#wednesday addams fanfiction

[wesstars]

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!

masterlist

#project wes #sbx #fanfiction #wednesday #wednesday (2022) #wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader smut #smut #jenna ortega #reader insert #self insert #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fic #lgbtq #wednesday addams fanfic #tara carpenter x reader

[missmonsters2]

—Just Like Silk

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wednesday is a rigid person. She wears the same type of clothes everyday, eats the same thing every morning, and always wears her hair in braids. You find something exhilrating about undoing all those things—undoing her.

Warnings: the intimacy is real

Masterlist || Library Blog | AO3

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Note: just a little something as I cry over my other wips 🫶 Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 💘

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday will never be the type of person to say the words, 'I love you,' even if she feels them. They could build in her chest and claw at the back of her throat, but they will never make it past her lips. 

The words themselves are incomprehensible. It carries too much and nothing at the same time, and Wednesday may never be ready to release them into the air where she can't monitor them. 

Love is flexible, and Wednesday is a very rigid person. 

The day starts the same way it always does. She wakes up at exactly 6:15AM, dresses in her monochrome clothing, and braids her hair neatly. After ensuring her bangs are brushed four times, she wakes Enid up before leaving for the cafeteria. 

The cafeteria is usually empty at this hour, with many students still sleeping and dreading their day. It's something Wednesday likes to soak in the quiet morning hours. She gets a tray and grabs the same thing she does every morning: a slice of toast with jam, much too sweet, and orange juice that will undoubtedly taste horrid after brushing her teeth. 

Wednesday's about to leave when her eye catches a small cup of fruit. It's filled with slices of strawberries and grapes, seemingly the last one, as the other cups are filled with apples and bananas.

Wednesday clenches her jaw, her hands tightening on the tray slightly. She begrudgingly grabs it, places it in the top left corner of her tray, and briskly walks to an empty table. She can already hear the miserable moans of students who are already awake and feels herself relax at it. 

As she grabs the little packet of salt and rips it open, someone slumps beside her on her left.

"G'morning," you mumble sleepily as you fight back a yawn and rub your right eyelid delicately. 

"You've been up early." Wednesday skips the greeting as she sprinkles the salt on her toast. "Why?"

You smile lazily at her and rest your temple against your hand on the table. You point at the fruit cup on her tray, and Wednesday makes no movement to suggest you can or cannot take it, but you do. 

"Because if I'm not, you'll have grabbed the fruit cup for nothing," you tell her as you pop a slice of strawberry in your mouth. 

"Are you suggesting that I'm grabbing it for you?" Wednesday's tone is threatening, and her eyes are narrowed at you. 

"I would hope you are," you pop a grape into your mouth. "I'll be upset if you're grabbing fruit cups for other people. That's a terrible thing to do to your girlfriend."

The words do something to Wednesday, making her both miserable and filled with pride. 

All of this was new to Wednesday, but if she was honest, the beginning of you didn't disrupt her life. Yes, there had been times she was vexed because of you and what you made her feel, but you didn't disrupt her rigidity. 

Wednesday had still woken up at the same time, did the same things in the morning, and ate the same foods. 

Until recently, it seemed. 

Usually, you weren't up until just before the bell rang, often forgoing breakfast for sleep. Then suddenly, you showed up one day, five minutes after Wednesday sat down. You didn't have much of an appetite in the morning, but you looked on in envy at one of the students eating a fruit cup with strawberries and grapes as they typically were the first to be gone. 

And Wednesday had watched you stare at the fruit cup. 

"You think too highly of yourself," Wednesday's narrowed eyes relaxed. "I'm merely taking it to deprive others—"

You shoved a grape into her mouth, smiling innocently as Wednesday looked murderous.

"You should eat some fruit in the morning, ma diable. It's good for you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been disruptive lately, and you know it. 

It's hard not to push Wednesday's boundaries, knowing she'll let you in it. She may grumble and threaten your life, but she quietly does. She may never tell you she loves you but, quite frankly, this was better.

You had woken up early one day on a whim, and it had nothing to do with disrupting Wednesday and all to do with the fact you simply missed her. And then the next day, when you showed up early again, Wednesday had been waiting for you with a fruit cup. There was no promise you'd be there early again, but Wednesday had done it, and that could only mean that she hoped you would be there. 

So, sacrificing some sleep for your murderous girlfriend, who always saved you the best fruit cup, was well worth it. 

And now, on a Thursday evening with it pouring outside, you were about to be disruptive again. 

You watched as Wednesday typed stoically, her hands never hesitating. She worked methodically, the story endlessly pouring from her mind and her hands working in tandem. 

When Wednesday returns the carriage, you see your opportunity. 

"Wednesday," you call softly from her bed, grabbing her attention as she looks at you without moving her head. 

"What?" Wednesday looks back at her paper.

"It's raining."

"Stellar observation."

You smile at her. "It's raining, so come keep me company."

"We are in each other's company, are we not?"

"Come actively keep me company."

Wednesday furrowed her brows, her lips pursed in displeasure. She turned fully to you, and you knew it could go either way. "You know I write every day for an hour," Wednesday reminded you.

You nodded. "I know, and tomorrow you'll have an hour, and the next day after that, and the next day after that." Sitting up, you look at her more clearly. "But today is the only Thursday evening with thunderous rain and my shifting desire for you to keep me company."

"Are you saying you won't want my company the next time it rains on a Thursday evening?" Wednesday's looked even more displeased and threatening. 

"I suppose we'll only know the next rainy Thursday," you nonchalantly retorted. 

It was silent as Wednesday debated it; your breath caught in your chest. When she sighed, you smiled wider. Wednesday stood up and walked over to her bed, sitting at the edge rigidly. 

"What do you want to do?" Wednesday asked to deflect how weirdly awkward she felt right now. "I've had enough of beating you at scrabble, so not that."

You chuckled without answering as you leaned over towards her, lifting your hand gently to grab her braid and dragging your hand down softly until it reached the end. 

"Wednesday, I've never seen you with your hair down," you commented.

Wednesday remained rigid.

"Yes," her voice was stiff. "I only take them out before bed."

You hummed, playing with her braid. 

"Wednesday," you called softly again, and Wednesday almost wanted to command you to stop saying her name like that. Except, she can't. She enjoys the way you say it.

"Can I undo your braids?"

The rain thumps against the window roughly, and Wednesday was glad it covered how harshly her own heartbeat was against her chest. It beat with a mission to break her rib cage. 

"You can say no," you told her softly. 

Wednesday closed her eyes. As much as the word 'no' was in her vocabulary, she nodded once stiffly. You pulled at her, and she let you guide her to sit further on the bed. You sat facing her side as you softly grabbed a braid, gently removing the black elastic at the end. 

Wednesday braids her hair so often that it stays in its form without the elastic. But as you start to weave your fingers through the strands of her hair, gently undoing the work she'd done this morning, something starts clawing at the back of her throat. 

You looked at Wednesday as her hair fell like water through your fingers. Her eyes were closed with concentration, and every time she swallowed, you could see it. 

It was silent as you worked on the second braid, dragging your fingers through her dark hair. When it was in their neat braids, they were contained and distinguished. But undone, they were wild waves and slipped through your fingers unless you endeavored to tame them. 

You continued to run your fingers through her hair, even after the braids were undone, watching as the strands slipped from you.

"Your hair is just like silk," you said just seconds before there was a crack of thunder. 

Wednesday didn't comment. Her hands were tightly gripped in her lap to the point where her knuckles were white. 

You brush her hair over her shoulder, the waves cascading down her back like beads of water. Your hand slid against her jaw as you cupped the back of her neck. 

You pulled and pulled at her, and she let you until you were sharing the same air. 

"Wednesday," you murmur, your lips brushing against hers. Wednesday visibly swallowed, her eyes opened and intently looked at you, but you're looking at her lips. 

You kiss her tenderly, then. It would've been more chaste if Wednesday hadn't insisted on pressing against your lips more firmly and lingered. When you pulled back, your thumb caressed the bottom of her lip.

"Wednesday," you said her name, and Wednesday didn't think you knew how disruptive it also was in the way you said her name. "Your lips are soft just like silk, too."

"I see this has been your agenda all long as of late," Wednesday's voice is quiet as she basks in your scent and cold fingers. You had such terrible circulation, and she's obsessed with it. "You're suave at being disruptive."

Wednesday bit your bottom lip before her tongue smoothed it over. 

"Just like silk."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

[kaicubus]

Radio Silence | Wednesday A.

warnings ✩° : fluff, isolation coping mechanism.

pairing ✩° : girlfriend!wednesday addams x girlfriend!reader

premise ✩° : after a small argument, its impossible for wednesday to come to terms with the fact that maybe just MAYBE she was in the wrong for once. only this once though.

word count ✩° : 1.8k

authors note ✩° : lord i am on my knees for ms jenna ortega...sorry this is soups short but i like it :}.

You might as well be dead.

Being ignored by Wednesday Addams, the same girl who cut the heads off of her porcelain baby dolls as a small child, was probably the worst thing you could've ever imagined yourself to be in. Especially now.

Sure, you grew up with Wednesday and you knew who she was and how she acted, but ever since you two started going out, your little arguments have been a little less than civil. Whenever you both would get into a fight, it never lasted long because you and her both knew you were 9 times out of 10, in the wrong. That wasn't a bad thing, it’s just that sometimes you read the room poorly, especially when it comes to your girlfriend, or you say something out a fit of rage that wasn't what you meant at all. But there's that 1 time where you'd actually be right, and Wednesday wrong.

That brings us to now.

For the past 4 hours, you hadn't heard from your girlfriend. Now, the amount of radio silence wouldn't concern you if you knew that Wednesday was out hunting some criminal or being the criminal herself, instead, you didn't know what she was thinking at all.

Learning how to speak Wednesday Addams was as easy as trying to figure out a 1830s style telegraph with nothing but a usb charger. But that didn't mean you were going to give up so easily, in fact, what if you wanted to learn how to know how to use an 1830s style telegraph?

Thinking back to your fight, it wasn't even that severe. It was just a playful argument over ‘I know this better than you’ but obviously you were the only one with the fighting energy. All Wednesday did was keep up with your joking tone and give all right answers, definitions, and history, to all except one.

The slip up embarrassed her, but she didn't show it. Instead, she cornered herself away and refused to let anybody in, including Enid who came to you asking if she can stay in your dorm for the night since Wednesday had Thing change the locks to both the main door and the windows. Soon though, you finally mustered up the courage to say enough is enough and confront your girlfriend that it wasn't even a big deal. She’s just a sore loser.

“But I never lose.” You can almost hear her say in the back of your head as you travel up the stairs with your hand trailing over the rusted railing, “It’s one of my many talents where I always win. No matter what. If I lost, you wouldn't hear from me ever again.” It was fear holding you back that what she said before as kids would eventually prove its truth, but another thing you can hear Wednesday say in your mind was that, “People don't like hearing the truth. So it’s what I say all the time. I don’t lie. Not even for my own benefit.”

Finally, you reach the top of the stairs and come face to face with the shared dorm between your girlfriend and Enid. Your eyes look down at the doorknob that is indeed, changed.

“Thing really replaced the doorknob too? What the hell...” You mutter to yourself and give it a wriggle. No response. Maybe another wiggle? Again, no response.

You drop your shoulders and sigh, “Wednesday? Wednesday open the door, I know you're in there.”

You're right. On the other side of the door, Wednesday sits curled into a tight ball, holding the tops of her knees close to her chest and staring deadpanned onto the center of the floor. Her eyes dart, catching each speck of dust that falls onto the wooden flooring as well as Enid’s sickeningly hot pink rug. When she gets stressed or chooses to isolate herself, her senses are hyper focused on little things, things she can count, things that remain constant and steady.

In fact, it’s the whole reason why she likes the color black so much. Black is constant no matter what shade it is. Unlike colors, black is consistent and therefore calm, like an inescapable blanket of suffocating darkness.

With another knock against her back, Wednesday blinks and realizes she’s lost track of her dust particle count forever ago. All she can hear is the timed knocking, each set 2 minutes apart exactly.

Wednesday rubs her temples in annoyance but still refuses to sit up and open the door. Maybe if she stays really still and doesn't make a peep, you’ll realize that she’s not there and you’ll go away. How can she even face you after she made a complete and utter fool out of herself? Confrontation isn't her strong suit and neither is it yours, but just as you can’t stand this separation, she can’t either. No matter what she says about not needing anyone.

You let out another sigh and press your back flat against your side of the door. “Wednesday, you know it isn't a big deal right? What you said? We were just joking around. I thought you knew that?”

She did not.

“I think it’s funny though, in a good way, how you kept fighting for you to be right. It was cute. But...I can see how it hurt you knowing you were wrong. I feel like that all the time when I talk to you about things.” You rub your ankles and look down, “You always know what to say and when to say it. But you know, it’s ok to make mistakes or have misinformation. I don’t mind, you know.”

All Wednesday could do is stare at her knees, blankly and listlessly, occasionally looking over at Thing who just looks at her with a disappointed look. For a hand, he’s very expressive. She rolls her eyes at him and they both continue to listen.

“Hey, if it were up to me? I’d rewrite that entire article and the book that says you're wrong, just for you to be right. I never wanted to embarrass you or anything like that. I’m sorry I laughed that you finally got something wrong and I got right. I never wanted to make you feel bad about it. But I guess I did, and I’m really sorry.” The genuinity in your voice causes Thing to tap his fingers impatiently, signaling that he wants this whole feud to be over with already.

“If I want to forgive her, I do so on my own terms. Got it?” Wednesday whispers harshly to him. Thing spins around and jumps angrily. “No. I’m not doing that. I’m not a romantic, you know.” He flips back around and scurries across the floor, motioning she open the door already. “Leave it alone, Thing.”

With that, Thing walks over next to her and goes to knock on the door, but Wednesday quickly grabs him and squeezes him in between her tightly curled fists, stabbing her black nails into his skin. “I said. Leave it.”

A moment of silence washes over them as Wednesday continues to listen, curious as to what more you have to say.

“I don’t even know if you're in there, but I really hope you were. I’ll get going now, I love you Wednesday.” You stand up slowly, causing a dragging sound to be heard from her side. Just before she can react, Thing leaps out of her hand in her moments of reconciliation and jumps to the doorknob, shaking it vigorously and startling the two of you.

“Huh?” You turn around and see the doorknob shaking, then unlocking itself, and soon enough it flings open to reveal Wednesday sat on the floor looking mortified, her arm halfway hiding her face as her now gaping eyes stare into yours all with a straight face.

“Ah. Hi.” You say, watching her frozen like a statute collecting dust on a shelf, “Hello Thing. Was this your doing?” Glancing down, you make eye contact with the clearly delighted appendage bouncing around in agreement.

“Y/n.” Wednesday stands up quickly and looks up at you through her eyebrows, “I.” She opens her mauve lips but no words come out. You still wait for what she has to say next but something inside her stops her from speaking, as if something had been lodged in her throat preventing her from talking. Though it’s a sight to see Wednesday Addams speechless in sight of you, it’s also hard to have it go on for so long.

After all, Wednesday has never been wrong before in her life. So it’s hard to even think of a possible explanation for her actions and how silent she’s been with only the only sound in her room being the muffled sounds of her old fashioned radio playing aged, melodic, Spanish songs.

You break the silence by clearing your throat which forces her to blink, flustered and now realizing how much time has passed since she said your name before. 

Her dull eyes flicker around and she glances down at your feet, then at your hands, then at your chest, then finally back to your face, recognizing a sly smile clearly not serious at all. She fills her lungs with air in a deep inhale.

“I appreciate you saying that.” Wednesday says, swallowing her hidden pride, “It means a lot.”

You smile, boasting at her acceptance of your apology.

“But. I guess I too have to apologize for my absence.”

You reach your hand out to touch her, but end up retracting and holding your own arms instead, “No,” you shake your head, “You don’t have to Wednesday.”

“Y/n just let me apologize.” Her fingers tap on the inside of her forearm, signaling her impatience, “I didn't intend on...going completely radio silent on you...I got caught up. Thing told me I shouldn't have, but I had no choice.”

You both glance down at Thing who stomps around.

“You spent the entire time researching about what you got wrong?” Your eyes glimmer into Wednesdays. It’s almost enough to make her smile, but she chews it back quickly and nods instead, hiding her expression with her bangs. “That means a lot, Wednesday. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it again. Seriously.”

“Does this mean we’re good?” You smile now making it near impossible for her not to smile as well.

The girl stays motionless and instead offers you her hand. You look down strangely and tilt your head just enough to show your confusion as if it weren't prevalent enough in your pursed lips and narrow eyebrows.

“My hand is cold. Are you just going to stand there and not take it?”

Without hesitation, you move forward and take her hand happily, “Of course.”

There was no point in hiding it any longer. For all the time she had been away from you, it had been torture. Not the good kind either. But as she leans closer to you, she finds herself indulging in a small smile that warms her heart just as it does yours.

Her hand, ever so gently, creeps onto yours and just barely grazes her finger on your nail bed. Such a simple act would go unnoticed by any other set of people. But with you and Wednesday? It’s hard to ignore it.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday fanfic #wednesday series #wednesday fic #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfiction #kaicubus

[cannibalizedyke]

(I LOVE YOUR NEW THEME)

wednesday x reader request/prompt: you bury/hide/get rid of a body together <3

sy u concern me sometimes😭😭 /lh /aff

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. IF THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU, MOVE ON AND SCROLL. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO CONSUME.

🪦anything for you🪦

word count: 297

warnings: DARK, murder, death, semi-graphic but not really

taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1 @puppy-coded @sw34terw34ther @starstruckwillows @katsukis1wife @manyfandomsfanvergent

“is he dead?” you asked apathetically, glancing at wednesday.

your girlfriend nodded once, still staring at the mangled body on the ground.

you sighed. “what did he do?”

she looked up at you. “he insulted you,” she said simply.

that shouldn’t have given you butterflies. it did anyway.

you looked back at the body and twisted your lips. “need help taking care of it?”

wednesday grinned—which was more like the smallest of smiles on her—in spite of herself and nodded again.

you bit your lip and tilted your head slightly to the right. “okay. help me get him to the woods.”

she grabbed his legs—or what used to be his legs; they were so brutally broken and bloodied you could hardly even tell what they once were—while you grabbed the upper half of him and the two of you hoisted him up and carried him into the forest a few feet away from you. neither of you had shovels or anything else to dig with so you kneeled in the dirt and started clawing in the mud with your hands.

it took at least half an hour and some significantly bloodied nails, but eventually you’d created a hole big enough for the body. the two of you dumped him unceremoniously inside and threw the dirt back on top.

“there,” you sighed, leaning back in exhaustion. “good?”

wednesday examined your handiwork and nodded, content. “yes.” she looked at you. “thank you.”

“of course.” you inched closer to her and gently caressed some dried blood off her cheek with your thumb. she shut her eyes. “i’d do anything for you.”

her eyes snapped open. “would you kill someone for me?”

you hesitated, momentarily searching your heart for the answer. “yes,” you concluded. “after all, you did so for me.”

#sy🕷️ #mad-moots #mad-writing #mad-reqs #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x gn!reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams oneshot #wednesday addams blurb #wednesday addams drabble #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams fic #tw dark #tw dark fic #tw dark content #tw murder #tw death

[kimpossibly]

🪐 ; planet: send me this emoji + a character on my writing list + any word of your choosing and i'll write you a ficlet using the word as a prompt!

cats + wednesday addams !

WEDNESDAY ADDAMS + CATS

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi hi hi this is so cute!! I'm not a cat person in the slightest (I'm one hundo percent a dog person tbh) but I can soooo imagine Wednesday having a black cat. I didn't know if you wanted me to add romance into it so I just tried to keep it plain simple, just using the prompts! I'm so sorry this took me so long to get to, I had some family emergencies come up really recently and so I haven't had much time to really sit down and work on anything other than school or family stuff. Hope you enjoy and thank you my love for the ask!

PAIRING: wednesday addams x gn!reader WARNINGS: cats (?? idk if that's a needed warning but I figured I'd list it anyway haha)

Wednesday didn't take in strays. She was usually too busy with her own endeavors to really have time for them — you were the exception of course. But she liked having you around, and that made all the distance. So when the black cat appeared on her doorstep, staring up at her with big green eyes, she didn't need to think twice.

"Shoo. Go," she said monotonously, staring at the creature with disdain. When it refused to move, she made a shooing motion with her hands. "I said leave."

You appeared around the corner, your face twisted in a frown. "Who are you talking to?"

Wednesday stepped aside to reveal the cat on your doorstep and, to her surprise, you broke out into a massive grin. "Aw, look at the little guy!" you swooned, running over to pet the cat. It appeared friendly, nuzzling into your palm. "I wonder if he's lost?"

You searched for a collar, but none was found. "He might've run away," you suggested.

And Wednesday, who saw a new problem arising, was quick to shut you down. "He can find his way home. Leave him be."

A sudden crack of thunder rattled the window panes as the first drizzle of rain began to dot the sidewalk outside. The cat looked around at the worsening weather, then back at you, its wide eyes frightened. You looked up at Wednesday with a matching expression, your own eyes pleading her to let the cat stay. She let out an almost imperceptible sigh, then nodded for you to bring the cat in.

You smiled at her as you scooped the cat up, bringing him inside. Within a few hours the cat had been bathed, fed, and given a place to sleep. All the while you'd led him around the house, giving him a tour (as Wednesday watched, fuming, from the side). You'd murmur "Here, kitty," you coax him to room after room, speaking to him like he could understand you perfectly.

After a while you walked about the house, holding the cat in your arms like it was a baby. It seemed to enjoy this time of treatment as it pawed at your hair and clothes and nuzzled its head into the crook of your neck.

"I feel like we should give him a name in the meantime," you mused aloud, "so that we don't have to keep calling him kitty. I get the sense that he doesn't like it."

"Perhaps we should let it go, then." Wednesday said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Wouldn't want to wound its pride."

You ignored her, suddenly having a bright idea. "Why don't you give him a name, Wednesday? Just one that we can use before we go out and find his owners tomorrow."

Wednesday kept her stoic glare forward, causing you to pout. "Come on, look at this little face!" you said, turning the cat toward her and squishing its small cheeks. "This is the face of a cat that wants to be properly addressed."

Wednesday did not want pets. But she couldn't resist you.

"Poe," Wednesday said finally. "After Edgar Allen Poe."

You grinned at her. "I think it suits him."

You floated away then, Poe in hand, to introduce him to Thing. The two did not get along at first, with Thing being slightly afraid, slightly jealous. But, within minutes, Poe was chasing him around, playing a lighthearted game of tag. Wednesday watched as you sat on the floor, playing referee to the game, smiling all the while. She crossed her arms over her chest, determined not to enjoy the sight, but even she had to admit — the cat was kind of cute. Or maybe it was how much you liked the cat that was cute.

The next day, you went out about the neighborhood, knocking on doors, asking around, and putting up flyers that Thing had helped you make. No one claimed the cat, and no one rang your line to claim him. You had to negotiate with Wednesday to let Poe stay another day. Then another, and then another. No one asked after the cat.

Four days later you were on the couch, reading and drinking coffee, the cat curled into your side. Wednesday came and sat next to you, eyeing the cat carefully. "They've been known to eat their owners after they die," she said.

"That's only if they're starving," you replied without a beat. "Dogs could do the same thing. Or humans."

"Don't get so morbid with me — I'm not in the mood for romance." she said.

Poe suddenly stood, crawling away from his perch next to you and found his next interest in Wednesday, brushing his cheek against her black sweater. She looked down at him with disdain. "This won't work out for you."

You just chuckled to yourself. "You're communicating with him. It's the first step."

Wednesday looked up, alarmed. "First step to what?"

You just got up to refill your coffee mug, humming as you did so.

The days dragged on and Poe became a fixture in yours and Wednesday's house. More than once you had woken up to find him curled at the foot of your bed, purring softly as he slept.

And Wednesday was, against her own will, warming up to Poe. You'd catch her mindlessly petting his head when she thought you weren't looking. She'd even slip him treats secretly just to gain his favor.

Within a week, you were nearly convinced that Wednesday loved Poe just as much as you did. So you had to put it to the test.

One day you walked into the living room, where Wednesday was sat writing her novel, Poe curled at her feet. You sighed sadly. "Wednesday, I've been thinking, and you're right — we can't take care of a pet. I think it's time we take Poe to a shelter, don't you think?"

Wednesday turned, eyes wide. You blinked. "Do you disagree?"

Wordlessly, Wednesday bent down and scooped Poe up, holding him tightly to her chest. "He stays."

You just smiled in satisfaction, nodding once. You sat down next to her, petting Poe softly. "How could I have seen that coming?"

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fic #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix

[marve2014]

No Time Like the Present

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader 

Part Four

Summary: Y/N meets Thing.

Warnings: Minor mention of violence, bullying.

Minors DNI

Word Count:2.9K

Authors Note: All characters aged up to 18. This is where the story diverges from the actual story line.

Outreach day was one day a year that the students of Nevermore coexisted with the kids of Jericho in order to "strengthen the bonds” between the two groups; At least that’s the spiel the mayor keeps giving all the businesses so they’ll let Nevermore students work in their shops. Tyler and I spent the morning talking about Wednesday and I’s not official, official first date while we waited for our Nevermore kid to show up. We were assigned the one and only Xavier Thorpe; the same one who hates Tyler and honestly makes me uncomfortable with how he looks at me and Wednesday. Making my iced coffee before people start trickling in, Xavier comes walking in. 

“Hello Xavier, how are you today?” you ask, trying to make polite conversation.

“I’m good y/n, how are you feeling after last night?” he smirks as he grabs an apron and makes his way behind the counter.

“If you must know, I had an amazing time. First dates are never really what you expect them to be, are they?” Smiling as you remember the feeling of Wednesday's hand in yours.. 

“First date? With who?” you can see the confusion flash across his face and can’t help but chuckle.

“With Wednesday of course. She was the one who demanded it was a date”. You decide to embellish the story just a little bit to make him even more uncomfortable  

“Wait, you and Wednesday?!? ‘“ he asks clearly shocked at the information you just provided.

“Yes, me and Wednesday. Is that a problem?' you question coldly.

“No, no, no problem at all. Just a little confused. I thought I was more her type.” He confesses as he starts wiping down the counter “guess she wasn’t playing hard to get, huh? Oh crap. And when I flirted with you before! Jesus I’m on idiot”

"Oblivious, yes, an idiot, eh, harsh words” you defend and give him a smile.

Tyler walks out of the breakroom and notices you and Xavier talking, you look over to him and he sends you a look that you know can lead to nothing good.

“I will be right back Xavier, it seems I am being summoned by that doofus over there” you laugh, walking towards Tyler as he pulls you into a hug when you reach him.

"Wednesday is at pilgrim world, wearing the costume and everything, we have no customers and Xavier can handle the few that come in.” Tyler rushes out all in one breath. 

“On my goodness, yes! Lets go! I’m so gonna use this to blackmail her. Xavier? We’ll be back in 10 minutes hold down the fort.” 

“Aye, aye captain.”  he mock salutes you as you and Tyler make your way to pilgrim word. Looking through the crowd trying to find Wednesday, you notice a smaller kid surrounded by 3 older boys – all dressed up like pilgrims. You leave Tyler and make your way over and see the smaller boy struggling as one of the older ones is trying to force him into a wooden contraption.

“HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You run over and all of them stare at you.

“Go away, this doesn’t have anything to do with you, outcast lover.” The ring leader says as he tries to get the small boy to stop squirming. You look around trying to find an adult as you feel someone walk directly next to you. 

“Howdy Pilgrims.” You look and see Wednesday staring at the situation with a cold decisive look in her eyes. “ I suggest you let Eugene go”. Wednesday rests her arm on the top of the wooden stock preventing it from closing on him. 

“What do you want to end up in the stocks too?” The ring leader asks as you pull the kid Wednesday called Eugene from the wooden stock and put your arm around his shoulder to comfort him.

“If I recall, we did this dance before and it didn’t end up well for you.” Wednesday smugly states as the larger boy makes a move to grab her. You stay with Eugene and Wednesday ends up tossing the kid to the floor and breaks his finger; all of the Jericho boys flee and you and Wednesday tend to Eugene. You're cleaning his uniform when Wednesday walks over and takes in the both of you smiling and laughing despite what just happened. 

“Why do I always find you in trouble?” Wednesday asks while you finish cleaning up Eugene.

“Well I couldn’t let them just be mean to Eugene. It would be like hurting a puppy!” You laugh and stare at Wednesday noticing how beautiful she looks.

“You are absolutely gorgeous. How did I get so lucky?” You ask and can tell Wednesday is starting to blush.

“I assume you two know each other?” Eugene interrupts. 

“Yes Eugene, this is y/n. She’s a normie. But she’s MY normie.” Wednesday declares ready to defend you if Eugene were to say something cross. You can feel your cheeks heating up at her casualness of mentioning you two being an item, unable to hide your smile you grab Wednesdays hand in yours.

“Well Eugene, it was a pleasure meeting you but I need to borrow Wednesday here.” You smile and lead both you and Wednesday back to the Weathervane walking in, still hand and hand with each other you make Wednesday sit at the table closest to the cash register you leave her there while you make her, her usual all the while Xavier is staring at you both mouth gaped open,with how easily she is letting you order her around; something he imaged should not even be possible with how strong willed the Wednesday Addams he knows is.  Xavier makes his way over to the table you sat Wednesday at and smugly looks her up and down.

“Never thought I would see Wednesday Addams act so domestic.”

“Xavier, I’m going to stay this once and only once, if you value your life you’re going to keep your mouth shut and not mention what’s seen here today to anyone at Nevermore.”

“Ill keep that in mind.” He smiles and makes a move to sit across from Wednesday.

“Xavier, if I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to actually work; not harass customers. Go wipe something down.” You glare and make sure he’s away from Wednesday before she can threaten him anymore. Finishing up her drink, you walk over and take where Xavier was going to sit. You look Wednesday in the eyes “I am taking you somewhere tonight, be at the gates of the school at 9:00p.m. Okay? And dress warm. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Fine, but I need to talk to Tyler, has he made it back yet?” She questions.

“No clue, let me check the back. One minute”. You run to the back break room and see Tyler sitting in one of the chairs drinking an energy drink and playing some game on his phone. 

“Wednesday needs you, please and thank youuuu.” You smile and wait for him to follow. 

“The peasant you were seeking ma’am.” You motion to tyler.

“How can I be of service?” Tyler jokes as Wednesday pulls out a map she got from Pilgrim World.

“I need to know where on this map is the old pilgrims meeting house from the 1600s.” 

Tyler looks down at the map confused and then points to a secluded area.

“There, but its kind of sketchy, Squatters and meth heads use it as a crash pad. My dad has to clear it out every few weeks. Why are you looking for it?” 

“No reason.” Wednesday coldly states as she looks from Tyler to you. 

“Becoming obsessed with the monster in the woods, are we?” Tyler jokes.

“Okayyyy, and that’s enough interaction between the two of you. Wednesday here has to go play her cello and then she has a date to get ready for” you usher Tyler away and pull Wednesday in for a hug. You feel her stiffen and then immediately relax into your arms. “I will see you later, Lovely. Okay?” You kiss her cheek and send her on her way.

Feeling the stares from both Tyler and Xavier, you ignore both of them and make yourself a coffee before the lunch rush comes in. 

The rest of the shift goes by without a hitch, Xavier staying away from Tyler, and everyone staying away from you until it was time to close. You and Tyler head to your house so you can get ready for your date. 

“So what exactly did you plan for your date?” Tyler asks as he starts rummaging through the fridge looking for a snack.

“A dinner picnic. You can eat anything in that fridge but so help me if you touch the cheese. It’s for tonight.” You yell as you make your way up the stairs. Looking through your clothes, you decide on jeans and a sweater so that you will be warm in the cold night air. Walking back down stairs you get a picnic basket from the Hall closet and bring it into the kitchen. Getting some fancy bread, crackers, fruit and cheese you start loading it all up as Tyler sits there watching eating some form of food in an old takeout container. 

“Do you think shell like this?” You nervously ask, placing some drinks into the basket.

“I think she would literally let you sit there and just stare at her and she would have a good time. I mean you got kidnapped and she classified it as a date.” 

“You’re not wrong. Okay, foods packed, Im ready. You can stay if you want. My mom will be home in like an hour; you know she loves feeding you. I’m out.” You hug Tyler, leaving him in the house as you make your way to the gates of Nevermore. Pulling near the gates, you see Wednesday and you put the car in park and hop out. Grabbing the black roses you hid in the backseat, you make your way over to her and pull the passenger door open for her.

“I know you love black flowers, and these are a lot easier to find than black dahlias. I hope you like them.” You smile as you close her door and get in the drivers side. 

“Thank you for the flowers, not everyone can appreciate a dead flower. But I do.”

“Kay, so I promise im not bringing you to our next location to murder you. I feel like you could take me down and kill me faster than I could kill you, however, It is a spooky place, but that’s your vibe, and I want you to be comfortable.” You explain nervously as you start driving toward your destination. 

Pulling into an old cemetery you see a small smile at the corners of Wednesday’s lips. 

‘’This is an acceptable location for the date.” Wednesday tries to not seem excited.

You get the blanket and pillows while Wednesday grabs the picnic basket and you make your way to the back of the cemetery. Placing everything down, you and Wednesday begin to eat the snacks you prepared. 

“Can I ask something without you getting offended?” You cautiously ask Wednesday, making her put down her crackers.

“I suppose that’s okay. Go ahead.” She responds.

“What makes me different? Everyone else gets this cold version of you, but I seem to get a softer side.” You grab her hand and start drawing small circles on the back of her knuckles. 

“I don’t know what you mean. I treat you the same exact way I treat everyone else.” She argues but keeps her hand held within yours. 

“Oh really? So if anyone else held your hand, you’d be fine? Or if anyone else did this?” You lean forward and gently cup the side of Wednesday’s face and bring your lips to hers. You can feel her resist the kiss and you start to pull back thinking you made a huge mistake. As a wave of embarrassment begins to wash over you, you feel Wednesday's hands on each side of your head, tangling her hands in your hair, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss; neither of you stopping until you need to come up for air. You look over at Wednesday's flushed state and start to giggle. 

“So you would let anyone else do that? I have to say, if this is gonna work, I’m gonna need that to not happen.”

“If anyone else did that to me I would gouge their eyes out and deliver them to you on a bed of roses. Only you get to do that to me, there are a lot of things you make me feel that I can not explain. It should repel me, disgust me, but one look at your smile and I now understand why the sun dies for the moon each night. Before you, I was destined to live a lonely existence. But the mere thought of never seeing you again brings me a pain that for once, I do not enjoy. I am learning that there is more to life than solitude and just living to eventually die.” Leaning over Wednesday takes the initiative to lay herself slotted between your legs, her back to your chest as she brings your hands to hold hers as they rest on her stomach. Too shocked to say anything you just squeeze Wednesday further into your arms and rest your head on top of hers. You both enjoy each others company while staring at the stars and continuing to eat the snacks you packed. 

“So what are your parents like?” You ask. “I saw their photo in that weird library we went to.” 

“My parents have always loved each other more than life itself. Growing up with them was sickening; always having to see how much they loved each other. I also have a brother, his name is Pugsley. He’s defenseless at best, he’s the reason I got sent here. There were kids at school bullying him; they tied him up and shoved him in a locker. I don’t like when people mess with the people that I care about if you haven’t noticed. Eugene reminds me a lot of Pugsley, minus the urge to strangle him constantly.”

Wednesday gets a faraway look in her eyes as she talks more about her family, her Uncle Fester, Thing. 

“Wait wait wait! So he’s actually just a hand? Like just the hand, no arm, no body and he’s able to communicate and move?” You ask excitedly, wanting to meet him immediately.

“It’s one of the great Addams Family mysteries. He’s over there by that headstone if you want to meet him. He was with us in the library as well. You’re kind of unobservant.” Wednesday laughs and snaps her fingers calling Thing over.

“Thing, this is y/n, y/n this is Thing.” Wednesday introduces.

You squeal with excitement. “Ohhhh my god. Can i pick him up? He’s so cute!” 

Thing tilts his nub of a wrist and confusingly looked at Wednesday. 

“Go ahead, she wants you to.” Wednesday reassures him. Thing walks on his fingers over to you and climbs up your leg making his was to your outstretched hand. You begin to coo and pet his palm.

“I love him, I want to take him home. He’s like a little bunny rabbit that you don’t need to feed or water.” That comment gets you flicked in the hand by Thing and you look down at him scoldingly. “Heyy. I was calling you cute, don’t make me put you in the car.” You threaten and nuzzle his palm into your hands using it they way you would rub a dogs stomach. 

“He may act like he hates it, but he actually loves the attention. He’s like a dog.” Wednesday explains as she makes him get down on her shoulder so she can take your hands in hers again. 

As you both continue to lay there you start to hear a rustling in the woods behind you. Looking over, Thing has left, already going to investigate. Grabbing Wednesdays hand with worry you pull the both of you to your feet and start packing all of the remaining food, blankets and pillows and rush to the car. 

“We need to go back and get Thing.” You breathlessly tell Wednesday.

“Thing will be fine, its what he’s made for.” Wednesday calmly states. 

“Wednesday, you said he was family. I don’t know if you’ve watched Lilo and Stitch, but no one gets left behind.” You yell, making your way back to where you were seated in the cemetery to attempt to locate Thing with Wednesday trailing behind you. Trying to remain calm you slowly make your way into the opening of the woods and are immediately met with what sounded like loud footsteps. Grabbing Wednesday and turning around to run you both stop in your tracks as you’re assaulted by the light of a bright flashlight being shone directly in your eyes.

Taglist: @athenablack1959 @lovelyy-moonlight @wednesdayiswoe @@deadpool-in-a-snood @lixeira @laurenmusic17 @antilost @donnabenevientosbitch @greygsworld @yukiunoo @dumb-ass2 @futurepiratekingfluffy @cupiocalamity @ladey

#wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday season 1 #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams fanfic #Wednesday Addams x y/n #Wednesday Addams fanfiction #Part Four #Series #No time like the present #Wednesday Addams Story #Wednesday x female!reader

[tsunderesalty]

5.most popular fic this year

12. favorite character to write about this year

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write

For the fanfic asks!

Thank you for the asks, Annie!

5: Most popular fic this year:

That's an easy one! Fruit Stand AU is the clear answer! I originally began the fic thanks to a ton of prompts from @mikaharuka in early March, and just recently completed the fic in early September, with the entire work being completed in just over 6 months! It was a huge passion project of mine, so much so that I've created a universe out of it, once again thanks to @mikaharuka's prompts! Fruit Stand AU received way more love than I would have thought, and it currently sits at 37,516 words, 9098 hits, 105 bookmarks, 117 comments, and 326 kudos (does this count as bragging, cuz it kinda feels that way to me)!

12: Favorite character to write about this year:

Has to be Enid Sinclair. I just had such a full spectrum of emotions and fic ideas with her, and she's an absolute delight to write dialogue for!

14: A fic you didn't expect to write:

Literally any fic that one of my friends/mutuals gave me brainworms for. So many fics have developed purely from joking around with a lot of you, which is always nice to do, but the fic ideas are a nice added bonus.

#ask #ask game #wednesday 2022 #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wenclair fanfic #wenclair fic #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfic #enid sinclair fanfiction #enid sinclair fanfic #my fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #my writing

[kumiho20]

Blogger Max Klimenko posted a video of celebrities he met in life, and one of them was our beautiful Jenna, which made available a new picture taken during her walk with Gideon.

#wednesday addams #jenna ortega #jortegaedit #wednesday netflix #netflix wednesday #jenna and percy #wednesday 2022 #jenna marie ortega #jennaortegaedit #wednesday series #wednesday season two #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday (2022) #wednesday adams #wednesday imagine #wednsday addams #wednesdayedit #wednesday #incorrect wednesday #wenclair #enid x wednesday

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Irony Poisoning Chapter 4 (Chapter 1)

"Who's there?" Enid squinted against the sudden influx of light from the hallway. She was still only half-awake, but that silhouette was unmistakable. "Wednesday?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?"

"You were having a nightmare."

"Oh, my god, I'm sorry. You heard me?"

"I think Uncle Fester heard you down in the dungeons," said Wednesday, sounding almost impressed, "but you don't want to share a bed with him. He still convulses in his sleep."

"Share a- you-"

Wednesday retreated back into the hallway and presumably her room.

She left the door open.

Enid still knocked as she entered Wednesday's room. "Are- Are you sure?"

Wednesday was already lying on her back, arms crossed. Her bed was a single, but she had still managed to turn down exactly half of the covers.

"I would not say something if I did not mean it. Unless I was trying to extract information from a potential killer, and we both know you don't have it in you." After a moment, Wednesday added, "I meant that as an insult."

"I know," said Enid, happily. The bed was so small they couldn't help knocking elbows and hissing at each other's cold feet.

Enid lay on her stomach, arms folded under the pillow. She was normally a stomach-sleeper anyway. It had nothing to do with preserving her new braids.

She turned her head to face Wednesday. "Is the reason you never hug people just because you're afraid of getting visions?"

"No," said Wednesday. "It's because I disapprove of superfluous physical contact."

"But some physical contact is un-superfluous?"

"Not a word."

"Living language."

"Misery."

"Do you ever get visions about me?" asked Enid.

"If I did, would you want to know?"

"No. Yes. No," said Enid. She kicked at Wednesday's feet, which were somehow still cold. Of course they were. "Why is there an octopus painted on your bed?"

"It's a hand-me-up from Pugsley who had a pet octopus named Aristotle," said Wednesday. "As long as we're speaking in non-sequiturs: I couldn't help overhearing your mother mention summer camp during Parents Day at Nevermore. I mean it. I tried. Her voice… carries. Did she take issue with your change of plans?"

"We may have exchanged a few growls."

"I thought she would be pleased that you transformed."

"That's… not the only kind of conversion camp she was threatening to send me to," said Enid, in a voice so small she wished it weren't her own.

Wednesday didn't say anything for a few moments, but Enid was getting better at reading her silences, and this definitely seemed like one of the more homicidal ones.

Enid wasn't worried. Wednesday was a lot of things, but she wasn't a bigot. She hated everyone equally.

"I assume you don't want her dead?" asked Wednesday.

"Not particularly," she answered lightly.

"How do you feel about emancipation? Father has a very good lawyer. Mother made sure of it after what happened with Tully Alford."

"Do I want to know what happened with Tully Alford?" asked Enid.

"Yes, but Uncle Fester tells it best, as long as you keep him on topic. Remember to ask him about Abigail Craven."

"Okay," said Enid, not really understanding but trusting Wednesday enough to file the advice away for future reference.

"You can also talk to me," said Wednesday. "If necessary. I can't promise to respond appropriately, but I can promise to listen. As long as it's not about boy bands."

"My Chemical Romance is not a boy band," said Enid, fully ready to fight Wednesday Addams over something for the first time ever. "Just because they abandoned their spot-color palate for Danger Days does not make their music any less prolific. Also, Gerard Way uses he/they pronouns."

"I stand corrected and humbled," said Wednesday, sounding neither.

“You would love Sweet Revenge.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“I mean the album,” said Enid. “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. Your dad has a record player, or a... phonograph, or something, right? Of course he does. I’ll have my cousin overnight me the album. Luke owes me one. You have simply got to listen to it on vinyl.”

"I will take that under advisement."

"I know you will," said Enid, who couldn't help if it came out a little haughty.

Wednesday's face somehow blanched and darkened at the same time. "What else has my mother told you?"

"Oh, nothing…. Just that you might still have… the snood."

"It returned on its own," Wednesday said stiffly. "Like a monkey's paw."

"You wore it at home."

"There was a funeral."

"Sure there was."

"It's not too late, Enid."

Enid laughed, giddy in the knowledge that she was being threatened by someone truly dangerous who would never lay a hand on her.

Unfortunately.

"So you and Ajax are no longer romantically involved?" asked Wednesday, and Enid thought she was fluent in non-sequiturs as a second language, but...

"Wha- Oh, uh, no. We broke up."

"Do I need to get my staple gun?"

"No, no, no! No. I broke up with him. Because- you know- I'm…"

"You can say it," said Wednesday. "You won't get struck by lightning. Well, in this house, you might, but not because you're gay."

"I prefer queer," said Enid, in that stupid small voice again, but Wednesday was right. No lightning.

"Good girl," said Wednesday, and she had to know that would do something to Enid. "Are you ready to go to bed, or do you want to talk about your dream as well? I know it wasn't about your family."

"How?"

"You were calling out my name in your sleep. I'm flattered that you would have a nightmare about me."

"Not that kind of nightmare."

"Buzzkill," said Wednesday.

"It's okay," said Enid, hiding a yawn in her pillow. "I don't think I'll have any more nightmares now that you're here."

"Now you're just being cruel."

#wednesday #wednesday addams #the addams family #wenclair #enid sinclair #wenclair fanfic #wenclair fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfiction #my chemical romance #mcr

[insideyourminddddddd]

closer | xavier x wednesday smut

summary: wednesday loses her virginity to xavier lol thats about it. this is the 11th part of my ao3 fic (here). if context is missing to certain dialogue it's because it's a longer series but it is still very readable when isolated. lmk<3 not enough wednesday x xavier smut on here!

Wednesday’s window was freezing cold against Xavier’s bare hands, sending a shock throughout his arm as he knocked twice. In a way, he liked the cold. It made him feel less warm all over, bringing his heart rate back down to speed.

“Come in.” She sounded far away.

Xavier pushed hard, making the circular window swivel and ducking his head under to gain entry. Wednesday’s room looked exactly the way it had when he was last here, asking Thing where she was. He appreciated everything about her side, and loved how much it contrasted to Enid’s. He assumed that Enid was at Ajax’s, that Wednesday had informed her roommate to leave for designated writing time. Or maybe she’d told her the truth, that Xavier would be coming here. Doubtful.

He imagined Wednesday on her first day, unpacking and putting everything in its rightful place, so organized like she always was. He wondered if she’d needed help with her typewriter. It looked heavy, and her hands were so small.

Wednesday was sitting on her bed, still in her school uniform. Xavier had changed into a long black coat with a fleece underneath. He felt overdressed.

“Hi.” Her voice was flat.

“Hey.” Xavier felt like he could barely speak. Wednesday’s eyes were like strings on a puppet, holding him up, controlling where he went and how he felt. He was practically immobilized by her stare.

“You’re so far away.” Wednesday said pointedly. Xavier had said that to her, in their dream.

He nodded, maintaining the bob of his head as he slowly walked toward her. He sank to his knees in front of her, letting her be the taller one, the person who got to look down. Just like their dream, except his hands were now in the pockets of his jacket.

Wednesday sighed. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“It's not you I’m afraid of.”

Xavier blinked, his confusion clear. He took up so much room on her floor. “Your jacket is miles long,” Wednesday added.

“It’s not.”

“Take it off.” She wanted to see more of him.

“No. Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“Take it off and I’ll consider it.”

Xavier said nothing as he slipped his coat off and threw it on the floor beside him. “What are you afraid of?”

Wednesday took a mental image of him, on his knees in her room in dark jeans and a white fleece and sneakers that were ripping at the soles. For now, she was bigger than him. For always, she was in control.

Afraid. What an awful word when she wasn’t the one bestowing such an emotion onto someone else, when she had to be the person feeling it, and she was. She was afraid of many things - of a person dying before her, of being taken advantage of, of trusting someone who made others lose trust in her, of being touched just to conjure a violent vision. To admit that to Xavier, to be so vulnerable before anyone, it felt like losing. What does it feel like? Tyler had said. To lose?

“What are you afraid of?” Xavier repeated. He reached out timidly, like he was grabbing an expensive glass he was afraid to break, wrapping his hand around her ankle. His fingers brushed the hem of her long skirt. Wednesday could feel the warmth of his touch, even through her socks.

Wednesday blinked once. Feeling his hands in any way, anywhere, lowered her inhibitions to a concerning degree. “I am afraid of being reduced to a pawn in someone else’s game.” She attempted to say this plainly, slightly swinging her ankle so that he gripped harder.

“In whose game?”

“Anyone’s.”

“Say it.”

“Tyler’s.”

Xavier nodded slowly, sliding his hand higher and beginning to move his thumb in circular motions against her calf. There was a flash of fury in his eyes, and she knew it was because she mentioned Tyler’s name. “And you were.”

“Yes, I was.”

“How did that make you feel?” Xavier’s hand was still moving, now resting upon her knee. It was making Wednesday feel woozy, like it wouldn't be so bad to tell the truth after all.

“Uncared for. His feelings were liquidated, falsified, all made up.”

Xavier was crawling closer now, his hand working his way onto her thigh. “That makes me very sad.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched. “If I couldn’t see it then, how could I ever trust anything?”

Xavier’s hand stopped moving, which Wednesday resented. “You have never been reduced to anything in my life. From the second you walked in it, you’ve only been amplified.”

Wednesday kept staring at him on the ground like he was worshiping some God. To Xavier, that’s what she was. She said nothing, silently begging him to keep touching her, to get closer to where she wanted him to be, erasing her thoughts, making her think of nothing but red. The room was silent, quieter than it had ever been. There was no sound of a cello, no dinging of Enid’s cellphone, no pattering of Thing, no clacking of a typewriter - just the white noise that Xavier was, his fast breathing, the space he occupied. Xavier took a deep breath shakily.

“And for the record, even if you think Tyler didn’t care, he would’ve if he’d gotten to know you. It’s impossible not to. And you want to know something else? If you let me in, if you accepted the offer that you know stands, I would make you feel so good about your life that you could see yourself that way too.”

“Then do it.” Wednesday snapped, pushing her body forward so that his hand was resting over her underwear, only beginning to ease the hungriness she’d been attempting to satisfy from the second he walked in wearing that damn coat.

“Do what?” He was almost breathless.

“Make me feel good.”

“Is that what you want?” Xavier began to withdraw his hand, which made Wednesday whine.

“Make it go away.”

“Say you trust me.”

Xavier Thorpe, drawing her perfectly in his sketchbook when she herself hardly knew what she looked like. Xavier Thorpe, buying his first all black cable knit two days after she started at Nevermore. Xavier Thorpe, laying on the floor in his room when she played the cello, closing his eyes so he could feel the sound of her better. Xavier Thorpe, always giving her the benefit of the doubt, the second chance she wouldn’t have had the pride to allow. Xavier Thorpe, shackled in the back of a cop car because of her and only worried that something could happen to hurt her. Xavier Thorpe, swimming across the hot tub, eyes greener than hell with a crooked smile created by cosmically connected dreams. Xavier Thorpe, tying a black bow around a black box holding a black phone for a girl, a girl who she was, who she is. Wednesday didn’t have to lie when she said, “I trust you.”

“Good, baby.”

Xavier’s voice had changed, growing rougher, lower, jumping to his feet and pushing her onto her bed. Her back was already arching when their lips meet, kissing for the first time in real life, and all he was thinking is yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

All five of the human senses were often lost on Wednesday. She didn’t crave food, or a certain candle, or the sound of much aside from her cello. In this moment, she was obsessed with every sense she had. His mouth was her favorite taste yet, so good that she felt like she could get drunk off it. Hearing was favorable, because even the most timid touch of her hand against his back made him moan, which she wished she could hear on a loop. Sight might’ve been the best of all if it weren’t for touch, if it weren’t for the friction in his jeans pressing against her pelvis, if it weren’t for how hard he was and how she was already addicted to it.

It wasn’t like this when she kissed Tyler.

Xavier’s hand reached around her back and lifted her closer to him, which made her gasp. She was brought back to earth by the sudden recognition that was happening, this was reality, this wasn’t a dream. And she didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t know how to touch you,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to touch me.”

Wednesday was flustered, feeling inadequate. “What if I want to?”

Now Xavier was flustered, eyes wide at the thought. He lowered her back onto the bed, putting both his hands by her head so that he was entirely over her. He couldn’t believe that she was real in front of him, that he could reach out and touch her and she wouldn’t disappear. “Then I can teach you.”

“And it will be like archery, me better than you, without even trying.” She noted that she sounded nervous, which was a foreign tone.

Wednesday expected Xavier to scoff, to rebuttal. He just shrugged, laughing softly. “Probably, yeah. You’re good at everything.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond before leaning back in to kiss her, cupping the back of her head and lifting it up so that he could get rougher, deeper. When he bit her bottom lip, Wednesday threw her head back, and Xavier didn’t let go, only biting harder. She loved it.

What she loved more was everything that he was saying. Xavier’s sentences were the opening scene to the removal of another item of clothing, a step closer to the fulfillment of this endless spiraling of want that she felt. Her whole body was pounding.

“I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life, Wednesday.”

His hands were under her shirt, pulling at the clasp of her bra.

“I think about you all the fucking time.”

He was pulling down her skirt, smiling against her cheek when he felt the lace edges of her black underwear. She tugged at his shirt as he did this, and he pulled it off entirely for her, smiling even bigger.

He was thin, but she liked it. Loved it, really. She could see his muscles and veins and could imagine what he looked like on the inside easily. She reached a hand up to his lower stomach, dragging her fingertips along his skin. This made him suck his breath in, hard.

Xavier couldn’t believe how perfect she was. All she had on was her underwear, and they were so her , which he felt dumb for noticing. I like your underwear, Wednesday, I like everything about you. Her skin was pale, and impossibly soft. He’d drawn her so many times that he was starting to feel like he knew her, but God, he knew nothing. He couldn’t imagine what was before him until she actually was, braids coming undone and cheeks flushed and her hands resting under her collarbones, covering her chest shyly.

He leaned onto his left side, laying next to her as she lay flat and moving his right hand to pull her underwear to the side. This act alone makes Wednesday moan, and she was embarrassed by it, but Xavier didn’t look smug. He looked  wondrous, like he was figuring it all out for the first time too, even if he wasn’t. The truth was, it might as well be the first time, because it’d never felt like this before.

She was already incredibly wet, which makes Xavier feel like he was short circuiting, like someone turned him off and on again. “Tell me if you’re in pain,” he whispered, and he started with one finger, then two.

To Wednesday, nothing hurt. She noted a sensation similar to fire pooling low in her abdomen, and it intensified every time she looked at Xavier’s face, at how he was biting his lower lip, sweat beginning to pool on his forehead and above his mouth. She wanted to lick it off and taste the saltiness of it. Every time their eyes met he pushed his fingers further, and when Wednesday reacted, he felt like he was drowning in some unreal feeling, some degree of bliss.

Xavier bit back a moan. He wanted this to be about her, but it was actually hard not to finish this way, at the fact that his fingers were soaking and stained with Wednesday . He was beginning to feel carnal. The thought of doing anything other than this made him feel dismal. Next to her, with his hands inside her, watching her make strangled noises at his movements - Xavier felt as though this is what he was born to do. This is what he was put on Earth for, to right Wednesday’s wrongs, to make her feel better.

That very Earth stuttered on its axis seconds later, when Wednesday finished, when Wednesday realized, wow, so this is what the fuss was about . She was impossibly loud, arching forward because the convulsions were too much, and when Xavier tried to cover her mouth she bit him, because she wanted everyone to hear. Everything was static and she couldn’t focus on anything at once, at anything but the pleasure coursing through her body. For a second, she was convinced that she would feel this way forever. It was intense and jerking and it was Xavier who gave it to her, who she hoped would give it to her again and again.

“Xavier,” she whispered, feeling his fingers leave her, watching his chest heave. Just like hers.

He moved closer, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and kissing it. “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” His voice was a murmur, barely audible.

“I want more.”

She felt him smile against her neck, which was a top-three sensation. She wanted him to smile against every part of her body. He reached his hand back down, but she caught his wrist. “More.” With her knee, she sloppily rubbed against his jeans, finding her way to him. Somehow, he was harder than before.

Xavier looked at her for a second, at how red she was. He’d never seen her with this much color. He wanted to, of course he wanted to. He just didn’t want it to be too soon. “Are you a virgin?”

Wednesday was flushed, meek in a way he rarely saw her. “I am.”

Xavier kissed her cheek, overwhelmed at the prospect of doing something with her that no one had gotten to do before. She moved away from him for a second, and he felt embarrassed. He didn’t want to make it a bigger deal than necessary, but it was. It was her first time. He wanted it to be special, to be memorable. He wanted her to feel special. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure.” Wednesday nodded to reinforce her sentiment, touching his dimple with her right hand. He looked happy, genuinely so.

“It may hurt.”

“Ideally.”

“You have to tell me if it hurts, and we can stop and go slower.”

“More.”

Xavier was awkward in his removal of his pants and underwear, shimmying them off. She couldn’t believe that she was getting to see him in this light, breathing in the air of his sweat and mouth and neck and body. Seeing him like this, practically dancing, smiling wide to lighten the mood, she almost wanted to laugh. Later that night, she would write in her journal; tonight we were young and happy and sweaty and disgusting and naked and we were people, in all definitions of whatever a person may be. She loved it. She fucking loved it.

When he got back on the bed, back on top of her, he wrapped both his hands on the respective sides of her underwear. He leaned down to kiss her stomach, right above her belly button, before pulling them off entirely, throwing them across the room. “There you are,” he whispered.

Here I am, she thought. Wednesday grabbed the top of Xavier’s head, yanking at his hair to pull him closer, to line him up with her. She was made frantic by the desire to feel him inside her.

“Be nice,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Never.”

Xavier held her wrists above her head. She was entirely at his will. “Never,” he repeated.

He entered her slowly, gasping for breath. He was heaving so much she thought he might die, moaning like crazy and they were only just getting started. Wednesday wished she could record it. She was focusing on her new favorite song when she began to feel a sting, deep and tight, like a rubber band snapping. She gasped, different than before, but she wanted him to keep going. The pressure in her stomach, the pressure everywhere , it was building. But soon, it would break.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Xavier was kissing Wednesday’s forehead as he said, his right hand slamming into her headboard. “Fuck.”

It was better than okay. Wednesday loved the pain and the pleasure, the way they mixed when he was fully inside her, when he could pick up speed and thrust into her. Her bed was slamming against the wall, and she was impossibly loud, whimpering and saying Xavier’s name. He was swearing, and he was saying her name even more than she was saying his. She didn't care about the volume or the prospect of someone hearing. She didn’t care about Nevermore, or the world, or other people, or anything that wasn’t Xavier fucking her.

All these years, all the mysteries she’d been trying to solve, all the holes she’d been trying to fill to resolve that nothingness inside her - Xavier had had the key the whole time. She felt like he was putting together the pieces of her body, of her being, one by one. She brought her hand up to pull his hair, and relished in the sounds he made in response. “You’re perfect,” he said, going faster and looking pathetic and fantastic.

Xavier moved both his hands to the side of her face, and was reminded of how harshly he covered his ears in that first dream, where she was tied up. He imagined squeezing her skull, just as he once imagined bursting his own. Sometimes he felt like he liked her so much he could eat her alive. He knew now that even being inside her wasn’t enough to fully quench his desire. His obsession was never ending. Maybe if he crawled inside her, held her heart as though it was his, met her where no one had ever been, maybe then he’d be satisfied, somehow more so than he was now, fucking his muse.

He finished quickly, onto her stomach, and cleaned them both with a tissue from her bedside table. Wednesday couldn’t stop staring at the length of his body, the length of every part of him, missing when their bodies were merged even though that was mere seconds ago. Xavier pulled her blanket over him, calling her beautiful and hot and sexy and wonderful and perfect, perfect, perfect.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday could feel the moment around her slipping away like sand through her fingertips. How warm her body felt, how the sheets were coming off on the bottom left corner of the bed, how Xavier’s hands were still shaking as they touched her, pulling her back in to kiss her more softly than before. She hadn’t known how much she wanted this until it was happening. What else had passed her by, blurred by insecurities and faulted priorities? It was already over. And she felt so fucking alive.

She was sitting up, Xavier’s left arm swung around her lower stomach, and looking back over her shoulder to see him. He was laying there, his hair falling around him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Go to sleep,” Wednesday whispered, as if he needed her permission. Maybe he did.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” Xavier’s voice was small and tired. In this moment, everything about him had become smaller, like him opening himself up to her had made him more sizable. He was as big as ever, of course, his feet hanging off of the end of her twin bed, but it didn’t seem that way. Wednesday felt like a snake, wrapping herself around her victim just so she knew how to eat them, just so they could fit perfectly within her. He would be the best meal of her life.

“In my room, yes, I think I will be here.”

“You know what I mean. Are we real?”

Wednesday locked eyes with him, a dizziness coming over her. She knew what he meant, but said nothing, running her hand over his eyes to force them shut. He looked content, more so than maybe anyone she’d ever seen before. Wednesday thought about how he was just inside her, how their bodies were connected on an anatomical level, how his face had twisted in this gorgeous way and it was all because of her. That was beautiful to her, even if it would’ve embarrassed her to say it out loud. Stay inside me forever, she wanted to say. Be there always, so that I can be weak, so that I can want something so bad I’d kill for it, so I can bend at the will of anything other than my selfish desires, so that I can be a human.

#xavier thorpe smut #xavier x wednesday smut #xavier #xavier smut #xavier thorpe x wednesday addams #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams fanfic #xavier thorpe x wednesday #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe jealous #xavier thorpe #wednesday show #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe fanfiction #wednesday fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfiction

[dianneking]

Time, and other hazy concepts  Adult!Professor!Wednesday x Larissa Weems fanfiction

This is a weird fic, born of a sleep-deprived brain sometime in December, which I never felt like going back to fix for posting until now. It is disconnected and stream of consciousness-like, but not quite. I hope it speaks to you in some weird way. It is a  a weird, meandering one-shot exploring how convoluted a seer’s brain can be. OOC, adult professor Wednesday/Larissa Weems. 

Can be read on AO3 here - while my fanfiction masterlist ( admittedly with less weird stuff) is here 

Wordcount: 1189

Tags: Weird prose, OOC, Coming out themes, Genderfluid Larissa Weems, Age difference, Adult Wednesday, Professor Wednesday, Kind of a stream of consciousness.

Time, and other hazy concepts

Wednesday Addams has a weird relationship with Time. Being plagued by visions of multiple possible pasts, presents and futures tends to do that to a person. Some people think of time as a line, others see it as a recurring circle of inevitable events. But to her, it is more like the ocean, with currents and waves, with ebbs and flows and whirlpools. This gives her a unique outlook on life, one that is often misunderstood by those whose normie brains are restricted by chains of their own making.

Look at Nevermore, for instance. Wednesday had come and gone and returned. And the school had always been there to envelop her in its long, narrow corridors and its stained-glassed windows like a mother, waiting for her wayward child. Different, as well as still the same. Time didn’t seem to touch the Academy: it changes and remains the same while throngs of students pass through its halls. Some vampires take decades to complete even one single schoolyear here at Nevermore, because they get lost in their own personal projects and there's no real hurry, right?, not when you're eternal. Wednesday feels like she understands them now. There’s so much to learn, so much accumulated knowledge hiding in the dusty tomes and experienced people, and to discover in labs and gardens and cellars alike.

She almost doesn’t notice when people start to call her Professor Addams. She quite likes the sound of it. They talk of her in whispered tones, reverently, they tell stories of the amazing psychic Raven, the one who had saved the school and the whole outcast world. When she crosses the quad, which is always a pentagon, their hushed tones quiet down in an awed silence, and Wednesday wonders if they too can see the fiery inferno that coursed through this place as if it was still there, the blackened hand of death from which life sprung back. Because Death is mysterious and tantalizing, but Life turned out to be quite awe-inspiring as well, an adventure which she had not anticipated would be so rewarding to explore.

Sometimes, she even remembers to show up on time to her own lectures. But Time, as she well knows, is a hazy concept, and the students just learn to drop by her classroom once in a while and see whether or not there’s a lesson going on. She likes it that way. It makes more sense to her, and Nevermore’s schedule wraps around her in a hug, adapting to her as it adapts to the specific needs of the generations of outcasts that travel through its hallways.

In one timeline Wednesday had held her as her eyes glossed over in the cold throes of death. But in this one she lifts her eyes every day to see Principal Weems solidly at the helm of Nevermore Academy as she should be. As she has always and will always be. There is still debate in the scientific community on whether or not shapeshifters actually age, but age is just a way to try and trap Time, and is not something that has ever made much sense to Wednesday. Principal Weems just is, like the school that is her pride and joy. She is eternal, she has always been.

Principal Weems has been the one who invited Wednesday back to her home, Nevermore, and offered her a room in the faculty quarters and molded the schedule around her new employee’s wandering habits. She is the one that invites Wednesday to her office once in a while, to talk about the students and the school and the past over a glass of wine. And if they end up staying up talking till the lights of dawn start to filter through the window and the embers are dwindling up in the fireplace, what is but one night in front of the whole of Time? They are one and the same, Wednesday and the principal, two sides of the same coin, hard-headed and passionate, unforgiving and unyielding in the things they deem important.

Larissa Weems still calls her exhausting and a trouble magnet, but with a kind, knowing smile and Wednesday feels like the principal is the only one that can make sense of Wednesday’s own thoughts and ways. Because in all of the timelines, in all of Time’s roaring tempestuous waves, she was there by Wednesday’s side when it mattered. When they saved the school, together. So, when one night Larissa’s strong hand covers Wednesday’s own in a silent request, Wednesday curls her own around it, basking in the warmth that glows in her dark heart.

She still plays the cello in the night on her old terrace but her eyes don’t follow the written partition anymore. She pours her soul out and crafts it into music, her fingers travelling on the chords, and pulling the bow mercilessly across the instrument. Her eyes never leave the icy ones of the only person in front of her, the one she dedicates her performances to, the one that never ceases to listen to her, rapture on her beautiful face. They are beyond Time, beyond Reality itself when they are there, wrapped in each other as well as in the music. When the last cello note ends vibrating in the night air, Wednesday runs her fingers on another instrument, and makes her sing through the night.

Change is Time’s child, and its parent. How can things change if they are suspended above the roaring seas that want to buffet them around in the currents of befores and afters? Wednesday accepts Change as she does Time, unflinching and unperturbed by its schemes. But she can understand that for others change is scary, and overwhelming, and she gently guides her principal and lover through its difficult twists and turns and traps, with a patience that surprises the both of them. Some things are worth being patient for. A golden band on her finger is a change that Wednesday finds herself staring at more often than others, a phantom of a smile ghosting on her lips. Maybe it is not a change, though, maybe the familiar weight of ring had always been there, its meaning has always been there. Now it has only taken on a physical form, but it doesn’t change Wednesday feelings. Those have always been and always will be.

Wednesday has never been one to put things in boxes and label them. You cannot contain an ocean in a box, and you can't label all of its waves. So when her wife breaks down in front of Wednesday and tells her that on some days she feels like her husband instead, Wednesday holds them and dries their tears, kissing them away together with their worries. She calls them Larissa on wife days, and Lars on husband days and goes on loving them with all of her big black heart.

As far as we know, there is still a Nevermore Academy somewhere, in some fold of Time. The students come and go and Principal Weems is there to guide them and help them, together with their wife, Professor Addams.

*****

Link to my fanfiction masterlist

#dianneking #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfic #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams #larissa weems x wednesday addams #wednesday x larissa #wednesday addams x larissa weems #professor wednesday addams #professor wednesday #adult wednesday addams #wednesday fandom #wednesday the series #wednesday fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #crossposted on ao3

[wesstars]

hot tea

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: your addams just really needs some physical contact :) wc: 737 tags: established relationship. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters involved are 18+. ooc wednesday. idk something about tooth rotting fluff a/n: first wednesday drabble wednesday, in collaboration with @evilrawr! fluff has been requested by @melrodrigo. still not my strong suit but we’re going for it anyway. 

masterlist

Steam rose from the warm mug that you carefully wrapped Wednesday’s fingers around, but the heated ceramic was nothing compared to the searing lance of your grasp around her wrist. She watched as you settled yourself down on bended knee in front of her, respectfully pulling back your hands. Her own twitched, minutely. 

It hadn’t been that difficult to come knock on your door, 10 minutes before curfew was over. Wednesday knew you’d be there in your dorm, making something absurdly sweet with your—respectably contraband—electric kettle. You’d stepped aside to wordlessly let her in, and she’d taken her usual seat at the foot of your bed. Strewn around were your day’s assignments, a jacket or two, and she wrinkled her nose at the mess. Your lamps cast a gentle candle-eseque light across everything, blurring every sharp edge. The exact reason why she was in your room, well…

“Long day?” Your gaze was inquisitive but warm, as always. Wednesday watched you, taking in your socked feet and soft pants. Then, she did the Wednesday Addams equivalent of what might be considered a frustrated huff from Enid, or a desolate sigh from you: she looked away first.

The reaction was immediate, she noted absently. You tried to catch her gaze again, the slope of your shoulders and the wring of your fingers imploring her to look back at you. “Weds… talk to me?”

She took a slow sip from the mug, avoiding your eyes. To tell the truth, Wednesday was busy aching in the way that she wished you’d reach across the sea between your knee and hers. Her intense feelings were something that she typically kept locked away, not just with the protection of a key, but with a castle moat, bolted doors, and plenty of booby traps. Inside that cage lay other previously dormant feelings, ones that you managed to pull out, sharp knife to soft underbelly, with startling ease. Wednesday set her mug down on the floor, cocking her head at you. Often she’d feel a baser, visceral urge to blurt out whatever thought she had to you. Restraint was becoming more and more difficult, the more you seemed to flay yourself open in front of her for a perusal akin to autopsy.

There was a muffled thump as you got up just a bit to shift from your kneeling posture, and Wednesday couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling tightly until you were about nose to nose. Her mind knew that your actual body temperature wasn’t that high, even lower than the average, but her cold heart felt the bone-deep bonfire of your proximity as your hands slammed into the bed next to her thighs, preventing you from tumbling into her. You took a sharp breath, a fateful one, as it seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room, leaving Wednesday blissfully bereft of that life force. She didn’t need it, anyway; she was convinced she could sustain herself on the dilating of your pupils, the flickering of your eyes down to her lips.

“Come here.” Wednesday’s voice came out in a rasp, but she reasoned with herself—it was the best she could do after you yanked the air out of her still lungs. That ache of absence turned into a yawning chasm, reserve and restraint tumbling down into that eager maw. Her demand fell into that same ravine, eclipsed by the endless depth of darkness.

You stood from your position to sit on the bed as soon as the plea left her, and Wednesday was impressed at your speed. You pulled her into your arms not a beat later. Everything smelled like a faint mix of linen and honey, between your sweater and your tea, and something in it brought Wednesday’s world to a halt. The skin of your collar was warm against the tip of Wednesday’s nose, grounding like the nip of winter air. The two of you fell easily into your sheets, and Wednesday’s mind finally felt like it had found the smoking gun for the investigation. It settled like a content cat right in her diaphragm, making it easy to breathe you in.

“Is this what you wanted?” Your voice, already sleepy, sent vibrations down Wednesday’s spine. She hummed back, leaning her temple up against your shirt and letting her head fall onto your chest. You didn’t say a word more; you didn’t need to.

--

a/n cont'd: so... playing with words… what do we think :0

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

#project wes #wdw #fanfiction #wednesday #wednesday (2022) #wednesday 2022 #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #drabble #one shot #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #reader insert #self insert #wednesday addams fanfiction #fanfic #wednesday addams fic #lgbtq

[missmonsters2]

—AGNOSTHESIA | FIVE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: After the talk, things were going well, or so Wednesday assumed. You've been distancing yourself and Wednesday is forced to sift through her past behaviors to see why and comes to a realization that makes her violently ill.

Warnings: Angst. Jealous!Wednesday. Enid, has to spell it out. Thing, wants more dew drops. Xavier, rip.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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Note: we're making waveEees (slow burn mode) 🥺💘

Part Four

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Agnosthesia: Noun. The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behavior, as if you were some other person—noticing a twist of acid in your voice, an obscene amount of effort put into something trifling, or an inexplicable weight on your shoulders that makes it difficult to get out of bed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Not quite, Henry. Try crushing the seed instead of chopping it; you'll get more juice out of it that way."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Yes, use the flat side of your knife, just like that—careful."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Well done, Henry!"

Wednesday slams her textbook down on the desk.

"Ow!" Xavier yelps, the tips of his fingers caught under the textbook. He yanks them out. "Jesus fucking Christ, Wednesday, my fingers!"

"Quit blubbering," Wednesday unapologetically tells him. "They are still attached to your body, are they not?"

"For now," Xavier grumbles, rubbing his bruised fingers. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"I don't have a problem," Wednesday's eyes briefly look at him before looking back at her own flask. "Why would you think that?"

This was her third time re-making the elixir. 

The textbook had said to cut the seed to extract the juice inside, but after Xavier nearly lopped off his finger the first time, Wednesday took over the second time. The only issue was that despite her flawless knife work, they could hardly squeeze any of the juice out from the seed's hard shell. 

Xavier was plucking at her last nerves with his suggestion to try again—as if the seed would suddenly get softer. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw. She should've declined to be Xavier's partner. Even Bianca would suffice better because at least she would feel no inclination about holding back on murdering Bianca when they finally got fed up with each other. 

But this was only an issue because—

"Because tooth fairy has refused to be your lab partner, like, what, 3 times now?" Xavier whispers.

Wednesday doesn't say anything, but her expression gets more contemptuous, her mouth pinched, and Xavier doesn't say anything more. She doesn't even comment on Xavier's horrible epithet that he's been sticking to despite your immediate veto. His only reasoning was that you had a nice smile, which Wednesday was inclined to agree with reluctantly. 

But it was true. It was a rather new development when you began growing closer to Wednesday, especially after they resolved the tension regarding Wednesday not asking questions. It was going well, or so Wednesday had thought. 

Now, you jumped at making sure someone else was your partner before the teacher would even finish telling everyone to partner up.

Looking up, Wednesday stares at the back of your head, willing to burn a hole through it so you'd look at her. 

You don't.

"That guy has been hanging around her often," Xavier comments, his eyes narrowing a little. "Pretty sure he's a legacy. His dad went here—Henry Morrison? Can’t believe he named his son the same name."

"Why are you telling me this irrelevant information?" Wednesday cuts in before he can say anything else. 

"Is it irrelevant?" Xavier smiles, though the corners of his mouth don't make it too far up. "Thought you, of all people, should know this: know any potential rival—lest you want someone else to swoop in."

'Rival?' Wednesday thought with confusion. She looks at the boy next to you. 

There was no way this lanky, pitiful, stuttering boy could be her rival. If she were to look at anyone as a rival, it'd be Bianca. 

The siren looked way too smug and haughty every time you spent time with her. Every time Wednesday caught a glimpse of you two, Bianca would have this aggravating smirk that would send Wednesday into a burst of rage that Thing would have to suffer through while she ranted. 

"How's psychitect going? Getting better?" You ask.

Henry nods eagerly. "I-I can almost make a fully functional mindscape. You should come to see it," Henry says with a shy smile. "Y-You have a free period during that time, right?" 

You nod with an easy-going smile. "Sure, I don't have much else to do, and it sounds pretty cool."

Wednesday purses her lips unhappily, stabbing the seed with the tip of her knife precisely, and Xavier moves his hands away just in case. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Wednesday—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm about to ask—"

"No."

Enid exaggeratedly pouts, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Wednesday..." she pitifully drags.

"Enid," Wednesday grits her teeth, holding firm. "No."

"C'mon!" Enid continues to plead. "One of the girls broke her arm! We're short a girl again this year."

"How tragic," Wednesday says without care. "But that, unfortunately, wasn't my fault. I applaud your efforts to torture me but I have no inclination to join the boat race this year."

"But don't you remember that satisfying feeling of beating Bianca?" Enid tries to entice Wednesday instead. "What was it that you said last year? A dark, vengeful spirit."

Wednesday raises her brow. "I have no additional quarrels with Bianca this year. I get my satisfaction from beating her in fencing."

Enid lets out a groan. She knows she's running out of options, and she's about to give up when something pops into her mind, and a mischievous smile that Wednesday doesn't like appears.

"Oh, well," Enid says with a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to ask someone else and risk losing to Bianca."

Wednesday narrows her eyes. "It appears so."

"And with Fae watching in the crowd, I bet she'll be so impressed with Bianca taking that trophy," Enid continues, astutely turning away as she says it, a smirk on her face. "Man, how embarrassing. I can't believe I'll have to explain to Fae that we lost because my roomie didn't want to get into the whole school spirit thing."

Enid sighs one last time as she sits on her bed, looking at Thing, who sits beside her. "Oh, well. I'm sure Fae will be thrilled to celebrate Bianca's victory."

Wednesday clenches her fist. She's not unaware of Enid's horrible attempt at manipulating her. It was tragically embarrassing on Enid's end but what was more embarrassing was that it was working.

The idea of you celebrating Bianca's victory was making Wednesday more sullen than she already was. 

So, for the second time this year, despite Wednesday's reluctance to win the Poe Cup again as it made her more similar to her mother, she was going to make Bianca burn with the taste of utter defeat. 

"Enid," Wednesday scowls. "It would be wise to sleep with both eyes open after the competition is over."

"I love you, too, Wednesday."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday is at a loss. 

Despite her attempts to ask more questions and discover what could possibly be the reason why you've been distant, you've stonewalled her. 

It is a very sickening feeling. 

"How could she do this to me, Thing?" Wednesday seethed at the disembodied hand as it was just the two in her room. "This is the second week she's cut our time short. That's 14 days, Thing. Our usual 38 hours a week have been cut down to a mere 15 hours."

Thing taps and signs.

"Why are you asking if I did something?" Wednesday glares.

Some more tapping.

"It's a fair assumption," Wednesday concedes. "But I haven't done anything out of the ordinary as of late. You must know how painful it is for me right now to admit I am at a loss."

Thing taps.

"And she has said nothing to you?" Wednesday glares suspiciously.

Thing taps more firmly, and Wednesday lets out a sigh through her nose and lets it go. Checking the time, she finds you'll be here any minute now.

As of late, you've been insisting on meeting Wednesday in her room at night instead of your fae studio realm. Enid seemed to catch on and was happy to hang out with Ajax or Yoko for an hour or two until you left.

It only served to remind Wednesday that it used to be four hours at your studio. Wednesday bitterly thinks you've done it on purpose because it was easier for you to leave her space than to make her leave your space. 

There's a knock on her door. 

Right on time.

Wednesday looks at Thing before glaring at the door.

"I will not accept defeat tonight," she ominously declares as she walks towards the door. 

When she opens it, Wednesday finds you smiling at her but there’s something about it that makes her feel disgruntled. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” you say in the exact same way you’ve said hundreds before. “Enid out again?”

“Of course,” Wednesday deadpans since not even Enid knows about your wings.

“Cool,” you reply before looking out the window. “Can we open the window? It feels a little stuffy in here.”

Wednesday looks at Thing, who scuddles to the window and cracks it open. There’s a slight breeze that makes you sigh with ease as you take off your sweater and sit down on the floor at Wednesday’s bed. 

There’s a momentary pause as Wednesday stares at the familiar sight of your back before your opulent obsidian wings slowly grow out, stretching as much as they could with a ruffle. 

They were healing quite well, Wednesday notes. Soon, you won’t need to meet with her every night for treatment. 

You still need to meet her now but you’re already distancing yourself. 

Wednesday feels self-pity, rage, and dour. She won’t admit it, though, as she pulls out the tub of salve and sits behind you. 

Your wings trill as Wednesday moves her fingers through the feathers.

The way you won’t even tell her it tickles anymore. 

“Did you enjoy your day today?” You ask conversationally and Wednesday clenches her jaw.

“No,” she grits out.

“Oh,” you seem surprised at the admittance. There’s a delay and Wednesday knows you’re debating on inquiring further, but you make up your mind. “Why?”

“Why do you think so?” Wednesday asks instead, her voice flat and unimpressed that you’d sink to playing stupid. It was beneath you.

You remain silent.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say, your tone even and unassuming. “Has Xavier finally tried to hug you?”

You’re lightly jesting to avoid the confrontation but Wednesday won’t have it. She applies the salve slowly, knowing full well it was making you antsy. Wednesday was going to drag out tonight so painfully slow, you were going to regret having ever been the reason for Wednesday’s dreadful days. 

“No,” Wednesday answers, “And I doubt he ever will if he wants to live.”

You laugh but it’s not very sincere. “I guess he could always ask Enid to pass along a hug for him.” You’re jesting again but there’s something in your tone that sounds bitter.

Wednesday doesn’t know what to make of the comment, so she ignores it since it’s not like you can see her glare right now.

“You’ve been partnering up with the lanky boy lately,” Wednesday shifts the subject, sounding flat as if it were just a mere observation.

“Henry?” You say confusedly but Wednesday doesn’t confirm or deny. “I mean, I guess,” you shrug.

“Why?” Wednesday demands, asking what she really wants to know.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why not? You and I are some of the people with the top grades. It’s obvious we’re adept and Henry needs help.”

“So, why must you be the one to help him?” Wednesday clenches her jaw.

It’s a miracle how gentle she’s still applying the salve despite how uncomfortably irritated she feels. 

“Why? Are you offering to help him instead?” You ask wryly.

“I think if he’s destined to fail, then we should not interfere,” Wednesday bluntly and callously reasons. “Is he not the same boy who first saw you and could barely get a word out, leaving you with such a dull sobriquet?”

“It’s just a class, Wednesday,” you dryly say, awkwardly shifting. 

Wednesday’s jaw is set tightly in place, and she feels utterly humiliated right now.

“I heard you’re joining The Poe Cup race again this year?” You say, changing the subject as the atmosphere was tense. 

Wednesday feels her body relax ever so slightly at the new subject.

“Yes, at Enid’s relentless and piteous begging.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Wednesday feels uncomfortable and she’s unsure why. 

“Have you considered joining the race?” Wednesday spits out to keep the conversation moving. 

“No,” you answer softly again. “Even though there are no rules preventing sabotage against other teams, Principal Weems and I agreed that my powers would be a very unfair advantage to fight against.”

Wednesday’s curiosity rules over all other emotions. She wants to ask exactly what powers you’re talking about when you suddenly stand up and Wednesday realizes that you could feel when she’s finished applying the salve to the end of your scars. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” you tell her softly as you turn around, making your wings disappear with an uncomfortable grimace. You put your sweater back on and zipped it up. “I have some assignments with my other project partners I have to meet up with. Catch you later?”

Wednesday is left sitting on the floor, seething with rage and defeat as you walk out the room, shutting the door with a resounding, sickening click. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid returns home from her date with Ajax, feeling joyous and charmed. She immediately spots Wednesday at her desk on her typewriter.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid sing-songs. “Did you have a good night?”

“It was fine,” Wednesday says sharply, which has Enid looking over to Thing, who signs to not ask. 

“O-kay,” Enid replies, taking off her jacket before sitting on her bed. 

Wednesday is typing aggressively on her typewriter, each push so hard it sounds punishing. 

“So—”

“Not now, Enid,” Wednesday icily cuts in, continuing to type as if she wanted to break her typewriter. “I need silence.”

Enid doesn’t reply, only letting out a soft sigh as she puts her headphones on and rests in her bed. She opens a magazine and Thing shuffles over to her to look along with her. The sad thing is that Enid can still hear Wednesday aggressively typing, but she ignores it knowing her best friend and roommate needs the time to cool down before attempting to talk.

The only problem is an hour and half passes and Wednesday is still typing as if the typewriter has personally wronged her.

Enid yanks off her headphones, closing her magazine before she slams both down on her bed. She frostily looks at Wednesday.

"Wednesday, this was cute and funny to watch the first two weeks, but now it's getting sad," Enid purses her lips at her roommate. "Stop moping and go fix it. And don’t play stupid, I know you know what I mean."

"Enid," Wednesday says with thinly veiled anger, her typing coming to a stop. "Whatever it was between us has clearly taken a nose-dive and hit solid concrete and died. It was nothing and I'm not affected by—"

"Wednesday!" Enid snaps, and it makes Wednesday close her mouth. Her bright roommate rarely snapped. "Stop dismissing your own feelings."

"I'm not sure what you're—"

"Oh, yes you do," Enid cuts in, and Wednesday wants to remind her that it is a rude habit. "Maybe your big brain hasn't caught on yet, but if you spent time looking at your behaviors and actions of late, you'd be able to get on the same page as the rest of us."

Wednesday frowns, glaring at her roommate, who glares back.

"I implore detective Wednesday to make an appearance and annoyingly obsess over the clues she's given to herself," Enid scrunches her nose. "I'll be at Yoko's and when I'm back, I expect you'll have come to the correct conclusion. I'm taking Thing as well."

Enid doesn't wait for Wednesday's reply as she turns and leaves the room with a resounding click of the door shutting. With her alone in her room, Wednesday initially ignores Enid's words, going back to sit at her desk and placing her fingers on her typewriter, but nothing comes to mind. 

After sitting in frustration for 10 minutes, Wednesday curses her blonde roommate as she contemptuously gets up and goes to lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's almost embarrassingly easy to think back to the beginning. Wednesday remembers seeing you for the first time and thinking nothing of it. It was only two weeks of your friendly smile and greetings, despite having yet to be formally introduced, that she noticed you more. And then she couldn't stop noticing you because you never endeavored to say anything more to her than hello, even though you were diligent in getting to know everyone else. 

Then, it was the slow desire to know every single thing there was about you. Wednesday was still mostly ambivalent about her phone, but she had wanted your number. It was the gruesome butterflies, the discovery of your secret place, and your wings that began to make this year thrilling.

Wednesday had never suffered through so many hypothetical conversations in her head—she had considered admitting herself as a patient to a mental ward rather than being the usual enthused visitor. 

It was easy to admit that, on some level, she thought of you as hers to protect and would carry out any revenge needed. 

But this was normal, wasn't it? Wednesday bargains. This could all be construed as friendship, the same as whatever she had with Enid—just with more curiosity. 

The foundation of that reasoning was pathetically shaky, she knew.

It was the smaller things that Wednesday analyzed. 

Wednesday thought back and reluctantly admitted there were too many times she's felt jealous and sullen because of you. She thinks about how she would take the long way to her class just to bump into you down the halls. 

The way she would ensure her nightly plans were left completely free to spend with you. Quite frankly, Wednesday planned her days around you, and if there was something she could not put off, then she was sure to include you. 

It was coming horrifyingly clear. Wednesday has always told herself she wasn't sure how she felt about you to give herself plausible deniability. But her own actions and behaviors have ratted her out. 

And it was such an outrageous revelation. 

Damn it all. Wednesday Addams was romantically interested in someone. 

How unfortunate. 

The door jiggles before opening, revealing her blonde roommate returning with Thing on her shoulders. Wednesday looks at the time and finds she's been lying in bed for an hour.

"So?" Enid drawls. "Did you figure it out yet?"

"Yes," Wednesday tightly replies, looking at Enid briefly before glaring back at the ceiling.

"And how do you feel?"

"Enraged." 

"Enraged?!" Enid's in disbelief but then sighs. "But of course you'd be."

Wednesday suddenly sits up. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't care.

"Thing," Wednesday writes a quick note, folding it before giving it to Thing. "Go deliver this."

Thing grabs it and scuddles off while Enid stares at her roommate with curiosity. "Are you going to go meet up with her?" Then, excitedly. "Are you going to confess?"

"The only thing I will ever confess to is a murder," Wednesday flatly says. "But yes, I will be meeting up with her and I will make her suffer as I have."

Enid winces, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Wednesday is silent for a moment before she says, "No. But I will be getting to the bottom of this, and I will come out victorious."

Wednesday puts on her boots and sweater.

"Are you sure she'll even meet up with you? What did you say in your note?"

Wednesday grinned wickedly. "I told her to meet me, or I would set fire to her forest until it was nothing but ash."

Enid sighs, turning to get ready for bed. "Good luck."

Wednesday doesn't reply, walking to the door. It is pathetic she's romantically engrossed in someone, but as it happened, she couldn't undo it. 

Therefore, as the object of her affections, she could not allow you to distance yourself without a sound, robust reason. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday makes it to your studio before you do, but she can hear your footsteps heavy with annoyance. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Wednesday?" She hears you huff. "Why the hell would you send me a note that you're going to burn down—"

"You've been avoiding me," Wednesday turns around and hisses, anger written all over her face. "Why?"

You’re stunned silent, shocked at the sudden confrontation and venomous tone from Wednesday. For a second, Wednesday thinks you won’t answer and turn around to leave, risking your little haven burnt to a crisp.

"I have not," you say slowly, rising to the challenge as you raise your brow at her. "We still see each other every night, don't we?"

"But we don't..." Wednesday pauses. "You don't..."

"What?" You tilt your head. "Spend all my time with you?"

Wednesday remains silent, her blood silently burning inside her. She's so filled with disgruntlement. It's always better to suffer the truth than to be blissfully unaware, but Wednesday wishes this entire realization wasn't her truth. 

"Should I start prioritizing you?" You say with no inflection, but it feels almost malicious. "I'd have never thought Wednesday Addams would demand so much of my time."

Wednesday would never, ever admit that something as silly as words could hurt her. They were just words, and she'd have to care enough to let them affect her. Even Enid's rare spiteful words were more of something she used to reflect on rather than let them dig at her. 

Yet, here she was, clenching her jaw and feeling her throat constrict. 

Wednesday clenches her fist. "This was a mistake." She turns around and starts walking away, feeling violently ill. She only gets a few steps away before you're chasing after her.

"No, Wednesday—wait," you grab her hand, and Wednesday absolutely detests the way it soothes her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Your tone is full of regret and sincerity.

Wednesday stands still in her spot a moment longer before she slowly turns back to you. You don't let go of her hand, and she doesn't pull away.

"Then, why?" Wednesday asks, even though she isn't in a position to accuse you, as she's the exact same when lashing out.

"Because..." you let out a deep sigh, holding Wednesday's hand more tightly. "Because I'm jealous."

Wednesday's eyebrows furrow. She is thoroughly at a loss. "Jealous?"

You shrug and then nod. "Jealous, upset, lamenting—whatever you want to call it."

"Of what, exactly?" Wednesday frowns. 

"Enid."

"Enid?" Wednesday is even more confused. "Why would you be envious of Enid?"

"It's not necessarily Enid as a person. I know she's your best friend," you sigh. "It's more of Enid as a concept."

"As a concept?" Wednesday raises her brow, prompting you to continue on.

You stare at Wednesday, studying her entirety with a focus that begins to make Wednesday uncomfortable even if she doesn't show it. 

"Everybody talks about last year," you reveal slowly. "Since I wasn't here, everyone is excited to share last year in detail."

Wednesday nods. Even her group talked about last year's events when you hung out with them from time to time. 

"The only thing I can think about when people talk of it is how different you've become," you say quietly. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I'm very aware of the fact that Enid was a big factor in your change."

Wednesday lets the words soak in, analyzing them before she nods in agreement. "Enid has left an enduring mark on me, and she continues to—do not repeat that to her."

You give Wednesday a wry grin. "Yes, Enid is..." you sigh. "She's warm like the sun—like basking under the rays. I can't blame you because I feel it in her presence too. She's genuine and bold. What you see is what you get, and you can't help but be charmed."

"I would say Enid is more like a fungus that grows on you and you have no choice but to be fond of, but continue on."

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you look at Wednesday, mirroring her impassive eyes. "I'm not like that."

Wednesday raises her brow. "And?"

You swallow, and Wednesday sees something dim behind your eyes. "I will never be warm like the sun, and what I show others will always be different—always a mask. Wednesday, despite you being grim, solemn, and interested in all morbidities, you're enticed by the sun and moved by its warmth." It was such a miserable smile. "And that will never be me."

You drop Wednesday's hand, and there's something so hollowing about it that Wednesday wants to tell you that you're such a fucking moron because the lack of your warmth is upsetting her. 

"Did you fall on your head when I wasn't watching?" Wednesday snaps at you, and you merely stare back at her. She grabs your hand back, almost crushing it to punish you. 

"Basking in the sun is only tolerable when you're sitting under the shade," Wednesday follows your ridiculous metaphors. "I will admit that Enid's warmth has taught me that while I enjoy solitude, it is a choice—not a condemnation."

"I will also admit that Enid has her whims indulged by me more," Wednesday rolls her eyes but looks at you sternly. "But so do you. I could argue I let you get away with more."

"Do I?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"If anyone consumed my thoughts and put me through such self-pity and suffering as much as you do, I would have already turned them into the next true crime documentary."

You can't help but crack a smile.

Wednesday looks at you, her eyes softening, and she evenly says, "It is easy to adulate the light." Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Show me your darkness."

You squeeze Wednesday's hand gently, and the tension in your fades, your shoulder becoming relaxed.

The anger subsides within Wednesday, quelling as she knows this stupidity is coming to its end and you will no longer be avoiding her. 

It comes to Wednesday suddenly how much emotional labor you put her through, and she's in disbelief that you think you aren't capable of changing her.

"You are..." Wednesday huffs with frustration. "Unpleasant."

You can't help but laugh. "You are, too."

"You already knew that," Wednesday plainly says. "I told you I would devastate you at some point."

"I wouldn't say I'm devastated," you smile amusedly at Wednesday's dramatics. 

"Nevertheless, this is still a mistake."

"And what a grand mistake it would be," you muse. 

"We clearly don't know what we're doing."

"I guess we just have to keep going until we do."

"Quite frankly, even if we do, we will still both needlessly suffer," Wednesday warns.

You hum, drawing Wednesday closer. Wednesday looks a little wary, but she allows your proximity. Her eyebrows are slightly tense as she gazes at you. 

"I heard your mother named you after her favorite poem," you say softly, your hand grazing Wednesday's fingers before you entangle them together. For someone who enjoyed the cold so much, her hands were warm. "Wednesday's child is full of woe."

Wednesday only nods slightly because moving too much would make her lips graze yours. 

The tension is so thick, Wednesday could suffocate in it. How lovely. 

Your lips graze against Wednesday, and she tightens her hands against yours when you pull away. You look at Wednesday's eyes so vehemently, and she experiences opia all over again. 

"But did you know?" 

Wednesday can feel your breath on her face.

"Love is suffering—and we get the honor of enduring its torment."

Your lips press warmly against the corner of Wednesday's mouth, and she finds you're veracious. What torture it is—and Wednesday takes delight in it.

PART 6

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

[lu-vin-it]

Guys please send me some new requests, I deleted mine when I thought I was going to have to switch accounts 🥲

Also I will no longer be writing about Xavier Thorpe (Wednesday) due to the recent allegations against Percy .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesday addams x reader #tyler galpin x reader

[mgcldydrms]

One Shots:

...

Blurbs:

...

Headcanons:

artist!reader

#wednesday addams imagines #wednesday addams fanfiction

[kimpossibly]

🪐 + wednesday + comforting

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI YES I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Prompts like this just...UGH I EAT these up. So funny story, I started writing this and realized I didn't determine if there was an established relationship between Y/n and Wednesday, so I ended up writing two versions! Hope that's alright with you anon :) Thank you for participating in my celebration and I hope you enjoy!

PAIRING: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader WARNINGS: mentions of an argument, mentions of Wednesday wanting to commit murder on the reader's behalf

VER. 1 — NO ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

It's no secret that comforting others is not one of Wednesday's strong suits. The very concept of emotions is nearly alien to her, meaning that when she found you crying in one of Nevermore's more echoey and deserted stairwells, she didn't know quite what she was about to get herself into.

Since she had a habit of standing so still she failed to make her presence known, you just about jumped when you saw her black boots a few steps below you. "Wednesday!" you exclaimed, more instinctive than to greet her. "Sorry, am I in your way?"

You shuffled over to the side of the stairwell to give her space to move past you, but she stayed right where she was. "I came to see if you were alright," she said, already feeling that she was traversing on unknown land. "But I guess I don't need to ask."

You sniffed, using a sweatshirt-covered palm to wipe away the tears that had trickled down your cheeks while you spoke. "Yeah, um...Xavier and I got in a fight. A bad one. He's been my best friend for years and we've never had one this bad. I just...I'm worried he's never going to talk to me again."

"In my experience, Xavier can be a stubborn mule when he wants to be."

You paused, nodding at her words as more tears spilled over. Wednesday cringed invisibly. That might have been the wrong thing to say. She surprised herself by moving to sit by you, hands resting stoically in her lap. "But, for some reason or other, he chooses to follow you around like a lost puppy. I doubt one argument could put an end to that."

That, surprisingly, seemed to help. You nodded again. "I probably just need to give him time." you said quietly, more to yourself than to Wednesday.

She didn't reply, but she refused to get up. Wednesday isn't the type to give hugs or hold hands, but she would stay there until you felt better. And even though it was odd to see a new side of Wednesday Addams, you were grateful for her silent support nonetheless.

VER. 2 — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

When Wednesday found you crying in the stairwell, she was ready commit a gruesome murder. You looked up at her, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and she was ready to take a baseball bat to the head of whoever put you that way. "Who did this?" she demanded.

"Wednesday—"

"Y/n."

"Can you please just leave it alone?" you cried, looking up at her with desperate eyes. That got Wednesday to stop. You had never used a tone quite like that, at least not to her.

So Wednesday said nothing as she sat down beside you, staring straight ahead. She had figured out that it was often best to let you take the leads on these sorts of things, but she held out an open hand to you without otherwise acknowledging it. You looked at her, but she was still staring straight ahead. So you carefully laced your fingers with hers and your hands dropped down to your sides, Wednesday giving you a little squeeze.

More tears rushed to your eyes and spilled over, but you tried not to let her see them. She saw them anyway as she flicked her eyes to you momentarily. Instead of saying anything, she shifted closer to you, again without saying a thing. You took that cue and laid your head on her shoulder, sniffing quietly.

After a moment of you two just sitting there, your head on her shoulder, hands intertwined, you spoke: "Thank you, Wednesday."

She felt some sort of rush of pride there, knowing that she had done this right. But she replied in her regular, monotone voice, "This stays between us."

And you just laughed. "Of course it does, love."

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