hell it is you want.” Her arms stretched forward, grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you flush against her, hands snaking to your bottom half with an erratic shiver from you.

“Please,” Her thighs managed to encapture your left leg, and she wasted no time in thrusting her hips into your clothed body, a burning sensation pooling its way back into her stomach. “Fuck, I need you, ri-what the-?”

She yelled out in shock, pulling away from you and moving to wipe off the liquid you had thrown at her face. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?”

You sighed, closing the cap of the now half-empty water bottle before throwing it toward her. “Is that bringing you to life, finally?”

“I’m not drinking this.” She argued, throwing it toward you just for you to deflect it and toss it back in her lap. It only took the look in your eye for Jenna to open the bottle and start drinking, shrinking under your dead gaze and dribbling water on herself.

She maneuvered around on the bed in discomfort from both her wet shirt and her aching clit, moving to discard her shirt. Jenna’s body was breathtaking, and she still found hope that she’d get what she desired most when you couldn’t tear your eyes off of her perky breasts no matter how hard you tried, eyes darting back and forth to try and not make it obvious, but she could see right through you.

“(Y/N),” she whispered, her words like silk, and you turned your head to meet her gaze. “Please.”

Her voice, formerly smooth, had turned desperate, her thighs rubbing against one another to find a sense of relief, and she whimpered at the small senses of pleasure while making eye contact with you. You practically drooled at the sight of her completely naked, desperate for your touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold off.

“Jenna?” Her head shot up at your voice, the same sense of desperation lingering in her eyes and through the small whimpers that left her mouth. “What’s your last name?”

“Ortega. Is that good enough confirmation for you now?” Her voice grew in angst, becoming more deterred by each moment you left her naked, completely vulnerable, in front of you.

“Alright.”

You sighed, and before Jenna could comprehend what you had said, you were on top of her with your legs entrapping her thighs, pulling her into a brutal kiss that she immediately reciprocated. Her hands roamed your body, sliding underneath your shirt to feel the way your muscles contracted under her touch, sending excessive shivers down your back that she ached to deepen.

In a merciless grind against your clothed core, Jenna's hands dug down to your belt, only to be slapped away and repositioned above her head, linked together as your hand bound them with your wrist. Her back met the bed, and you wasted no time in angling her head to the side with your other hand to sink your teeth into her neck flesh, like a vampire, to create a later painful and dark hickey—a marking.

“Fuck.” She moaned out, eyes shut, with a whimper to follow at the piercing mania. As you felt up her waist, your fingers trailed along the center of her body before you licked her neck, moving your hand per the arch her back made. Jenna’s fingers dug into your scalp, pulling you closer to her neck while she resumed her hip movement.

“Come here,” you whispered, removing yourself from Jenna. A whine fell from her lips until she was directed onto your waist, her breasts jumping straight in your face, and you sneered in satisfaction. Your hands ran up and down the outline of her body, feeling the way her body curled inward from her perfect figure, and you always made sure to acknowledge it.

Your eyes traced from where your hands led before meeting her gaze with a tilt of your head, and how your eyes looked oh-so innocent drove Jenna’s mind wild, a drastic comparison forming from her desperate, needy eyes. She followed your eyes as you moved your head forward, taking a nipple into your mouth, sucking on it feverishly. You relished the way Jenna reacted: a loud moan, head flying back, and her hands digging into your scalp to push you further into her, if possible.

“Agh- fuck!”

The contact itself wasn’t all that pleasurable, but the recognition that it was your mouth on her body was enough to send her mind spiraling. She was too swept up in the lust, acting as if she had never experienced one’s touch, to pay attention as your fingers slid into the tiny space between her core and your waist until one of your fingers bumped against her clit. A loud gasp erupted from her, and her hips immediately ground down into your hand.

“Baby, no,” you warned, but she didn’t stop her movements, pushing and rolling her hips into your hand to gain sensational pleasure. Boldly, she reached both her hands down to grasp at yours and push it further into her core, but her plan would not succeed by itself.

You pushed your body forward, leading Jenna’s movements to a halt in a collapsed state. Now resuming the position on her back, she let out a whine that grew into a loud yelp when your hand met her dripping pussy with a harsh smack. “I said no; you got that?”

When she didn’t reply, you sent another smack to her pussy that made her legs shake, a blissful whine erupting from her, and she nodded her head eagerly. “Yes!”

“Good girl,” you purred, leaning your weight down to give her a chaste kiss on the lips. Your fingers lingered on her cheek, running their tips along her jawbone, before you withdrew your hand to deliver a light smack to the skin, compelling Jenna to groan and bite her lip. “You’ll never realize how mad you drive me.”

Jenna’s eyes widened when she felt a hard surface rut against her dripping core, drowning the surfacing fabric of your pants in her slick, and she bit back moans at the slow pace you ground on her. “You’ve had that the whole night?”

“I didn’t expect you to get drunk, baby,” your thumb encircled her lips, “and I didn’t want to do anything else tonight but fuck you rough in that pool outside, but this will do.”

Jenna sucked on your finger when you inserted it in her mouth, running her tongue up and down the skin, and it gave you a purposeful reminder of how she’d suck off your strap-on any day, her knees constantly bruised from the wooden flooring she’d kneel on while whoring out her mouth for your cock.

The imagery that flashed through your mind made you drive your thumb inside her deeper while your other hand worked at your belt, taking off the leather lining to release the grip it had on your waist. Instead of unbuttoning the clothing article, you simply unzipped it to open the crotch and wasted no time in pulling out the silicone material, pushing the tip against Jenna’s clit to send her mind spiraling.

She let out pitiful moans as you continued to finger-fuck her mouth, ‘accidentally’ pushing the silicone tip further into her clit and making her hips buck up in desperation, and her teary, doe-eyed pupils looked up at you with silent pleads. You enjoyed the view more than anything; finding Jenna underneath you, so needy and ready for your cock, was a sight people yearned for, but only you could ever get it.

“You want it, hm?” Your hips drew forward with a stern smirk growing on your lips, swiftly entering the tip halfway into her before snapping your hips back, and Jenna bit at your thumb. The hair that covered her face in her disheveled state jumped up as she nodded her head eagerly, finding difficulty in begging when your thumb was knuckle-deep in her mouth, tickling at her throat.

“I can tell; you’re practically drooling, baby.” A dribble of spit was rolling down her chin, and you knew it was solely because of your thumb shoved deep into her mouth, but why waste a perfect opportunity for teasing? It’d be so unlike you.

With a loud pop and a string of saliva attached, you removed your thumb from Jenna’s mouth, and she let out sharp breaths that soon grew into whines of discomfort. Her whines grew heavier as she started to grind her hips into your cock, her head flung back, and her hands gripped the bedsheets with intense strength while she tried to bring herself to orgasm from just grinding on you.

“No, alright? Can you hear me this time?” You pushed down on her hips in an attempt to still them, but your words only fell on deaf ears. Her movements were unwavering, and she pressed herself against you while whining louder and louder. Her back arched, and her nipples hardened from the intensity of what she was feeling, all the while disobeying your command purposefully just so she could feel something.

A shaky moan escaped her lips when your hand brought itself forward for a harsh smack to her breast, immediately taking two fingers to tug at her nipple afterward and leaving Jenna to choke for air. “What, you can’t fucking listen to me? I said no.”

Jenna never got her chance to apologize insincerely, flaring her mouth with the expectation of words to come out, but the only thing that left those plump lips was a high-pitched moan at the unexpected movement of you sinking your entire cock into her. Despite having no neural connection with the silicone that drove your girlfriend crazy, you could feel Jenna stretch around it, and the acknowledgment alone could have left you braindead.

“Fuck,” you groaned, finding pleasure in the dumbed-up expression on Jenna’s face alone, “taking me so fucking well. I can almost feel you, baby; it’s driving me insane.” Your hips retracted with no intention of slowing down, finding enjoyment in the tormented countenance that shone on Jenna, the pain and pleasure mixture practically splattering on her face.

You thrust along at a moderate speed, holding Jenna’s waist and upholding her slightly to drive your cock deeper into her, forming her into a moaning mess in a matter of seconds. Even through the loud music booming from outside the room, your attention was focused on the breathtaking girl in front of you, all submissive and so needy for you with those pleading whines that left her mouth, mindlessly begging you to go faster.

“Yeah, want me to go faster, hm?” Jenna’s head perked up at your inquiry, bobbing back and forth in a wordless answer, and you gripped her nipple tight once more. “You have a voice. Use it.”

She let out a whiny “please” before reaching up to grasp your hand that was around her breast for support, discreetly trying to roll her hips further into your cock. “I said to stop doing that.” You tugged at her nipple upward, farther than last time, and Jenna let out a shriek at the shock of pain that inflicted her. “A simple please won’t get you anywhere; you want to act like a whore tonight? Then beg like one.”

The only thing that left her lips was a grunt when you snapped your hips forward, bottoming into her with a single movement, and the slowed retraction of your hips was enough to get her going. “Fuck, please, baby! I need you so bad…” Her words droned out in a sobbing tone, throwing her head back in disoriented whines. “Need you deep in me right now. Please.”

You bent down to give her a kiss of appreciation before driving your hips deep inside her. A girthy moan left her lips that turned into high-pitched moans when you thrust faster into her, holding on to her hips for support. You met her eyes, melting in the way they looked up at you with a combination of gratitude and pleasure. Oh, how she looked so pretty under you.

Your pace grew faster by the second, sweat beads forming at the edge of your hairline while your hand dove down, rubbing Jenna’s aching clit. Her back arched up almost immediately, letting out a moan that you’d be surprised nobody heard even through the music that played through the house, droned out between the two of you behind the locked door. Your eyes lingered on the way her thighs started to tremble and the way her breaths grew heavier between moans, making you smirk in satisfaction.

“God, I wish I could feel you, ‘cause I know that you would feel so good.” You breathed, unintentionally letting out a small moan that was soon discarded from Jenna’s mind when you snapped your hips roughly, sending her mind spiraling. “You’re close, hm? Think you can hold it off for a little, baby?”

“I-I’m not sure,” she managed to say, her mind dumbing down when your hand slithered up her chest to squeeze lightly at her neck. Her pleasure increased with each passing second, and her cunt ached for a release that she knew she could not grant without making you angry at her for disobeying.

“Just a little longer, okay?” You reassured her, not failing to notice the way your movements became more restricted. Jenna’s walls tightened to hold back her orgasm, which desperately ached against the walls of her cunt. Her breathing labored as her hands clawed their way up to your shoulders, pushing you down and against her to hook her thighs on your hips.

Her head leaned into the crook of your neck, filthy moans leaving her mouth instantly when you spewed out the words, “Cum for me,” and so she did. As she rose to her high, your hands dove to her back, arms encircling her torso. With each passing second, her body trembled increasingly, until the only sensation left for your hands to hold onto was the feeling of her labored breathing.

One of your hands made its way to her chest, dipping between the small gap of her breasts to settle over her heart, soothing the area with your thumb while you directed her breathing to try and ease her mind. “Are you okay?”

She only nodded her head, her hands sliding their way up to the back of your head to pull you in for a deep kiss, showcasing her appreciation despite her former misbehaving antics. You gave her a solemn smile, rehooking both your hands on the small of her back to push her onto your lap. Your back met the headboard, and Jenna’s head dipped down to give you one more kiss. Shivers ran down her spine when your breath tickled her ear.

“Think you can give me one more?”

☟

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