#wednesday netflix

[bebx]

not to be dramatic but Ke Huy Quan deserves the world

[animentality]

[prefer-to-be-vilified]

Enid: Wednesday you look so pretty! Where’d you get that dress? Is it vintage?

Wednesday: My twice great aunt was buried in it.

Enid: …so def’s vintage then.

Wednesday: She massacred a small village and was rumoured to partake in cannibalism before being stabbed to death by her gay lover. I dug the dress up myself. I’m hoping she’ll come back and use my body as a vessel for her revenge.

Enid: All I’m hearing is she was a gay icon. Tell me if you do get possessed though. I don’t want to kiss you and have it actually be your crazy dead aunt.

Wednesday: Don’t be foolish. I cannot speak to you while she’s in possession of my body, Enid.

Enid: Fine. Then I’m gonna do it on purpose. Do you think she’s a good kisser?

Wednesday:

Wednesday: I’ll leave her a threatening note.

[gmarseln]

*playing twister*

Yoko: Right hand red

Wednesday, now completely on top of Enid: You're doing this on purpose aren't you.

Yoko: I stopped spinning fifteen minutes ago. The fact it took you this long to notice..

[ivetried27nameswhataboutthis1]

Wednesday: Can I ask you something?

Enid: Of course.

Wednesday: Why do you want to hit me?

Enid: What? I don’t.

Wednesday: Really? Because I overheard you talking about me to Yoko and you said ‘I’d hit that’.

Enid: Oh…I don’t…I mean…I was just…Oh no

Wednesday: You okay?

Enid: I suddenly desire an early death.

[wednesdayorwhatever]

Enid: Ask me why I love you.

Wednesday:

Wednesday: Why do you love me, Enid?

Enid: *pulls out a 200-slide-presentation*

Enid: I’m glad you asked!

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— HER

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!reader

warnings: sexual themes, friends with benefits, unrequited love, slight angst (turns fluffy at the end), all characters are aged-up

summary: you're a distraction to wednesday - she's an addiction to you. both can't quit each other. all you need is one more day with her

word count: 2k

“Please.”

“No.”

It’s been two times already. Two times you’ve made her back arch prettily, made her fingers tighten in your hair painfully. Two times you’ve felt like you’ve stopped breathing with the way she sighed shakily, the shortness of her breath a clear sign that you’ve done a good job.

And yet she still looks on edge – not in the good way. And she still isn’t letting you touch her.

She swats your hands away when you reach to touch her thighs, wanting to soothe the girl in her fragile post-orgasmic state. She doesn’t try and move from where she sits on your sternum though. You don’t mind – she’s so small you can barely feel her weight. But it’s grounding. It’s nice and warm.

“You’re so beautiful...”

The ravenette lets out an angry sigh, one you’re very much familiar with, her nostrils flaring slightly. It’s one of the few little things about her that indicate her mood, and you’re proud to call yourself somewhat of an expert in the most complex discipline that is Wednesday’s emotions.

You tell yourself it’s because of the experience no one else in that field of work ever had – the experience of seeing Wednesday like this, her blouse unbuttoned, her tie hanging loosely between her breasts, her dark fringe slightly messy. Her breath slightly shaky, despite all her attempts to keep her composure.

It’s good to think about. It’s a relief, even though she’s seldom ever undressed whenever you meet like this – not a surprise, considering how there was barely any foreplay when she shoved you onto the bed, hungrily staring you down. But never looking at you. Not really.

“Is it me on your face that’s going to take to get you to stop talking?” She asks, dark eyes squinting, and reaches a hand down to wipe some of her slick off your bottom lip with her thumb, “Because I will gladly take it for a ride. Again. If you don’t stop talking.”

You chuckle, closing your eyes, and let your head hang back against the pillow for a moment.

This doesn’t seem like an empty threat. Wednesday is a type of person to overstimulate herself just to prove a point – not to mention she would enjoy that immensely.

You open your mouth, a bit snarky – but quite flattering – comment ready on your tongue, but Wednesday is grabbing the headboard in a death grip, soft stocking-clad thighs closing around your ears, almost muffling her words, and the smell of her encompasses your whole being.

“I told you to stop.”

It’s not the first time, you think, and it won’t be the last, as she pushes you against the door, her lips on yours — hot, aggressive, feverish. She uses the small gasp you let out as permission, and you use her hands on your hips as leverage, afraid that the rush of her passion might sweep you off your feet in a very much literal way.

Something is clearly bothering her.

You press your hands into her small shoulders, push her gently to look at her. She’s fighting back, but you overpower her still — overpowering yourself is a feat though when Wednesday looks at you through dark half-lidded eyes, pupils blown and the thick layer of burgundy smudged on her mouth. You can bet it’s smudged on yours, too, and a fuzzy feeling takes over for a moment — you like being marked by her.

You do get ahold of yourself, despite how much you want to pull her back into you.

“Hey,” you call out, breathless, “Shouldn’t we maybe talk about it?”

Wednesday huffs, tightens her hold on you.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her hands slither under your shirt, caressing your ribs.

“And I don’t want you talking either. The only sounds I want leaving your mouth are those of pleasure. And of my name.”

You feel the pit in your stomach deepen before she fills it with herself.

This isn't what you were expecting when Wednesday asked you to meet her in Xavier's shed after class. If you were being honest, the mere thought of stepping foot in the dilapidated hideout of the tortured artist revolted you, let alone the thought that the girl herself must've been in there countless times.

But she said it was important. It was about the case.

There is clear evidence, she says. The victims’ belongings. His latest work – Dr. Kinbott, the therapist, her face sliced into ribbons – done not in the perspective of a simple witness. But of the killer.

Despite the answers laid out before her, finally, completely obvious, Wednesday suddenly lets a different obsession get ahold of her.

Her plump lips move to your neck, and you crane it to the side, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, letting her eager mouth slip lower to press quick but strong kisses that have you gripping at the edge of the table, lest you lose your footing at her forcefulness. Cold digits slither under your tie to undo it, and you open your eyes.

Your gaze lands on Wednesday – though not the one hastily undressing you right now, but the monochrome figure frozen on her stool, firm and precise hand sliding the bow against the strings of the cello.

There is slight resemblance, you think, as you stare at the canvas. In her frown, in the way her brows furrow in concentration.

It fills your blood with burning jealousy.

It’s powerful enough to have you immediately sobering up from the euphoric feeling of the ravenette’s canines nibbling at your collarbone – you grasp at her hips, pushing her away, and before the girl can protest, you turn around, pulling her up to sit at the table you were pressed into moments ago.

An evil thought crosses your mind – you find yourself wanting Thorpe behind bars, hyde or not.

You’re pretty sure no one would miss him. You know you wouldn’t.

In your fierce movements the girl’s shoulder bumps into the easel, and the wretched canvas falls on the floor with a loud slam, face down.

Good fucking riddance. The picture was making you sick.

She doesn’t pay the sound any attention, too preoccupied with your lips on her mouth, your hands squeezing her thighs – she knits her brows, completely taken aback by how aggressive and assertive you’ve suddenly gotten. Her palms cup your neck, recollecting herself just a few moments before you pull away, feverishly reaching down to hike her skirt up, tracing your nails up her inner thigh.

A shiver runs down your spine when Wednesday whispers your name.

Why were you feeling like this? She has never been yours in the first place.

But she is. At least for the moment, you think, as she sighs into your ear breathily when the pads of your fingers brush against her heat. The sound is almost enough to overlap the burning feeling in your veins that turns your blood green.

This is like clockwork. Like part of a routine, a schedule, one that Wednesday follows rigidly every single week, never allowing any holdups getting in her way.

You. On your back, in her bed. Taking her. Every single Friday.

By that time all the stress is usually gathered in her essence, pressing into her back, into the back of her eyes. Weighing her down.

So Wednesday takes you every single Friday evening. It’s the perfect day, when the annoyingly noisy werewolf is out and she can relieve her stress with no interruptions. No holdups.

None except for the way your hands reach for her face, trying to tug her down, closer to you. It’s starting to bother the ravenette.

She grabs your palms, lacing her fingers with yours, and presses them back against the bed above your head. You’d easily break out of her hold any day, but right now you’re a complete mush under her. Panting, frustrated. Simply looking at you like this brings her a surge of pleasant high, one that, in her book, could be compared to cracking open a freshly dug-out coffin.

Except corpses never want to kiss her as badly as you do.

“Keep them there,” she mutters, freeing her left hand to trail it back down your body, “Or I’ll stop.”

The words are half-hearted, of course. She’d never stop. She enjoys this too much.

You reply with a whine, and she smirks slightly, her gaze leaving your face for the sake of following her own hand where it brushes down your stomach.

“There we go,” she smiles at the arch of your back, at the gasp you let out when her hand dips in between your thighs, cold fingers brushing your heat where you’re warm and wet, “Obedience feels good, doesn’t it?”

Her manicured digits sink into your heat – you groan, legs wrapping around her waist to pull her into you at least in some way. She clicks her tongue.

Disobedience will be torture, but she can’t really blame you. You’d do anything to feel close to her. To feel wanted by her, at least like this.

You’re as desperate as she is, even if it’s for a complete different reason.

So she turns a blind eye when you free your hands to grab her by the face, lips meeting hers in a desperate kiss, allowing her to swallow your moans as her fingers find a steady pace.

Tonight is... unusual. There was no rush. No hurried hands, no commands spat in the heat of the moment, no irritated glares. She didn’t even seem aggravated by anything, a softness in her eyes you certainly aren’t used to as she watched you unravel under her.

She was slow, taking her time, letting you savor the feeling of her hands, her tongue. Letting you savor her. Knowing Wednesday, you’d think there was a catch. If there was one, you were completely oblivious to it. Numb to any scheme she could’ve planned, the fondness of her touch like a shot of lidocaine to your anxious being.

Her fingers are gingerly tracing the outlines of your hipbone, almost lovingly so, and you let yourself get lost in the bliss of her touch, one that’s not inherently sexual for once. In the bliss of your own delusions.

You shudder when Wednesday brushes an especially sensitive bundle of nerves on your hip, the muscles of your thigh contracting under the skin, and she smooths her palm against it to calm you down. Her lips are at your ear, shushing you gently.

It’s a bit chilly in the room. The discolored part of the big circle-shaped window is open, letting in the fresh air of the early spring night, and the contrast of it to your body still hot from her ardent fervor is quite palpable.

Wednesday notices it, too. Moves to carefully drape her soft blanket over your legs.

Her hand doesn’t cease its movements, tracing mindless shapes over your thigh, and you give up on the idea of trying to decipher them because the warm, tranquil wave rising in your heart and trickling down your body silences your every single thought. The rational ones, too.

The ravenette’s plush mouth presses against your naked shoulder in a soundless, feather-light kiss. Her palm finally comes to a halt on your hip, and she sighs tenderly with what you can only hope, can only beg, is content.

You wonder if you really are delusional. Because, much like her gentle lips resting on your skin, Wednesday stays.

[liv45no]

Enid: Weeeeens?

Wednesday: I already told you, I am not gonna sing you to sleep again.

Bianca: Sing her to sleep?

Xavier: again??

[daydream-cement]

Dinner Mix-Up

Larissa Weems x Reader

This is a super special birthday story for my wifey @funky--lesbian. She was the one who gave me the idea and I'm simply writing it out for her. It was so wonderful meeting you IRL Tuesday <3

She had been insanely busy. So busy that she was coming home late in the evenings, long after you retired to bed. In the mornings, she left before you woke, needing to get into the office before she had any students cause trouble during the moments she slept. You could tell Larissa was running herself into the ground.

With the arrival of the Addams’ girl and her family, not to mention the beast on the loose, Larissa was at wit's end with the school year. Time and time again, you tried reminding yourself that this semester was one of the worst the headmistress had ever seen, but you couldn’t help but feel forgotten about, in a way. She was always so tired and completely unwilling to share the burden with you, making it nearly impossible to support your girlfriend. 

Two days prior, you waited up for her, watching her trudge into the bedroom, strip herself of her clothes, and crawl into bed. Sleepily, you gather her into your arms and gently dance around your feelings as you pull the pins from her hair, “I missed you so much today, darling. I wondered if you would like to go on a date with me on Friday?” 

“Mhmm... I would love that. I miss you.” Larissa hummed, happy to have her hair loosened and her face buried into your chest. 

“How about that sweet little Italian restaurant that just opened in Burlington?” You scooch yourself down in bed, keeping your arm around her. The two of you had been dating for years, Larissa always keeping you level-headed while you helped her find peace on her craziest of days. 

You could tell she was on the verge of sleep from how her breathing began to slow just a bit, her grip around you loosening a tad, “Mmokay, darling... I’ll call tomorrow for reservations...” 

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you too...” She mumbled back, nuzzling her face into you before going still. You knew it would be just a few moments before she was sleeping, which made you smile in the fact that she was at peace. Even this short conversation was making you feel closer to Larissa, settling many of your worries about the two of you growing apart.

Well, that was until you got to the restaurant and waited... and waited... and waited. 

You sat in the restaurant like a fool for over an hour. Larissa hadn’t even bothered to call or respond to any of your attempts at communication. 

At first, you drove home fuming, ready to give Larissa Weems a piece of your mind upon returning home, but when you entered and Larissa was nowhere to be found, you broke down. You couldn’t help yourself when you curled up on the couch and wept as Larissa had absolutely broken your heart. 

Was a relationship just too much for Larissa right now? Perhaps Larissa was reminded of her old feelings for her roommate with Parents Weekend two weekends ago? Or maybe she didn’t really mean it when she said she loved you? There was always the chance she was saying it out of habit and it had lost all meaning to her. 

All of your ruminating had you spiraling. Your whole body shook from the sobs and the decorative pillow on the couch was soaked with your tears. How could you and Larissa have fallen this far? You would do anything to make her love you as she once had. 

The front door opened with a jolt, Larissa slamming it behind herself when she saw your form sitting on the couch. With her deep rapid breaths and the way her eyes narrowed in on you, she was in an absolute rage, “Where were you?!”

“Where was I?! Where have you been? What is wrong with me?” You began to verbalize your spiraling, shouting straight back at your girlfriend, deeply conflicted by your feelings of anger and sadness, “I just don’t know what I can do to make you love me! I can- I can be different. I can change. What do you want from me? Do you want me to be more like Morticia? I’ll do whatever you want... Please... I love you...”

“Nothing is wrong with you! I just waited like a fool for hours and you didn’t show up!” Larissa circled the couch and dropped onto the cushion next to you, ready to argue. Her brows furrow at the mention of Morticia’s name, the sight of you weeping so openly bringing tears to the woman’s eyes, “I don’t know why you even mention her! I love you, not her.”

“What do you mean I didn’t show up? You didn’t show up!”

“I was sitting there at a beautiful, romantic, candlelit dinner waiting for you! You are the one who bothered not to show!”

“Candle-lit? The place isn’t that fancy! Don’t pretend you were there!”

“It’s a five-star restaurant! What do you mean it isn’t fancy?” Larissa’s tears were fading into a cry-laugh, her anger fading into an amused confusion. She reached into her coat pocket, pulling a handkerchief to dab at your tears. 

You spoke with a slight shake to your voice, “We went to different restaurants... Didn’t we?” Her soft laughter began to make you laugh, coming to realize that you had been at different restaurants, standing one another up while being stood up. Larissa’s beautiful hand reaching out, coming to grasp your face.

You dove forwards, wrapping your arms around Larissa’s middle, and felt her arms hold you tight. Her tone was thick with regret, “I think we did.” 

“I’m sorry, Riss...” You mumbled into her neck, the floodgates had opened and all of your emotions were ready to come pouring out. There was so much you had kept from Larissa during the previous months and now you were ready to divulge it all with her. 

“Honey, it was just one big misunderstanding...” Your girlfriend attempted to soothe you once more, hand to the back of your head as she cooed to you, worried you still felt guilt for the switch-up. 

Gripping her a little tighter, you crawled into Larissa’s lap, spilling your heart to the woman before you in hopes she could come to understand all that you had been feeling, “No... I’m sorry that life has just been so much recently. I’m sorry you are overworked and that I can’t do anything to help you.”

“Darling...” Larissa gathered your face in her hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “You keep me sane. Coming home to you each night... Just seeing you in bed waiting for me is... everything. From all of this, the one thing I’ve realized is how I can’t live without you.”

Her words were an incredible comfort to hear as you returned the sentiment, “I can’t live without you. I love you so much, Larissa.” You turned your face into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, your eyes not leaving hers. 

The headmistress chuckled, shaking her head as you hadn’t quite understood where she was going with her thoughts. Her hands on your face dropped, one coming to grasp your hand while the other reached into her jacket pocket, her gaze was more intense this time, “No... Darling... I truly cannot live without you.” 

You finally understood when your eyes gazed down and saw the small box at Larissa’s fingertips. The beating of your own heart became rapid as you could hardly comprehend what was happening in this moment. After all of this, all of the pain and heartache you put yourself through, your girlfriend, your love, your everything wanted to marry you. 

“Rissa...?” You questioned, still not able to fully understand how she could be proposing after all of this. 

“Marry me... Please. I can’t live without you.” Larissa wasn't quite asking as much as she was pleading with you. She needed to know you would be by her side always. To be her peace and bring her sanity in the darkest times of her job. 

You must have confused the woman as you shook your head ‘no’ out of pure disbelief, but your words quickly countered your actions, “Yes, yes, a million times yes.” Rather than put the ring on your finger, you dove into Larissa’s arms, tackling her to the couch and pressing a deep, loving kiss to her lips. 

Tonight had been a rollercoaster, but you knew Larissa had been your rock and now she would be until death do you part. 

[sw-33-ts-stuff]

Okay okay okay but imagine y/n is like a werewolf but a cat if that makes sense? And as a cat they get cuddly, purr and just really loving. Especially when it's towards Wednesday 😏 They aren't together but you can tell there's feelings there... The purring low-key gives it away. When they're alone (the writing hour) the cat gets cuddly

Oooo it’s been a minute 😭😭 I hope I did this right for you

3rd Person POV

Enid watched as a black cat strode confidently from the balcony into her room, settling itself by her roommates typewriter.

She glanced at her watch knowing she would soon come in for her usual writing hour. The cat stretched licking its paws as if it had just finished a delicious feast.

We did just have dinner.

The werewolf suddenly felt her brows furrow realizing the cat may not just be a cat. She sniffed the air trying to place the scent when Wednesday waltzed in.

Her eyes quickly falling to the dark creature on her desk. She walked up slowly nuzzling under its chin as it began to purr.

Enid felt her eyebrows raise at the sight, Wednesday and affection were two things she didn't think ever went together.

"Enid your need for useless gossip should be able to tell me who this cat belongs to." She looked to the taller girl who shrugged in return.

"Never seen it until now but I'll ask around I'm sure someone's wondering where it is."

Wednesday sat at her desk chair slightly pushed back as the creature plopped itself right on her lap.

Wednesday paused slightly glaring at the cat.

"You're getting far too comfortable." Yellow eyes just slowly blinked back at her before softly kneading it's paws creating a nest on her lap. Enid almost cooed at the sight of it.

The goth rolled her eyes as she adjusted herself.

"I refuse to let you interrupt my writing so either get lost or don't move." The cat purred slightly as if letting her know it understood.

She blew out a breath before the usual sound of fingertips hitting keys filled the room, Enid's headphones already on as Thing read on of her magazines on her bed.

.

.

.

Wednesday walked into the Weathervane her usual booth occupied by an intruder. She felt her gaze harden at the sight of them. They sat tall as they'd glanced to the book on the table, slender fingers picking up a glass cup and sipping slowly as if they didn't plan to leave any time soon.

"Howdy roomie let's-" Enid blanched at the sight of someone sitting in their usual booth. She already knew that Wednesday was not one for abrupt changes to her routine. She glanced to the girl putting a hand up before she walked towards you.

"Hi." She looked down suddenly realizing you were wearing the same uniform she was. Her eyebrows furrowed as she suddenly lost her train of thought.  "I haven't seen you around school?"

You looked up to the werewolf eyes shining in recognition. "I like to keep to myself."

She nodded. "So if you wouldn't mind this is Wednesday and I's usual booth and-"

"I am more than happy to share-"

"Y/n." Wednesday interrupted the both of you.

Enid grew more confused. "You two know each other?"

You nod to the fur as you go to elaborate, Wednesday cutting you off. "We share a few classes together."

Enid watched the two of you interact and felt the gears in her head begin to turn. She looked to Wednesday's face once more realizing there was something underneath the usual look of indifference and slight agitation. She watched her eyebrows for a second to see if they would give any indication to what she was feeling but found none. She then looked to her eyes not a glare but still not happy, set firmly in its usual deadpan. Her lips the usual frown-

Wait a minute.

She found her cheeks weren't as pale as they usually are and almost gasped out loud as she saw Wednesdays eyes weren't holding your gaze but slowly scanning over you.

"I was just telling Enid I'm more than happy to share the booth with you both."

Enid watched you next and found your hands had a slight shake to them as you placed your cup back down.

"I suppose that will be acceptable." Her neck snapped to the smaller girl who began to settle into the seat across from you. She sat next to Wednesday who scowled.

Wednesday began to take out the book she was reading as you continued on as if nothing changed. At least that's how it would look to anyone else, Enid watched as you would glance to Wednesday when she wasn't looking eyes dilating to the point your irises were overshadowed like, like-

Enid sniffed the air subtly before realization hit her like a truck. She glanced to her roommate to find her staring at you from over her book and shook her head in amusement.

Maybe she’ll let her figure this one out on her own.

Taglist: @alexkolax

[ghostlynachopanda]

Hurtful Words

a/n: I tried angst so i put this one into Grammarly and it told me it was ass. I believe it, but I went through the effort of writing it so you get to suffer too. Here’s this one pals

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

words: 1.6k

~~~

Wednesday hadn't realized just how much you were integrated into her daily routine. She refused to acknowledge the feeling of loneliness that came with your absence. Wednesday was simply too prideful to admit it; and because of that, Wednesday was miserable.

She hadn't meant for those words to come out of her mouth — no, she didn't mean for them to affect you the way they did. You were supposed to be used to Wednesday's words, you were supposed to know she never meant you any harm. But the way her words were carved out of pure anger and hatred made it feel like it was directed only at you. That scared you.

After she had said those few sentences you walked out. You had originally planned to let her emotions settle before going back to talk to her — but the more you thought about going back the more those words echoed in your head. The longer you thought about what she had said the more your heart broke. So, you decided on the only logical thing you could think of, avoiding Wednesday Addams.

Wednesday knew. She knew what went wrong, knew she should outwardly apologize to you. However, she also knew she wasn't good with words or displaying emotions. So, she settled on showing you she was sorry.

The next morning Wednesday went to the cafeteria a little early, rehearsing things she could possibly say when you showed up. She was one of the first to go through the lines, grabbing the things she wants and grabbing the cereal you preferred. She sat in your usual spot, eyes trained on the entrance, waiting for you to walk in and come greet her so she could give you the cereal as an apology.

Wednesday was halfway through her food when she realized you were taking longer than usual to show up. You would've shown up by now, sending her a blinding smile before going to grab your own plate of food. She decided to eat slower, maybe she was just hungry. But, when people started filing out the doors to make their way to class she knew you weren't coming.

She threw the cereal out, went to grab a granola bar, and stuffed it into her bag. The walk to class was unbearably long. Normally, the silence would be filled by your voice talking about a dream you had or how you were excited about the class. Except, you weren't there.

Wednesday sat in her normal spot at the front of the classroom, once again eyeing the door. No one dared take the seat next to her. Everyone knew that spot belonged to you; it didn’t help that she glared at anyone who got too close.

You walked in close to when class was starting. Wednesday hates to admit she became livelier at the sight of you. She sat a little straighter and reached into her bag for the granola bar. When she glanced up, you were already walking past her to the spot next to Yoko. Leaving the seat next to her cold and empty.

Wednesday looked at you whenever she could. She wasn't shy about staring at you, but you never once looked in her direction. You were never diffident about meeting her gaze. It became obvious then that you were avoiding her.

When class ended she stood up and waited for you, as she does in every class. She silently hoped one class period was enough for you to come back. She was forced to watch you ignore her and walk out with Yoko.

From that point forward, Wednesday was painfully aware of your presence. Whether it be in class across the room or somewhere in the quad talking with your friends. She watched you from a distance, noticing how you seemed just a little downhearted but you masked it well. Because Wednesday was forced to watch from a distance she became increasingly aware of your absence.

Whenever Wednesday would catch sight of you with someone else she immediately noticed you weren't next to her. The feeling of loneliness and abandonment rapidly crept up her spine. The feeling continued to worsen when she would catch a glimpse of you with someone else.

Rationally, Wednesday knew you wouldn’t leave her without a proper discussion first. She knew you were mature enough to give her that. Even so, all these horrid thoughts rushed through her head. So much so that she felt like crying. Tears pricked at her eyes and she hated that.

So, Wednesday did the only thing she knew to do in these situations, she let those feelings morph into anger. Not towards you, just at the way you were making her feel, towards the people who are taking you away from her. She was determined to get this sorted out before the day ended; aware she let this situation fester for far too long.

In the following classes, she would stare daggers into those who were close to you. She watched, satisfied, as some did tuck their tails and turned the other way. The others, stubborn or oblivious, stuck with you like glue. So she waited for your free period to come, knowing no one else but she shared the period with you.

When class ended you, once again, ignored her. You could feel her heated stare on your back as you walked out. You knew she would follow you wherever you went, knew a discussion was coming sooner rather than later. The pounding of her footsteps behind you was loud and evident. Obviously, she's not trying to hide the fact she's following you. You sigh and take the time it took to walk to the library to fortify yourself.

 Wednesday watched as you walked to your favorite part of the library before stopping to settle down. She needed this to go well, to go the way she wanted. She might kill someone if it doesn’t.

"Come to yell at me again?" you start, finally bringing your eyes to meet her own.

"I didn't yell at you," she said, face stoic even when nervousness was bubbling in her chest.

"The tone you used says otherwise," your voice is cold, something Wednesday isn't accustomed to.

The intensity of your gaze makes her want to look away. Her lips part to speak but nothing comes out causing her lips to quiver slightly. The sight makes you want to take your words back. You stay silent though, waiting for her to say something.

"I didn't see you at breakfast," she says instead of addressing the elephant in the room.

You scoff, "Wasn't hungry,"

Your words make her look at her shoes. She was nervous, the coldness of your voice and gaze not helping. You huff, seeing the internal debate, and say, "Look Wednesday, I'm not alright with being your verbal punching bag. If you're not going to apologize then leave."

Your words make tears prick in her eyes. She clenched her jaw to stave them off, not wanting you to see how this affected her. As much as she wanted things to go back to normal, she couldn't voice her thoughts. She was starting to feel helpless. It was humiliating.

Wednesday reached into her bag to pull out the granola bar she got you. She looked at it for a moment before giving it to you.

You looked between her and the granola bar for a few seconds,

"What is this?"

"A granola bar"

 "Obviously, but why-"

"It's your favorite.." she trailed off, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

"You got me a granola bar as a peace offering?" you laughed humorlessly before continuing, "Unbelievable. Honestly, I'm impressed,"

She let your words wash over her. Silently wondering if this is what you felt last night.

"I apologize," she said so softly you almost missed it.

"you're sorry?"

"Yes... I know I'm not good at conveying emotions unless it's negative but," Wednesday's voice trails off again. Thinking through her next words carefully.

You're conscious of the fact this is difficult for her. Wednesday does refer to feelings as 'emotional morse code'. The silence is tense, almost unbearably so. You sigh,

"Wednesday listen-"

"No, let me-" she huffs, "I'm not good at this, I know that but-" she looks up at you with tears in her wide eyes.

"I am sorry, truly. I know I shouldn't have said those things, much less to you." Wednesday feels like there's barbwire wrapped around her throat. It's hard to speak, but seeing your eyes widen with understanding pushes her to keep going.

"But, you need to know I would never say those things to you. I would never intentionally hurt you. Not in any way." the raw emotion in her voice makes you want to wince. Having never heard her speak like that is almost enough to make you tear up.

You rush forward, wrapping her in a tight embrace. One she eagerly returns, still talking.

"You have to understand, tell me you understand. I can't-"

Wednesday is shaking, trying so hard to not let her tears fall. You guide her head into the crook of your neck, slightly calming her. The air is quiet, almost back to the comfort it was prior. You spoke up,

"It's alright-" her grip tightens on your jacket.

"No. It's not"

"You're right. What happened was not okay, but you apologized. Everything will be okay now."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to lose you" she whispered, bringing her head up to look at you for a moment, "If I ever do that again I want you to cut my tongue in two." she said, being completely serious.

You chuckle, "I don't think I'd do that"

Silence ensues, but this time it's comfortable. The embrace isn’t broken, it's something both of you desperately need.  

"I'm sorry" she whispers.

I know it’s sucks and I’m SORRY

tags: @alexkolax @rainbow-love4ever @o638 @tundra1029 @greyscxle-is-taken

[kraken17]

Bianca: Sinclair! Did you know that the skeletons Addams brought for the Halloween party decorations are real??

Enid: Duh, who do you think helped her dig them up?

Bianca: …

Enid: What?

Bianca: [whispering] Oh God, Addams is contagious.

[sapientgolem]

Imma need this next season, even if it’s a nanosecond of a clip!

[prefer-to-be-vilified]

Wednesday: I wanted to apologise.

Enid: Oh thank god. I hate being mad at you.

Wednesday: You didn’t let me finish. I wanted to, but then I realised I did nothing wrong.

Enid:

Enid: Wednesday my moms in the hospital.

Wednesday: And?

Enid: …You got me there.

[gmarseln]

Enid: I'm the kind of person that likes to think things through

Wednesday: Since when? I once saw you eat a marshmallow that was still on fire.

[ivetried27nameswhataboutthis1]

Wednesday: In an attempt to show my dedication to this relationship, I’ve researched modern pop culture and put this music on for you.

Enid: What is that?

Wednesday: A playlist I found.

Enid: Are those bird calls?

Wednesday: This is not rap music?

Enid: Oh, I see your mistake. See you typed TOUCAN. I’m sure you meant TUPAC.

Wednesday: Is Toucan not as skilled as Tupac?

Enid: It’s a different type of music, I guess.

Wednesday: In what way?

Enid: Well, in the way that one of them isn’t music at all.