Everyone But Her Pt.22

everyone but her pt.22

Summary: A hidden part of your past comes back to haunt you. At least you've secured a special place in an unusual family's hearts. You would be paying off the debt for the rest of your life.

Word Count: 8.4k Warnings: swearing, violence, murder (in a flashback) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

A/N: I've had a clusterfuck of a week and it's only Wednesday morning, so I'm giving y'all this 20mins early because I love y'all dearly 🫶

The sun was out, shining down and leaving a nice little burn to your skin. It was the perfect day to be running around Niagara Falls with Nicky. People were all around, the birds were out, and you were already far too full from street food. It was perfect.

“What next?” Nicky asked once you had both finished your ice creams; you had strawberry and he had vanilla.

“Hmm,” you hummed aloud, looking carefully over everything.

There were carnival games all around, those were always fun. But they cost money, so maybe not those. Go-karts would be fun, but you weren’t tall enough to drive them and Nicky was a bad driver. You could always go see the birds again, but Nicky had gotten bored. There had to be something you could both do.

Oh!

“The skywheel!” You shouted. No one could see, but your little wings flapped under your shirt.

“Really?” Nicky asked, his hand pressing gently on your back to keep your wings steady. It was comforting. “Why? You can see that view any time.”

“But you can’t,” you said. He looked down at you. “I want you to see what I see!”

“Okay,” he said with a smile, and you turned around to look at the skywheel.

It was so much fun! The birds were out, the sun was shining over the water, and the man at the bottom let you go around three times! Even Nicky had fun, pointing out people, talking about how pretty the sky was. Maybe he could appreciate the view a little better when you tried to fly without permission next time.

“Can we go to the gardens tomorrow?” You asked while you picked at the nachos Nicky had gotten. They had tomatoes on them. Yuck.

“We can,” he said. He wasn’t really paying attention to you, but that was okay because you weren’t paying attention to him either. “If you want to.”

“Are we camping again tonight?” You asked. All the tomato pieces finally rested in the corner of the paper tray and you could eat in peace.

“Yeah,” Nicky said with a sigh. “We’ll head out when you’re done eating.”

“Aren’t you still hungry?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said with a smile. “Finish it.”

“Here,” you said, pushing the tray a little closer to his hand, “I saved the tomatoes for you.”

He hesitated, but after looking at you for a minute he reached forward and grabbed a nacho. They were going cold, but you were just happy to share. You had noticed he hadn’t been eating as much since you had left Nevermore for the trip, and he definitely needed more food.

Besides, it was yummy, why wouldn’t he want some?

After watching the sun set over the falls, it was time to start the trip down to where you had both camped last night. It was a nice little spot down by the nature trails below the falls. You had met some nice people down there when you arrived. They had even loaned you a tent!

“Hold my hand,” Nicky said when the street lights were on and you were taking a shortcut through one of the alleys. “Don’t let go.”

“Why not?” You asked, but reached for his hand anyway. It was warm.

“Just don’t,” he said again. His head was looking all around, but you were very focused on the cotton candy the nice man at the cart had given you.

“A little late to be wandering around, don’t you think?”

Yours and Nicky’s heads turned quickly to see two men walking into the alley behind you. They were tall, even taller than daddy. They had some nice smiles on their faces. Were they taking a shortcut to the trails too?

“We’re just going home,” Nicky said. You opened your mouth to argue - you were going to the campground, not home - but he gave you a look that had you shutting your mouth again.

“All alone?” The other man asked with a tilt of his head. “Your parents let you walk alone at night?”

“We can help,” the first man said. “We know a nice place you can both stay.”

“No thank you,” Nicky said. He pulled your hand as he backed away, making you stumble over your own feet. You nearly dropped your cotton candy. “Come on.”

Nicky kept his eyes on the two men as he continued to pull you with him. You tried to walk backwards just like him, but you stepped on something and stumbled, dropping one of the rocks you had snuck into your pocket. Without questioning it, you turned around and bent down to pick it up, your wings fluttering under your shirt to help you straighten up again.

“Would you look at that,” the second man said, and Nicky froze. “We found ourselves a little Outcast.”

“Nicky is too!” You said.

“Y/N, hush-”

“-No no, let her talk,” the first man said. They were walking closer. “You like to talk, kid?”

“All the time,” you said with a smile. He was smiling too.

“What do you like to talk about?” He asked again. The second man was moving sideways. Where was he going?

“Birds,” you said without hesitation. “Oh, and rocks! Wanna see the ones I found today?”

“I'd love to see them," he continued. He took another step closer. "Why don't you come with us to our house and you can show us all the rocks."

"Ok-"

"-Don't touch us," Nicky interrupted, harshly pulling you behind him.

“Don’t get so defensive,” the second man said. You turned your head and saw him standing behind you both. “We just want to give you kids a place to sleep.”

“I thought you wanted to see my rocks,” you said with a huff. The men got closer.

“How about you just come with us,” the first man said as he reached out and grabbed your arm.

“I said don’t!” Nicky shouted.

He dropped your hand and ran head first, hitting the first man's stomach. They both hit the ground hard. You tried to go help, but a big pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back into a big body.

“You’re gonna stay here with me,” the second man said in your ear. He smelled funny.

But the moment the first man hit Nicky with his knee, you lunged forward. Those big hands pulled you back, but you just ducked down further and he let go. Then it was your turn to hit the first man. You knocked him off of Nicky and felt your knee scrape on the ground.

“You fucking brats,” the first man spit out. He pulled something out of his pocket. Nicky was still on the ground holding his stomach.

The moment you saw the knife in the first man’s hand, you turned around to run. You knew to run away from danger, Nicky had taught you that. But you didn’t get very far before you felt someone pick you up. One hand covered your mouth and you bit down hard.

He screamed and dropped you to the ground again. It hurt your feet. You tried to run again, but the man knocked you over. He turned you around, his body pressing you into the hard ground. You turned your head and saw Nicky fighting with the second man.

It didn’t look like Nicky was winning.

“Just stay still,” the first man said above you. He smelled funny too.

Fight back, a little voice in your head said.

What had you seen Nicky do before? He had gotten into fights before, what did he do? Oh! You threw your head forward, feeling the sharp ache when it connected with the first man’s nose. He grunted and pulled back a little bit, but then you felt something hit the side of your face.

Everything started ringing and the alley started spinning. You could feel him pressing into you again, and your wings started to hurt from the ground. Fight back, the little voice said again, so you did. You threw your arms and legs out everywhere, trying to hit something. But then you felt something sharp press against your neck and you stopped.

“Just kill ‘em already,” the second man called out. He sounded like he had been running for a long time.

“With pleasure,” the first man said above you.

No. You felt the knife press into your neck and the sting that followed. What did you do? What were you supposed to do? Nicky had never taught you how to fight a knife!

Knock it away, the little voice said, and grab it.

You thrashed around again, making sure to hit the hand that was holding the knife. The first man groaned again and you kicked your leg up. You don’t know what you hit, but he screamed and rolled off of you. You scrambled to your hands and knees and looked around.

There was the knife.

Your fingers touched the knife right when the first man got on you again. He tried to grab the knife too, his hand much bigger than yours. As soon as you felt your hand grab it, you turned around and swung it.

“Fuck!”

The first man pulled back really fast, holding his cheek. Something red was coming out from between his fingers. He pulled his hand back and you both looked at the blood, and your eyes went to the big cut on his cheek.

“You little bitch,” he said in a mean voice. “Come here.”

He lunged at you again, but you closed your eyes and held the knife out in front of you. Something hit the knife, pushing you back onto the ground again. You heard a gasp and opened your eyes.

The knife was sticking out of the man’s shoulder. He looked at you in shock before his mouth turned into a frown. When he tried to grab you, you pulled the knife out and stabbed him with it again, this time in his hand.

He reached forward, grabbing your wrist and pulled you back. But instead of pulling, you moved forward and he fell onto his back with you on top of him. Stab him, the little voice said; it sounded mean. Without any hesitation, you grabbed the knife with both hands and brought it down. And you did it again. And again. And again again again again again-

-Something warm splashed against your face. The man was screaming, so you closed your eyes and tried to tune him out. You hummed. But you kept bringing the knife down over and over and over and over and over and-

“-Y/N!”

Smaller hands held your wrists, stopping you from bringing the knife down. You opened your eyes again and saw Nicky looking at you. He had blood on his face and clothes and a few cuts all over. Was he okay?

“Let me have it,” Nicky said softly, and he took the knife from your hands. Your fingers felt stiff like they didn’t want to let go. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know. What had just happened anyway? You were supposed to be at the campgrounds with Nicky about now, right? Why weren’t you both down there with those nice weird people from the other night?

The man wasn’t moving underneath you.

“We have to go,” Nicky said. He was looking all over. “We need to go.”

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up to your feet. Your legs were all wobbly. Nicky grabbed your hand and started pulling you. You looked back and saw the two men laying on the ground. They were really still. Were they okay?

“We have to go,” Nicky said again as he pulled you further down the alley before you both started running-

“-Smith!”

Your head shot up from the hole you had been staring into the table. The quick movement gave you a headache and made your bruised side throb; jail had not been kind to you. Nothing could have properly prepared you for the difference between the singular Jericho cell and an actual jail down in D.C.

People here were mean.

“You’ve got another date with the detectives,” Officer Hartman called out once you still hadn’t moved.

“Better get movin’, cupcake,” your new bestest friend Erin said with a smug look that you wanted to beat off her. Again. “Hartman might scuff up that pretty face of yours.”

“What would I do without your all-encompassing wisdom,” you mumbled as you stood up, inhaling lightly as the bruises on your torso pulled.

“You sure you graduated highschool?” She asked. “Cause you’re sure actin’ stupid as hell.”

“Still smarter than you and your white trash girl group,” you said with a tilt of your head.

“Wanna say that to my face, Outcast?” Erin asked, standing abruptly to be toe-to-toe with you. In  your peripheral, you could see the rest of her gang starting to circle up.

“I thought I did,” you said. She was smaller than you, but far more aggressive. Surprisingly. “I guess your ass and face look the same, that’s my bad.”

“You little-”

“-Summers!”

Erin’s fist stayed cocked and ready as Officer Hartman casually walked up to the group, one hand resting on the baton on her belt. A shiver went down your spine at the sight of it; you certainly didn’t want to be on the other end of it again any time soon.

“Everything alright over here?” Officer Hartman asked, looking between both you and Erin.

“Just showing my little friend the ropes,” Erin said with a sickeningly sweet smile. Oh, you wanted to beat that off her too.

“You can show her later,” Officer Hartman said before turning to look at you. “Let’s get going, kid.”

“See you later, girly pop,” you said with your own smile before you blew a kiss in Erin’s direction.

You’re going to get your ass beat, the voice at the back of your head said. It was almost nice to hear; it had been a few days and you were getting worried it had disappeared. Wow, you were really attempting to make friends with the voice inside your head. Did that make you crazy?

Yes. Yes, it absolutely did.

“Assume the position,” Officer Hartman ordered once you were out of the common area.

It was a bit odd to be accustomed to the cold bite of the shackles placed around your wrists and ankles. To find a certain comfort in the way they were chained to the belt around your waist. You didn’t know what the explanation was, but it was probably something you needed therapy for.

Therapy is for pussies, the voice said. You didn’t necessarily disagree.

“You gonna behave today?” Officer Hartman asked when she started leading you to the interrogation room.

“Yes ma’am,” you said confidently.

“Good girl,” she said. “Maybe we’re finally beating that arrogance out of you.”

You didn’t say anything in reply; it was better that way. But her words made your side throb again. How bad was it now? It had been two days, surely it was looking nice and ugly at this point. But you hadn’t looked at it yet; you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Not that the detectives would care, nor would anyone else you were going to come into contact with.

“Welcome back, kid,” Detective Waller said when Officer Hartman led you into the interrogation room.

“Afternoon,” you said quietly as you let Hartman unshackle you and then cuff you to the half-circle thing on the table. You didn’t know what it was called, but it was kind of fun to run the cuff chain back and forth on it-

“-Stop it,” Hartman ordered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, quickly sitting back in your seat to look at Detectives Waller and Pearce. You didn’t like them. Something about them wasn’t trustworthy.

“How you been?” Waller asked once Hartman left the room. He and Pearce seemed more laid back; you certainly did not.

“Fine,” you said. You refused to look up from where your hands were chained to the table.

A lot of precautions for a single 18 year old, the voice mused.

“I hear you’ve been making friends,” Pearce said, his voice always softer than Waller’s. “We can help you with that problem, you know.”

“You’ve just gotta tell us what happened,” Waller finished. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the desk. “We have proof, so just tell us how it went down.”

“We don’t need to know about the domestic,” Pearce said. “We have an entire room full of people who saw what happened.”

“Just tell us about Niagara,” Waller finished.

This again. They had been asking for over a week at that point. Why couldn’t they just let it go? You hadn’t even remembered it until they brought it up that first day. Maybe you had done it, sure, but how were you supposed to remember all the details?

“Quit looking at your hands,” Waller said harshly. “Look at me.”

And you did. You looked up at him and instantly felt like you were a kid again. The way they were both looking at you like a child about to get scolded. Like all the times when you would get in trouble with your mom and dad and be sent to your room to think about what you did.

It made you feel small.

“We’ve got your prints on the murder weapon,” Pearce said, attempting to take over the conversation. “Just tell us what happened and we can get you away from Erin.”

No he can’t, the voice said.

You kept your mouth shut.

“You’re making it pretty hard on yourself, kid,” Waller said. He leaned further; he was getting too close. “You know what happens when you refuse to cooperate?”

“You already arrested me,” you said. “So you clearly feel confident enough without a confession.” Waller narrowed his eyes. “Not much else you can threaten me with.”

“We can always have you transferred to a different block,” Pearce said with a tilt of his head.

“I hear Block C has a soft spot for Outcasts,” Waller continued.

Don’t listen to them.

“I’m sure you’d make a lot of new friends over there.” Your hands were feeling sweaty.

“You can be cellmates with Miss Byrne.”

Fight back.

Your ears were ringing.

“I think she’s in for killing an Outcast, isn’t she?”

Don’t let them do this.

Your heart wanted to jump out of your throat.

“Think she did. Five, if I remember right.”

“I’m sure she’s rehabilitated now though.”

“Probably wouldn’t even think twice to-”

“-Good afternoon, everyone.”

All three of you whipped your heads toward the door to see a man walking into the interrogation room. His dark hair was slicked back except for one or two strands hanging over his face, and his light goatee was, honestly, pretty fabulous. He kind of reminded you of Zorro.

What was Zorro doing in your interrogation room?

“Can we help you?” Pearce asked when it was clear Waller was still too busy glaring at the new man.

“Jair Moreno,” the man said with a big, bright smile. “I’m here to talk with my client.” He had a comfortingly deep voice, and a stunning accent. It reminded you of Mr. Addams.

“Client?” Waller asked.

“I don’t have a lawyer,” you said with a frown, finally able to voice something.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here, no?” He said. His smile turned less performative when he looked at you.

Don’t trust him.

“She never asked for a lawyer,” Waller continued. You almost wanted to laugh at how red his face was getting. He was mad.

Good.

“If you keep him around, we can’t talk to you anymore,” Pearce said with a smile that was a rather pitiful attempt at comfort. “We can’t help you.”

“I…” you looked back and forth between the detectives and your (supposed) lawyer. “I would like to talk with him.”

“It’s your funeral, kid,” Waller said with a huff, pushing his chair back harshly and shoving past Mr. Moreno.

“You have the room,” Pearce said quickly before following suit, though in a much less aggressive way. Both you and Mr. Moreno watched and waited until the door clicked shut again, and you were finally alone.

“My apologies for being so late,” he said with a friendly smile as he sat down in the seat across from you. “It took two days to find you.”

“I appreciate you coming, Mr. Moreno-”

“-Señor,” he corrected. “It’s a simple difference, but it makes the white men uncomfortable in these parts.” He winked as if he was letting you in on a little secret.

“Señor Moreno,” you said; the word didn’t sound as pretty coming from your mouth, but he smiled and nodded at you once anyway. “But I can’t afford you. And I never called you.”

“No you didn’t,” he said quickly, “a close friend informed me of the situation. Said you’re like another child to him.”

You wracked your brain to think of who could have possibly called someone for you. Everyone had seen you getting arrested at the Rave’N, so it wasn’t like you could pick from who had known. And you were close with a lot of parents. Had it been a teacher? No, probably not. It certainly wasn’t Sheriff Galpin; he liked you well enough, but you were also a major thorn in his side.

It’s a trap, the voice said. You physically shook your head to get it out. Now wasn’t the time for paranoia.

“I don’t know who would have called,” you finally said. He was being far too nice, it was starting to be a little creepy. Maybe it was the time for some paranoia.

“No?” You shook your head slowly, and his smile fell into something smaller, much more comforting. “Gomez Addams gave me a call.”

Oh.

“Well then I certainly can’t afford you,” you said immediately. Señor Moreno laughed a deep belly laugh.

“He said you would say that,” he chuckled. “That’s why I’m taking your case pro bono.”

“That’s not a smart business decision,” you mumbled, looking down at your hands and away from his gaze. His eyes reminded you of Wednesday’s; dark, like perfectly stained wood.

You’re going to owe them, the voice said. You’ll never be able to repay them. You’ll be in their debt for the rest of your life.

“But it is my decision to make,” he said. You didn’t look up from your hands but nodded absentmindedly.

You felt small again.

“Let’s go ahead and get down to business,” Señor Moreno said.

You nodded and braced yourself for whatever it was he was going to say. You hoped it wasn’t going to be all bad news. There was only so much more you could take.

“Let’s talk about the domestic first,” he said, and you nodded. “We won’t deny it happened, that would be foolish. But what was your emotional state at that moment?”

He blamed Outcasts; he blamed you. Your fist pounded into flesh and bone again and again and again and ag-

“-I don’t know,” you said with a shrug and another shake of your head to get the image of blood out of your mind.

“Were you aware of what you were doing at the time?” He probed. “Or did you only realise afterwards?”

“I…” you sighed. “I didn’t know until after.”

“And it happened impulsively?”

“Yes.”

“Then we shall go with an extreme emotional disturbance defence,” he said. “I’ve used it in New York, I’m sure I can find a loophole here.”

“So it’s actually going to trial?” You asked, your shoulders sagging. You couldn’t handle a trial.

“Not necessarily,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. It was almost hypnotising. He was actually pretty handsome.

Don’t be a whore.

“Now tell me about this double homicide,” he said, looking down at notes that you hadn’t even realised he had. “They have yet to declare it either a murder or manslaughter because of your age at the time.”

“Uh, I was 9- 10,” you blinked frantically. “10, I was 10. Nicky was 14.” So young? “We walked west for a few days and had a mini vacation.” The knife flashed under the street lamps. “Two guys trapped us in an alley one night and tried to kidnap us.” You blinked hard again. “Or not, I don’t know, they just tried to get us to go with them.”

“What happened next?” Señor Moreno asked. His voice was far too soft and quiet, it was unsettling. He shouldn’t be so gentle.

“Uh, Nicky got into a fight with one of them and I got in a fight with the other,” you mused as you shook your head slowly, your eyes darting back and forth but not seeing anything. “The one I was fighting pulled a knife on me, so I knocked it out of his hand and…”

The knife came down again and again and again again again again again-

“And you fought back,” Señor Moreno finished for you.

You inhaled sharply, not realising you had been holding your breath. The room suddenly felt too cold and too enclosed. Your wings itched under the makeshift harness the jail had forced you to wear. You wanted to get out. It was too much, you wanted to leave.

“A double homicide sure, but sounds like self-defence to me,” he said. 

“Technically I only killed one,” you mused, blinking a few times to clear the haze so you could look back up at Señor Moreno.

“I suppose that’s true,” he said with a light laugh.

“Guess Nicky was right though,” you said to yourself. “I’ll always remember Niagara.”

“What did you say?” Señor Moreno’s head shot up from his notes. You frowned at him. “Where did you go?”

“Niagara Falls?” You said hesitantly.

“Which side?” He asked. He was leaning over the table to get close to you, his hands reaching out to grab your own. You let out a sigh; you had missed the touch of soft hands.

“Uhh,” you shook your head and your mouth flopped open and closed a few times. “The left side?”

“No no, which country,” he corrected quickly. “Were you on the American side, or the Canada side?”

“I don’t-”

“-What were the falls shaped like?” He asked. He was talking far too quickly, it was making your head spin.

“I…” your eyes swung left and right, over and over as you tried to remember.

“See that?” Nicky asked, pointing to the falls. You could see them perfectly from your spot on his shoulders. “What does it look like to you?”

“A waterfall,” you said with a giggle. He lightly pinched your thigh.

“What else?” He asked with his own little chuckle.

“Umm.” You tilted your head so you could think better. “It looks like a U.”

“It’s a horseshoe,” he said. “Pretty cool, right?”

“A horseshoe,” you said with a slow, dazed nod of your head. “It looked like a horseshoe.”

Señor Moreno let go of your hands - you instantly missed the warmth - and leaned back in his chair. His hands went behind his head and he smiled. He looked at you, looked into your very soul, and smiled. You frowned. What was he smiling about?

“You’re not going to trial,” he said with a chuckle.

“How do you know?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your palms were getting itchy. And sweaty.

“You’ll find out tomorrow,” he said. “We have a meeting with your parents and their lawyer.”

“I can’t see them,” you said quickly, eyes going wide. “I can’t.”

“They can’t touch you,” he replied. “If they’re smart, they won’t even talk to you.”

It didn't comfort you, not really. What would it matter if they couldn’t talk to you? They would still be there; you would have to face the people who were supposed to care for you. Love you. Who should have been on your side from the very beginning, not getting you arrested.

“You’ll come back for me tomorrow?” You asked.

“Right after we post your bail,” he said with the most genuine look you had seen since arriving at jail.

“You promise?” You asked again.

He looked at you for a moment with a tilted head and slightly furrowed brows. What was he thinking? He’s not coming back for you, the voice said. But he reached out and placed gentle hands over yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“I promise on my abuela’s grave,” he said softly. Oh so softly.

It made you feel small. But in a good way.

Just the knowledge that you were going to get out was enough to make the rest of the day go by faster. You didn’t even care that Erin and her girl gang were glaring daggers at you the whole day. The only thing on your mind was getting to get out of this fucking jail and get back to the real world again.

You ignored the fact that the real world also sucked.

And that you were not prepared to deal with the real world yet.

Because you’re a coward, the voice in your head said.

You still slept like a baby.

The next morning you took your time heading to the showers; you had picked up on the fact that everyone either showered immediately, or not at all. If you waited just a little longer, the odds of you being alone were exponentially high. It worked out perfectly, and since you weren’t too worried about being late to anything anymore, you took your time. 

Even though it was a bit cold by that time, it felt nice as it cascaded over your face. With your eyes closed, you could just focus on the sound of the water. The goal wasn’t necessarily to wash off anymore, just try to keep your heart and mind in check. You were almost there. Just a little longer.

The water shut off only a moment later, and you let out a frustrated sigh. Of course you hadn’t been keeping track of the time. But it was okay, you would be out soon and could get a hot shower later if you really wanted it. Now all you need to do was dry off and-

-something hard hit the back of your knees and you immediately fell to the ground. The vibration travelled up your palms and the crack of your knees on the tile resonated through your bones and, if nothing else, the bruises that would paint themselves on your skin would be stunning. Wednesday would appreciate the grotesque colours, that was for sure.

You pushed yourself up and looked down at your palms to see the already reddened, sensitive skin on the heels. It ached, and both of your forearms throbbed lightly with each heartbeat. That was going to be a pain in the ass to-

-something rough pulled tight against your neck and yanked you back off your knees. Your hands instantly lifted to pull against it, trying to get your fingers underneath to ease the pressure on your throat. You could feel yourself being pulled backwards across the slick floor until you came to a stop.

Pull it away, the voice ordered. You couldn’t breathe.

Erin stepped in front of you.

“Hey, girly pop,” she said with a grin as she crouched down to be at eye level with you. “Heard you’re leaving today.”

The thing around your throat pulled tighter; it made you choke.

“We couldn’t let you leave without a goodbye present,” one of the women behind you practically taunted.

“Maybe afterwards you’ll learn not to run that big mouth of yours.” Erin’s grin was malicious at best, downright demonic at worst.

They were smart. You knew they were. The moment they pulled whatever was choking you tighter and your hands tried to pull it down, Erin swung. A solid punch that left your ears ringing and the world spinning. The throb in your eye was instant. Only when you were truly dazed did they really get started.

They were smart.

The bruises on your side had already ached before this. Now they genuinely hurt. Each new blow and kick stole what little air you had left in your lungs, and you didn’t know what to do. Did you keep trying not to suffocate? Or did you try to fight back? You couldn’t do both, you were outnumbered.

Fight back, the voice said. But how could you do that when you felt something crack in your side and you couldn’t fucking breath-

“-What’s going on in here?”

It was as if a switch flipped in the room. They instantly released you, and you gasped for air like your life depended on it. You sputtered and coughed, falling forward onto your hands and knees again except this time you didn’t pay attention to the pain in the heel of your palm.

No, this time you were too busy trying not to choke on your own blood.

“Five to one doesn’t seem too fair.” Miss Ethel’s voice echoed off the tiled walls; it sounded fuzzy through the ringing in your ears.

Something red was going down the shower drain.

“We’re just wishing our little friend good luck in the big outside world,” Erin said quickly. At least that’s what you thought she said, you couldn’t actually tell.

“Get going,” Miss Ethel said. You squeezed your eyes shut when the volume of her voice sent a migraine shooting down every nerve in your body. “Now.”

And just like that, they left. Left you on the floor of the showers with a foggy brain and the taste of blood on your tongue. Stand up. No. No, you didn't want to stand up. You wanted to curl up on the cold ground and lay in a pool of your own blood until the foggiest eased and your throat was no longer on fire.

"Come on, baby, get up," Miss Ethel said in a far softer voice that had reminded you of Abuelita.

Her old worn hands held you by the shoulders and steadied you, not rushing you but there as a crutch. As you moved and stretched and stood up, she was there to support you the whole time. Only when you were back up to your feet did she look up at you with a frown.

"So you’re only good for starting fights, not finishing them?” She asked, looking you up and down to assess the damage.

She needs to shut up.

“Just caught off guard,” you mumbled. Your mouth filled again and you spit near the drain; it was a mesmerising dark red. “I can finish fights.”

“Not today though, I see,” she continued. “Decided to be a gentleman, did you?”

“I had it,” you huffed. Something in her eyes reminded you of someone. Someone who cared. “I didn’t need your help.”

“I can see that,” she said with a solemn nod. “You certainly look like someone who had it covered.”

You gonna let her talk to you like that?

“Listen, baby,” Miss Ethel said, her voice dropping a tone and sounding more like a friend. Like someone who cared. “Stop pushing people away. Soon they’ll quit trying.”

“They already did,” you mumbled, your head falling. Your eyes squeezed shut again as a hammer started pounding away at the inside of your skull.

“Then get them back,” she said. You didn’t open your eyes but could feel her hand on your still-naked shoulder. “All that rage and loneliness has to come out sometime. Don’t put your friends on the receiving end and keep your head up. Sad birds still sing.”

“You sound poetic,” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet hers. “Not like someone who murdered her husbands.”

“Read it in a book somewhere,” she said with her charming smile that was missing a few teeth. “Even black widows have some wisdom buried deep down.”

You chuckled lightly before inhaling sharply. Something was definitely broken, probably a rib. It was sticking into your lungs and it just hurt. Every breath, every movement, it hurt. But you took a slow, deep breath and stood up straight again.

No giving up.

“Let’s get you dressed and ready to be picked up,” Miss Ethel said. “Before anyone comes looking for you.”

Miss Ethel helped clean the bit of blood off of you and tidied you up the best she could with what she had. You picked up the towel that had been wrapped around your neck only moments before. It was rough and white. The scratchiness in your throat came back.

You looked brand new by the time you put your suit back on and was escorted out of the jail. It was weird to be wearing the suit, but you supposed it was all you had. Certainly better than nothing, at least. If it wasn’t for the newly blackened eye and broken nose and bruised jaw and… well, anyway, you would have looked ready for the Rave’N.

In theory.

“Dios mío,” Señor Moreno said when he met you outside the jail, running up to you and checking over your face.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “I just wanna go.”

“Of course,” he said with a simple nod before withdrawing his hands. “Then let’s get going.”

He led you to the front where a car was waiting, and you hesitated. These things weren’t just dangerous anymore; now they had rightfully killed Nicky. Sure, you had been in the police van on the way down, but this was… it was different. It was smaller and more dangerous.

It was scarier.

Just get in, the voice goaded you. And against everything you had, your feet carried you until you got into the passenger seat.

You couldn’t recall the ride to wherever you were meeting everyone. Nothing about it registered in your head, almost like a blackout. The only thing you became aware of was sitting down in the chair in that big empty room and waiting for everyone else to show up.

That was pretty scary.

“Good morning, Y/N,” someone said in an accented voice, and you and Señor Moreno turned around to greet everyone.

You remembered the man. Vaguely, of course. He was a friend of your dad’s, someone he had gone to law school with. Stokes; Luke Stokes. He was older now, had more grey in his hair, a few more wrinkles. If you remembered right, he had favoured you over Nicky.

But you averted your eyes the moment you saw your parents enter the room.

“You’ve certainly grown into a stunning young adult,” Mr. Stokes said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” you said in a raspy voice; it itched your throat again. Everyone quickly sat down and you let your eyes fall to the table.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Mr. Stokes asked once everyone was settled. “You mentioned you were open to a plea deal?”

“Of course,” Señor Moreno said with his own smile. “A trial would be tedious for everyone, no?”

“I’m glad we agree,” Mr. Stokes said as he started shuffling some papers. It was an irritating sound; he wasn’t even looking for anything in particular, you could tell. “Let’s make this simple. Miss Smith pleads guilty and only serves 7 years.”

“I’ll make it simpler,” Señor Moreno retorted, leaning back in his seat. You felt his foot kick yours slightly. “She pleads guilty, pays her fine, and goes to anger management.”

“Absolutely not,” your dad cut in loudly. You flinched and reached your hand out on instinct; Señor Moreno grabbed it quickly under the table. “Assault and murder?”

“Marcus-”

“-No!” His voice was far too loud, only being drowned out by the racing pulse in your ears. “It’s insulting.”

“We have witnesses for the domestic and prints for the murder,” Mr. Stokes said. Your eyes were closed but you guessed he was trying to calm your dad back down. “Why would we let her off without a sentence?”

The domestic was a simple emotional disturbance,” Señor Moreno said nonchalantly. “Her brother had just died tragically, any juror would understand.”

“And the murder?”

“Just so happened to occur on Canadian soil.” He sounded cocky.

Watch their reactions, the voice said. Again, without any intention to do so, your eyes slowly opened and you looked up across the table.

Your dad was furious; his skin was darkened and there was a fire in his eyes. A dangerous fire. He was looking directly at you like he wanted to lunge across the table and strangle you where you sat. Maybe he did. Maybe he would.

I’d like to see him try, the voice growled. And for the first time in a while, you agreed.

“The United States would never extradite one of their own,” Señor Moreno continued, “let alone a small Outcast child who was defending herself from kidnappers.”

“Any jury would still convict,” Mr. Stokes said. “It’s a good deal, Moreno. Just accept it and let’s all go home.”

The room fell silent. A silence so thick you could choke on it. Everyone was looking at everyone else, watching, waiting to see who would speak first. You didn’t want to take the deal. Seven years in prison? Not even a jail, a prison? You could hold your own, but you would rather die than be subjected to that. There already was very little to live for. It would be the final straw.

Señor Moreno squeezed your hand before leaning forward on the table.

“We will have to reject this deal,” he said with a sigh. “A trial will be tedious, but well worth it.” He looked directly at your dad and you noticed the slightest smirk on his face. “I suppose the knowledge that my client is an Outcast will come to light during the trial.”

Your parents’ faces fell instantly. A laugh tried to bubble up from your throat, and you quickly coughed and cleared your throat to hide it. You bit your bottom lip hard as you looked back up to meet their eyes. For the first time, you saw something that almost made the pain worth it.

They were scared.

“I hope your clients are ready for-”

“-Hold on,” your dad interrupted. “There’s no need for that.”

“So you will accept our terms then?” Señor Moreno asked with a tilt of his head. You turned your head to hide your smile.

Gotcha.

He squeezed your hand again as your parents leaned closer to talk to Mr. Stokes. With another turn of your head, you looked at him. He had a cocky smile on his face that was reserved only for you. And truthfully, you trusted him.

“We’ll agree to your terms,” Mr. Stokes sighed, “but the battery remains on her record.”

Shit.

Señor Moreno looked at you again, waiting patiently for an answer. If a violent crime went on your record, you would never be able to move on. You would have to disclose it to jobs, everyone could look it up and find out. It would ruin your life.

But at least it was a life…

You nodded once.

“We accept,” Señor Moreno said quickly, holding his hand out for Mr. Stokes to shake it.

You hoped you hadn’t just handed your life over to something you couldn’t fix.

—---

The next few days were total chaos. Señor Moreno had allowed you to stay in his guest room before the next day of court. It was a kind gesture, truly it was, but the bed was too soft and the house was too quiet. There was no way to get any sort of sleep so you just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts consume you.

Then he took you to the doctor, letting them check you over. Two broken ribs, one fractured, a broken nose, and some deep bruising. Nothing too horrifying, you had dealt with worse. The horrifying part came when it was time to pay and Señor Moreno didn’t even let you see it. He just paid for it all himself.

“Any child of Gomez’s is a child of mine,” he said with a charming smile.

It made you feel small. And a little warm inside.

Don’t get soft, the voice said, it’ll ruin you.

The day of court was far simpler than you had thought it would be. At least it was now that you had Señor Moreno on your side. The judge accepted the plea and let you off with a simple “you’re young, don’t throw your life away.” You just mumbled a “yes sir” and left with Señor Moreno guiding you out of the courthouse.

“What now?” You asked as you pulled on the tie around your neck. It was a shame the only nice outfit you had was your suit to the Rave’N; it had quickly turned uncomfortable.

“Now you go home,” he said with a smile, still guiding you down the steps of the courthouse. Thanks to your parents’ aversion to Outcasts, there had been little to no publicity. “You’ll start your anger management once the new year starts.”

“And the fine?” You asked. 

It had been weighing on your mind since the judge had issued it; $15,000. There was no way in hell you would ever be able to pay that off. A few dozen feet away, your parents descended the courthouse steps, eyeing you for a moment before they looked elsewhere. Your hand quickly travelled to the crystal pendent the Addamses had given you; you still kept it around your neck at all times. 

“I can’t afford it.”

“It’s already taken care of.”

You stopped fidgeting with the crystal and nearly tripped over the last stair. Señor Moreno held his hand out to your arm to steady you before you could look up. Mr. and Mrs. Addams were standing near their car with Lurch still inside. Mrs. Addams had a soft smile while Mr. Addams immediately went to clap Señor Moreno on the back.

You didn’t bother trying to keep up as they started talking in Spanish. Abuelita really needed to teach you.

“How are you feeling, little bird?” Mrs. Addams asked softly as her hand reached out to brush against your cheek. You instantly leaned into the gentle touch.

Stop being vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” you said even though you both clearly knew it was a lie.

“Thank you again, Jair,” Mrs. Addams said, and you turned just enough to see Mr. Addams and Señor Moreno walking closer. She still pulled you closer until her arm was around your waist.

She was being far too soft with you, it was making you nervous. But it also left you feeling cared for, maybe even loved. Fuck, when had you truly last felt loved? Mama Weems aside simply because she still had to work all the time, of course. Shit. Now you were just getting sad.

It’s pathetic.

“Of course, Tish,” Señor Moreno said with a smile. “Let me know if anything else comes up.”

“We will,” Mr. Addams said.

Everyone bid their goodbyes to Señor Moreno and watched as he walked away, leaving you with the Addamses. It made you uncomfortable in ways you couldn’t properly express. How much of their money had you wasted on this whole situation? How much time had you stolen from them?

“Are you ready to go home, little bird?” Mr. Addams asked. He still looked to be in good spirits.

You opened your mouth to answer but instantly felt that lump in your throat again. It was not going to cause you to cry, not now. You closed your mouth and nodded once instead, and thankfully they took that as an acceptable answer. Mrs. Addams opened the car door for you to let you in and soon the drive had started.

You couldn’t remember anything that happened on the trip, or even the ride to the Addams house itself. That alone was enough to get your heart racing once again, but you chalked it down to the stress and anxiety of the past few weeks. More than a few weeks. Fuck, how long had it been since the harvest festival? How many weeks had you missed out on?

Fuck.

You had barely gotten out of the car when you felt something crash into you, knocking you back. Your feet steadied the rest of you, but the ache in your body stretched down every nerve it could find. Small, slender arms were wrapped around your neck and, at the familiar scent of her perfume, your own arms wrapped around her waist as your eyes fell shut.

“Never again, cara mia,” Wednesday mumbled into the side of your neck. “Please.”

Oh, how could you possibly say no to that? When you could hear the rare emotion in her voice and feel something wet drop onto your skin? When her nails were digging into your suit and holding you as if you would disappear in an instant? When you could feel her pulse under your fingertips and even just the feel of her body against yours made you feel home?

She’s going to become a distraction, the voice warned. But a distraction to what? And in the end, did you even truly care? Did you care when she felt like home and comfort and warmth all at once? No. No, you didn’t care. You would let her be a distraction to the whole world if that’s what it took to keep her in your arms.

You didn’t bother with an answer, just held her tighter and inhaled deeply once again. The stress of everything started to melt away, even if only for a moment, and you just held Wednesday as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe something inside you would break, leaving not even your sanity intact if you let go.

You wouldn’t let her go again.

You would pile corpses in front of her door before the world took her from you again.

safety net

Tara Carpenter x F!Reader

masterlist | over (1) | love language (2)

Summary: Tara Carpenter loved playing games with you. (inspired by safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign)

Warnings/Tags: toxic!tara, clueless!tara, mature language, implied sexual themes, mentions of violence and trauma.

Note: as promised THE LAST PART (woohoo😮‍💨) this was seriously a lot of fun and became a bit of a writing exercise using songs as prompts and trying to piece them together into a storyline. Thanks for all the comments, reblogs and feedback. They are so appreciated! Let me know what you guys think! <3

Word Count: 3.4k+

“You’re staring, again.”

Tara snaps her gaze back to the book on the table, ignoring her friends’ smug smiles. “Why don’t you just go up to her and apologize?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, trust me, I’ve tried.” Tara rolls her eyes. 

It’s been two weeks since that night at the party and you have been ignoring Tara. You spent the rest of spring break working at your uncle’s shop, avoiding the friend group, sans Mindy because you couldn’t exactly avoid someone you lived with. Tara attempted to give you space the following days but reached out to you in hopes that you could talk and sort out the situation. Tara doesn’t want to lose you as a friend. 

“I’m not gonna apologize for something that wasn’t my fault, Mindy. Just because she caught feelings doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. But now she’s ignoring me?” Tara scoffs, “Well, some friend she is.” 

“God Chad’s right. You two are clueless.” Mindy’s nose wrinkled.

“She knows where to find me when she’s done being stubborn.” Crossing her arms, she glances back at you. You were sitting across the quad, on a bench surrounded by your other friends; laughing and talking, unfazed by Tara’s brazen staring. 

How were you not seeing her shameless looks?

She swallowed the pitiful lump in her throat as she continues to observe your carefree nature. 

“Weren’t you begging me to tell her to call you back like a week ago?” Mindy objected causing Anika and Quinn to snicker as they listen in, not bothering to pretend like they weren’t eavesdropping.

“Begging is a stretch,” She mutters weakly, picking at the corner of her book.

“Tara, why can’t you just admit that you want to be with her?” Quinn ponders, genuinely confused as to why you two are playing hopscotch around one another. Everyone could see how madly in love you two are.

It genuinely puzzled the friend group as to why it’s taking this long to get you guys to stop playing games.

They just wanted to see their friends together and happy, definitely not because of the growing bet pool. And not because it was getting increasingly expensive to wager in the bet the longer it ran because you two refused to acknowledge the clear feelings you have for each other. (It was starting to burn a sizeable hole in their wallets)

The brunette shakes her head defiantly, “We’re just hooking up.”

“You’re not acting like you guys are just hooking up.” Anika counters, “actually, you guys act more like a couple than me and Mindy sometimes.”

“No. We don’t,” She frowns.

“Yes you do and it’s gross,” The aforementioned girl interjects. “No one should be cuter than me and my girl.” She wraps an arm around Anika, leaning in to lovingly peck the girl’s cheek. 

“Y/N’s always bringing you coffee when you study with us at the library, even though her class is on the other side of campus.” Anika comments.

“She always loses on purpose when we play card games just so you can win,” Quinn adds.

“She laughs at all your lame jokes and obscure movie references – there’s no way you enjoy Suspiria as much as you say you do,” Mindy stated.

“Hey!” 

“Dude, she has a Spotify playlist titled with your name and heart beside it.” Mindy throws her hands up, feeling a bit fed up.

“Doesn’t mean anything, we share music all the time!”

“Tara, Y/N literally takes care of your plants when you complain about forgetting,” Quinn objects.

Tara’s still feeling persistent. “That’s not true.” 

Her dying plants have been on the mend these last few weeks and it’s definitely because she’s been paying more attention to them; placing the potted plants in a better area for sunlight and watering them more.

Quinn shoots her roommate a pointed look, “You were over-watering them, Tara. Y/N had to come over and change the soil. Did you even notice?”

No, Tara didn’t even notice. She was shocked at how much went over her head as her friends continue to list all the little things you do that, apparently, she’s been too blind to see. She glances back at you as you’re talking to a girl; smiling, unbothered. She recognizes her from her creative writing class – Tara didn’t know you two were close. Close enough for the girl to wrap a hand around your arm and lean into your ear something that the Carpenter can’t make out from the vast distance.

Tara’s eyes slither into tight fissures as she watches the random girl continue to make herself comfortable on you. Eventually, whatever she felt she had to whisper so close was over, but not before the girl planted a kiss on your cheek unsuspectingly. The Carpenter watches as you slightly jump from the contact, then eventually grant her a shy smile – the same smile you reserved for her. 

Tara feels an unpleasant drop in her chest because, for the first time since moving to New York, she allowed herself to finally feel everything she’s been burying.

It was suffocating, making her want to claw at her throat to get rid of the nasty sensation. Regardless of how much she swallowed in an attempt to get rid of the feeling, it only grew larger as it ached; begging to be acknowledged. Hastily, Tara stands up, gathering her things.

“Where are you going?” Her friends' questions were left unacknowledged as she footed it, not really sure where she was going; all Tara knows is that she had to get away before her friends see her break down. 

In her haste, Tara misses your concerned eyes tracking her disappearing figure.

●●●

Tara is choosing to ignore the world and her problems.

After that conversation with her friends, she ran home, plopped into her bed and hid under the covers for the remainder of the afternoon. She put on her favourite horror movies, hoping it would distract her from her thoughts of you. But her efforts proved to be fruitless. You tormented her thoughts regardless of how desperately she tried to drown them out. 

So, she sat there until bright blue skies turned navy and drove herself mad thinking about you.

Trust came sparsely for someone who was violently attacked by a deranged murderer. As much as Tara tried to push through the past and live as if nothing happened, it plagued her in her daily life. It revealed itself when a phone rang too loudly, near kitchen knives, or in dark areas – there were just certain experiences that were tainted by the memory of Ghostface. 

But then you showed up. She remembers opening the door to her apartment and there you were, standing behind Mindy with a $15 bottle of champagne and a poorly-wrapped throw blanket for the old couch to celebrate the Carpenter’s housewarming party (an attempt at some normalcy) with a shy smile and Tara was hooked. 

No matter how much she tried to distance herself, echoing sentiments that it’s a bad idea to get involved with someone so soon. But you lured her in, anyway.

It was in your tenderness that you had Tara wrapped around your finger.

Normally, the Carpenter would be annoyed with someone treating her like she was made of glass, but when it came to you; she knew it wasn’t out of pity. Your gentleness was welcomed with open arms because for once in her life, Tara finally felt like she didn’t have to be so brave all the time, at least, not when she was around you. 

She didn’t have to pretend her life was as put-together as she made it out to be. 

Because for once, someone had finally made her feel like she is worthy enough to stay for, to care for, and maybe to love. And that was terrifying because all anyone in her life had ever done is let her down and leave – Sam, her mom, her dad, Amber. So she kept you on a tight leash; taking control and leading. Never letting you close enough to see how she really feels about you. But there are cracks in the unsturdy walls she tries to put up, she’s not perfect. How can she resist you when you still willingly chased after her regardless of what she’s put you through – and how even through her harshness, you never lose your gentleness with her.

You create real balance and peace within her (not the fake one, she’s desperately fronting) and to someone who’s only known chaos and instability – that’s terrifying. So sue her, for being a little scared.

So, yes. 

Right now, Tara is ignoring everything around her because that realization is too big a burden to deal with.

She has her legs pulled up to her chest, the fuzzy blanket you gifted months ago, wrapped around her shoulders as she watches the TV from the couch; not really paying attention to the film. Her eyes begin to burn the longer she stares at the blue-lit screen causing a painful sting to her pupils. 

A terse knock on the front door startles her making her blink at the sound. 

Everyone was out for the night; Sam at therapy, Quinn at a hookup’s house and her other friends, all off doing their own thing. She wasn’t sure who could be at the door at this time. Cautiously, she stands to silently walk to the door – the pads of her naked feet connecting to the wooden floor litter goosebumps on her skin. Standing on the tips of her toes, Tara looks through the peephole.

She sees you shifting on your feet, glancing over your shoulder – looking unsure if you should even be there. 

Tara feels a pit forming in her stomach, but moves swiftly to unlock the door, opening it. 

“Hey.” She says softly, palm wrapped tight on the doorknob in an attempt to ground herself.

“Hi.” You rub a hand on the back of your neck.

“What–what are you doing here?” Tara sees you flinch, mistaking her tone for malice but you’re answering before she can correct herself.

“Mindy said you needed my help.” You drawl as if confused. 

Tara shares your confusion, brows drawing together. “I… don’t need help?”

You shake your head, clenching your jaw tight, “God dammit… I think she set us up.” 

“Oh.”

Rolling your eyes, “Yeah, oh. Look, that’s my bad, I’ll deal with her. You can go back to… doing whatever you were doing.” 

Tara sees you eye her attire glumly; an oversized shirt that covered her bare legs; assuming the worst. Her eyes immediately widened like saucers, grabbing your arm before you could leave. 

“No! That–that’s not–I’m home. Alone.” She clarifies. The word ‘alone’ taking a special raised and rushed tone. 

You scoff, pulling away from her, “good for you.”

“Can we talk?” Tara calls out, she can’t let you leave yet – despite her previous decision to ignore you and ignore her feelings. The longer you stood across from her, the more she realized just how much she’s missed you these last few weeks.

“No.” You continue to walk down the hall.

Tara grows desperate, running after you and grabbing your arm again to stop you from leaving. The concrete floors were rough on the soles of her feet. “Y/N, please.”

You turn, ready to yank your arm away from her grip but her watery eyes halt you; sympathy bubbling lowly in your chest and you curse inwardly at how easy it was for her to lure you back in. 

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? Some people are trying to get some sleep!” A voice interrupted, it was her neighbour, peeking his head a couple of doors down to yell at you two. He pops his whole body out when he sees Tara’s revealing figure, shooting her a lewd smile through his cigarette-tainted teeth,  “Oh hey, there.”

Tara feels you turn in her hold as your face drops – jaw clenching as you glare at her sleazy neighbour (who was at least in his late 40s judging by his greying hair) “Go back inside unless you wanna get fucked up and stop looking at her.” 

He stares back for a few seconds, debating if the challenge was worth his time. You move her behind you with a tug of an arm; blocking his view of her. Tara knows it's the wrong time but she couldn’t help but move closer; inhaling your familiar perfume. “Man, you’re not even worth my time.”

You wait until he shuts the door before facing her again, muttering under your breath. “Creepy motherfucker.” 

“Go back inside before anyone else comes out here begging for a show.” You tell her, lightly pushing her back to her door. But her hold on your arm tightens, “Not until you come inside and talk to me.”

You sigh, looking around the hallway in an attempt to buy yourself some time before you eventually gave in – tugging her inside the apartment.

Only once you were both inside did you pull away from her grip; Tara’s arm falling limply by her side. You look at her expectantly, “Well?”

Tara remains unmoving and silent, She curls into herself, leaning against the back of the couch just staring at you

You grow annoyed at her silence, running a hand on your face, “Tara you begged me to talk…” 

Still nothing from the Carpenter; she isn’t sure why she can’t say anything now that you’re standing in front of her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t ready to confront you and her feelings but as you stood there, about to leave, she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She wasn’t sure when she would see you again, this was the closest you’d been around her in the last few weeks. 

At this point, she was acting on pure impulse and heightened emotions.

“Unbelievable…” You mutter, grabbing the doorknob. She can feel practically feel the sharp snap in your patience as you try to leave, again.

“I don’t get you.” 

That stops you in your tracks, making you turn looking confused. 

“What?”

Tara begins to shake her head.

“I mean, I don’t get you… Like, why are you still here? Jesus, Y/N, you’ve been ignoring me but you still came here cause you thought I needed help. Even after all the petty shit I’ve been doing with those guys to fuck with you and after the party” She grabs at her hair; roughly tugging on it. “And even after all that, you still chase after me. Why!”

“Because I love you.” 

Tara inhales a sharp breath at your admission and how carelessly easily you said those words. Your brows furrowed like you looked genuinely confused by her question, it has Tara scoffing in disbelief. Unsure how you can still give her genuineness even after everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No, you don’t, you can’t. We’re just hooking up, it was just sex.” She denies, but a fog of tears is beginning to cloud her eyes. Even through the haze, she can see you approaching closer, holding a cautious hand out. 

“Maybe I am just a hook-up to you… but I didn’t just catch feelings for you. I’m not just falling in love with you, I already fell Tara. More like, I dove head-first without a life jacket,” You take the moment to chuckle dryly.

“And yeah, that wasn’t part of the plan but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself I didn’t tell you that there’s someone that wants to wake up and fall asleep beside you every day. Someone that wants to show you that maybe this time you don’t have to be so afraid to let someone in.” You shake your head, looking down for a brief moment of insecurity but you regain the passion in your eyes as you connect gazes.

“So, look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just a hookup, and if you do. I’ll leave you alone – for good.” She desperately blinked away the tears as she attempts to meet your eyes to tell you that you are just a hookup, it is just sex, she doesn’t love you too. But when she meets your eyes, she sees tenderness again and suddenly her knees are buckling under her.

Her body doesn’t meet the ground like she expects it to. Instead, you grabbed her, wrapping a firm arm around her waist as you held her weight up. She can hear distant mutterings of comfort being whispered in her ear but nothing registers as she realizes that she’s starting to sob uncontrollably. 

“Baby…need you to breathe… ‘gonna make yourself sick.” 

She couldn't hear anything around her until her face is being pressed into soft fabric; clawing at it, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. She’s having a panic attack. 

“Tara… Please, baby, you have to breathe–” You beg but Tara can’t hear you properly.

Nothing works until she feels you wrap her in a firm hug, still leaving her enough space so as to not feel suffocated. One arm around her waist, the other hand wrapped around her neck, as you rub soothing lines on her clammy skin. 

A few moments of silence pass until Tara feel the pressure in her chest ease as the ringing in her ears subsides. She gasps for air against your chest, coughing as a burning ache in her throat develops. The rubbing of lines on her neck turns into firm pats on the back as Tara continues to cough through her tears.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You shush her. Eventually, her coughs turn into occasional sniffles and deep breaths as you run fingers back up her hair comfortingly; giving her all patience she required.

“I’m sorry,” Tara says once she pulls her head off your chest, keeping a tight grip on your clothes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Your eyes softened as you ran the pads of your thumbs to wipe away at her tear-stained cheeks.

She shakes her head in your grip, “Yes, I do. Even now, you’re still treating me so well. I don’t deserve it.” Her voice turns into a broken whisper as she finally allows herself to be vulnerable.

“Oh Tara,” You said so tenderly, “You deserve the world, baby. You’re amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” She shakes her head, beginning to pull away from you, not wanting to hear your words and how genuinely you believed it. 

You tightened your grip around her waist, preventing her from moving. “Yes, you are, if only you can see yourself the way I see you. Oh, Tara, you don’t even realize it. You amaze me, you make me want to be a better person, that’s what you do to me, that’s what you make me feel. Not the other stuff you’re saying.”

Shaking your head, passion raging in your eyes; eye contact with the smaller girl unwavering, “The way you care for everyone around you, and how you carry yourself despite everything you’ve gone through… Baby, it’s amazing to watch you be yourself. I know, I know… After Amber, it’s hard–” That makes Tara’s eyes widen, unaware you knew about her and her late friend. 

“–to trust people but, if you just gave me a chance and spared me an ounce of trust to let yourself fall… I promise I’ll be under there waiting with a safety net.” 

Tara examines your eyes, there was no ounce of dishonesty in them. But that’s to be expected, you’ve always been genuine with her, always up-front, and calling her out on her shit – with love. It was one of the things that made her fall for you. Where everyone around her treats her like she’s a porcelain doll, letting her get away with whatever she wanted – you stopped her, but always in a way that was more so loving and protective rather than overbearing and smothering.

The thudding in her chest begs for reprieve as her heart craves to be moulded with yours. Her heart wants to know what it was like to beat in tandem with you, to finally allow herself to be caught instead of trying (and failing) to hold herself up all the time. 

As Tara’s body caves in on herself, she pulls you down by the neck, unable to hide the content sigh that leaves her lips when your mouths meet in the middle. The kiss was sweet, passionate and firm; it poured out all love that words could never capture; where the tool of language proved to be invaluable in expressing her feelings. 

“I trust you…” Tara whispers when she pulls away, unable to school the smile breaking across her lips. You giggle, making her smile wider. For once the heaviness in Tara's chest feels bearable with you in her arms. 

No other words were exchanged as you two attempted to meet again for a kiss only to bump noses and miss because you two were beaming so wide.

●●●

happy reading!

:)

---

everyone but her pt.18

Summary: Wednesday goes with you to visit your family. It's loud, it's chaotic, it's ridiculous, they're too accepting, it's all just too much. And the worst part? She almost enjoys it.

Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of grief Pairing: Wednesday x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07

Wednesday was starting to regret agreeing to meet your family.

You had called them that next morning, going outside to talk for what ended up being three whole hours. She had watched you pace the yard, lay on the grass, kick rocks, and use your wings to hover above the ground for short spans of time. How you managed to stay on the phone for that long, she had no earthly idea. But then you came in and said they were more than happy for her to visit for two weeks, and everything was set.

After packing, she was sitting in the library waiting for you to get back. You had made one more weekend trip to see Nicky before going further South where it would be more difficult to make the trip. It was admirable how you always found a way to see him no matter how far away you were.

And now you were back, practically jogging to the car with the bags and talking as if your life depended on it. Maybe to you it did. Or was it your nerves taking over and not giving anyone time to argue or disagree? Whatever it was, you seemed excitedly nervous.

You had tried to convince them to take the train, but Wednesday wasn’t having it. Take the train down, then we’ll head to the bus, then Tio will pick us up from the bus station, you had said. The entire Addams family had let you know that it wasn’t necessary, Lurch could drive you both down. It was simpler that way. It took a bit of convincing but you reluctantly agreed.

The closer you got to your house, the more nervous you got. Your incessantly shaking leg was almost enough to rock the whole car when it would pull up to stops. There was a tuneless hum that started to pick up as time went on. In what turned out to be the final stretch, Wednesday noticed you even started to pick at your fingers. A nasty habit, really.

“You can stop down here,” you said to Lurch before he could get the car started up a dirt path. “It’s easier to walk.”

Wednesday gave you a look, but you just shrugged and gave her a hesitant smile. She hoped you knew she wasn’t questioning your motives, just the fact that it appeared that there would be a hike to your house. Would it not be better to drive up?

“Your ancient car will get stuck,” you said when  you practically shoved Wednesday out of the car. “I can grab the bags.”

And grab them you did, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder before picking up Wednesday’s suitcase. You leaned over and gave an enthusiastic “Bye, Lurch!” before watching the car pull away. Only once it was out of sight did she feel you reach down and grab her hand. Not intertwining your fingers, but simply holding it and leading her up the dirt path.

“They know not to hug,” you said, “but Pop and Grandpa might still reach out for a handshake.” The path got steeper. “And Tio might still go for a hug, he doesn’t really listen.” How did any of you traverse this path regularly?

You continued to talk as you led her further up the path that was becoming more and more surrounded by trees. Pretty soon the branches covered the path, creating almost an archway until she could see a house in the distance. A log cabin, more accurately. It sat in the middle of a clearing along with a few smaller buildings; a barn and what looked to be two or three tool sheds. The path continued to a crooked gate, and you let go of her hand to open it and usher her in before closing it behind you.

“Don’t mind the dogs,” you said as you gestured your head over to the right. Yes, there within another contained fence were three dogs that looked bigger than her. “We’re pet-sitting for the neighbours.” It was impressive that they weren’t barking.

Oh, if only your family was as well behaved.

The front screen door of the house was thrown open with such force it nearly shook off its hinges. Instinctively, Wednesday took a step back and you quickly maneuvered yourself slightly in front of her, just enough to be a barrier. She was not prepared for the amount of voices or people that came out of a cabin that did not look big enough to hold them all.

“You’re here!” A small voice screamed.

You dropped both bags and stepped forward with outstretched arms which were almost instantly filled with two young children with matching tight curly hair. They giggled as you squeezed them tight, alternating kisses on their cheeks. The rest of your family was close behind as you set the children down.

“She’s real?!” The oldest girl said in an accented voice. Australian, maybe.

“I told you,” the oldest boy retorted with a smirk. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“I think she’s pretty,” a younger girl said with a smile in Wednesday’s direction. She had almost forgotten how unsettling little kids could be.

“So does Y/N,” the last boy said with a smirk.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you cut in quickly, taking your place in front of Wednesday once again. She noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Pace yourselves.”

“Sorry,” they all mumbled.

Wednesday listened dutifully as you introduced everyone; it was overwhelming, to say the least. There were too many people, too many names, too many things to keep track of. Part of her wondered why it even mattered if she met all of them or remembered who they were. Sure, they were your family, but they clearly weren’t your blood.

But as she watched your face, saw your toothy smile and sparkling eyes and heard your laugh, she realised it didn’t matter. They were your family whether they were blood or not. And truthfully, you had met her family, as large as it was. You had met as many extended family members as you could at the Addams’ Ball a few months ago. Surely she could meet the few people that you called family.

“Go take these inside,” you said, handing the duffel bag and the suitcase to… Alex and Daniel? Possibly? “Be very careful with Wednesday’s bag.”

“But not yours?” The younger boy - Daniel? - asked with a smile.

“Get inside,” you huffed, using your hands to guide all the children back inside.

A sigh fell from your lips once the kids were far enough away. Wednesday didn’t know how to describe it, but you looked tired already. Not in a bad way, you didn’t look sad, but there was a weariness on your face. Almost as if you looked older, a little more worn.

“Welcome home, baby,” an older woman said in a Southern accent as she walked closer and pulled you into a hug. You practically towered over her when you hugged her back.

“Hey Momma,” you said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, baby bird,” she said with a smile, pulling back. “Lovely to finally meet you, Miss Addams.”

“You as well,” Wednesday said. It was awkward, a little unusual to be called Miss Addams so casually.

"I'm sorry it's so crazy," your mother continued while wiping her hands off on an apron tied around her waist. "Y/N told us you weren't big on touch. The kids will settle down in a day or two."

"It's quite alright-"

“-Where is mi pollito?” A man called out, and Wednesday saw your brows furrow as you let out a huff before being bearhugged by a man almost as tall as you. He must be your Tio. “You look terrible, what happened?”

“I came to visit your sorry ass,” you mumbled back, but Wednesday could see the smallest smile on your face. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”

“Behave,” another man’s voice called out, thick and slow and almost painfully Southern. Much thicker than your mother’s. He gave her a toothy grin; even though he was missing a few. “Nice ta meet ya, Wensdy.”

“Pop,” you said with a sigh after noticing what was most likely confusion on Wednesday’s face.

“What?” He said. “That’s how ya say it, ain’t it?” You both smiled at each other.

"You know it's not," you replied quietly.

"Did she prepare you for this?" Your father asked her, to which she shook her head. No, you hadn’t prepared her for this, not in the slightest. "Figures," he tsked.

“Where’s everybody else?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“Inside,” your Tio said. “Abuelita is making tamales and C is bossing her around.”

“Lord help us,” your mother said with an exhausted sigh. “Everyone inside before they kill each other.”

The adults walked back to the house, leaving you and Wednesday standing in the yard. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. That was far too much all at once, far too many people. How did you live like this? How did you manage to keep yourself sane when there were so many people around at all times?

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “I told them not to come out all at once.”

You almost looked guilty. Was this what you had talked to them about for so long the other week? She almost hoped not, that meant you cared. It meant you cared a lot and took her preferences into account. That was terrifying. To know that you cared enough to tell your entire family to be careful. It was almost painful, really.

“Do you need a minute?” You asked when Wednesday stayed silent. “It’s crazy inside, so we can sit outside for a minute if you need to.”

What she needed was for you to stop being so considerate, it was becoming uncomfortable. Yes she wanted a minute, that was a lot of people. But she didn’t want you to think she couldn’t handle it. She was an Addams, she could handle anything that was put in front of her.

“Let’s go,” she said before grabbing your hand.

For safety, of course.

"Okay then,” you chuckled softly, dragging her to the house and through the screen patio door. "Buckle up, Addams."

You were right. It was absolute chaos inside. The small entry hallway had seemed normal with framed photographs lining the wall - she noticed a few with you in it, you looked young - but once you brought her to the main room, she understood what you meant. Children’s toys littered the floor, she could hear everyone talking, sounds were coming from the kitchen that was connected to the main room.

It was too loud, and too much, and everything all at once.

“Try not to trip,” you said as you pulled her again, heading to the open kitchen. She did her best to step over the toys. Something cracked when she stepped down; she hoped it wasn't broken.

“Be careful,” Daniel said; he was sitting on the couch with his nose in a book. “Abuelita is on the warpath.”

“Great,” you mumbled, “she better behave.”

When you finished pulling her into the kitchen, she noted almost all the adults were there, plus a few she hadn’t seen yet. A man that looked practically ancient - possibly older than Grandmama - was standing near the counter with a grin. His fangs were prominently displayed when he laughed. Then there was a woman that looked a little older than your father. Her black skin and stunningly coiled hair matched the twins; it must be your Auntie C. Then there was the old Mexican lady arguing with your aunt while expertly preparing tamales.

Your Abeulita, of course.

“Welcome home, puișor,” your grandfather called from across the kitchen in yet another accented voice, silencing everyone that had previously been talking. “And it's a pleasure to meet you, Wednesday."

“About time,” your aunt said with a sigh, “Abuelita needs some help.” She stopped for just a second to look at Wednesday with raised brows and a knowing smirk. "Well, aren't you cute."

“Why can't you help?” You shot back before Wednesday could question the comment. Tio laughed from his spot at the table where he was also helping with tamales.

“If I help, I’m gonna kill someone,” she answered before looking over at Wednesday. “You’re Latina, you can help too.”

“C.”

“Watch it,” you and your father reprimanded together.

“Am I wrong?” She asked.

“You can’t just say that.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“She just got here-”

“-That’s enough!” Your father shouted again, bringing yours and your aunt’s argument to a sudden halt. “C, take a hike,” he said in a calmer voice, “Y/N, help your Abuelita.” Your aunt sighed and walked past Wednesday to get to the living room.

“I was hoping he would do that,” she whispered to Wednesday before laughing and walking away. You pulled Wednesday over to the table, gave your Abuelita a kiss on the cheek, and everyone got to work.

Oh, Wednesday liked your aunt. If that was who she was going to get to interact with the entire trip, this was going to be fun. Someone who also liked to raise hell, question authority, do as she wished. It was a stark contrast to you who, even though you very much did all of those things, you still obeyed, you desired that approval. It was beyond evident in the way you preened when any of the adults told you “good job” or any sort of positive verbal reinforcement.

From her spot at the table, she was right in front of your Tio and right beside your Abuelita. Your Abuelita and Tio showed her how to make the tamales, and she had to hold her laughter in when they refused to teach you in English. She caught on quickly and started talking to them in Spanish, which got another rise out of you.

"You know I don't know all of those words," you huffed after Abuelita explained precisely how to do the next step. In Spanish, of course.

Abuelita only laughed in response, and Tio gave Wednesday a wink when she met his eyes. She liked them, she decided. Liked the casual way they went about the chaos, picking and choosing when to interact with others, more often than not just minding their own business. It was respectable. It helped keep her heart from jumping up her throat in anxiety.

Dinner was an entirely different affair altogether and Wednesday, for what would be the first of many instances during the trip, was unsure of what to do. After all the prep, all the nonstop, loud talking, all the cooking, it was finally time to eat. Instead of everyone sitting at the table, they scattered. Grabbing their plates, getting their food, and going off to the living room or outside or wherever else they could find a space.

She sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and watched you while the chaos unfolded. Took note of the way you had Alysah on your hip with a plate in your hand, talking with her and getting her food. Then after placing her on the floor in the living room, you did the same with Jamie, even though he seemed far more talkative. You looked older when you were helping them. More responsible, even.

“What do you want?” You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even seen you come over. “I’ll make your plate.”

“I’m not helpless,” Wednesday shot back; she noticed your aunt chuckle, clearly eavesdropping.

“I know, Wends,” you said with a slight uptick of your mouth, “now what do you want?”

She glared at you for a moment, waiting for you to take the offer back, but you didn’t. With a sigh, she told you, and you mouthed a “thank you” before standing back up and grabbing everything. This, she realised, is what you enjoyed. Being helpful, doing things for others. Where had you learned it? Where had you learned to be so selfless?

And how had you taken a liking to her, who lived quite selfishly?

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t bring herself to eat when her stomach was rolling and she couldn’t stop feeling like you were one day going to realise she was the opposite of you. She wasn’t going to devote her life to helping others, she wasn’t going to be like her mother, that just wasn’t who she was.

Thankfully no one pointed out how little she had eaten.

Getting ready for bed was another affair entirely. After everyone had sat in the living room and talked and settled after dinner, it was time to get the kids to bed. Wednesday waited dutifully for you to show her where to go, feeling completely lost in the house. Your grandfather pulled you aside and talked to you for a moment and she noted the way he eyed her and, even though a smile pulled at his lips, he shook his head and you sighed.

“Try not to hate me,” you said when you walked back over to Wednesday, “but you’re bunking with Emily and Hailey.”

“And you?” She asked, doing her best to maintain her composure. Your sisters seemed kind, and she had roomed with Enid, she just… wasn’t sure how to interact with them.

“I’m on the couch,” you sighed. “Grandpa made it clear; no sharing rooms.”

“Because?” She asked with a raised brow.

“No sharing rooms with partners until you’re married,” you said with a shrug. “He’s old school.”

Wednesday nodded along before allowing you to grab her hand and lead her up the stairs. Part of her felt humiliated that your entire family could see you both holding hands; public displays of affection was not something she enjoyed. But the other part of her felt comfort that you were staying with her and making sure she didn't feel overwhelmed. Well, she did feel overwhelmed, but you were doing your best.

“You’ll be in my bed,” you said when you finally brought her to the room, and she almost felt right at home.

It gave off the same energy as Enid’s side of the dorm. Pinks and purples and rainbows covered the entire room. How did you manage to sleep in it? Bunk beds were on one wall while the other held a single bed covered in too many blankets. Clearly yours. Her suitcase was already sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll be on the couch downstairs if you need me, okay?” You said after everyone had brushed their teeth and gotten settled. “And the girls make great company.”

“It’s like a sleepover!” Emily shouted from the bottom bunk.

“You’ll pay for this,” Wednesday whispered to you before you walked out.

“Good luck,” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Good night, girls!”

“Good night!” They called back.

It was going to be a long night.

Your bed was too soft, it felt like she was going to sink through to the floor. The blankets were also too soft, and nowhere near as warm as you were. Not that she was cold, but for some unknown reason, it was unusual to be sleeping away from you. Maybe it was the fact that she was in your bed without you, she wasn’t sure.

Her eyes roamed your side of the room. There were two or three posters taped to the ceiling, bands that she didn’t know about. A few photos hung from a piece of string going across the wall over the bed, each one a photo of you with someone else. She couldn’t tell in the dark, but one looked like a photo of you and Nicky when you were younger.

Where had Nicky slept when he had come home? Did he sleep with Alex and Daniel the same way you roomed with Hailey and Emily? Or was it completely different? His presence, from what she had seen, was still littered throughout the house in picture frames. How had everyone else handled him being gone for so long?

The train of thought was going down a dangerous path, and Wednesday felt her heart starting to race again. Would your presence have been remembered the same way if you had been in his position? If that werewolf had hurt you worse than it had, would your family treat it the same? Would you be remembered in photographs that would hang on the walls?

She needed you before her mind started to convince her that you were the one gone, not Nicky.

Her brain raced with thoughts, planning how she could get away with you coming up, or her going down. She couldn’t simply forgo the rules your grandfather had laid out, it was clearly a well established one. No, there had to be a reason, something she could get away with.

Ah. She had a brilliant idea.

She waited just a moment, listening to the hushed, even breaths coming from your sisters before letting out a scream. Not too loud as to wake everyone else up, but for your sisters to also scream and wake up. She had to push down her smile when your sisters jumped out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Hailey asked as she practically fell onto the floor and padded over.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Emily asked, peeking over the side of the bunk bed.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, doing her best to make her voice sound sleepy. “It was a terrible nightmare.”

“I get those sometimes too,” Emily said.

“You should sleep with Y/N,” Hailey mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her accent was thicker when she was half-asleep.

“She makes the bad dreams go away,” Emily chimed in as she climbed down the ladder.

“Maybe you’re right,” Wednesday said, sitting up and planting her feet on the floor. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” She should have felt an ounce of guilt for using your sisters in her devious plan.

She didn't.

“Come on,” Emily said. Wednesday tried not to flinch when she felt a cold little hand grab her own. “We’ll take you to her.”

The entire house seemed to creak under the three sets of feet making their way down the carpeted hallway. Wednesday would need to learn where those spots were so she could avoid them over the next two weeks. Then down the carpeted stairs that squeaked every two steps; an easy pattern to memorise. One turn down the hall and there you were on the living room couch.

She was glad it was so dark because then your sisters would have seen her smile. You were completely sprawled out on the couch, the single blanket tangled around your legs, one of which was hanging off and the other was hoisted onto the back of the couch. An arm was also hanging off the couch while your other was over your head and your mouth was slightly open. She could hear your soft snores.

Hailey walked forward with a purpose while Emily continued to hold Wednesday’s hand. The older girl kicked your foot just once and your snore cut off quickly as you sat straight up. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were wide and unseeing.

“Who's hurt?” You asked immediately, trying to stand up. Your legs got stuck in the blanket around your legs and you fell to the ground. Hard. “Fuck.”

“No one is hurt,” Hailey said. She didn’t even bother helping you up to your feet.

“What happened?” You groaned as you managed to push yourself up, the blanket falling from around your waist and legs onto the floor. Wednesday turned her gaze away when she noticed you were only wearing boxers and a loose tank.

“Wednesday had a bad dream,” Emily said as she finally pulled Wednesday closer.

“Is that so?” You asked, your voice sounding more awake and your eyes seemingly searching into her soul. “A bad dream?”

“She screamed,” Hailey said.

“Screamed?” You asked, your eyes starting to crinkle at the corners.

“It was horrifying,” Wednesday said with a tilt of her head.

“Must have been,” you continued.

“I told her you scare off the bad dreams,” Emily said proudly.

“You’re right,” you said with a smile as you patted the top of her head. In turn, Emily gave Wednesday’s hand for you to hold. Thankfully you did. “Thank you for bringing her down.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” Hailey said, reaching her own hand out to Emily. “Good night.”

“Have good dreams, Wednesday,” Emily whisper-shouted before they rounded the corner and went back to their room.

“You screamed?” You asked after a few moments, turning to look at her. “Really?”

“I’ve been known to have nightmares on occasion,” she defended.

“You like nightmares,” you argued.

“It was exponentially more terrifying than normal.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you said quickly.

You fell back onto the couch, but your interlocked fingers caused her to fall down with you. With a skill that came from someone who regularly slept on the couch, you hooked your foot underneath the blanket and brought it back up. Your back was pressed against the back of the couch and Wednesday quickly fit herself to your position.

“Stop terrorising my sisters,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Would you prefer I terrorise your brothers?” She asked, to which you only chuckled.

“Good night, Wednesday.”

She didn’t verbally answer, just pulled your arm tighter around her and let herself drift off to sleep.

—---

The next few days went off without a hitch. Yes, everyone was still too loud and too much and there were just too many people in general, but it got easier. Emily was really the only one that was handsy with Wednesday, aside from you, and even that was simply holding hands. It was uncomfortable at first, but she quickly got used to it.

The adults in your family were kind as well. Your Tio made it a point to talk to her all the time, usually in Spanish, and even played a few songs on the guitar for her. All the younger kids did their dances, laughing to the music. That too was unusual for Wednesday, but it seemed like something that happened regularly in the house.

You had gotten a scolding from your grandfather once he realised Wednesday was sleeping down on the couch with you. She couldn’t hear the discussion, but could see the genuine attempt to persuade him. It didn’t appear to be working until Hailey cut in, telling her piece, and eventually your grandfather sighed and nodded.

She pretended not to notice you slip some cash into Hailey’s hand.

It was a change, a rather big one in fact, to live in a house where everyone had designated chores. Not that Wednesday was incapable or unwilling, but she had grown up with Lurch. Now she was helping you take care of the animals you were pet sitting, cleaning out the stable which was currently housing two horses, a dairy cow, and more than a handful of goats.

Those goats were the devil’s spawn, that’s what Wednesday believed.

“When are they leaving?” Wednesday asked when the grey goat - Steve - bumped into the back of her legs again.

“Steve is ours,” you said with a smile as you continued brushing one of the horses. “So he’s staying.”

“Of course he is,” Wednesday mumbled, turning to glare at Steve. He simply glared back before ramming into her leg.

It took everything in her power not to lock him in one of the stalls.

“Don’t mess with him,” you said, finally turning around. It was as if you had read her thoughts. “This is his house.”

“He needs to treat his guests better,” Wednesday grumbled again. She could feel him chewing on her shoelace. “The wrong person might turn him into dinner.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said with a glare as you put your tools back to their proper place. This, Wednesday realised, was one of the few places you stayed organised and everything was back in its proper place.

“One more chance,” she said.

Steve rammed the back of her knees, forcing her to stumble forward.

Oh, he was going to be dinner before she left this place.

Everyone in your family became increasingly casual as time went on. No more “Miss Addams,” no more watching what they said (although your aunt never did), no more niceties for the sake of being polite. They gave her separate chores from you, treated her no different than the other kids, even berated her if she argued with Alex. It was torturous.

“Kids in the car,” your father called out one afternoon while everyone was sitting on the ground playing Monopoly. Wednesday swore she had never seen such violence in her life. It was beautiful.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked as he happily swept everything off the board to a chorus of “heys” and “seriously?”

“Gotta pick somethin’ up in town,” he said, “figured y’all might want some ice cream.”

Both you and Wednesday flinched at the screams and cheers that came from everyone’s mouths. It died down quickly enough when your father ushered everyone outside. You took your time gathering the pieces of the game and putting it all away, your face entirely emotionless.

Wednesday knelt down to help you, using it more as an excuse to keep an eye on you than to actually help. The past week had given her plenty of time to learn some of your tells, and one of them was keeping your face neutral when something potentially triggering came up. She actually felt proud of herself for catching this one.

“You can fly and meet us there,” Wednesday offered. You didn’t look up, but she took note of the miniscule movement near the corner of your mouth.

“I’m good,” you said softly, “it’s a short trip.” The game was finally picked up and you turned your head to look at her with a closed-mouth smile. “But thank you.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet, guiding her out of the house. A chorus of adults called out their “see ya laters” as the patio door swung shut. The older two were relaxed in the bed of the truck while the younger ones were buckled in safely in the cab.

“Hop in,” you said, pulling Wednesday’s hand to ease her into the bed of the truck with Alex and Hailey. It was uncomfortable climbing into it, but she managed and you were quick to follow suit.

You plopped yourself down and knocked on the back window three times, and off you went. All three of you looked far too relaxed and comfortable, as if this wasn’t your first time. Clearly it wasn’t, of course, but you couldn’t have made it more obvious.

On the other hand, Wednesday was surprisingly nervous. She had never ridden in the back of a truck before, hadn’t felt the wind blow her hair around or hear it rushing past her ears. The only thing keeping her sane was your arm wrapped tight around her back, holding her as close as you could without outright pulling her into your lap.

It was about a 25 minute drive into town; she had never realised you lived so far away from civilization. That must have been nice, it explained why you could have so many people in one house. She understood the desire to be away, her own family lived away from the hustle and bustle as well. 

You, Alex, and Hailey were all standing up and hopping out of the truck before it pulled to a complete stop; Wednesday wouldn’t admit it put a lump in her throat, but you seemed confident enough. Only once the truck was at a full stop did you reach out to help, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her out and back to the ground.

The warmth of your hands was comforting.

“Alright Big Bird, you’re in charge,” your father said as he handed you a small wad of cash. “I’ll meet y’all back here in half an hour.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, and he started walking down the small sidewalk. “Alright team, buddy up and let’s go.”

Clearly this was something you all did often, because everyone seemed to move like a well oiled machine. Hailey and Alex stood near each other while you let one of the twins on your back while you carried the other. Emily and Daniel went to either side of Wednesday and grabbed each of her hands. It was difficult to fight the instinct to pull away.

“So we don’t get lost,” Emily said with a smile. Wednesday looked down at both of her linked hands before nodding once. It was sound logic, she supposed.

“Lead the way, Lex,” you called out, and the group started moving.

The little hands holding hers were warm, but nowhere near like yours. Although she would admit, she was getting disgustingly accustomed to it at this point. Before you, she would have found this whole trip unnecessary. Your buddy system, your carrying the twins, going for ice cream, the whole thing. But everyone was smiling and talking and you looked almost peaceful as you listened to the twins ramble about one thing or another.

She supposed it wasn’t all that bad.

“Hey Johnson clan,” the kid behind the counter called out when everyone walked into the small ice cream parlor. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Bo,” you answered as you set the twins on the floor. “How ya been?”

“Not too bad,” he - Bo - said with a smile. “The usual?”

“That’d be great,” you said, and Bo nodded once before getting started on whatever “the usual” was. “Get settled, I'll bring it over."

Wednesday let everyone lead her to a booth near the window - rather similar to the booth she frequented at the Weathervane - as she watched you approach the counter. You talked to Bo, casually leaning against the counter while he worked. There must have been some sort of acquaintanceship there for you to act so nonchalant. Did you smile at her like that when she wasn't watching?

"Uh oh," Daniel said.

The whole group turned their heads when the bell above the door rang. Three high schoolers walked in, one girl and two boys. Their overly flashy jackets were enough to give Wednesday a migraine, but what caught her attention was the way your body froze when you caught the girl's eye. Who was she, Wednesday wondered.

"That's Ash," Daniel said aloud. How had he known her thoughts? "Y/N's ex."

Oh. Instead of the usual rushing of her pulse where you were concerned, her heart now felt frozen. You had never mentioned an ex, at least not to her. Wednesday supposed she was pretty, though quite the opposite of herself. More boisterous, obnoxiously bubbly, like she wanted to be Enid but could never pull it off. How had your taste changed so drastically, because Wednesday was nothing like that girl.

What were you doing to her? Now you had her comparing herself to someone else? She was going to have a serious talk with you about this.

“What are they saying?” Hailey asked, doing her best not to stare at you and the small group surrounding you.

“I read minds, not lips,” Daniel huffed. Of course, Wednesday thought. That makes sense.

“Then what are they thinking?” Hailey asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Nosey,” Alex mumbled.

Wednesday kept her mouth shut because, quite frankly, she wanted to know too. Although she hid her curiosity by pretending to watch Emily and the twins colour on the papers on the table. She had no idea what they were drawing, but they seemed to be having fun. It gave her a certain warmth in her chest.

She blinked once at the revelation.

Oh damn you.

“Ash thinks she’s pretty,” Daniel said. He wasn’t looking up, instead drawing his own picture. Meanwhile, you looked uncomfortable as your foot tapped the ground and you kept shifting weight from leg to leg.

“Ew,” Emily grumbled. Everyone failed at hiding their smiles, even Wednesday couldn’t help herself. But only for a moment before she was back to her usual demeanor.

“One of the meatheads thinks she’s pretty too.” Now that was infuriating. If there hadn’t been children around, Wednesday might have had something to say.

“And the other one?” Alex asked. He was eying the whole group carefully, as if he was prepared to jump in at any point. “The one looking at us?” That same one said something, and your eyes flitted over to where everyone was sitting at the table.

“He thinks Wednesday is pretty,” Daniel said with a disgusted frown.

“He needs to keep his eyes to himself,” Hailey practically growled. She sounded like Enid. “Before I claw them out-”

“-She’s gonna kill him.”

Everyone froze for a split second before their heads turned to look at the group once again. Wednesday could see how tightly your jaw was clenched and the way your eyes squinted just so. The muscles of your forearms were pulled taught as your hands were balled into fists so tight that she could have sworn your knuckles were about to split.

“Alex-”

“-I’m on it,” Alex said, immediately walking over to where you were standing.

The moment he put his hand on your arm, you visibly relaxed. Your head turned to face him and all the anger had faded, turning into something akin to a soft protectiveness. She couldn’t see what Alex was saying to you, but you nodded absentmindedly and said something to the group before pulling Alex over to the counter to grab the ice creams Bo was sliding over to you.

And then one of the guys said something and you moved to turn, but Alex’s hand gripped your arm. Not just touched you, but gripped you, holding you still and stopping you from turning around to face them again. From where she was sitting, Wednesday couldn’t properly see what was going on, couldn’t see the look on your face, but she knew that tenseness in your shoulders.

You were furious, and someone was going to be on the receiving end.

Alex pulled you to the counter and slid a few ice creams over, which you eventually took with shaking hands. He left first, walking ahead of you so you had something to focus on, and you dutifully followed behind. There was still a fire in your eyes, but you kept them glued to the back of his head.

“Hey,” Ash called out, and you stopped in your tracks without turning around. “If you’re ever free-”

“-I’m not,” you interrupted before immediately finishing your walk to the table and sitting down beside Wednesday.

She watched your face carefully as you handed out ice creams, sliding specific flavours to each sibling. You looked passive, but she could see the gears still turning behind your eyes. Whatever they had said to you wasn’t sitting well. It was evident in the way you only half listened to everyone’s talking.

The hair on the back of Wednesday’s neck stood up when she felt someone watching her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was because the group had sat not too far away from your table. Her mind kept replaying what Daniel had said. Ash thinks she’s pretty. That wasn’t sitting well with Wednesday, not at all, especially now that she knew Ash was an ex girlfriend.

In a split second decision, Wednesday leaned up to leave a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, reveling in the way your body froze underneath her before leaning into her touch. You were smiling when she pulled away. In her peripheral vision she could see the look of absolute shock on Ash’s face. A smirk tugged at her own lips as she looked down and took the second spoon sticking out of the ice cream in between you both.

Now this made public affection worth it.

—---

The last full day of the trip started with chaos, as did every other day. Except this was different; the day started before the sun was even up.

Well. Technically it had started the night before.

Wednesday was sitting on the porch swing in the back with Daniel while the younger kids ran around with the goats. Alex and Hailey were down at the creek and you were in the kitchen preparing something for the next day. Something you had said would cook overnight. She didn’t understand, but you seemed confident that she would like it. Every now and then, she would see you looking out the door at her and smiling before going back to helping your father.

“She likes you,” Daniel said even though his nose was still in a book. She liked him the most; he kept to himself.

Wednesday just gave him a look, and he shrugged once he finally saw it.

“She won’t say it,” he said softly, “but she thinks you belong here.” She turned her head to look at you again. You were currently arguing with your father over something she couldn’t hear. “And she likes your butt.”

Her cheeks flushed at Daniel’s words; he simply chuckled before returning back to his book, not even phased by whatever thoughts he clearly heard in your head. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of you and the way you moved around the kitchen as if you belonged nowhere else. Your hands expertly preparing whatever was on the table, a smile on your face, your laughter at your Tio spilling out of the open back door.

You smiled at her when you passed by, something wrapped in tinfoil resting in your hands as you carried it to the grill. Smoker, Wednesday corrected herself when she remembered what you had told her earlier. A slow cooker, something she had never used before but clearly you knew how to work.

Wednesday watched you place what was in your hands into the smoker and check a few things before making your way to the porch swing where you sat down in between her and Daniel. Desire told her to lean into your side, and even though she could hear all the people around, she listened. She leaned into your side and felt your arm instinctively wrap around her shoulders to pull her close, and she sunk into you.

The wind was getting cool an hour or so later when you nudged her gently, urging her to get up and head inside with everyone else. Everyone bid their good nights and Wednesday immediately curled up with you on the couch. You left kisses on the back of her neck as you slid a hand under her shirt, resting your incredibly hot hand on her stomach before settling down.

Wednesday had been in a deep sleep when movement woke her up.

“Sorry,” you whispered before placing a simple kiss behind her ear as you lifted yourself off the couch. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be right back.”

She stayed still, wrapped up in your blanket as she listened to your feet stumble across the floor. The back door creaked open and the crickets and frogs from outside reached her ears. It had made it difficult to sleep at first, but now she found the sounds comforting. Her mind was at ease while she waited until finally the door creaked and locked and you dragged yourself back to the couch.

"Good night," you whispered with another kiss and an arm around her waist, and she quickly fell asleep again.

Until you got up a second time, not even two hours later. You gave her a kiss on the forehead before getting up, and another kiss when you got back a few minutes later.

And then a third time. This time she grumbled and practically kicked you out when you tried to crawl over her. You hit the ground with a grunt but made your way outside anyway. It took you far longer to come back, and she was almost asleep again when you crawled over her and fell back onto the couch, instantly pulling her into you and falling back asleep.

By the fourth time you got up, Wednesday was tired and grumpy and truthfully she just wanted you to hold her. All this up and down and sleeping and waking up, it was exhausting. When the sun finally started to rise, you were already up again and making coffee while your grandfather and father made their way downstairs.

"Mornin', Wensdy," your father said. She had grown to find his pronunciation of her name tolerable, if not a little endearing.

"Kept you up all night, didn't she?" Your grandfather asked with a chuckle.

She didn't dignify his question with a response. He found that even more funny, judging by his deep laugh.

Through half-lidded eyes, she saw you hand mugs of coffee to your father and grandfather, head them mumble their thanks before walking outside. She would hand it to your family, you all spent a lot of time outside. Practically from the moment you all woke up until you went back to sleep, the outside was where you were all happiest.

As much as she wanted to just change into her usual clothes for the day and get started, she was tired. She wasn’t afraid to admit it, she was tired. So she did what she had seen all of you do for the past two weeks; she left her pyjamas on and went into the kitchen. You were sitting on the bench by the table and trying to blink away the sleep in your eyes.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled as well, your voice still croaky and thick with sleep. “Saved some for you.”

She took the mug from your hands and sighed at the warmth that spread through her fingers. A similar warmth spread through her chest when your arm wrapped around her waist and you pulled her down to sit on your lap. You were ruining her, she thought when she didn’t even flinch. No, she just let herself sit on your lap and let your chin rest on her shoulder.

Everyone eventually made their way down into the kitchen by the time Wednesday finished her coffee. You were finally looking more awake and ready for the day, and you even pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing up, placing Wednesday on her feet before taking the empty mug and washing them in the sink.

Emily grabbed Wednesday’s hand and pulled her back down to the bench before you could bring her outside. For your sake, she pretended not to notice the slightest pout on your face when you noticed you had been beaten to the punch. But you put on a brave face and went out the back, and soon everyone was moving around.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Emily asked once everyone had started eating breakfast.

“What’s tonight?” Wednesday asked, and she could feel the energy in the room shift.

“We’re having a bomfire!” Emily cheered.

“It’s bonfire, Em,” Alex corrected her as he too walked out the back to join you and your group.

“For your last night,” your Abuelita said, softly enough so you couldn’t hear her speaking English. Wednesday aspired to be that woman. The level of pettiness was incredible.

“Y/N even agreed to bring out Nicky’s fiddle,” your mother said with a soft smile.

“She should leave it alone,” Hailey mumbled into her cereal.

“Hey,” your aunt cut in. “If you can’t say nothin’ nice, keep your mouth shut.”

“Well she should,” Hailey continued. “She’s not even as good as he is.”

“She’s aware, Hail,” your mother said with a sigh.

Wednesday had a feeling this conversation had occurred before. If not this particular conversation, then the topic itself. She had noticed the way everyone acted when anything involving Nicky came up. Whether it was a family photo, a book, a movie, he was there. It was as if his memory was sitting in the corner, waiting for everyone to notice and remember that he wasn’t gone, he would never truly be gone.

If his tidied, untouched side of the room wasn’t enough of a display of everyone’s feelings, this certainly was.

“I think she’s good,” Emily said, drawing everyone out of the sour mood. “She makes funny faces when she messes up,” she giggled.

“She’s always got a funny face,” Daniel said around his mouth full of eggs.

“That’s just how I look,” you said, making all the kids jump and instantly look guilty. Wednesday got joy out of their guilt. Immense joy. “I was born this way.”

“Everyone start behavin’ and eatin’ your breakfast,” your mother said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before we can have fun.”

A chorus of “yes, mommas” rang throughout the kitchen, and everyone essentially inhaled their food before getting to work. Wednesday was impressed until your mother put her to work while you were sent out to help your Tio and father start preparing the outside area.

It was a madhouse the entire day. More than once she had tried to escape the kitchen to go see you, getting just close enough for you to pull her around the corner and kiss her. But then your mother would call out and scold her - the nerve that woman had - before practically shooing her back inside to finish helping.

“Let’s get ready,” Emily called out, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and dragging her upstairs. “We’ve got something for you to wear.”

“I have clothes,” Wednesday argued.

“Y/N bought them special for you,” Emily continued.

“She’s so whipped,” Hailey chuckled with a toothy grin.

Wednesday just kept her mouth shut. Why had you picked out clothes for her? She had plenty of her own, she didn’t need any new ones. After all, hadn’t you complained recently about how you couldn’t wait to start working again because you were “broke,” as you put it so bluntly? But when the girls showed her the clothes laid out on the bed, she understood. Did she approve? That was to be determined, but she at least understood.

Everything fit perfectly. A little too well, it was almost suspicious. How had you gotten her exact measurements anyway? She supposed it didn’t matter because the black pants and shirt fit like a glove. Maybe you had a talent she knew nothing about. Would you be a skilled designer?

Who was she kidding, she had seen your wardrobe, you were the furthest thing from a designer.

“You look so pretty!” Emily called out, practically screamed, and Hailey flinched at the noise.

“Inside voice, Em,” Hailey said in a far softer voice. “Let’s go before they start without us.”

Wednesday allowed herself to be pulled downstairs, through the kitchen, and to the back where everyone was already setting things up. There was a large table to the side with all the food from the day laid out with three different coolers beside it. On the other side of the yard, a little further away from the food, was a large clearing where wood was piled almost as tall as her. Seats were scattered as if the singular purpose was to watch the fire.

Maybe it was.

And kneeling next to the wood with a torch in hand, arguing with Tio, was you. You, in jeans and boots and a hat tilted back on your head just enough to block the sun out of your eyes. There were tailored holes in your shirt that kept your wings snug, yet free. They twitched and ruffled when the wind brushed against them. It was certainly a look. A good look, if Wednesday was being completely honest with yourself.

Although you ruined it when you nearly caught your sleeve on fire in an attempt to prove something to Tio.

Wednesday stumbled forward when something pushed against the back of her knees. She exhaled loudly through her nose when she turned and faced her mortal enemy; Steve. Whoever had let him out was going to pay. He kept eye contact with her, staring deep into her soul before knocking into her kneecap and walking away.

That demon spawn would perish in the fire on this night. Wednesday swore it.

Once the fire was started, you finally walked over to where Wednesday was standing and everyone started getting their food. Just like you had been the whole trip, you made her plate for her, piling on more food than she would ever be able to eat. When asked where your plate was, your face darkened and you gave her a sheepish smile.

“I was actually gonna eat off your plate,” you said softly.

You wanted to share food with her? That was big for you, to share food. Of course you had cooked it and had gotten it all for her, but to share it? The whole meal? That was a rather big deal for you, she was actually honoured that you would even assume such a thing.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s sit down.”

You led the way and sat her down on one of the logs near the fire, and everyone else was quick to follow suit. Alysah and Jamie were more preoccupied with playing with Steve - that damned creature - and would occasionally come back to grab something to eat before going back to play. Emily made it a point to sit beside Wednesday and talk the entire time. Daniel was beside you, and Alex and Hailey were on a different log while all the adults milled around.

After everyone was done eating and you helped distract the little ones, Wednesday could hear the gentle tunes of a guitar; your father and Tio were playing softly, nothing complicated, nothing flashy. She stayed in her spot and listened, watching their fingers move expertly across beaten up instruments that were horribly out of tune. And yet, they still sounded beautiful as the strings were plucked in just a way that created a perfectly constructed melody.

“Come on over, baby bird,” your father called to you. You stopped chasing Jamie and Alysah - and goddamn Steve - around and looked up. “Play us a tune.”

You stood up straight, and Wednesday could see you take a deep breath in before slowly exhaling. Something in your expression made her feel sad, and she remembered what Hailey had said about the fiddle. It was Nicky’s. But you quickly replaced your expression with a smile and walked your way over. When you passed Wednesday, you took your hat off your head and placed it on hers.

She heard gasps come from somewhere, and when she looked up there was a teasing look on your Abuelita’s and grandfather’s faces. Your mother and father were looking at each other, and your aunt and Tio were laughing. Full, belly deep laughter. She looked up at your flushed face and narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes, and walking over to where your father and Tio were sitting. When they laughed at you, you hit their shoulders and she heard a hushed “shut up.”

Daniel came and sat down beside Wednesday again and the both of them watched you take the fiddle out of its case and start getting it ready. You put such care into it, touching it with such gentle fingers, almost as if you were scared to damage it. Maybe you were; it was Nicky’s.

You held it to your left shoulder; like a right-handed person, though you most certainly weren't one. It looked a little unnatural, and yet you weren’t hesitant when you drew the bow across the strings a few times. As much as Wednesday hated it, you tuned it to the already out-of-tune guitars. And yet, when you drew the bow across the strings once again, it almost sounded nice.

But if you ever asked, she would never admit it. She would still scold you for being so horrendously out of tune.

Your father started the song first, and you jumped in with an uncertainty that Wednesday rarely saw in you. It wasn’t fear, not really, but she could see something else even if she couldn’t put it into words. Your brows were furrowed and you looked down in such intense concentration and before long, your tongue was even sticking out slightly.

She wouldn't say you were fantastic. You were good, of course, but you were no professional. Normally it was something she would take into account; why play if you couldn't play it to perfection? That's what practice was for. Yet you continued to play, and you played past the mistakes (and made the funny faces Emily enjoyed), and your fingers quickly found their spaces on the neck and you looked peaceful.

As you played, Wednesday started to wonder who had taught you. Had it been Nicky? Whoever it was had taught you to play right handed. Was it uncomfortable to play that way, or was it the only way you knew? Those questions continued to swirl around her mind as she watched you, practically studied your movements and skill and smile.

She definitely studied your smile.

The longer everyone played, the more songs you completed, the more comfortable you looked. She almost even thought she heard you laugh when the kids started dancing around the bonfire. Your boot tapped to the beat and your father would sing and your Tio would laugh and it was such an unusual atmosphere for Wednesday.

And, much like everything you had subjected her to on that trip, it spread a warmth through her chest.

At some point, your aunt came over and sat on the other side of Wednesday. She didn’t think anything of it, everyone was either watching the three of you or watching the kids dance. It still evaded her as to why your family would make it a point to sit by her, or talk with her, or include her in things. She wasn’t part of the family.

Although she supposed her family did the same thing with you.

“Figured out the hat thing yet?” Your aunt asked when you finished the song and started bowing out, turning around to tuck the fiddle back into its case.

“No,” Wednesday admitted. Though truthfully she hadn’t even attempted to figure it out; she had, unfortunately, gotten distracted.

“It’s some old superstition,” she continued. You had finished putting up the fiddle and were now being dragged out to play something called “mothman” with Alysah, Jamie, and Emily. “If someone gives you their cowboy hat, it means they like you.”

Oh. Yes, well that- that would explain everyone’s reactions perfectly, would it not? You had, more or less, laid your affections out for the entire family to see. Not that they hadn’t seen it before, of course, they had certainly seen you holding her hand or pulling her close. But if it was superstition then it meant a great deal more than just hand holding.

A scream echoed through the air and everyone’s heads turned to where you and the kids had previously been running around. Except now there were only two people left; you and Jamie were nowhere to be seen. Wednesday tried to ignore the fear that sent through her veins that you had both just disappeared.

“They know I hate this game,” your mother mumbled as she walked past where Wednesday’s bunch was sitting.

“How do you play?” Wednesday asked.

“Y/N flies around and tries to steal you without anyone seeing,” Daniel answered. His leg brushed against Wednesday’s, and surprisingly she didn’t flinch away.

“If you’re caught?” She asked. Emily and Alysah were sticking together, looking all around for wherever you could possibly be.

“Then you lose.”

Her blood froze in her veins when your whispered voice came from right beside her left ear. How had you managed to sneak up on her? How were you even capable of being that silent? Your breath hit her ear as you chuckled and you left a quick kiss on her cheek before backing away and disappearing once again while Jamie suddenly reappeared on your aunt’s lap.

Was that attractive? Did Wednesday find your sneaking skills attractive? She did. She very much did. Another scream rang through the air; her eyes still hadn’t found you. She did, however, manage to catch you walking up behind her, Alysah and Emily both hauled over your shoulders like sacks of potatoes.

"I win," you said as you practically dropped their giggling bodies to the ground.

"Again!" Jamie called out.

"No more," your mother said almost instantly. "It's time for bed."

Grumbles and complaints came from all the children, Alex and Hailey included. But in the end they were no match for your mother, aunt, and Abuelita; those women were a force to be reckoned with and everyone knew it. Even Wednesday had learned to say a simple "yes ma'am" and go along with it.

Everyone got to cleaning up, putting up the leftovers - such an unusual concept for Wednesday, truthfully, but she believed she liked it. Possibly - and getting the children off to bed. You passed her once on the way to help carry something and grabbed the hat from her head and put it back on your own.

Everyone except your parents burst into laughter.

“You better not-”

“-Not in my house,” your mother and father said at the same time.

“It’s my own damn hat,” you shouted back. “I can take it back if I want.”

“What does that mean?” Wednesday asked your aunt.

“I’ll let lil’ bird tell you that one,” she laughed before walking away and leaving Wednesday to continue packing things up.

She felt something tickle her ankle and looked down, instantly feeling an intense rage. Steve. The damned goat was chewing her shoelace as if it was his god given right. It was beyond tempting to throw him into the bonfire that was still roaring behind her.

“Wanna stay up and watch the fire?” You asked, reaching down to pat Steve on the head. Wednesday glared at him again. You’re lucky she’s here to save you, she thought but kept to herself.

With the fire behind you and the hat tilted down over your face, you looked like a silhouette against the red and orange backdrop. She couldn’t see your eyes or your smile, but she could feel the happiness. It was in the relaxed set of your shoulders and the constant twitch and ruffle of your feathers.

“That would be nice,” Wednesday said, and this time she could see the reflection of the light off your teeth as you gave her a toothy grin.

You pulled her into your lap once you got to the logs near the fire. She instantly adjusted until she was comfortable; it was disgusting that she was now so used to sitting in your lap that she knew how to get comfortable so effortlessly. Your chin rested on your shoulder and your arms wrapped around her waist and you both just stared into the fire.

Neither one of you said anything, just sat there in a comfortable silence listening to the crackling of the burning wood. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss behind her ear, or to her neck, or your hand would squeeze her thigh lightly. She let you continue, just enjoying the feel of your skin on hers. But the moment she went to turn around, the back patio door slammed open.

"If one 'a y'all gets pregnant, your Pop is putting you up for adoption," your aunt called out.

"Oh my god, go to sleep!" You shouted as you turned to glare at her. Her laughter echoed in the empty yard as the door closed again and you sighed.

Wednesday didn't bother hiding her smile as she pulled you into a real kiss. Her heart hammered in her chest when she felt you smile back.

everyone but her pt.23

Summary: The new year has started and you're doing everything in your power to not have to think about anything. Wednesday and the gang do their best to help.

Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: swearing, anger issues, mentions of smoking pot Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

The new year had you shoving everything down more than usual. The first year without Nicky. Without any semblance of control or knowledge of where you were going in life. There were only two things you knew for sure at the moment: first, anger management was a must and felt pointless.

Second, Wednesday refused to leave your side.

Not that you were complaining, of course. She was probably one of the only things at the moment that could keep you grounded in some form of reality. It helped ease that voice in your head at least for a little bit. Every now and then it came back, a distant whisper in the back of your mind, but one look at Wednesday silenced it again.

The past three weeks at the Addamses house had been nothing short of unbearable, if you were being completely honest with yourself. They never forced you to talk about anything per say, but they certainly wished to know. Constant vigilance on your whereabouts, inclusion to the point of suffocation, just knowing that they were dying to ask questions. It was a bit much.

But now, back at school, everyone could go back to the way you wanted it to be. No one was asking you questions, no one was making you feel pitied or all that faux sympathy. They were treating you just like normal, and at the moment? That’s the only thing you wanted.

You would need to talk about it someday. Talk with Yoko about everything, talk to Wednesday about extra everything. It was going to happen sooner or later, and it was going to suck. Jesus fuck, it was going to suck. But for now you could all pretend nothing had happened. It was a problem for another day.

For now, you were going to recover.

Wednesday had practically moved into your dorm for the time being. And by moving in, you meant she had made space for her typewriter on your desk. It hadn’t been discussed beforehand, you had just gotten back from one of your anger management classes and had seen her already at your desk, typing away. It had brought you to a stop in your doorway, just looking at her back.

What about Enid? You had asked. She hadn’t graced you with an answer, instead turning back to her typewriter to continue her writing hour. Enid had later, of course, said that it was talked about beforehand and she had essentially given her blessing. Besides, it gave her more space to hang out with Yoko and Divina.

Not that she was kicking Wednesday out! Enid made extra sure to explain that, because all of Wednesday’s things were still in the room (sans the typewriter and one of the pillows from her bed). It almost drew a laugh out of you when Enid desperately tried to backtrack that she wasn’t getting rid of her roommate.

Now, after another late anger management session (not a class that time, they had shoved you into a therapy session. Just showed how well you were doing), you were laying upside down on your nest trying to fill out your “homework.” It was bullshit and did not make you want to keep your anger under control.

“You’re not focusing,” Wednesday said when you let out another sigh. She hadn’t even looked up from her novel.

"It's like a kindergarten book," you groaned. "For angry kids."

"It’s supposed to help ease your anger," she continued.

"Well now it's just making me more angry," you grumbled before pulling yourself back into a sitting position.

The words on the pages blurred together as you did your best to read the instructions. It was stupid. What are some general events that lead to anger for you? That stupid workbook, that’s what led to anger. You even made sure to write it down, just so your therapist would know you were serious.

You were mid-sentence (mid-rant, if you were being honest) when the workbook was pulled from your lap. A complaint was on the tip of your tongue until you looked up and saw Wednesday standing in front of you, book in hand and raised brow directed at you. She looked at you for a moment before sitting herself down in your lap without warning.

Wrapping your arms around her waist was like second nature, and she certainly didn’t seem to mind. There was a little bit of shifting, a bit of adjusting, and then she was fully settled between your legs with your thighs on either side of her. She placed the workbook in her lap on her raised knees and pulled the pen from your hand.

“What are your physical cues for anger?” She asked, reading the question on the page.

“I don’t know,” you said with a noncommittal shrug, followed quickly by an “ouch” when she kicked your calf.

“What are your physical cues for anger?” Wednesday asked again.

“I-” you took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “My pulse gets faster.” Wednesday wrote it down.

“Anything else?”

You both continued like that; Wednesday verbally asking you the questions and having you answer them so she could write them down. As much as you hated to admit it, it helped. Doing it on your own made you more angry, frustrated, and honestly? You would willingly bash someone’s head in if you had to answer one more question about how you were feeling.

But when Wednesday was asking? When you could have that physical contact with her and rest your chin on your shoulder while she asked you questions? Writing the answers down for you in her stunning handwriting? It was almost relaxing. Something about it kept your heartbeat steady and your mind at ease.

Wednesday’s assistance on your new homework joined the routine you were finally starting to create again. The day before class or therapy, after she was done with her writing hour, she would sit in your lap (either in your room or hers), pull out the workbook, and ask you the questions.

“Focus,” Wednesday scolded when you peppered a few more kisses along her jaw.

“I’m focused,” you said. “Ask again.”

“What number did you reach on your anger metre this week?” She asked; consciously or not, she tilted her head slightly so you could kiss that spot behind her ear.

“A four,” you mumbled against her skin. “No, five.”

“What caused it?” She asked.

“Tyler looking at you on Saturday,” you said, your arms tightening around her waist at the memory.

“What number did you reach?” She asked again.

“A nine,” you said, completely ignoring what you had told her only moments before.

“Much better,” Wednesday said, more to herself than to you. Damn her for getting real answers out of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” you whispered.

Without a word, Wednesday closed the book and placed it and the pencil on the floor beside your nest. As was routine, she quickly turned around while you forced the both of you to fall onto the nest, her head tucked underneath your chin. Your arms stayed wrapped around her, holding her close.

Her breath tickled your collarbone as you let your shoulders finally relax. Your mind was still thinking back to Tyler, and the specific look he gave Wednesday, and how all you had wanted to do was beat him senseless. That voice in your head had agreed, and if Wednesday hadn't physically stood in front of you, you would've done it.

"Stop it," Wednesday said softly.

"Not doing anything," you answered, but tried to pull her impossibly closer anyway.

"Stop thinking about it," she continued.

I can't, you thought. But then you felt her lips on your neck, barely there, and the thoughts vanished. All you could think about was the softness of her skin, the warmth between you, the smell of her hair. Something fancy, expensive, but not overwhelming. She smelled like home.

You pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, draped a wing over her, and let yourself fall asleep.

You ignored the fact that when you woke up, Wednesday was sneezing and trying to (gently) shove your wing off.

It turned into a thing. Wednesday would come over about every other night (and always on therapy night) and just stay. Not talking, not doing anything, just letting you hold her and sit or lay there. Her presence was calming, which was ironic considering how many more threats she was willing to throw out during the day. But the moment you both got back to your room it was like she was a completely different person.

You hoped she wasn’t changing herself for you. She was a strong, painfully independent young lady, so deep down you knew she wasn’t. But a part of you was still worried. If she changed just for you then she wouldn’t be your Wednesday.

“Stop thinking so loudly or I’m going to pickle your brain,” Wednesday threatened in a half-asleep voice.

Never mind. She wasn’t changing at all.

You should play piano again, your therapist had recommended one session. It’s a healthy outlet. Yeah, healthy outlet blah blah blah. It was ridiculous, you didn’t need a healthy outlet, you didn’t even need an outlet. You were fine, you hadn’t even beat anyone up since… So really, you were doing better than most.

When you got back to Nevermore and tried to figure out where to go, you paused. You should just go back to your dorm and sleep. Wednesday should be there soon, if she wasn’t already settled, and you could hold her and forget about the world for the rest of the night. Maybe, if you buttered her up enough, she’d even tolerate a few kisses.

But on the other hand, the Opera hall was just right there…

It didn’t take long to get into the Opera hall and sit down at the grand piano on the stage. The keys were cool against your fingers as you halfheartedly played a few scales, a few bars of some indiscriminate song, a riff or two. They needed to get it tuned again, but that was alright. It just reminded you more of home.

You sat at the bench properly and placed both hands on the keys, thinking only for a moment before playing a song. A simple one, one that usually had words accompanying it but you couldn’t bring yourself to even hum the chorus. But it was kind of nice, getting to play something again. Something you didn’t have to play, but that you wanted to play. Maybe your therapist was right.

You slammed your hands on the keys and let out a groan. 

Ugh. Maybe your therapist was right.

“Let’s grab your cello,” you said one night while Wednesday was cuddled into your side as a movie continued to play on Wednesday’s laptop. She had tried to claim she just wanted to learn more about technology, but you knew it was simply because yours (previously Nicky’s) had finally bitten the dust after nine long years.

“I have class in the morning,” she said as her fingers continued to draw patterns on the small stretch of exposed skin on your hip.

“If we don’t grab it, I will relapse and beat the shit out of someone,” you said without hesitation.

It was a low blow. But when Wednesday sighed, stood up, and pulled you with her to her dorm, you knew it had worked anyway. And you didn’t even feel the smallest amount of shame about it. After all, Wednesday should know you weren’t serious. Usually. It was sweet that she was trying to keep you on the straight and narrow, though.

That was big for her.

The lights were off when you opened the door, so you did your best to stay silent. Your eyes adjusted quickly to the dark room, and you zeroed in the cello case sitting near Wednesday’s bed. The floor squeaked underneath your feet, but that was fine, the Trio were supposed to be out-

-a scream-

“-fuck!-”

-something hit you in the chest-

“-ouch!-”

-you reached out and grabbed something. It was almost fuzzy and was moving like a rat caught in a trap. The extremely bright light turned on and numerous groans echoed through the room, including your own. Once you blinked enough times to focus again, the entire scene unfolded.

With the lights on, you could see Yoko and Divina over in Enid’s bed, all mused hair and tired eyes. They both have stuffed animals in their hands, primed and ready to throw. How intimidating, you thought with a sneer. In your hand, swinging like a kitten in its mother’s teeth, was Enid. You had her by the scruff of her neck and she was half-wolfed out, ears and tail stooped low.

“Seriously?” You asked, looking between all three of them.

“You scared me,” Enid tried to quickly explain.

“I didn’t even make a noise!”

“Your eyes glow!” She said again. “That’s terrifying!”

“This isn’t a new revelation, Sinclair,” you argued.

“It’s old news,” Yoko agreed with a nod.

“Even I knew,” Divina mumbled. She still looked the most tired out of all of them.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Enid whined.

“I did,” Wednesday finally said. “Over a year ago.”

Enid slunk in your hand even more, if that was possible. Her poor tail wagged halfheartedly and you wanted to laugh at her. She was just… such a baby. Compared to Yoko? It was truly a hilarious dynamic, how Divina managed to put up with them both, you had no idea-

“-you threw a stuffed animal at me?” You asked when your eyes landed on the plush dragon resting at your feet. Wow, suddenly no one wanted to look you in the eyes. “What made you think that would stop an intruder?”

“It was the only thing we had,” Yoko argued.

“Told you Wednesday’s side was safer,” Divina grumbled.

“Sleep on my bed and I’ll gut you like the fish you are,” Wednesday threatened.

“Bite me, Addams-”

“-My metre is at an 8!” You shouted, and everyone quickly shut up. The growing migraine in your head stabilised. Thank god.

“So… how is your night going?” Divina asked after an embarrassingly long length of silence.

“It was going great, thank you for asking,” you said.

Only when Enid shifted did you remember you were still holding her up. You quickly placed her feet on the ground, holding her until she was steady again before letting go. On instinct, you patted the top of her head and scratched behind her ear, and the way her face lit up? Dropped your anger down to almost a 5!

“Are we having a sleepover now?” Enid asked. Her tail gave away her excitement.

“Not if you wish to wake up tomorrow-”

“-Yes we are,” you interrupted Wednesday with a pointed look. “Since now it’s late as fuck and you all have class.”

“If you were going to come to this conclusion regardless, we could have stayed in your room,” Wednesday said with her own scowl directed at you.

“We could push our beds together-”

“-absolutely not,” everyone said while Enid just pouted and crawled into her own bed in defeat.

“You’ll have to pay for this,” Wednesday told you as she walked past you to get to her own bed.

“I know,” you huffed. She would come up with a terrible price, there was no doubt about it. You walked over to the lightswitch and waited for everyone to get settled before you-

“-wait!” Enid cried, and you all jumped and looked at her. “Let me close my eyes first.”

“Why the fuck do you need to close your eyes before I turn the lights off?” You asked. She sunk further into the bed between Divina and Yoko.

“Your eyes are scary in the dark.”

You kept direct eye contact with her for a moment, seeing if she would back down. When she didn’t, you did the only logical thing you could think of; you turned the light off. Enid yelped before you heard shuffling and sighs coming from where they were all laying.

“Stop scaring our girlfriend,” Divina complained.

“Then tell her to grow up,” you shot back as you walked across the room to where Wednesday was already settled, getting in on her left side and turning your back to her.

“We could have been comfy in your bed,” Wednesday whispered.

“Shut up,” you whispered back before closing your eyes.

If you felt Wednesday shift so her foot was touching your calf, you didn’t bring it up.

Everyone was gone for class by the time you actually got up. It hadn’t been on purpose, you just woke up from yet another nightmare and couldn’t bring yourself to get up in time to say goodbye. Thankfully Thing hung around and helped you carry the cello to the Opera hall where you placed it right beside the piano.

Although Wednesday only tried once to play a duet with you. It had been a simple piece to get the vibe of each other’s playing styles - Canon in D, of course - but you had gotten the strong urge to start embellishing your part. And embellish you did. Until Wednesday stopped, looked at you once with the look she usually reserved for Xavier, and started packing up.

You just nodded to yourself because, honestly, you weren’t entirely surprised. She took her music far too seriously, and you took it far too unseriously. It was a fair reaction.

“We should have a sleepover,” Ajax said later that evening while you were laying on the floor in his and Kent’s room while Enid and Wednesday had their date night.

“What are you, five?” You asked as you exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Legal smoke. Of course.

“It could be all of us,” he continued as if you hadn’t even spoken. “The three of us, the Trio, Wednesday I guess, and Bianca and Eugene.”

“Why would we have a sleepover?” You asked.

“I think you deserve it,” he said before he brought the joint to his lips.

“That’s hella gay,” you said as you nudged his foot with your own.

It didn’t take long for you to bring it up to Wednesday who, even though she didn’t seem eager, begrudgingly agreed it wouldn’t be a bad idea. You all could have it in hers and Enid’s dorm since it was the biggest out of the groups. Just push the beds further against the walls and there was enough space for everyone.

“Please do not sneak out,” Mama Weems had begged you once you had informed her of the event. “Or get yourselves into danger.”

“Oh please,” you said with a huff, “when do any of us get into danger?”

She didn’t dignify your question with an answer.

Saturday morning was the day for preparations. After a nice walk to Jericho in the cold (which everyone tried to pretend wasn’t really all that bad), everyone split up to do what they were supposed to. The Trio went to go get snacks, Wednesday, Eugene, and Bianca were tasked with picking a few movies and board games, and you, Ajax, and Kent went to get enough coffees to kill a herd of elephants.

Wednesday had banned herself from the Weathervane until your anger was under control. It was a sweet gesture. Jokes on her, you were always eager and willing to beat Tyler’s ass. Thankfully the boys had kept you distracted just enough to not think too hard about the situation at hand.

You should make him pay, the voice in your head said for the first time in two or three weeks.

Fantastic.

Once everyone had reconvened near the gazebo in the middle of town, you all made your way back to Nevermore. There was an air of excitement around everyone, which was a bit surprising. You were all either adults or very close to becoming one, but for some reason the thought of a sleepover was enough to get everyone giddy. Even Wednesday didn’t seem completely irritated with the idea.

Until, of course, everyone got back to the dorm and game night started.

“Uno,” Bianca said again which had everyone on the verge of complete frustration.

“How are you doing this?” Kent asked as he looked at his hand of what was probably two dozen cards.

“It’s witchcraft,” Enid grumbled.

“No, that’s Wednesday,” you said, your eyes narrowing when you looked at the single card in Wednesday’s hand.

“It’s just a gift,” Divina said with a shrug as she gave Bianca a high-five.

“I think it’s a Siren thing,” Ajax said with a nod. He, too, had a solid dozen cards in his hand.

So did you, but that wasn’t the point.

“Being a cheater is a Siren thing?” Yoko asked with a raised brow.

“That’s illogical,” Eugene cut in. He had about three cards, so he was a lot closer than you. “Otherwise Kent wouldn’t be losing so badly.”

“Dude, you just got wrecked by a 14 year old.”

“Shut up,” Kent said as he elbowed you in the side.

“Someone just go already,” Enid huffed.

The game continued, and Bianca won that one. Then Wednesday won the next one. Then Wednesday again, and Bianca, and Wednesday, and Bianca, and even Thing. The fact that no one else could even get down to one card was concerning to all of you, though not surprising. If you all were good at one thing? It was not Uno.

And then someone (Yoko) put down a +4 when she knew you were next.

The surprise of such a card made you sneeze, your wings flying out and creating a gust of wind that blew the cards around the entirety of the dorm.

“You bitch-”

“-you did that on purpose-”

“-you’re such a sore loser-”

“-fuck, guys, was that my fault?” You asked as you wiped the invisible snot from your nose. “Shit, my bad, guess we should do something else, huh?”

“You’re such a dick-”

“-no one else was complaining-”

“-I was about to win-”

“-how about a movie?” You asked as you shamelessly let your wings flap again to clear the remaining few cards. On accident, of course.

“We should watch a classic,” Ajax said with a solemn nod. “Like Shrek.”

“Losers don’t get to choose the movie,” Yoko said without hesitation.

“Don’t say that,” Enid whined.

“It means Bianca or Wednesday gets to choose the movie,” Divina continued.

“No slashers,” you said with a pointed finger at Wednesday.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. But you all knew better.

“If you put on a slasher, Enid will scream,” Yoko said.

“I will not!”

“No one wants that,” Bianca said with a huff.

It was quickly decided that Bianca would choose the movie, and she quickly threw Avatar up onto the bootleg projector you and Eugene had managed to piece together. Thankfully, after only a little bit of slapping it around, it turned on and threw the movie up onto the wall.

“Excellent job, Genie boy,” you said as you held your hand out for a high five, which he quickly returned with a giddy smile.

The pallet you had forced Bianca and Yoko to help you make was immaculate, if you did say so yourself. There was enough room for everyone PLUS all the pillows and blankets. Everyone was settled in their respective groups when you fell onto the side by Wednesday, your wings sticking away from everyone else.

"Is everyone asleep?" You whispered into Wednesday's ear when the movie was only halfway finished.

"Yes," she whispered back, finally shifting until her back was pressed tight against your front and you could sling your arm over her waist.

"Can I give you a goodnight kiss?" You asked, still as quiet as possible.

Wednesday didn't verbally answer, but turned her head just enough to lean up and kiss your lips. You sighed, leaning down to ease the potential ache on her neck. Your fingers grasped her sleep shirt in an attempt to stay cordial around everyone. They might have been asleep but there was no need to-

-a flash went off.

"Delete the photo before I delete you from the face of the earth," Wednesday threatened.

Everyone shuffled around, pretending to still be asleep. You just chuckled and pulled Wednesday closer once again. But as payback, you let your wing stretch out over everyone to cover them all.

You pretended not to hear the sneezing and sniffling.

---

Black Widow/Prince Hans mashup❄️

---

obsessed with this series 👏🏻

everyone but her pt.17

Summary: You're spending the first month of summer with the Addamses, which Wednesday initially loved until you started a war that you couldn't finish. Maybe you were officially indoctrinated into the Addams family? There's no time like the present.

Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: Addams Family-esque violence (in pranks, no one is harmed!), internal guilt, swearing, making out, suggestive themes Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn

“Where is he?” You asked for the 21st time in the past five minutes.

“A watched pot never boils,” Wednesday said as her fingers turned the page of her current novel.

“I’m not watching a pot,” you mumbled, “I’m watching for my best friend Lurch.”

From her spot at her desk, Wednesday finally dared to look up in your direction. You were practically leaning halfway over the balcony, your wings flapping every now and then to lift your feet before placing you back on the ground. You were both waiting impatiently for her family’s car to pull up. All the bags were packed, your family had already given their okay for the month-long stay, and now it was simply a waiting game.

If Wednesday had a dollar for every time you had mentioned Lurch during the last few days of the school year, she would have been able to single-handedly pay for your college tuition. Not that you were going, she thought with a frown that, thankfully, no one could see.

“He’s never gonna get here,” you grumbled again, your wings drooping along with your shoulders.

“Why are you so eager to see Lurch?” Wednesday asked. She finally closed her book and put it aside right as you turned around with the biggest smile on your face.

“I just think he’s neat,” you said.

“I was under the impression that you wanted to fight him,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Oh I do.” Your smile dropped and you turned deathly serious. “He’s my mortal enemy,” you said with a nod of your head. “And I am going to beat him this time.”

She said nothing, just raised a single brow at you which in turn caused your smile to come back. It was fleeting, however, as you quickly turned to look back over the balcony to watch for the signature Addams family car. You looked childish standing there in your shorts and too-big t-shirt, genuine excitement on your face. The sight brought those spiders back to her stomach, something she hadn’t felt in a while.

But they turned vicious when she started to consider the implications of your eagerness for her family to appear. You hadn’t explained much to her, but she knew your biological parents weren’t necessarily part of the picture. When was the last time someone had picked you up from Nevermore? Her own family not included, when had someone last come to take you home?

"They're here!" You shouted, drawing Wednesday out of her own thoughts.

She didn't even have the chance to breathe before you vaulted yourself over the balcony. Her heart nearly ripped itself out of her chest before she could remind it that you had wings. That didn't stop her from running to the railing to make sure. Just in case.

You were already saying your hellos to everyone as Lurch made his way inside. It wouldn't take him long to get up to her dorm, but it still gave Wednesday plenty of time to watch you interact with her family. There was a twisting feeling in Wednesday's stomach at how physical you were with everyone. A hand on Pugsley's shoulder, allowing her father to hug you, leaning into her mother's touch on your cheek. You certainly weren't usually that physical with her.

The door opened behind her and she quickly pushed that thought down. Lurch nodded at her once before grabbing the luggage, following her out and downstairs to where you all were waiting. She didn't miss the way your smile softened when you met her eyes.

Pugsley and her father gave her their usual hugs - she wouldn't admit it was a welcome gesture - while Lurch put the luggage in the back of the car. Everyone's voices carried across the air, riding only on the occasional sound of your wings ruffling.

"Aren't you coming?" Wednesday asked when you scuffed your feet in the dirt. Everyone else was already situated in the car.

"I- I can't," you said as your fingers played with the hem of your shirt. "It's too soon."

Too soon. Wednesday didn't need to ask what you meant; your birthday was only a week ago. It was still a new piece of information to her, something she hadn't yet incorporated into preparations. She berated herself for not considering it sooner. There were plenty of other ways to get back home, yet she hadn't even attempted to think of any.

"I'll be good," you said with a slight upturn of your lips. "I'll fly overhead."

"Are you sure?" Wednesday asked. Please just get in the car.

"Yeah," you shrugged, "I could use the exercise." A real smile quickly replaced the uncertain one. "I'll even race you."

"You'll exhaust yourself and plummet to the ground," she answered quickly. “And you’ll still lose.”

“I think you’re just scared, Addams,” you taunted, leaning down to be on even eye-level with her. It was demeaning.

She loved it.

“If you leave now,” she said with a glare in her eyes, “you can have a 30 second head start.”

“I expect a reward when I win,” you said with a cocky smirk that, if it had been from anyone else, would have made Wednesday nauseous. And not in a good way.

You made up for it with a wink that very much made her nauseous. In a good way.

The muscles in your legs tensed before you launched yourself into the air with a powerful push of your wings. Without getting the chance to brace herself, Wednesday shamefully felt herself stumble back a step, her eyes blinking frantically to clear the dirt from around her. You were already nothing more than a speck in the sky when she managed to look up.

The race was on.

It was a long car trip, which was to be expected, but what made it all the more torturous were her parents' incessant questions. Didn't they know she was anxiously watching the sky, trying to find you to know you were safe? There was nothing to inform them of, they had talked only last week. Quite frankly, Wednesday believed it was the longest car ride of her life.

You were leaning against the front door frame with grandmama beside you when they finally pulled up to the house. Wednesday could see the sweat still dripping down your face and the pitiful attempt to keep your eyes open. All defiance was wiped from your posture as your shoulders and wings drooped pathetically.

Yet, she would admit, you had beat them to the house.

“Well, well, well,” you spoke slowly once Wednesday finally walked up the porch stairs, “look who finally decided to show up.”

“You need a bath,” she said without bothering to look at you for too long. She didn’t want you to notice that she had missed you.

“Not until I’m done gloating,” you said, “Grandmama even congratulated me for my speed and skill."

"Unlikely," Wednesday said, brushing past you as she entered the house. You followed behind her like a puppy.

"She did," you argued, "we're actually best friends now."

"You've gloated enough," she said, stopping herself short and feeling you walk into her because, as expected, you weren't paying full attention. "Go bathe."

"Do I get my winner's prize afterwards?" You asked. She didn't have to turn around to know you were smiling.

"You can find that out after you stop smelling."

The speed at which you ran to your bathroom was impressive, Wednesday wouldn't lie. It was almost worthy of a smile, but she settled for a soft exhale. You were acting rather childish and you hadn't even been at the house for more than an hour. What was it about this trip that was clearly easing your nerves?

"The gift is on her bedside table," her mother said once you were far out of hearing range.

“Excellent,” Wednesday said before walking off to her room. She was more than happy to use your absence as the perfect time to unpack.

Once you got out of the bath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom and huffed. It was times like this where you wished Wednesday - or any of the Addamses for that matter - used technology. Your wings were soaked to the bone, your hair was dripping down your spine (which tickled), and you just wanted to blow it all dry so you could be warm again. Was that really too much to ask?

Yes. Yes it was.

You shook viciously, your feet lifting off the slick ground for a moment. It took a few more shakes before your wings felt a little lighter, a little too fluffy again, but at least they were (mostly) dry. Much better, you thought as you wrapped one towel around your waist and used another to dry your hair. Sure, it would look funny later in the day, but that was a future-you problem.

All of your bags were already in your room by the time you stepped out of the bathroom. It was easy to dig through and find some comfy clothes, and you got dressed quickly, struggling to pull your shirt on and fit your wings through their respective slots. You might have bumped into a few things in the process, but that was alright; at least nothing broke, right?

The dresser drawer slid shut, signaling your completion of unpacking. With a satisfied grin, you looked around the room, just to double check. But your eyes landed on a small box sitting on the bedside table. A box that you hadn’t brought with you.

A black box.

Hesitantly, you walked over to the bedside table and looked down. It had a small black bow wrapped around it and was resting on top of a card. You grabbed the box first, carefully untying the bow and lifting the lid. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. The brilliance of the crystal inside was what caught your eyes first as you picked it up with shaking fingers.

A simple black crystal pendant hung from a golden chain. The crystal itself was smooth and cold to the touch, and you could almost see your reflection in it if you turned it just right. It was heavy when it swung from between your fingers, almost hypnotising in its pattern.

Your chest hurt at how expensive it looked.

You gently placed the pendant back in the box and set it aside to pick up the card and read the cover; One year closer to the sweet release of death. Pretty on point for the Addams. Rough fingers flipped the card open but froze when something fell out onto the desk.

Your head tilted to the left as you reached for it, reading the words on the card first: Happy first Addams birthday. Birthday. That prickling pain settled in the back of your head again, and you shook your head to try and physically get rid of it. It didn’t work.

“If you loved me, you would take me hiking for my birthday,” you said to Nicky as soon as you found him after class.

“You’re so demanding,” he huffed, but you could see the smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself with another shake of your head.

It’s a sweet gesture, the voice in your head said. You knew it was a sweet gesture; painfully aware of it, in fact. A sigh left your lips as you put the card down and looked at the other item in your hand. It took a few seconds of staring at it, your eyes blinking excessively, before you could actually comprehend what it was.

A check. It was a check. An empty check signed “Gomez Addams” on the bottom right corner. An empty check addressed to you and the memo line stating: Medical Expenses.

Once you were aware of the burn in your lungs, you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. A million thoughts were running through your head, none of them good. Your eyes screwed shut as they echoed in your mind, getting louder and louder.

Another debt to repay?

You could repay it. You knew you could.

You’ve become a burden to yet another person.

No, they were nice, you weren’t a burden. Were you?

That pain in the back of your head grew, quickly turning into a migraine that you knew would make you sick. The strain of your clenched jaw certainly wasn’t doing you any favours either. Fuck, why would they do this? No, why would Wednesday do this? She knew better, she fucking knew better.

With a groan, you grabbed the check and amulet and walked downstairs. You didn’t know where anyone was, but you could find them easily enough. The size of the mansion was infuriating when you were looking for someone, you realised. It was far easier to find someone when there were only a handful of rooms.

You found Morticia and Gomez alone in the greenhouse. Thankfully they were clothed.

“Ah,” Gomez exclaimed when he saw you enter the greenhouse, “you found the gifts!”

“Shall I help you put it on?” Morticia asked, indicating the pendant with her eyes.

Please take them back.

“I- that- that’s actually what- what I- what I wanted to- to talk to you about,” you stuttered. Only imbeciles stutter, stop it.

“Sit, please,” Gomez said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. You promptly sat, your back straight and both gifts laid bare on the table. “Do you not like them?”

“No!” You shouted a bit too loud, a bit too fast. “No, that’s- that’s not it.” You cleared your throat. “It’s- it- it’s stunning,” your eyes darted away from the check, “and generous.”

“Then where does the problem lie, little bird?” He asked, leaning back in his chair. Morticia had now joined him on the other side of the table, her hand resting on his shoulder.

Well now it just felt like an interrogation.

“I can’t accept them,” you said without meeting their eyes. “I could never repay you.”

“Darling, they’re gifts,” Morticia said, “not something to be repaid.”

I have to repay you, you thought. I have to. How could you explain to them that they were wrong? Nothing is free even if it’s a gift. Everything comes with a price. School, gifts, love. It all comes with a price, and if they were serious about that damn check, you would never be able to erase that debt.

“I could never repay you,” you repeated.

They were silent, and that was almost worse than their attempt to get you to reconsider. They needed to say something; they needed to talk so you could move on and get off this horrid topic.

The migraine grew worse.

“How about a compromise,” Gomez said softly. You looked up, finally, to see them both giving you a painfully soft look. “Keep the pendant, we’ll keep the check.”

“It is a birthday gift, after all,” Morticia finished.

Stop saying birthday.

Your eyes trailed down to where the pendant was sitting on the table. It was stunning, you wouldn’t deny that. But it looked expensive. Could you repay them for it? Surely you could, you were working a bit over the summer and you could probably do some things around their house. It couldn’t be too hard to repay, could it?

“Okay,” you finally managed to squeak out. “Thank you.” You would accept the gift. 

But you were definitely going to have a talk with Wednesday about it. She meant well, but this was a bit too far. What was she even thinking? She knew you hated people spending money on you, didn’t she? And she had told them about Nicky? No, no she needed to know. Gently. Hopefully.

You didn’t see the sad smiles the Addamses gave you as you walked off to find Wednesday.

—---

Wednesday hadn't understood your insistence on not gifting you things, nor did she understand your anger at her parents offering to help with Nicky. You were practically on your own, were you not? So why would you be so against help when everyone knew medical bills were preposterous in size? She knew you weren't ignorant enough to believe you, a freshly graduated high school student with no job, could pay them on your own.

But you had insisted, and she had nodded in understanding, and eventually you came to an agreement. Nothing expensive, only things that could be repaid in favours or equal monetary value. Although as you allowed her to clasp the pendant around your neck, you hesitantly agreed you wouldn't attempt to pay them back for the birthday gift. That was a week ago, and she had silently adored every moment of peace that had come with it.

But now you were her mortal enemy once again, and she was not going to lose to the likes of you.

It had just been a normal morning. You had snuck into her room and woken her up with what had started off as a simple kiss. A simple kiss that had quickly turned into multiple kisses. She grabbed the fabric of your shirt and pulled you down until you were hovering above her on the bed and she could tangle her hands in your hair. It was quite a wonderful way to wake up, she would admit.

The smell of you, fresh out of the bath, invaded all of her senses. You smelled like her thanks to using her supplies, but with the faintest underlying smell of dirt and trees. Something she had come to associate with home. It sent her mind reeling, eliminating every thought except for one: you. She hated you for it.

She loved that she hated you for it.

One of her hands trailed down your neck, following the chain of the pendant you now dutifully wore until she could grab the crystal and pull you closer. Knowing you were wearing something from her family, something from an Addams, was intoxicating. Almost like you were now officially part of the family.

"You should get ready," you mumbled against her lips, "I'll meet you downstairs."

You gave her one last kiss, making it count, before pulling away and standing back up. She refused to look at you, refused to let you see what you had really done to her. How you had gotten her heart racing and her skin flushed and hot. Not until she heard the door close did she finally get up, surprisingly eager to start the day.

Until she opened the closet and saw that all of her clothes had been replaced.

Frantically, Wednesday went to her dresser and opened all the drawers there too, hoping it was just her imagination. But no, it was real. She wasn't imagining it, this wasn't some horrifying dream. It was real life.

Every piece of clothing she owned had been replaced with brightly colored versions. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up in her closet and dresser, and she had nothing else to wear for the day. Grumbling to herself and already plotting revenge, she grabbed a pair of pants and a too-large shirt that smelled suspiciously like coffee and chalk.

Rightfully, everyone looked horrified when Wednesday made her way to the downstairs common room. It was as if the world had come to a stop and hell had frozen over. The room filled with gasps of fear and disgust from everyone.

Everyone, that is, except for you.

You, who was sitting in one of the armchairs with a cup of coffee in one hand and the pendant in the other. You, who was making direct eye contact with her even as you took another sip from your mug. You, who's smirk only grew as you continued to watch the realization dawn on her very face.

"You look absolutely dreadful," you said as everyone looked back and forth between you both.

"You'll regret this," Wednesday said, "it will be a slow and painful revenge."

"I'd like to see you try," you shot back.

And thus, your rivalry was reignited and Wednesday was determined to win.

She started gentle, she really did. After all, you weren't Pugsley, she couldn't very well electrocute you for the sake of winning a war. Well. Not yet. So it was a gentle war, one of silly little nothings.

Gods, what were you doing to her?

Gentle. As gentle as handing you your coffee in the morning when your eyes are still half-closed and your wings are nearly knocking everything over. With a sleepy smile and barely-working fingers, you take it and instantly take a big, deep drink of salty coffee that she had made special just for you.

You choke. You choke and your eyes go wide and you make eye contact with her over her own mug of black coffee. But then your eyes narrowed and you continued drinking, never once taking your eyes off her until the coffee was gone.

"Make this yourself?" You asked in a hoarse voice.

Wednesday blinked at you once.

"As a thank you," she said with a half-smile and the slightest tilt of her head, "for the wardrobe change."

"So that's how it's going to be," you stated simply.

"Unless you surrender."

"Never."

You were quick to get your revenge; that same morning, in fact. She had poured her cereal and had gotten up to get the milk, but when she came back her spoon had been replaced with a fork. A simple prank, harmless, juvenile at best. You still smiled to yourself anyway when her first bite of breakfast ended up being a disappointment.

But things ramped up quickly after that. Harmless pranks turned a little more courageous. A bucket of water dropping on your head when you entered her room. An explosion of rainbow glitter when Wednesday opened a new book. Still fairly harmless, all things considered.

It was only when Wednesday found out you had enlisted Pugsley to help you that she realised this was no longer a fun war. This was to the death, and you were gathering backup. Oh, but she could use whatever she wanted on Pugsley, and if you just so happened to be in the way, then so be it.

Your first true Addams prank was good, Wednesday wouldn't deny it. With hands held up in surrender, you had invited her to follow you for a nice picnic. As she followed behind you, you were telling her all about everything you had packed; meats, cheese, apples, oranges, practically an entire feast.

She saw your step falter when you passed through a doorway. Just the slightest lengthening of your stride, just enough for her to notice. You however didn't notice her stop, stretching her leg out to touch the barely-visible trip wire.

A guillotine blade fell where she would have been walking, and you turned your head expectantly, disappointment clearly filling your face.

"You tried to kill me?" Wednesday asked in a more deadpan tone than usual.

"Don't be so dramatic," you rolled your eyes. "I tried to maim, not kill." With a sigh, you turned around. "Pugsley said it would work."

You didn't see Wednesday's smile.

So you were going to play by Addams' rules, were you? Well if that's how you were going to be, then Wednesday wasn't going to hold back either. Of course she wouldn't hurt you. Too badly, that is. It wouldn't matter, there was still plenty of room for creativity.

Although she would admit, she was surprised you fell for the same thing twice. You were just humming to the song in your head while trailing your fingers over the spines of the books in the library. When she handed you a cup of tea, you smiled and instantly took a drink.

And froze.

"What have I told you about drinking anything without thought?" Wednesday asked.

"What did you put in this?" You asked.

"If you hurry, you can ask your new friend Pugsley for an antidote," she said with another smile before walking away.

The glare you gave her when you came back down for dinner was more than worth it.

Yours and Pugsley's pranks weren't as well thought out as they should have been. It explained why they never worked as well as intended. She would give you the benefit of the doubt; this was your first time building Addams contraptions. You didn't have the same knack for it, but you were learning.

Out of all your attempts, you never quite managed to execute them correctly. Not for lack of trying, of course, but you had a lot to learn. For instance, if you were going to sneak up on her, you needed to keep your wings tucked away so you didn't knock something over in the process. Which you did. All Wednesday had to do was turn and look at you for you to groan and drop what appeared to be a bucket full of… spiders?

"You're ruining it, Addams," you mumbled as you walked off, coincidentally in the direction of her next trap.

Your high pitched scream echoed down the halls when you encountered the trap. It sent a thrill down Wednesday's spine. This was becoming so much more entertaining than she had ever imagined.

She did feel bad at first, admittedly. Not everyone could handle the Addams' form of admiration or love for each other; she knew it was unconventional. She didn't care that it was unconventional, but she was aware of it nonetheless. What if you had thought it was too much? Too unusual? Too violent by most standards?

But the morning she woke up and opened her door, feeling her pulse race when an arrow buried itself into the doorframe by her head? And when she took a step back before hearing you cheering down the hall because yes, you had surprised her? Or you high-fiving Pugsley and rushing him off because you hadn't truly realised you had gotten caught yet. It gave Wednesday a feeling in her stomach that wasn't spiders or nausea but something else entirely.

Oh.

Oh.

Her eyes narrowed. How dare you.

She stayed furious with you when you left for two days to go stay with Nicky.

"Here," Wednesday said as she held a book out for you, "in case you need a new book."

"Oh thank god," you sighed. "I don't know how many more times I can read Lord of the Rings." You looked at the cover, and a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips. "I think he'll like this one."

"Just bring it back in one piece," she said, to which you only replied with a wink.

Your absence gave her peace and yet simultaneously filled her with an anger that she couldn't quite place. On the one hand, she couldn't deny that you made her… happy. Your presence alone, even when you were being far too loud and creating chaos, gave her a sense of peace. She looked forward to being around you, whether you were talking or just enjoying each other's company.

But on the other hand, she was furious with you. Furious because not only had you made her feel these things to begin with, but the moment she had come to realise those feelings, you left for two days? Now she was forced to stew in her own uncomfortable mixture of thoughts and emotions. You knew how much she hated emotions, they were gateways to weakness.

And the worst part?

She missed you. Your absence around the house was felt by all. Her father no longer had you around to mentor about fencing or the ways of life, instead just moping around. Her mother has resorted to doting over her instead of you now, and that’s just an impossible situation. And Pugsley, dear misguided Pugsley, now had no one to talk to whenever he wanted.

Your presence had become such a normal thing in the house that, now that you were gone, no one knew what to do.

Wednesday would call everyone delusional if they noticed her waiting on the porch for you to finally get back. If there had been no chance of her getting caught by family, she would have gone to greet you out in the yard. Maybe even hold your hand and drag you back to the house where you belong.

Instead she just waited until you saw her, shooting her a quick smile, before walking back inside without you.

From the moment you walked back into the house, the war was back on. Just because you had gone to see Nicky didn’t mean she had admitted defeat. No, she was an Addams, she would never admit defeat. So when you were standing in the doorway and looking down at the dagger in Wednesday’s hand, you scoffed.

“What are you gonna do with that?” You asked. “Stab me?”

Wednesday simply smiled at you and took a step to the side, revealing a rope that was tied to the railing of the stairs. Your eyes narrowed when she looked back at you. Oh, this was going to be enjoyable. With a single swipe, she cut the rope and let the axe swing down. You screamed - that same high-pitched, childish scream that was starting to become comical - and fell to the ground just as the axe swung above your head.

“You’re sadistic!” You shouted.

Wednesday just left you there to wait out the deadly pendulum above you. This isn’t helping, she thought as she marched up the stairs to her room. Against all odds, she still had that forbidden feeling weighing heavy in her chest. She would need to go bigger.

It was time to get serious.

—---

Morticia couldn’t stop herself from eavesdropping whenever you and Wednesday were together. Of course she gave you both your space, but when she walked by and saw you sitting in Wednesday’s homemade electric chair? Letting her strap you to it without a single care in the world? Well, she couldn’t help it.

“What if I die?” You asked as you watched Wednesday tighten the helmet. There wasn’t a single ounce of worry in your face.

“Then I’ll have the opportunity to practice my dead-raising skills,” Wednesday said simply. She walked over to the wall and grabbed the switch.

“I don’t like how you said “practice”,” you mumbled, but otherwise settled back into the chair.

Morticia left the doorway before Wednesday pulled the switch. She knew how personal the situation was, she was no fool. Oh the times she and Gomez had used electrocution for their own fun evenings. If Wednesday was anything like her parents, then Morticia would keep her distance.

Your scream echoed through the house, and Morticia sighed dreamily.

Oh, young love.

She took note of the pranks slowing down while you willingly let Wednesday rope you into more and more despicable experiments. Testing out the larger-scaled steam powered guillotine, which did not work as it should have. If you and a bowling ball were dropped from the roof at the same time, would you reach the ground first? Could you truly catch an arrow if fired at you from a dozen paces away?

Then there were the more entertaining conversations that she walked past. Take, for instance, when she walked by the library while you and Wednesday were having tea.

“I bet they were all so incredibly repressed,” you said, your voice muffled from the walls of books.

“Why?” Wednesday asked, sounding so entirely disinterested.

“They couldn’t even show their ankles!” you answered.

“I believe I briefly showed you my lower leg once,” Wednesday said after a moment’s hesitation, teasing (and maybe even a smile) evident in her tone.

“I remember that, it was pretty scandalous,” you said, “definitely got me all hot and bothered.”

The sound of a slap and your muffled “hey!” resounded to where Morticia was still standing in the hallway. She smiled to herself before walking off. If that was how you were both going to discuss your blooming love life, who was she to judge? At least Wednesday was tolerating such behaviour in the first place.

Little steps.

One certain moment of listening in happened to teach her to stay far away whenever you two were alone. Even though it was hard to believe, she wasn’t intentionally searching for you both when you were alone. She just had a habit of roaming the house, and once she heard Wednesday’s voice or your laughter, she just couldn’t help but listen.

This time you were both in your room watching a movie of some sort.

“Am I ever going to get my sweatshirt back?” Wednesday asked.

“Only if you take it off me yourself,” you snorted. 

There was silence, the calm before the storm, before Morticia heard you scream “wait no!” and ruffling ensued, of course accompanied by your little squeaks and screams. She didn’t plan on hanging around to see how far you two took your movie night; if you were anything like she and Gomez were, then she was definitely going to put distance between herself and your room.

Although hearing the laughter coming from your room was more than worth it.

—---

Wednesday was starting to despise having to compete with her family for your attention. She had felt the same way when you had visited for Spring Break, but this was simply preposterous. Why on earth should she have to be the one to demand your attention when you gave it so openly to everyone else? After all, you were the one who insisted on officially labeling her as your girlfriend.

She was no expert, but that didn’t seem proper.

After interrogating her mother on your whereabouts, she marched her way to the cemetery where, just as her mother had said, you were sitting on the couch and looking up at the stars. You looked almost peaceful, with your wings out and your overly large sweater. How you had a sweater so big on you, she had no idea.

It was… cute.

You didn’t look up when she sat down beside you, just simply continued to look up at the stars while she looked at you. At the faintest scar by the corner of your eye that she suspected was from the full moon incident. Then at your hair, which was getting a little unruly but for some reason it fit you perfectly. Or your fingers which, for once, were simply fidgeting with each other instead of picking them apart.

“I like it out here,” you said after a few moments of sitting in silence.

“Outside?” Wednesday asked. Her eyes never once strayed from your face.

“Your house,” you continued. She took note of the smallest movement of the corner of your mouth. “It’s peaceful.”

Wednesday had to hold back a scoff at that. What part of her family, of all the pranks and experiments, was peaceful? They were chaotic, loud, they had a disembodied hand as family, for heaven’s sake. Nothing about the Addamses was peaceful, she didn’t comprehend how you could think such a thing.

“I think,” you continued slowly, your voice soft, “I think this is where I feel happy.” Wednesday’s eyes shot back up to look at you and the slightest shimmer in your eyes. “I don’t have any sad memories here.”

She would kill anyone if they found out, but she almost felt her black heart break. You were still talking, explaining. It didn’t matter because she was so focused on the movement of your lips, the tears welling in your eyes that were refusing to fall, the gentle, even rise and fall of your chest. Aside from the teary eyes, you looked at peace.

“Thinking about murder again?” You asked, drawing Wednesday back to the present where she finally noticed that you were looking at her. It was infuriating that you could get her so distracted.

“I was listening,” she said defensively, but you just gave her a soft smile.

“I know,” you said. “But you had that twinkle in your eye that usually means you’re thinking about some sort of crime you’re gonna commit.”

She narrowed her eyes at you and sighed. If you were going to notice her distraction, at least you hadn’t noticed the true reason behind it. Although, admittedly, she felt a swell of pride that you had noticed her enjoyment of crimes. Maybe you paid more attention than she thought.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, taking Wednesday aback.

“Why are you asking?” She asked in return. “You’ve kissed me before.”

“I’m trying to be polite, Addams,” you chuckled. “But fine, then I won’t-”

“-you can,” she interrupted a little too quickly.

The embarrassment eased slightly when you didn’t hesitate to cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss. It was soft, far softer than normal. There was no urgency but kept all the passion. Your fingers scratched lightly against her jaw and as humiliating as it was, she melted into your touch.

Her own arms wrapped around your neck and pulled you down until her back hit the couch cushions. Your hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head protectively, and her heart tried to jump up through her throat. Damn  you and your gentle hands for making her feel this weak. All she wanted to do was pull you closer until there was no space between you and-

“-hey!”

Wednesday’s eyes flew open at your exclamation, fear coursing through her veins. Were you hurt? Had she done something wrong? Her eyes trailed over every inch of you as you moved your free hand around, digging into the couch cushions until finally pulling out a dagger.

“And here I thought you were just excited to see me,” you teased. Wednesday rolled her eyes and slapped you lightly before taking the dagger from you.

“Are you done?” She asked, holding the dagger so it pointed at your side while you hovered above her.

“Are you threatening me with a knife?” You asked. “Cause I’m into that.”

“I will leave you here,” Wednesday threatened with another roll of her eyes. You were preposterous.

“No, wait,” you said quickly. You took the dagger from her and tossed it aside on the ground. “See? All better.”

Wednesday wanted to tease you, to leave you hanging and hopefully force you to reconsider your stupid jokes. But when you were looking down at her with those eyes, and that lazy half-smile, she couldn’t help herself. She just pulled you back down to feel your smile against her.

A sigh fell from her lips when your fingers gently scratched against her scalp. Such a soft gesture from rough fingers, you truly had her wrapped around your little finger. Her own hands moved to rest against your neck, feeling your racing pulse under her touch. Just that feeling alone, the proof of what she did to you, was more than enough to get your own pulse rushing in return.

You kept one hand planted beside her head as your other removed itself from her scalp, trailing down her neck so softly it left her shivering. It came to a stop on her hip, hesitant, before slipping just under the hem of her shirt. Oh. Oh that was different. That was nice.

She pulled you impossibly closer when your thumb started to rub circles on her bare hip. Your lips were rough but soft, which was quite the conundrum. But it was perfect for you because it was you. The perfect mix of rough and soft, gentle with a purpose. Rough fingers that trailed so softly over her skin, leaving an inferno in their wake.

Your hand tightened on Wednesday's waist when you moved your head to the crook of her neck. She could feel your lips brushing against her skin, right over her pulse, but you just stayed there. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss to her skin, on her neck, under her ear, on her slightly exposed collar bone. Each kiss sending another light shiver down her spine that she desperately hoped you couldn't feel.

"Come home with me," you said in a thick, gravelly voice. "Come meet my family." You left another kiss on her neck.

If her heart could have physically skipped a beat, it would have at your words. She grabbed your face and pulled you back to look at her. Your pupils were blown and you were breathing heavily through parted, kiss-swollen lips. Her answer was leaning up to kiss you again.

Your smile told her you understood.

---