may you please do Wednesday comforting a reader after a nightmare? maybe the reader got attacked by the hyde and it won't leave her mind so she often gets plagued by nightmares
‘ DEAD OF NIGHT .
Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.
SYNOPSIS. in which you and wednesday open up to each other as comfort after you woke up from a nightmare, replaying the moments in the forest when the hyde attacked you not so long ago. ( 3.02k words )
WARNINGS. slight angst. unproofread. spoilers to those who haven’t finished the series yet. english is not the author’s first language.
NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. wednesday being an absolute in-denial simp cult-leader slash worshipper of the reader. teotfw reference.
REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you so much for sending a request! i hope you enjoy!
TABLE OF CONTENTS. you can find my masterlist by clicking this link. my requests are open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write.
𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗞𝗦 and a swipe on the door and Wednesday immediately knew. She stood up from her chair to open the door that creaked as she did so, and there you were in all your grace, looking pale and dead. A sight for sore eyes yet certainly unwell. Who wouldn’t be if they were mad enough to ask to leave the ICU before being completely healed?
She arched an eyebrow in question, watching as you scanned the room behind her and the empty corridors of Ophelia Hall.
“Can I stay here for the night?” You asked, slightly shivering from the cold in your dark red pyjamas. She looked at you from head to toe, furrowing her eyebrows when she noticed how exhausted you looked, even with your posture.
Wednesday only nodded quietly before making room for you to walk in, making your way silently to the bed, and cautious not to wake Enid from her needed slumber on the other side of the dorm. She shut the door and turned to you, not moving from her spot.
“I think I owe you an explanation,” you mumbled. “As to why I’m here.” You sat on the foot of the bed, meeting her gaze.
“Don’t.” She replied. The wood creaked underneath her as she walked towards the dark wooden closet that almost resembled a coffin — almost. Her next move bewildered you as she grabbed a black jacket from her wardrobe and gave it to you without another word.
She resorted to her typewriter, typing away as you reluctantly slipped the jacket on your body, providing you the perfect warmth after a chilling moment alone in the corridors. “You’re putting extra time on your novel,” you mumbled as you fixed the sleeves, looking away from the girl in pigtails.
“You’re frustrated. Why?” You added.
“I doubt Enid would appreciate your talking at this hour.”
You knew Wednesday wasn’t expressive, especially in a vocal way that required her to tell you. However, being with Wednesday ever since she got to Nevermore, you couldn’t help but notice her habits. You kept track of sudden mood shifts. She rarely smiled, and if she did, it was because she’d seen something psychotic, especially when it’s her own doing.
You’d notice how her eyebrow would twitch when she’s confused, how her eyes would narrow slightly when she’s annoyed, how she’d look at a person’s forehead to make them uncomfortable enough to leave her be, and above all, the way she’d go past an hour doing her novel when she’s enjoying it or when she’s aggravated.
“Wednesday, you know you can tell me anything, right?”
‘And look pathetic?’ Wednesday thought. She’d rather swallow a knife than speak of her emotions. It was an unnecessary human trait to depend on another when they feel. So no, no matter what you did, she won’t. At least not now and not sooner when you clearly currently look like you haven’t slept for so long.
“I’m enjoying my novel.” She turned to you and mumbled in a low voice, “Now go to sleep before I kick you out for disturbing my peace.”
This was the most hesitant you got with Wednesday. It was as clear as day that she was bothered by something and you still don’t know what it was, but you couldn’t think of anything better to say as your head became fuzzy with clouded thoughts of wanting to go back to sleep. There was just one little conflict, although to test your theory, you required a little rest.
So the next thing? You dozed off in her bed in your red pyjamas and her black oversized jacket, neglecting the blanket that was wrinkled by your movements.
She returned to her work for half an hour. Although, not as concentrated as she was before.
Wednesday wasn’t sure why she couldn’t let herself near you. Maybe because she was the reason for the injury that she knew you hid under your shirt. She was destined to bring the whole school down, and she didn’t know the intentions that she could have. The more she found out, the more she knew so little, because the sight of you slipping away not so long ago already made her stomach churn. What more? Destroying the school that you loved and she despised?
The girl stood up silently from her place before the noisy typewriter and sat down on the floor, next to the bed where you slept on her side. She stared, almost stalking you, but without any psychotic motive. More like she was examining you, whether you were real or you were just some type of illusion created at the back of her mind where she secretly wished to be understood.
She wondered how someone like you existed. You were far too flawless although annoying to be in a world full of lies and deception. She believed life to be a masked torturer, a grim canvas painted with colours to hide the fact that it was out to get every living thing on Earth. She loved it, but the fact that it was not enough to keep you safe made her indecisive whether she should adore lies.
Wednesday found herself lying on the floor, staring at your hand that hung off the side of the bed. She remembered the last time she saw your hand like that, unconscious and rested.
It was the night she saw you in the woods, your fingers stained with your own blood, and your eyes closed like you weren’t going to wake up again for the next century. She recalled the worry, the guilt, the anger, and the fear that took over the bones of her body when you didn’t answer her call for your name.
It was her fault, although you didn’t seem to acknowledge that.
Was she allowed to touch you? Was she even allowed to set eyes upon you at all, knowing she was the reason for your suffering?
Wednesday leisurely lifted her index finger to touch your hands, slowly, gently, like a predator stalking its prey. The sensation was new to her.
And when your fingers met, she felt like touching the underworld’s divinity when fireworks started crackling at the tip of her black painted nails. Being close to you was one thing, but touching you, she was sure she’d burn like the witches at the stake in front of the grinning pilgrims.
That was when the sensation of being electrocuted to death started surging through their skin as her head lifted, seeing yet another vision — but not a premonition.
It was you in your uniform, running through the woods to look for a sense of comfort to console your anger after your fight with Wednesday. However, the vision skipped to an image of you, holding your head like it would split into two. Then again, where you woke up from a moment of silence to the sight of the monster that threw you back against a tree and swung its claws on your skin, leaving you to bleed out to your death.
She pulled out of the vision, only to find herself again on the floor but without your hand hanging off the bed. Wednesday heard your deep breathless exhales, the heaving of your chest, and the rustles of the sheets. She quickly sat up from where she lied and turned to look at you, your eyes furrowed as if you were about to break.
The beads of sweat on your forehead didn’t go unnoticed. Your hair was almost wet from the sweat that had formed on your body. The temperature in the room decreased more but your sweat only got worse as the tension heightened when she watched you try to recover from your moment of vulnerability.
Like Wednesday, you acted tough, but you were easier to crack than she was. You looked away in embarrassment, and wiped the sweat on your face with the sleeves of her jacket. “Sorry, I just — I dreamt of something.”
Once you didn’t hear a response, you looked at her and then, something clicked. “What are you doing on the floor?”
She checked herself and stood up to brush it off. Then, she awkwardly stood there in front of you, examining you again, but you weren’t sure why her gaze felt softer than her usual one.
“Wednesday?” You called.
“I saw a vision,” she mumbled. “When I touched your hand, I saw your attack.” She tilted her head, “You never told me about your attack.”
You winced. Wednesday caught this. Of course, it would take a reaction out of you. It was your scar, and now that she picked on it, it started to bleed again. Not like it hasn’t been bleeding before. Of course not. Of course.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You can’t keep running away from it.”
That annoyed you, but you knew she was right. You had to share it with someone, no matter how much it opened a scar. You sighed in defeat, “I don’t want to tell anyone because I keep seeing it when I close my eyes. It makes me feel so— weak.”
Wednesday walked to the other side of the room to get the box of tissue on Enid’s drawer. She then went back to you, kneeling on the bed right in front of you. You were taken by surprise when she started dabbing your forehead with the tissue to dry your cold sweat. Her eyes focused on it as she listened.
“I was in that part of the woods when I had a premonition. It was messy, but it was clear that it led to the monster.” She stopped as you mentioned the cause of her lost concentration. “I guess I almost saw who it involved, but I pulled out of it when I heard a noise, and the next thing I know, I’m—” You swallowed the lump on your throat. You didn’t continue because you were sure you would humiliate yourself in front of her if you start becoming more pitiful than you already were.
“You were at death’s door,” she finished your sentence for you. You nodded, only this time, you couldn’t hold back your moment of weakness. You looked down in a pathetic manner to hide your glossy eyes and puffy appearance, blinking numerously in an attempt to shy it away.
“Wednesday, the vision you had, that was my nightmare,” you confessed as you lifted your head up. “I always see it every time I go to sleep.”
She didn’t know how to console you. All she knew was that she wanted to, but how? You weren’t Pugsley who would take an axe as a gift of consolation. Wednesday wiped the remainder of sweat on your neck, discarding the tissue to the trashcan after.
She hated the weakness you were showing as much as you do.
“I want it to go away.”
“I will put an end to it.” Wednesday replied. “I swear on my dead youth.”
“How? You don’t even know what it wants.”
“Let me do what I do best.”
You nodded at that. Wednesday put the box of tissue on the nightstand and slid out of the bed when you grabbed her wrist to stop her, making her urgently turn her head to you.
“Stay.”
“Can’t you sleep on your own?”
“Wednesday,” you gave her a look. She only stared at you in response, reading the expression you wore on your face. She found it desperate, but what else could she do? Staying with you tonight on her bed was the only thing she could do to make it up to you.
You lied down just as she did, in awkward silence. You both glanced at each other before turning your full attention to the ceiling. Her arms were crossed on her chest, so still. You found it amusing enough for it to put a smile on your face. You turned to the other side, looking away from her in an attempt to sleep.
However, it went like that for a couple of minutes before you realised you weren’t going to doze off anytime soon. “Wednesday?” You checked if she was still awake.
“What?” Although her voice sounded grumpy, you tolerated it.
“Could you,” you hesitated again. “Could you hold me?”
She looked at your back facing her, furrowing her eyebrows. What was this feeling again? Now you were asking her to touch you when a few minutes ago, she thought she didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as you.
She wanted to scream at herself for breaking the vow of not wanting to get involved in any romantic shenanigans, but here she was, slowly and incredulously positioning herself to hold you. She didn’t even know if she was doing it right. She was too careful not to touch anything, but what was the sense of avoiding it if it was the point of holding you?
She awkwardly placed her arm around you, resulting in you holding a smile back. You could have sworn you heard her heartbeat, but it was futile to keep thinking about it when she was this close.
“Do you want to tell me why you were typing away angrily earlier?”
“You’re already getting too comfortable.”
“You should take it as an example.” You retorted. There was no winning with you, was there? “Think of it as a bedtime story to put me to sleep, and I won’t be your problem any longer.”
“You’d exchange an opportunity to hear a Disney Princess story for a grim, depressing, and lethal sob story of an explanation as to why I spent some extra time on my novel?”
You nodded and turned to face her, “Turn around.” She did after yet another complaint. Wednesday was as stiff as an alligator in a swamp, acting like a log to wait for the right moment to pounce on its prey. “Is this okay?”
She nodded. It was your turn to wrap an arm around her. She wasn’t sure why she was letting you do this, but even despite her desire to say no, having you this close was rare and she intended to feel the feeling it constantly gave her.
“I hate that I’m letting you do this.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the only thing you hate about me, Wednesday. It doesn’t come as a surprise anymore.” You mumbled.
“I hate that I fall for this. I don’t even want to tell you anything.”
“But here I am, encouraging you to tell me everything.”
“I hate telling other people my,” the corners of her lips twitched at the word, “Feelings. I hate even telling it to you, out of all the people I can share it with.” You secretly loved the way her words spoke a degree of emotion despite it being emotionless. It was so like Wednesday. Your Wednesday. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever come across.”
You nodded, and then, she continued, “Sharing my feelings feels pathetic. Like I’m dependent on you, and I don’t have what it takes to live alone when in fact, I do. I’m supposed to be solitary. I have the faintest idea why this school is so obsessed with having someone to rely on. Being in this position with you, I’ve never felt so pathetic and vulnerable before. I strongly dislike it. You're making me put my guard down, and I hate the fact that even if you’re not aware, the day I found you in the woods all bloodied, I was . . . scared. Angry because I finally cared. It was my fault. I’m sure it’s off-putting to you.”
You hummed, “No, not really. You have the kind of attachment that isn’t as brittle and sweet as a sugar under heat and pressure. It’s tough. Something that goes above and beyond. Roses have thorns, but really, I want the stem. The stem has spikes, and I'm willing to bleed for it.”
“You’re horrible at giving metaphors.”
You chuckled. “What else do you hate about me, Wednesday Addams?”
“Besides your horrid metaphors, I hate you the most.” She turned to you this time, meeting your face just a smidge away. She looked at you, up and down. Wednesday was never this affectionate, but tonight, she reached a hand to your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing your eyebrow the next.
No one has ever seen this side of Wednesday but you. You weren’t complaining. You loved the thrill of having her accompany you alone, guessing if this is the moment she’d stab a knife straight through your heart or touch you.
“Do me a favour,” Wednesday suddenly said. “Have more nightmares and get scared more often.”
Her flirting skills need a little more work, but sure, if it meant being this close to her, you’d do anything.
Maybe on certain occasions, Wednesday could allow herself to let loose. Now she saw the bigger picture.
She didn’t mind looking pathetic, as long as it was with you.
There you lay together on the bed, looking like a couple of lifeless corpses in William Shakespeare’s most tragical romance. But could Romeo and Juliet do you any justice? Wednesday wouldn’t think so. Her eyes were wide open as you slept, thinking about what had happened.
She listened to your light snores, and watched as your chest moved up and down. Then, it was your heartbeat.
She didn’t need to look at you or watch as you slept in the dead of night just to make sure you were away from the nightmares coming to haunt you again or that you were not a nightshade delusion caused by the insanity brought by the school.
Are you sleeping well now? Will you wake up in your cold sweat again? She was prepared to tell you the long list of the things she hated about you if you shot up from the bed, gasping for air again.
But, there you were.
You were present. You were there. The daydream in the nightmare she sometimes wished for, and oftentimes, dreaded.
“I’m the most pathetic Addams to ever live because of you.”
Hello, I really loved your writing for Wednesday and was wondering if I could request something.
Reader was hurt badly on the final fight and Wednesday gets worried about her, gets emotional just as she did with Thing. She doesn't leave reader's side until she wakes up and when she does she can't help but hold her because she thought that was it for a moment, and maybe confesses her feelings? You can elaborate it as much as you'd like, I'd just like for that to be the general idea, love some hurt/comfort.
Much love. <3
‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .
Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.
SYNOPSIS. wednesday addams never cried for anyone, not until she held you fighting for your life, desperately trying to stay alive to return the whispered confession. ( 4.15k words )
NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.
WARNINGS. major angst. character death ( reader’s ). unproofread. english not being the author’s first language.
NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. another love by tom odell being the angsty essential to produce this fic.
REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you for your lovely words, and for trusting my writing to create a perfectly stomach churning plot! do enjoy this work.
LISTEN TO WHILE READING. optional. another love by tom odell.
TAGS. @ryver19 @danysflames
𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 wasn’t worried about braving the ancient face of Crackstone before, she definitely was now. Not because she was scared of him. It’s because you were the most idiotic person she knew. What were you doing in a battle that you shouldn’t be in? Were you even aware of what you were getting yourself into? She wanted to know what was going through your mind when you marched in the courtyard without a weapon or anything to protect yourself with. Just a glare that wouldn’t do anything.
The fire burning so fierce dancing with the breeze turned slow. Everything seemed too leisure for her liking when she spotted you standing there. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, but it couldn’t possibly now, could it? Xavier was mad enough to try and help, and now you? What were you going to do? Why were you even here?
You weren’t glaring at the pilgrim. You were glaring at her. The blade that was in her possession had shattered and her attention was turned to you. That was the last thing you needed. You hated Wednesday for being the centre of everything because you knew it meant sacrificing so much, even herself.
She used to love seeing you angry and defeated, but not like this. Not this way when you were getting defeated by the monster that stood before her and not her. Not when your hair moved with the wind so slowly as she met your gaze while watching the fire burn in your eyes in the middle of danger. She felt weaker.
You were a vulnerability. A phenomenon in which she, herself, couldn’t even explain.
Paying attention to the movement in your peripheral view, your eyes darted to the figure, slowly coming to the revelation that it was Bianca, in all her grace, standing not so far away from the distracted pilgrim.
You heard a victorious crackle emit from the old man’s mouth, and that’s when you knew. You quickly turned to Wednesday who was trying her best to suppress her noises of struggle. It just made you angrier. Your heart skipped faster in your chest as your mind ran circles in your head, putting it all into shambles that made it difficult for you to think. This anger had neer been felt by you before. It was suffocating, restricting, and it tightened your chest to the point that you almost gasped for air. That’s when you recalled what you came there for.
To help Wednesday put Crackstone back to where he belongs.
You shut your eyes and found yourself a moment before opening them again. When the young Addams thought you had nothing as a weapon, she was wrong. Locking eyes with the siren, you nodded and lifted a hand to reveal the lustrous object from your back. Using your ability, you passed the dagger to the girl who took the blade, understanding the task that she now shouldered.
However, that didn’t provide you much comfort. Wednesday was looking at death straight in the face and your trembling body didn’t stop to just stand around and watch. Your feet dragged you hastily a few feet away from Bianca.
This caught Crackstone’s attention as he slowly turned his head to you, grinning like he faced the Devil in front of him and made a sacrifice for a deal. You couldn’t even describe the disgust and fear you felt as you saw his face fresh from the dead.
“Those who intrude shall join the abomination in the depths of hell!”
You stared at him, narrowing your eyes as you swallowed your spit cautiously to watch his every little move that could be used against you.
What were you doing? You looked stupid! Wednesday’s furrowed eyebrows already said it all. Her heart pounding in her chest almost ripped her open when she saw Crackstone raising the sceptre in his hand, about to conjure such a damage on you. She hated that she couldn’t do anything but look at you, mentally telling you not to do what it is that you’re going to do and run to safety.
You lifted your arm slightly and tried your best to pull the sceptre away, but all it did was drain your energy and create a tension that you couldn’t even control, yourself. You were pulling his source of power, but it seemed as though your telekinetic ability wasn’t enough to do anything. Crackstone was far more powerful. You didn’t stand a chance.
You raised your other hand and conjured an object to hit him in an attempt to distract his attention from the focus he had on his sceptre. He didn’t budge and destroyed it to pieces.
“Enough!” He shouted and with a move of the mace, you were thrown across the courtyard, your back hitting the stone pillars causing you to descend to the ground with an aching body and a sharp grunt.
“Y/N!” It was unrecognisable as to who yelled for your name, but you were tired.
You were shaking extremely now. The statics ringing in your ears became deafening to the point that you didn’t hear what the next thing was. Your vision got blurry, and dark spots started to patch up your vision. You closed your eyelids shut numerously in an attempt to recover, and as you did so, you caught the bits and pieces of what was occurring right in front of you.
Bianca groaned as she toppled on the ground just the same as her. Crackstone looked unfazed as he stood with a stab, the fiery blaze of fire appearing on his back to his lower chest. He turned and soon, it was your turn as you stood. He took the blade to make use of it, but you weren’t having it. Not to Bianca. Not to anyone in that courtyard, except him.
You swiftly got on your feet, ignoring the statics and the migraine that had formed once you stood up. Your limping feet dragged you in front of the siren as you stopped right there with the dagger whipping past the air at lightning speed.
You were getting sick of lifting your hand, but it was needed this time or anyone in this courtyard is dead. You tried to stop the blade from rushing towards you, and for a second, you thought you did.
That was when you caught the smirk on Crackstone’s face. You knew it wasn’t good. So did Bianca. Your eyes widened in fear, but you didn’t have much time to react.
When with that, the blade pierced through your flesh with the sound of the metal cutting through your skin and burying deep in your body as you let out a shortened gasp. With pursed lips, you looked down and saw the dagger on your lower abdomen. The blood was quickly seeping through your clothes, shining under the joined light provided by the moon, the stars, and the fire that Wednesday thought used to burn in your eyes.
Before you completely succumbed to the dizziness was the sight of Crackstone turning to Wednesday. Then, it blurred. All your eyes could gather was the fire getting fiercer in the form of Crackstone’s figure. Was it fire? You didn’t know, but you heard the low monstrous scream that almost made you let out a victorious cry.
But once the final disappearance of his body started in the blaze, it burst into a powerful surge of what his power once was, causing a strong wave that wiped the fire off the courtyard.
You looked at Wednesday who returned the gesture as she glared at you with her sharp narrowed eyes. You plummeted to the ground shortly after with Bianca rushing over.
Wednesday marched forward and pushed the siren aside in haste as she kneeled down next to you. Your breaths were hitching, your hand laid on the dagger, stained with the red hue of your metallic blood. Beads of sweat started forming on your forehead which felt odd to you as you began to feel colder each minute.
“Don’t you dare pull out the knife,” Wednesday’s command made you groan. You could feel the metal in you, and it was the most discomforting sensation.
Wednesday didn’t know how to act or feel. She didn’t even know what to think, but the fact that you laid there on the ground, bleeding out as you trembled made her lose her mind. She couldn’t have that or else she’d lose her composure.
“I’ll call for help,” Bianca proclaimed before running out of the courtyard.
But that wasn’t the end of it all when you and Wednesday’s ears perked up at the sound of a gun cocking in the distance. And lo and behold was Thornhill with a gun in her hand, aimed at the girl who slowly stood up to confront Laurel.
“You brought a gun to a sword fight. It’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today.”
“I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday.”
You groaned and shut your eyes from the stinging pain, your eyes getting tired to keep wide open as yet another fight occurred. Laurel had her gun pointed straight on Wednesday, but it was as if you didn’t feel the pain when a bee appeared followed by Eugene with his bright smile that seemed to crack the tension into two, replacing the delight of the moon to the shine of the sun.
You could’ve exceeded the amount of the stars of thanking him for saving Wednesday, but your breaths were getting shorter, and you knew there and then that this was probably the last time you’ll ever feel your heart beating in your chest.
You swallowed the lump on your throat. No, you can’t cry. Not now. Not here on the ground.
“Eugene, search the school for an emergency medical kit. Make it quick before I dig a grave.”
Wednesday turned to you, not wasting another minute to rush next to you again. She put her hand on your chest to feel the pound of your hope inside. You didn’t like this weak profile of you in front of the girl you so badly wanted to defeat just because you saw a bit of yourself in her.
( Cue the start of the music )
You always hated your reflection, hence why when she attended Nevermore, she had become nothing but a walking mirror yet also an ironic form of what you despised.
She despised you equally. You always gave her that stare she didn’t like. Wednesday found you to be a scuff on the floor she’d walk past on, but you became addicting to defeat that even winning against Bianca had become pointless when she spotted you in the crowd and challenged you in the archery field.
“It hurts,” you mumbled shakily as you tried your best to hold a noise down your throat.
She hated that. She hated that it affected her. Wednesday shouldn’t care for you, not after all the pent up anger she felt when you were around. Not the anger that made her want to stick around you more in order to rub it in your face that she was so much better than you tried to prove yourself to be.
A noise escaped your lips.
That made her close her eyes. She never did that. She wanted to remove the sight of you in front of her, and she thought it was just because you looked so human — weak. Or was it because of the hurt that she felt in her stomach? She has had enough. She wanted cotton to block her ears from your noise. You had been suppressing the noises, but God, this noise was different now. You were suffering, and it made her stomach churn once she noticed that she knew that.
Why would she know that about you?
“Wednesday,” you called, your voice being something she couldn’t get herself to listen to but still tried.
She opened her eyes and clenched her jaw.
“You’re about to cry.” Wednesday remarked dryly, hiding the fact that it made her want to stab her eyes for noticing such a detail. “It’s unnecessary.”
Who was she kidding? She had an arrow that pierced through the flesh of her shoulder and it already stung. What more a stab that she knew what felt like? Especially twisted. It was an electrocution with tenfold the increased voltage on the maimed part of the body. It wasn’t just that. There was more to it than she saw from you now.
You chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that too.”
You didn’t want things to end like this. Wednesday wasn’t a mirror. She was a similarity that you had an opportunity to know and relate to. You had a chance for her to be your friend, but instead of taking that chance, you looked at her like a competition just because you hated the aspect of yourself that you tried to link with her.
Wednesday tensed up when your bloody hand found hers on the dirty ground. Your fingers touching hers making her head spin faster than the Earth on its axis. There was a sensation there. On the spot that your cold hands inflicted upon the place of contact. A slight feeling that caused her to look down at it, her eyes going from anger to something gentle and unexplainable. You were holding her hand. She wanted to process that in her head.
You were holding her hand.
Wednesday wanted to kill after the contact, because the look you had on your face mirrored hers. She knew it wasn’t a good sign.
“Can we pretend like we didn’t try to kill each other for the whole term?” Your voice was barely a voice. The question had become a whisper that only she could hear.
No, no. You weren’t doing this. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. The young Addams never asked for it but why were you doing it? God, you were stubborn. She hated you so much!
But you were you. There was nothing she could do about it. You were your own person, and that’s perhaps . . . Wednesday looked at your joined hands once again. It made her feel.
You made her feel.
Every aspect of you made her feel alive.
She thought she’d known thrill and the concept of romance all her life, but she was sure that every bit and piece of what she knew about it could be matched with this — this fluttery feeling in her stomach. The spark crackling on her skin that you were in contact with. Your eyes sending shivers down her spine. This state of you that angered her so much. Her knees shaking from fear of having no one in Nevermore to compete with once again.
Why did she feel this way?
She was supposed to despise you. Wednesday pursed her lips. She looked down at yours. There was a night that she pondered over why the first thing she kept seeing was your lips when she saw you. Then, after that one thought came the billions in her head when she lied still on her cold bed in the middle of the night that would sometimes even last until the light of dawn. She thought it was just because she hated you.
She thought it was just because you provoked such an emotion in her that was far too complicated for her to comprehend. Now, Wednesday wanted to test a theory, but was there even a theory to be tested, or was it the truth?
“I never hated you.”
She heard laughter from you. Was it funny that she said that? Was that statement pointless to you? Did it mean nothing? Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her eyelashes doing that thing you usually found amusing.
You looked away and focused on the blanket of stars glinting so brightly above you. You let out a breath, “Huh.”
Should you tell her the truth? “Since I’m dying, I think you deserve the truth.”
That made her look up at you again, tearing her gaze away from your hand again. you almost laughed at her if you weren’t so badly injured now.
“I think I never hated you too, Wednesday.”
If an instrument was checking the pounding of her heartbeat, the machine would have gone crazy as the lines came in shambles. It was the same for you, but how would you know? You — why was she staring at you like that?
Why were her eyes the ones glossy now?
“You’re about to cry.” You commented, ignoring the sharp pain that started to become worse now that you thought was like the one before. You didn’t think much of it. Yes, it was painful, but why would you? “It’s unnecessary.”
You gasped at yet another pain. Your hands clutched hers, making her shift in her spot, her fingers squeezing you back.
That didn’t help your already dying heartbeat. There was more to what you said before, but you had to refrain yourself drom embarrassing yourself in front of her just in case this was the last.
And you were sure this was your last.
You vowed never to fall for the traps of love, most especially its romantic form. You saw and experienced many things that you never wanted to look back on ever again. However, you hated how your wall slowly crumbled down for Wednesday who almost shared the same perspective as you, although hers was more glum and grim. Yours was about the matter of love. Hers was about life.
Maybe this similarity was the reason you managed to be close to her. Not that close. Just this close. Just this in which you’d share the peace in front of the quiet lake without saying another word. Just holding each other’s gazes on occasions and looking away, with you clearing your throat and her bumping your shoulder to the point that it would ache later on for no reason. Just stealing glances at certain times while the other was accompanied by another at the Rave’N. Just fighting most of the time. Just acting like nothing happened the next. Just ignoring each other’s presence while looking back when walking past each other in the corridors of Nevermore.
“Y/N?”
You gasped, “I can’t — ” You panted for air again, “Breathe.”
“Don’t speak.” Her trembling hand removed its grip from yours as she stood up, frantic yet graceful when she spotted and obtained the blade she banished Crackstone with on the ground. The girl cut the edge of her long skirt and proceeded to take a long piece, careful not to make her own shorter than it should be.
She then proceeded to kneel down next to you. No, you weren’t leaving her hanging like this. Your truth was barely the truth, and she wnated to hear from you. She badly wanted to hear your voice again in full volume, in that pitch that she always knew.
Wednesday cried for Thing, but God, you? She knew she’d fill an ocean. This couldn’t be happening to her again.
She hated you now. She hated how scared you were making her feel in that moment. Were you even aware of what you were doing to her? She was supposed to be in her best composure, handling this in a graceful way that wouldn’t require her to shake so much, to curse in her head just because you were struggling.
Why did she care?! She cared so much it was too unnecessary, and her eyes were starting to water from this sight of you.
The girl wrapped the cloth around the knife that she couldn’t pull out. She put pressure on the spot but her heart dropped to her stomach the most when a tear escaped your eye.
Wednesday’s eyes widened. She quickly took you by the shoulders and laid your head on her lap in a hurry. Now was the time that she didn’t know what to do the most.
You couldn’t leave her like this.
She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t.
She wanted to spend another moment alone in the quiet in front of the lake, staring at your reflections and stealing glances over the water.
She wanted to ponder about you at night, questioning why it was your lips first that she captured when she looked back at you when you passed by each other in the hallways.
She wanted — no, demanded to see your annoying face that kept popping up in her nightmares and daydreams to show up beaming at her, laughing at some stupid joke someone told.
Your life story can’t just end like this.
What was she to do without you? Wednesday could imagine a world where it was just you and her living off the taunts of each other, competing to wind, but enjoying each other’s company.
She envisioned you laying your head on her shoulder after a long exhausting day, ranting to her about how your day went. She could envision herself just nodding, being the same old her that people often thought did not care enough.
Did you care enough?
Because she did. Enough to hold you in her arms, to embarrass herself in front of you.
How the mighty have fallen for the graces of someone like you? You thought.
“If you die on me, I will make history repeat itself just to bring you back and I'll stab you again myself.”
You used what bit of your energy was left to quirk your lips up to form a curve. You liked Wednesday.
It was clearer than the water you occasionally stared at for hours in her company.
“Out of all the people in the world, the ones I share the same blood with, used to tell my secrets to,” you quietly gasped for air to continue, “This, Wednesday Addams . . .”
Your clutch on her arm was starting to loosen as your eyelids started to slowly drop down to meet the darkness.
“This is the only time I feel given a damn about.”
Wednesday’s eyes didn’t know which to focus on. They darted on the dagger, the blood, the cloth, your eyes, your parted lips — “Y/N?” That was the first time her call for someone had a frantic frightened tone.
Your hand on the ground without another sign of movement was a touch of something that amde her feel as if someone had poured acid in her stomach. Her hand made its way to your cheek, not caring whether the blood on her hand got on your face.
Why weren’t you waking up? Why weren’t you opening her eyes and shooting up from the ground to tell her that you were just joking? She didn’t care if it was a fucked up prank, as long as she knew you were still there.
But no, God no, you weren’t.
“Wake up, Y/N.”
She shook you, but there was nothing. She placed two fingers on the side of your neck to check your pulse but she couldn’t get any sign of it.
A tear fell.
Wednesday halted. The girl touched her cheek, wiping the drop of what she vowed never to do again and leisurely examined her finger that shone with the wet surface because of the tear.
There she knew.
Wednesday wished she had realised it before, but no, it took you reaching the end of your own life story before she could even understand.
She knew a bit about you.
She knew you were Y/N and that you used to live in a small home in a small town in Romania where you had a family that pushed you around just because you were an outcast. That you had a gift that none of them could accept, for it was deemed to be witchcraft or that it made them insecure to use as a reason to make you feel small.
She knew you used to have friends who spilled all your secrets that made you fall from your grace. From being at the top down to the six foot level underground.
She knew you had a fling. She knew it didn’t end well. She knew your family put you in Nevermore to get rid of you and find yourself.
She knew that you cried yourself to sleep, knew that you believed that no one cared.
She knew what was going on in the back of your mind when you wiped away your tears in front of the lake.
Wednesday just wished she never looked away when she saw who you were. She wished she never resisted what it was that she felt.
Because what you went through? She knew it was that much of a cut and the stab that Crackstone had done to you was the thousandth.
Or maybe it was the words that were left unsaid?
AUTHOR’S NOTE. part two will be coming up soon! this will be edited tomorrow since it’s so late already and i have to wake up in about four hours again. if you want to get tagged for the next part, just leave a comment. thank you!
SYNOPSIS. wednesday has always loved being alone. she enjoyed the company of solitude and the opportunity for something haunted in the eerie silence, but somehow your presence was missing. did she do something wrong? ( 4.33k words )
WARNINGS. angst, usage of profanities, this is unproofread. spoiler to those who haven’t watched it yet. english is not the author’s first language. the timeline is a bit off. confession under the rain.
NOTE. written in third person’s omniscient point of view.
TABLE OF CONTENTS. you can find my masterlist by clicking this link. my requests are open, so feel free to send in anything you want me to write.
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗙 the typewriter halted. Enid had gone somewhere Wednesday didn’t care enough to acknowledge, resulting in the silence of the room that only whispered words of insanity inside her head — silent insanity. She turned her head to spot Thing settled on her dark bed, reading a travelogue magazine he found from Enid’s drawer, turning its pages tediously.
“Are you sure you gave her the note?” Wednesday monotonously questioned as Thing only answered a ‘yes’ with a tap of his finger on the sheets. Her eyes darted on the typewriter again, contemplating whether to use it or leave it alone for a while in order to wait for y/n with full concentration.
But she knew y/n’s presence won’t grace the room no matter how much anyone — most especially, Thing, would pine for it. She narrowed her dark eyes and tightened her jaw as she settled in her train of thoughts.
She used to like this state of living. She was alone or with Thing, but there was silence. The only thing that would bounce back to her ears was the sound of the typewriter clicking and Thing’s magazine pages turning. She loved solitude — lived for it, or perhaps the young Addams would even die for it, because of how much it was a rare luxury for her in Nevermore, but ever since she laid her eyes on a specific girl and her foot set in the divided room, she had grown used to the constant whines of invites to go outside and do some extracurricular activities that Wednesday either found too easy, boring, or stupid.
Y/N often complained about the homeworks they would get stacked with. She would normally curse at the teacher who gave it without a care in the world whether Wednesday heard or not. She felt comfortable enough to express her unnecessary emotions, as Addams would describe it, in the room with the half colourful and half devoid of hues window. She would wreak havoc and play games with Thing, gossip with him, and have a therapy session with him.
Wednesday was used to it, but she never wanted to admit it. Of course she didn’t. Because somehow, y/n had become part of the solitude that Wednesday found convenient even though she wouldn’t admit it aloud or even at all.
She argued that her presence was unlike any other that she found aggravating. That Wednesday didn’t have to put any effort in order to satisfy y/n’s needs in the established — friendship? Were they friends?
“Thing, why isn’t she here?” She asked again through gritted teeth, only gaining an ‘I don’t know’ from her companion.
No, she wasn’t her friend.
But if she wasn’t, why did her absence affect her so? Wednesday found it unsettling, and so unlike her dark cold self. Her eyes peeking through her eyelashes only narrowed even more, and much to her disgust, she wanted to do something about it.
Thing interrupted and made a few gestures, tapping, swinging, and folding his fingers to the girl who got more and more upset as she followed through with what he said.
“I sometimes wish that I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” she replied. “And it’s impossible that she would get upset over my silence. I’m always cold and silent. She should know that she signed up for it before being my . . . acquaintance.” Even without a certain tone in her statement, Thing could sense the venom in her voice. Y/N’s absence did tick Wednesday off.
He gestured, but before he could finish, she spoke again, “Finish that sentence, and I will pull out your nails and skin your fingers alive one at a time.”
Thing knew he crossed a line there. Why else would she threaten his nails?
The wooden floor suddenly creaked as Wednesday stood up from her chair, the typewriter long-forgotten in her wake to venture outside the room with a plan to confront her missing acquaintance.
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Wednesday knew where to usually find y/n, but much to her dismay, she wasn’t in Weathervane. Tyler hadn’t seen her either. The young Addams found him quite stubborn yet persuasive, but she had to decline his offer of coffee. She had pressing matters to tend to.
Y/N wasn’t with Enid. She wasn’t with Yoko and Divina either, nor Bianca. She wasn’t seen by Xavier the whole day, and her roommate mentioned her rush to go out of the room earlier in the fine Saturday morning.
This was suspicious to Wednesday. Y/N was always with either of them in Weathervane, the library, the field, or Xavier’s haven for his art. Where could she be? She shouldn’t be out and about when there’s a monster on the loose, ready to cut someone’s throat.
“You really don’t want her to see you?” Xavier questioned.
“No. I’m surprised she’s even out there looking for me,” Y/N replied, stroking the hued brush on the canvas. “But then again, it’s Wednesday. She’s probably only looking for me because she needs something.”
“She still thinks I’m the monster, honestly.”
“Well, you do have a lot of drawings of the monster for someone who isn’t it, but I guess I should trust you. Maybe more than I should trust Wednesday from now on.”
Xavier turned to her, eyebrows furrowing in bewilderment. He took the towel near his latest work and wiped his fingers, “I’m curious.”
“What?”
“What did Wednesday do to you? Why did you say all those things you said earlier?”
She shrugged and continued to smudge the blank paint on the canvas. She hated that the colour reminded her of the certain goth girl that made her feel things she shouldn’t be, but could she ever help it? Wednesday was a friend, but the circumstances now said otherwise.
“I won’t tell her.”
“Even if you did, would she care?” She asked bitterly without turning to Xavier, only paying attention to the work she was aimlessly doing.
“Y/N.”
“She didn’t do anything bad. It’s just — ”
“She didn’t do anything, did she?”
Y/N scoffed and stopped her work, looking up at the canvas with a sigh of defeat, “That’s exactly what she did.” She turned to him and set the brush aside, sardonically letting out a chuckle, “Ironic, yes?”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
Was she not that obvious enough? Y/N thought she’d done her best to make anyone notice her actions when she was around Wednesday. She wanted them to know so that they could help her with her because she knew she didn’t have the guts to ask them directly, ‘Hey, can you help me with Wednesday?’ Because she found it pathetic. Wednesday obviously wanted someone who could speak their mind and have similarities with her interests, and if she found y/n to be so pathetic enough to ask, what was the chance that the young Addams would even look at her in a different light?
“Y/N, I really can’t help you if I don’t understand what’s going on. Wednesday’s already a puzzle. I’m not sure if I can solve her and you at the same time. She’s not doing anything which is upsetting you because? Maybe my brain’s just a little rusty, but could you elabor — ”
Taking deep breaths in and out weren’t enough. She had to be straightforward with saying what she truly meant with her careful words, “God, Xavier! I want her to notice me!”
“But she does notice you, y/n.”
“You don’t get it.”
“I do. Trust me, I do.”
She shook her head, took the cobbler apron off and hung it on the frame of the canvas, not caring whether the paint had dried off or not. “Thank you for letting me in here and rant to you, Xavier.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“I think I just need a little moment to be alone now,” she mumbled and smiled. Xavier thought y/n had always been good at smiling at everything. If witchcraft was told to be her greatest gift, it was not. Smiling was.
But now he wasn’t sure.
Y/N thought her smiling at everything was a curse. It made her bottle what was truly in her chest.
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It was as if the day wanted to make everything harder for her as she found herself on Enid’s bed, lying quietly on her stomach with Thing on her side, turning the pages of the lotion options on the brochure y/n gave and promised to buy for him if he ever chose one. It seemed hard to be away from Wednesday, but she was about to accomplish her task of ignoring her completely when Enid decided it was nice to invite her to her room only to ditch her as a part of an elaborate plan.
Jokes on her, y/n knew what she was doing. When she said she wanted help, she didn’t mean now. She was too clouded with anger and teenage angst that she wasn’t in the mood to confront the busy as ever Wednesday Addams.
“Where were you?” Wednesday suddenly asked, not stopping from typing words into the typewriter.
“Xavier’s.”
“He said he did not see you the whole day.”
“And what does that make him?” The girl next to Thing inquired, her voice ice and cold. If Wednesday’s cold shoulder existed, y/n’s was much colder than an atlantic iceberg: She tried to shake it off, but she knew her well. She knew something was wrong, and it had to do with her.
“A liar, no less.”
“A friend.”
Wednesday didn’t respond any longer. It was futile to try to ease the tension in the room, and she had to not care or she would let her get in the way of her clear thinking. She was nearing the edge of the monster mystery in the woods, and she was sure it was Xavier, but there was no specific evidence. Her fingers typed aggressively again on the metal contraption, thinking about what they must have been discussing in his shed, what image they painted on the canvas, what disgusting expression on their faces they used while being near each other.
“Something’s on your mind,” Y/N suddenly stated. “Thing, could you go and ask Enid to come here?” She whispered to the pale hand as it crawled outside the room, leaving her and Wednesday alone.
There was no answer from the raven-haired girl. Now she was giving her the cold shoulder. Y/N has had enough thinking it was her fault. She sighed and stood up from the colourful bed, putting on the pair of black loafers she owned for when she went to class. Turning to the door to leave, Wednesday suddenly spoke.
“Everyone was worried.”
Y/N turned her head to her direction. She was still writing. She didn’t know exactly how to feel after the sudden statement. Should she be happy? Why did she feel slightly relieved? Could it mean that Wednesday cared for her? Maybe Xavier was right. Maybe she did get noticed by the certain girl. She wanted to smile, she wanted to ask, she wanted to keep asking more and more. This was her now. Living off a three worded sentence that came out of the Addams’ black painted lips.
“Were you?” Y/N questioned.
She did not respond again. It became a habit of Wednesday, but this one took a little longer than usual. Y/N did not budge from the door, though. She wanted an answer from her. At this point, she was desperate for a sign of anything, giving meanings to simple things only to confuse herself again.
Could Wednesday be holding herself back from giving her a transparent response?
“No.”
Y/N’s hopeful thoughts suddenly shut down as a bad flip on her heart created a shattering pound, dropping the beating chamber on the knots of her tied stomach. Her eyes slightly blinked in disappointment, licking her dry lips to provide moisture as she defeatedly glanced at the girl who had her back facing her.
“Wednesday, did you ever see me as a friend or anything more than just someone you’d talk to on certain occasions just because you needed something at all?”
The clicks stopped just as the door slammed shut behind Y/N, leaving Wednesday to sit on a conundrum of what she’d done wrong and what mistakes she’s been making.
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SUNDAY. Wednesday didn’t like the Sunday activities that Nevermore had planned for its students. She hated it more when she didn’t spot y/n amongst the crowd in the field. She wanted to say she didn’t notice her absence, but she deemed herself too busy to worry about the little things.
She did catch a glimpse of her on the clear afternoon in the path of Xavier’s shade. She wanted to gauge out her own eyes and vomit acid on them.
After her question the previous night, she hasn’t been able to get a clear grip of her mind to write her novel.
Y/N was an absolute distraction that she was glad to finally get rid of.
MONDAY. Wednesday thought she was over it, but the temporary absence of the girl in her mind was cut short when her sharp eyes spotted her in the corridor, her signature extras on her style standing out as she walked alongside her roommate who rambled things y/n found funny enough to laugh at.
Much to her dismay, her shoulder brushed past hers, causing both of them to stop and look back at each other.
The young Addams didn’t know which was the twist of a curved knife: Was it the fact that she was wearing pastel nail polish or her? Was it the fact that y/n looked at where she was going again and recovered too quickly? She didn’t know anymore whether the question referred to the encounter or some other things, but it was making her blood boil.
TUESDAY. That night, Wednesday enjoyed the midnight breeze and performed one of her cello solos in front of the silver moon and the mist in the sky accompanied by the over-observant stars. She wanted to scream, but she never screamed. She didn’t like shouting or being vocally loud. So, the only outlet? Music. She wanted it to be more grim, angrier, louder, and better. She didn’t care who or what heard. She was getting sick of the thoughts inside her head that she wanted to drown it all out by focusing on one thing.
However, no matter what she did, nothing seemed to cure it. Every twist of the tunes on the cello only reminded her of y/n's laughter from the distance, her eyes crinkling as she listened to the stories of someone else, meddling in their business. Y/N shouldn’t care about the peanut butter that her roommate got on her shirt — she shouldn’t even care about anyone at all. Why should she? How could she? The tune got more aggressive, making the hairs of her body stand, feeling the rhythm of her disdain.
Her face wouldn’t get out of her head. The more she wanted it out, the more it became vibrant and clearer, more stubborn to push away. Just like Y/N in the span of days and weeks that she knew her. She had always been there, not leaving her side. Wednesday never acknowledged her or anyone so much, and she knew it put people off, but not her. Not until —
Wednesday frowned.
Not until that day y/n asked — no, practically begged her to come to Weathervane because she said she had something important to say.
The music ended. Thing sat on the stand and made a gesture. The girl knew what he was asking about. Now it was clear for Wednesday. She had never been oblivious, but the fact that she never acknowledged anything that had to do with y/n when she was constantly pining for her already made her much of a fool than she thought. That’s why she asked her the question a few nights before.
Y/N was under the impression that Wednesday never cared, or that she failed to see her.
Which, if she was frankly speaking, she did fail yet foolishly at that. Wednesday wanted her own space, her own time, her own pace. Y/N wanted an action, and she knew she couldn’t give her that. Their differences were setting each of them aside, away from each other, but now that it was clear, Wednesday knew exactly what to do.
Even if she found it most humanly pathetic.
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WEDNESDAY. Surely the afternoon rain was not the right weather for archery, but y/n needed the comfort of the serrated edges of the arrows whipping past the air. The rain was just a bonus. Her thumb brushed past her ear as she blinked, concentrating on the dead centre of the target. Before she let the nock go, she felt a presence almost as dead as her grandmother on her side.
“I didn’t know rain and violence enticed you.”
Startled, y/n turned her head to look at the origin of the voice, letting go of her shot as it hit the centre with a sound. She sighed and gave her a warning look before she spoke, “It’s about to get more violent if you don’t step aside, Wednesday.”
“You’re getting better at your threats.” Wednesday plainly stated, earning a scoff from the girl who held the arrow on her side. “Hello, Y/N. Your archery is impressive.”
Did she do it right? Did she give a nice compliment? Will she take it well? Wednesday would owe Thing if it worked, but she’ll decapitate a piece of his finger if it didn’t. She didn’t know if she was in the right mind or was y/n looking more goddess-like under the stormy clouds.
Her hair was wet with rain falling down on her face. Still, her eyes sparked a feeling in Wednesday’s chest, something that got right up her throat that she swallowed immediately to refrain. She looked at her up and down, noticing how the lustrous shine of the weather made her seem like she was the weather.
“Get to the point, Addams. If you’re kissing my ass for a favour, it’s not going to work.”
Y/N wasn’t making it easy for her. She was going off what Thing told her she would say, and it was making the whole situation difficult to surpass. What should she say now? If she went out with the truth, how pathetic would she look?
Wednesday defied feelings.
But could she now? Especially when it was the truth, and Y/N was staring right at her face, flushing a certain disgusting colour on her cheeks that she hated and swore never to let on her skin. The deathly cold temperature of her body was running hot from the look she was giving her. Her Uncle Fester was surely away, but she felt electric sensations stabbing her insides. As much as she loved stabbing, she would like it better if she was the one holding the knife.
“You’re wasting my time — ”
“I did notice you, even from the very beginning that the page of my life in Nevermore turned. That was until I got preoccupied by what was hiding in the forest, seeking its next victim. I feared that I will destroy this school to ruins, hurt the people I do not care about, and the people I tolerate.” Wednesday suddenly started. She walked closer to the girl who ruled the archery grounds and continued, “I admit I lost sight of you since then. Hence why I’m here. To apologise to you for my irresponsibility.”
The lack of emotion in her voice would have ruined the whole speech, but for y/n, it was the lack of something else. She was expecting her to tell her more, rather than just a simple sentiment that left her hanging whether Wednesday reciprocated her feelings or not. However, she understood completely that no matter how many days, weeks, months, and years that she planned to ignore the certain Addams, she would never manage to have her see her in the way she wanted. A ‘no’ is a ‘no’ after all, even if it was delivered indirectly and unpolished.
Y/N nodded and turned to the target halfway when Wednesday spoke again, noticing the deprivation of enlightenment in the speech she gave. The girl in the darker uniform sighed and looked down, unable to meet the eyes of the girl before her as she questioned, “The day you told me you had something important to say, what was it?”
“Does it matter? You didn’t care enough to show up and know.”
That caused a slight intoxicating heartache that made her come to her senses and feel the searing gaze of the girl. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to join you, but now that I realise the gravity of the matter, I wish to know what you wanted to say.”
“You have an idea as to what it was.” Y/N was tougher to crack this time around.
“But I want your enlightenment, y/n.” But Wednesday was more stubborn than she ought to be.
“You really won’t leave me alone for shit, won’t you?”
“Not unless you tell me.”
Y/N’s furrowed eyebrows only met again closely. She threw the bow down to the ground and marched past Wednesday, not wanting to tell her what it was or it will make her look pathetic again. If she told her, she wouldn’t be able to help herself. How would it look when a deep-feeling person cried in front of someone who didn’t give a fuck about anything?
“Y/N.”
“Wednesday, you’ve done enough damage and I’m trying to stay the fuck away from you and steer clear out of your way but you keep appearing with your stupid braids!” She exclaimed exasperatedly. “You just see me when you need me for something. You don’t notice me like you said you have. You never looked at me in the perspective that could show more of what I could be! You never see more than someone to satisfy your convenience, and if I’m just that, just a speck of dust on your shoe, just leave me be, okay?”
That was it. Wednesday never saw her this angry before, but the displeasure of emotion it brought felt well-deserved to herself. After all, she was the reason for it.
“Because I’m tired of throwing myself to someone— you, and not see it being given an answer to. If you wanted me to stop, you could have said so, but no. You never truly noticed, did you?” Y/N’s voice cracked, and there she knew, she had to keep it brief before she started embarrassing herself before Wednesday. The girl who never cried ever since she reaised it never did anything. “That day I invited you to Weathervane, I intended it to be something more than friends would do. I wanted to tell you how I felt around you, because you were a part of everything I did ever since I started showing up in your dorm every single day and saw so much of you from afar. The mood I get from you affects the whole day ahead. I was fascinated about how you knew so much yet also knew so little. You never truly realised how perfect you are in every single aspect, and even the tainted side, I embraced it all, because that was how willing I was to devote myself to you. I knew I wouldn’t have a shot because even if I knew how you’d take a three-minute break from writing or which type of drink you’d usually order, I don’t know anything about you. I don’t even know if you liked people like me. Fuck, do you even like girls at all? I don’t know, because do you even want me to know y—”
Wednesday has had enough of her angry outburst slash teenage angst confession under the rain slash rant, because now that the letters of each words have reached her ears and processed in her head, and her heart pounded in sync with the cello solo constantly playing in the back of her mind, she felt impatient with waiting for the end of Y/N’s dramatic confession.
Impatient that she couldn’t wait another second to march forward, aggressively pull her by the collar and crash her lips against hers, taking the girl by surprise as Wednesday pulled away shortly after before mumbling, “You always talked too much.”
“Wait, does that mean—?”
Wednesday wanted to roll her eyes, but her emotionless stare at Y/N’s face already gave the answer the girl was looking for, as well as another surprising kiss that warmed their bodies in the cold misty weather, hearing one another’s hearts go wild inside their chests like birds begging to be freed into the wild.
Wednesday hated teenage angst, but now maybe there was a part of it she tolerated.
Suddenly, a squawk from the distance was heard, followed by a crow falling right next to them, causing the two to pull away and look.
Y/N could have sworn Wednesday smiled, but she was quick to recover from the plague of crescent lips.
“In case you were wondering, that was a sign of approval from my dead ancestors.” The young Addams informed.
She wasn’t sure why y/n didn’t scream or take what she said before back and say she regretted it all, but Wednesday liked the circumstance as it was.
It was just her and y/n, the dead crow on the archery field, and the peculiar teenage outcast angst under the cliché rain.
“If you tell the others any vivid details about this, I will kill you, calcify your heart and keep it in my drawer.”
