#wensday addams imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fleetingvow · 1 year

Text

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday said crying never does anything, but why did a tear fall? will you never wake up?

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. character death ( reader’s ), just slight faint angst. more thoughts, less plot. countless usage of parallelism in sentence structures.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view.

𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗠𝗘𝗧 the ground. One after the other. Wednesday’s eyes slightly blinked, staring at her trembling hands stained with the essence of your life ebbing away in horror as she realised how much time you’ve spent with your eyes closed on the courtyard.

‘Tears,’ she thought. She looked away from it and continued to put her attention to you. She didn’t have to try that hard to do so, for everything that filled the arteries in her body all had something to do with the most damnable you.

It was all you.

You on the floor without a sardonic remark to catch her off guard. You and your pursed lips without a breath of exasperation from her antics. You and your cold hands that slipped away and lied so still. You and your pale appearance that shouldn’t be. You and your pulse that she couldn’t feel any longer. And mostly you being gone.

You were the reason that pulled the strings at the back of her mind and caused the salty disturbances to her sight. As she processed what had happened, she couldn’t look at you now. She furrowed her eyebrows and averted her gaze to the door that led to the inside of the school.

Wednesday could just walk away and leave you here. She could do that. But her feet betrayed her when she tried. Her heart — God, her abhorrent, distasteful, black cold heart; The crushing and tearing of it, although how intoxicating the pain may be, she felt defeated. Maybe you won the life-long challenge between you and her after all.

“I will kill you,” she mumbled to herself. She didn’t know what would make it feel better. She knew she had to do something to stop herself from feeling. She was feeling, the live creature kept in her ribcage was racing, her mind was spinning, and she could feel a wash of heavy emotions drown her. She needed to do something.

She wanted to do something. Wednesday clutched your uniform, tighter and tighter to the point that her nails almost dug through the fabric and cut her palm. This rage, it was something new. She wanted you. The tension that even the knives hidden under your bed couldn’t cut always screamed something like this. Like you were the most foul creature to ever walk the Earth. Like you were the tiniest little speck of dust on her shoe. Like you were the colour in her void making her want to scratch her eyes out.

Like you were — Like you’d be the reason she’d tear the world apart.

Wednesday wanted to deny it, but the thought made her notice a strange sensation again. She knew her disdain wasn’t truly disdain solely because of you, but it was scarier to admit now. She had lost her chance, her sanity, her will — Would you just wake up? She was tired of screaming at herself internally. She wanted to rest.

The damage the arrow had left her earlier was starting to take a toll on her, making her slowly and dubiously lay her head on your chest. She was tired. She wanted to lay down, and you couldn’t be the only one to enjoy peace, could you?

No. She couldn’t stand idly by as you enjoyed the tranquillity of what came after life and death. Wednesday could not bear it. She refused to, and she always will.

That’s when her ear touched the centre of your chest, and — Thump! Thump!

Her eyes widened at the sound. She frowned and fixed her position, shifting so she could still get a good grip of you and hold herself in place on the spot where she heard something she never thought she could again.

And there it was! A beat of your heart. Two, three. She didn’t hesitate once she heard it. Your heartbeats were faint, but she trusted whatever it was that existed that you had a chance.

She had a chance.

Wednesday quickly sat up and fixed herself alongside you, removing her jacket as she rolled her sleeves up in haste, positioning her hands in a way that she believed she’d never seen coming in her entire life. Years of believing she only cut the head of those unwilling to live a life. Years of torment as her favourite pastime, and now she had her hands fixed in a CPR position to revive a life she had long-resided to be unworthy and irritating.

She did not care. She wanted you alive so she could kill you herself.

The round of the first pumps and she already felt as though she was going to replace herself in your position due to her desperation.

“You're not going to die on me, I dare you.” She mumbled and resumed.

Once you’ve gotten yourself involved with Wednesday, she was sure that you’d never find a way out to escape her grip. She had poured whatever she had outside the lines of the usual her — the real her. She had run around frantically for you, had her mind run a million miles just to think about anything that correlated to you. She feared. She’d never been scared. Only for you.

Once she got to the third round of the CPR, Wednesday had gone back to zero, thinking you weren’t going to wake up again, but she was more stubborn than that.

You weren’t dead, you were just sleeping. That’s what she hopelessly believed. She lived in-denial. Breathed in denial as long as she was around you.

“If you don’t wake up, I’ll set this school on fire. Wake up, Y/N!”

Again.

You will die with her, but not now. At this point, Wednesday was aware of herself. Why she hated you, why she thought about you, why she wondered about your lips, why she looked at you up and down so hesitantly when you taunted her about the person she tolerated the most. It was ironic seeing you in a burning light but never truly wanting to set you on fire. In fact, she’d watch the world be set on fire by her own doing.

As long as she was watching it in your eyes.

Wednesday faintly grunted. “We’ll fight everyday, if that’s what you want. We have a deal, but I want the end of your bargain. Wake up. Do you hear me, L/N?”

“We’ll stab each other until we don’t see another spot in our bodies in which we could occupy with wounds. Just — ” The young Addams tried to stop herself from saying it. How she hated herself. Hated you for making her this way.

You were a crime, yet she didn’t mind committing it again and again.

“Wake up.”

Her braids were swinging back and forth with beads of sweat scattered on her forehead. “I look so utterly stupid because of you.”

“You will wake up, do you understand me?”

She didn’t know how long she’ll have to keep doing it, but it was a great relief when the door to the courtyard had been busted open and more people than she needed rushed to the courtyard, pointing their flashlights to the girl who never stopped doing the CPR on the unconscious you.

Everything seemed slower. Wednesday couldn’t hear anyone. She felt as if it was finally maybe alright if she let go of her composure when her relief washed over her that the help that she wanted was finally sprinting over to you.

Every movement, she felt like the time slowed on purpose, because once she looked at you once again, she felt her heart break once more when she spotted the man who checked your pulse shake his head solemnly.

Fuck, were you gone?

“No,” she absent-mindedly whispered, breaking from the gasp of the people taking her away from you. “No, she’s not dead!”

The man couldn’t look at her, sparking the vexation in Wednesday. She briskly grabbed him by the collar as her breath hitched, “She’s alive. I heard her heartbeat. You better do your job and start reviving her or I will put an end to this whole school with all of you in it.”

The others looked at each other, frightened by a threat made by a delinquent Nevermore kid before nodding. Another chance, and maybe you’d open those eyes again.

Another chance, and maybe this time, she’d tell you for sure just what it is that you do to her.

* * *

Static! Blood! Knife!

Those three words kept replaying like a broken record. The metallic smell of your blood had become so vivid you feared it would latch onto you forever. You were cold. Too cold you felt like you were dead.

Maybe you were.

You remembered the suffocating feeling. You recalled not being able to breathe, but what was it that you felt now? Nothing.

Nothing?

You winced. Oh, that’s what you felt now. That’s when your senses came back but almost too tired to fully function. You could still feel the familiar object buried deep in your abdomen, and fuck, how much it hurt!

“Wednesday saved her life.” Bianca? Was that her? You couldn’t open your eyes fully, but once it was half-up, the only things you saw were blue and red, blurry lights and blurry heads.

You wanted to fall asleep.

“If — girl hadn’t — CPR — hopeless.”

You didn’t care whatever the full sentence was. All you knew was you were about to slip back into your peaceful slumber, not knowing what had been happening the moment you woke up again.

Yet before you embraced the warmth of slumber, you saw the figure you hated on your side, staring at you so emotionless, making you ponder whether you were cared about or perceived to be stupid.

Maybe this was the last time you’d ever see those braids again, but it was okay to smile passive-aggressively, right?

You believed it to be a great way to die.

* * *

The knife plunging into you with the face of the evil staring tight at you in the face inflicted the pain of acid burning your insides. You couldn’t erase that.

The object kept appearing. Your blood kept flowing. Your gasps kept continuing to emit from your lips.

It kept repeating. Again and again and again.

You wanted it to end. You desired to scream. The fire that accompanied the scene in the courtyard danced around you, glad that you were meeting your end. Your family stood before you when you turned around, each one chanting the same thing, telling you never to return home again. Your past lover wishing they’d never met you joined in on the fun of tormenting you. Saying that you were their greatest regret and shame.

A storm soon started, and the pain was felt all over again. All you could see was the fire, the faces, the drops of the sky, and your blood everywhere. You spun around to look for a way out.

God, you wanted to live!

You didn’t want to die!

You wanted to breathe!

You wanted to feel!

You wanted to make more memories!

You wanted to dance under the rain!

You wanted to steal the English crown!

Your subconsciousness kept craving for more to life than walking around at the school, staring at people without another thought. Just that you were absolutely jealous that they had what you wanted.

Genuine love.

The moment your eyes met a certain pair peeking through her long lifted eyelashes, you almost believed in the thing called attraction. You resided in the faith that the attraction was because you were polar opposites and she kept standing out because she made you feel so irritated.

Yet you had the urge to touch her, feel her hands and touch her pale cold cheeks.

You wanted so many things, and why couldn’t you have that now?

You saw a blinding white light, a place in which you were unaware. There were things you were familiar with yet never familiarised yourself with before at the same time. You scanned your surroundings, the flash of colours now starting to appear. The blue, the green, the spectrum of refracted lights. You kept seeing the cursed smile, the blood on your hands, and the dagger in your flesh. You wanted to scream.

And then — and then there was Wednesday.

The Wednesday who sat beside the bed patiently, careful not to let the support of the chair touch her back. Her who pursed her lips without yet again any emotions peeking through her dead eyes. Her who stared at nothing. The Wednesday who swore to bring you down one day, and now holding your hand on the bed. You thought this was impossible. This was a hallucination for sure.

Her face was etched with fear and worry.

Wednesday never looked like that.

What was she doing following you in the afterlife? Didn't she have any better plans of holidays, dancing on top of graves somewhere?

You didn't believe it and almost laughed, "Wednesday Addams, as I live and breathe! You know you look terrifying when you zone — "

That’s when you realised it was all real. When the girl’s eyes gaped at you and her clutch tightened more that made you feel the full living of her you had hatefully adored. “You’re actually awake.”

“I am?”

“You will never do that to me again.”

“Do what again?” You playfully asked, playing the clueless card as if you weren’t just stabbed.

“Make horrible puns.”

“You missed me.”

“Barely.”

“I heard you saved my life.”

“I did not. I left you at the courtyard to bleed out to death.”

How come you even had the audacity to smirk at her right now after the heart attack she’d been experiencing since you were shown around with a knife to your abdomen?

“When can we throw knives at each other until there’s no spot in our bodies to torment again?”

“I won’t let you do that.”

“Wednesday!”

She emotionlessly looked at you before looking at the bunch of roses without the petals yet adored with thorns on the bedside. “You’re the most idiotic person I know.”

“I’m aware,” those roses. You knew those were her mother’s favourite. You almost diverted your gaze to shy away the smile that was twitching to form on your face, but instead, you returned the gesture of holding her hand. “But I’d do anything for you, Wednesday.” You looked away from the sudden confession.

A sigh. There it was. Were your feelings unreciprocated? Did you misunderstand her cues? You couldn’t understand.

But that was when she mumbled, unwavering like sturdy tree in the eye of a storm.

Wednesday gazed down at your hands, joined together without dirt and blood.

For a moment, she thought she’d never see that sight again. That she won’t ever lay her eyes upon the lively annoyingly missed you.

For a month she suffered silently, dismissing her writing hours in lieu of thinking about how you were and what had happened.

But you were here now. You were awake on the bed you’ve been sleeping in without wake, holding her pale hands with her painted fingers gripping yours desperately trying to remember the feeling for the later eternities to come. You were warm and alive.

Breathing and well, making her slightly pull her lips upwards. It was a good feeling. The poison in her veins she knew were spiked by everything about you.

You were stuck with her now. Forever is a really long time. Will you comit when she finally said it?

“I almost burnt the whole school for you.”

TAGS. @blazemaster4014 @n0p35 @elduster @niekapral @iquit-28 @vlkyriesverse @anidiotwhoreads @emscave @belltako @ryver19 @daddy-jareau @zoophobictiktok @justarandomweeblol @justtiasblog @angel-luv-04 @sunasami @kyday @llcursed-imagell @IIcursed-imageII @alexkolax @anouknagel @leathesimp @manu-007s-world @liliesandrosies @dandelions4us @pennybutwise @ilacknames @eclipsesmoonshine14 @wizardofstories @jas-the-shrimp @director-raven @simpform1lfs @dreifhraniquo29

NOTE TO TAGS. thank you all so fucking much for supporting and leaving notes to the fic that i have created! i am so thrilled that you’re willing to wait this far just to get a part two of the wednesday addams fic! you don’t know how happy i am that you have given appreciation to what i created, and how it motivates me to keep moving forward with this account and my writing overall. wednesday addams christmas special will surely be a thing this month! advanced happy christmas to each and every single one of you! <3

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams angst #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wensday x reader #wenesday x reader #wensday addams x reader #wenesday addams x reader #jenna ortega

1K notes · View notes

fleetingvow · 1 year

Note

Hello, I really loved your writing for Wednesday and was wondering if I could request something.

Reader was hurt badly on the final fight and Wednesday gets worried about her, gets emotional just as she did with Thing. She doesn't leave reader's side until she wakes up and when she does she can't help but hold her because she thought that was it for a moment, and maybe confesses her feelings? You can elaborate it as much as you'd like, I'd just like for that to be the general idea, love some hurt/comfort.

Much love. <3

‘ DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS .

Wednesday Addams x Female Reader.

SYNOPSIS. wednesday addams never cried for anyone, not until she held you fighting for your life, desperately trying to stay alive to return the whispered confession. ( 4.15k words )

NAVIGATION. part one - part two. masterlist.

WARNINGS. major angst. character death ( reader’s ). unproofread. english not being the author’s first language.

NOTE. written in second person’s point of view. another love by tom odell being the angsty essential to produce this fic.

REQUESTED BY. anonymous. thank you for your lovely words, and for trusting my writing to create a perfectly stomach churning plot! do enjoy this work.

LISTEN TO WHILE READING. optional. another love by tom odell.

TAGS. @ryver19 @danysflames

𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬 wasn’t worried about braving the ancient face of Crackstone before, she definitely was now. Not because she was scared of him. It’s because you were the most idiotic person she knew. What were you doing in a battle that you shouldn’t be in? Were you even aware of what you were getting yourself into? She wanted to know what was going through your mind when you marched in the courtyard without a weapon or anything to protect yourself with. Just a glare that wouldn’t do anything.

The fire burning so fierce dancing with the breeze turned slow. Everything seemed too leisure for her liking when she spotted you standing there. It was as if the world had stopped spinning, but it couldn’t possibly now, could it? Xavier was mad enough to try and help, and now you? What were you going to do? Why were you even here?

You weren’t glaring at the pilgrim. You were glaring at her. The blade that was in her possession had shattered and her attention was turned to you. That was the last thing you needed. You hated Wednesday for being the centre of everything because you knew it meant sacrificing so much, even herself.

She used to love seeing you angry and defeated, but not like this. Not this way when you were getting defeated by the monster that stood before her and not her. Not when your hair moved with the wind so slowly as she met your gaze while watching the fire burn in your eyes in the middle of danger. She felt weaker.

You were a vulnerability. A phenomenon in which she, herself, couldn’t even explain.

Paying attention to the movement in your peripheral view, your eyes darted to the figure, slowly coming to the revelation that it was Bianca, in all her grace, standing not so far away from the distracted pilgrim.

You heard a victorious crackle emit from the old man’s mouth, and that’s when you knew. You quickly turned to Wednesday who was trying her best to suppress her noises of struggle. It just made you angrier. Your heart skipped faster in your chest as your mind ran circles in your head, putting it all into shambles that made it difficult for you to think. This anger had neer been felt by you before. It was suffocating, restricting, and it tightened your chest to the point that you almost gasped for air. That’s when you recalled what you came there for.

To help Wednesday put Crackstone back to where he belongs.

You shut your eyes and found yourself a moment before opening them again. When the young Addams thought you had nothing as a weapon, she was wrong. Locking eyes with the siren, you nodded and lifted a hand to reveal the lustrous object from your back. Using your ability, you passed the dagger to the girl who took the blade, understanding the task that she now shouldered.

However, that didn’t provide you much comfort. Wednesday was looking at death straight in the face and your trembling body didn’t stop to just stand around and watch. Your feet dragged you hastily a few feet away from Bianca.

This caught Crackstone’s attention as he slowly turned his head to you, grinning like he faced the Devil in front of him and made a sacrifice for a deal. You couldn’t even describe the disgust and fear you felt as you saw his face fresh from the dead.

“Those who intrude shall join the abomination in the depths of hell!”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes as you swallowed your spit cautiously to watch his every little move that could be used against you.

What were you doing? You looked stupid! Wednesday’s furrowed eyebrows already said it all. Her heart pounding in her chest almost ripped her open when she saw Crackstone raising the sceptre in his hand, about to conjure such a damage on you. She hated that she couldn’t do anything but look at you, mentally telling you not to do what it is that you’re going to do and run to safety.

You lifted your arm slightly and tried your best to pull the sceptre away, but all it did was drain your energy and create a tension that you couldn’t even control, yourself. You were pulling his source of power, but it seemed as though your telekinetic ability wasn’t enough to do anything. Crackstone was far more powerful. You didn’t stand a chance.

You raised your other hand and conjured an object to hit him in an attempt to distract his attention from the focus he had on his sceptre. He didn’t budge and destroyed it to pieces.

“Enough!” He shouted and with a move of the mace, you were thrown across the courtyard, your back hitting the stone pillars causing you to descend to the ground with an aching body and a sharp grunt.

“Y/N!” It was unrecognisable as to who yelled for your name, but you were tired.

You were shaking extremely now. The statics ringing in your ears became deafening to the point that you didn’t hear what the next thing was. Your vision got blurry, and dark spots started to patch up your vision. You closed your eyelids shut numerously in an attempt to recover, and as you did so, you caught the bits and pieces of what was occurring right in front of you.

Bianca groaned as she toppled on the ground just the same as her. Crackstone looked unfazed as he stood with a stab, the fiery blaze of fire appearing on his back to his lower chest. He turned and soon, it was your turn as you stood. He took the blade to make use of it, but you weren’t having it. Not to Bianca. Not to anyone in that courtyard, except him.

You swiftly got on your feet, ignoring the statics and the migraine that had formed once you stood up. Your limping feet dragged you in front of the siren as you stopped right there with the dagger whipping past the air at lightning speed.

You were getting sick of lifting your hand, but it was needed this time or anyone in this courtyard is dead. You tried to stop the blade from rushing towards you, and for a second, you thought you did.

That was when you caught the smirk on Crackstone’s face. You knew it wasn’t good. So did Bianca. Your eyes widened in fear, but you didn’t have much time to react.

When with that, the blade pierced through your flesh with the sound of the metal cutting through your skin and burying deep in your body as you let out a shortened gasp. With pursed lips, you looked down and saw the dagger on your lower abdomen. The blood was quickly seeping through your clothes, shining under the joined light provided by the moon, the stars, and the fire that Wednesday thought used to burn in your eyes.

Before you completely succumbed to the dizziness was the sight of Crackstone turning to Wednesday. Then, it blurred. All your eyes could gather was the fire getting fiercer in the form of Crackstone’s figure. Was it fire? You didn’t know, but you heard the low monstrous scream that almost made you let out a victorious cry.

But once the final disappearance of his body started in the blaze, it burst into a powerful surge of what his power once was, causing a strong wave that wiped the fire off the courtyard.

You looked at Wednesday who returned the gesture as she glared at you with her sharp narrowed eyes. You plummeted to the ground shortly after with Bianca rushing over.

Wednesday marched forward and pushed the siren aside in haste as she kneeled down next to you. Your breaths were hitching, your hand laid on the dagger, stained with the red hue of your metallic blood. Beads of sweat started forming on your forehead which felt odd to you as you began to feel colder each minute.

“Don’t you dare pull out the knife,” Wednesday’s command made you groan. You could feel the metal in you, and it was the most discomforting sensation.

Wednesday didn’t know how to act or feel. She didn’t even know what to think, but the fact that you laid there on the ground, bleeding out as you trembled made her lose her mind. She couldn’t have that or else she’d lose her composure.

“I’ll call for help,” Bianca proclaimed before running out of the courtyard.

But that wasn’t the end of it all when you and Wednesday’s ears perked up at the sound of a gun cocking in the distance. And lo and behold was Thornhill with a gun in her hand, aimed at the girl who slowly stood up to confront Laurel.

“You brought a gun to a sword fight. It’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today.”

“I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I get to kill you, Wednesday.”

You groaned and shut your eyes from the stinging pain, your eyes getting tired to keep wide open as yet another fight occurred. Laurel had her gun pointed straight on Wednesday, but it was as if you didn’t feel the pain when a bee appeared followed by Eugene with his bright smile that seemed to crack the tension into two, replacing the delight of the moon to the shine of the sun.

You could’ve exceeded the amount of the stars of thanking him for saving Wednesday, but your breaths were getting shorter, and you knew there and then that this was probably the last time you’ll ever feel your heart beating in your chest.

You swallowed the lump on your throat. No, you can’t cry. Not now. Not here on the ground.

“Eugene, search the school for an emergency medical kit. Make it quick before I dig a grave.”

Wednesday turned to you, not wasting another minute to rush next to you again. She put her hand on your chest to feel the pound of your hope inside. You didn’t like this weak profile of you in front of the girl you so badly wanted to defeat just because you saw a bit of yourself in her.

( Cue the start of the music )

You always hated your reflection, hence why when she attended Nevermore, she had become nothing but a walking mirror yet also an ironic form of what you despised.

She despised you equally. You always gave her that stare she didn’t like. Wednesday found you to be a scuff on the floor she’d walk past on, but you became addicting to defeat that even winning against Bianca had become pointless when she spotted you in the crowd and challenged you in the archery field.

“It hurts,” you mumbled shakily as you tried your best to hold a noise down your throat.

She hated that. She hated that it affected her. Wednesday shouldn’t care for you, not after all the pent up anger she felt when you were around. Not the anger that made her want to stick around you more in order to rub it in your face that she was so much better than you tried to prove yourself to be.

A noise escaped your lips.

That made her close her eyes. She never did that. She wanted to remove the sight of you in front of her, and she thought it was just because you looked so human — weak. Or was it because of the hurt that she felt in her stomach? She has had enough. She wanted cotton to block her ears from your noise. You had been suppressing the noises, but God, this noise was different now. You were suffering, and it made her stomach churn once she noticed that she knew that.

Why would she know that about you?

“Wednesday,” you called, your voice being something she couldn’t get herself to listen to but still tried.

She opened her eyes and clenched her jaw.

“You’re about to cry.” Wednesday remarked dryly, hiding the fact that it made her want to stab her eyes for noticing such a detail. “It’s unnecessary.”

Who was she kidding? She had an arrow that pierced through the flesh of her shoulder and it already stung. What more a stab that she knew what felt like? Especially twisted. It was an electrocution with tenfold the increased voltage on the maimed part of the body. It wasn’t just that. There was more to it than she saw from you now.

You chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that too.”

You didn’t want things to end like this. Wednesday wasn’t a mirror. She was a similarity that you had an opportunity to know and relate to. You had a chance for her to be your friend, but instead of taking that chance, you looked at her like a competition just because you hated the aspect of yourself that you tried to link with her.

Wednesday tensed up when your bloody hand found hers on the dirty ground. Your fingers touching hers making her head spin faster than the Earth on its axis. There was a sensation there. On the spot that your cold hands inflicted upon the place of contact. A slight feeling that caused her to look down at it, her eyes going from anger to something gentle and unexplainable. You were holding her hand. She wanted to process that in her head.

You were holding her hand.

Wednesday wanted to kill after the contact, because the look you had on your face mirrored hers. She knew it wasn’t a good sign.

“Can we pretend like we didn’t try to kill each other for the whole term?” Your voice was barely a voice. The question had become a whisper that only she could hear.

No, no. You weren’t doing this. She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. The young Addams never asked for it but why were you doing it? God, you were stubborn. She hated you so much!

But you were you. There was nothing she could do about it. You were your own person, and that’s perhaps . . . Wednesday looked at your joined hands once again. It made her feel.

You made her feel.

Every aspect of you made her feel alive.

She thought she’d known thrill and the concept of romance all her life, but she was sure that every bit and piece of what she knew about it could be matched with this — this fluttery feeling in her stomach. The spark crackling on her skin that you were in contact with. Your eyes sending shivers down her spine. This state of you that angered her so much. Her knees shaking from fear of having no one in Nevermore to compete with once again.

Why did she feel this way?

She was supposed to despise you. Wednesday pursed her lips. She looked down at yours. There was a night that she pondered over why the first thing she kept seeing was your lips when she saw you. Then, after that one thought came the billions in her head when she lied still on her cold bed in the middle of the night that would sometimes even last until the light of dawn. She thought it was just because she hated you.

She thought it was just because you provoked such an emotion in her that was far too complicated for her to comprehend. Now, Wednesday wanted to test a theory, but was there even a theory to be tested, or was it the truth?

“I never hated you.”

She heard laughter from you. Was it funny that she said that? Was that statement pointless to you? Did it mean nothing? Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her eyelashes doing that thing you usually found amusing.

You looked away and focused on the blanket of stars glinting so brightly above you. You let out a breath, “Huh.”

Should you tell her the truth? “Since I’m dying, I think you deserve the truth.”

That made her look up at you again, tearing her gaze away from your hand again. you almost laughed at her if you weren’t so badly injured now.

“I think I never hated you too, Wednesday.”

If an instrument was checking the pounding of her heartbeat, the machine would have gone crazy as the lines came in shambles. It was the same for you, but how would you know? You — why was she staring at you like that?

Why were her eyes the ones glossy now?

“You’re about to cry.” You commented, ignoring the sharp pain that started to become worse now that you thought was like the one before. You didn’t think much of it. Yes, it was painful, but why would you? “It’s unnecessary.”

You gasped at yet another pain. Your hands clutched hers, making her shift in her spot, her fingers squeezing you back.

That didn’t help your already dying heartbeat. There was more to what you said before, but you had to refrain yourself drom embarrassing yourself in front of her just in case this was the last.

And you were sure this was your last.

You vowed never to fall for the traps of love, most especially its romantic form. You saw and experienced many things that you never wanted to look back on ever again. However, you hated how your wall slowly crumbled down for Wednesday who almost shared the same perspective as you, although hers was more glum and grim. Yours was about the matter of love. Hers was about life.

Maybe this similarity was the reason you managed to be close to her. Not that close. Just this close. Just this in which you’d share the peace in front of the quiet lake without saying another word. Just holding each other’s gazes on occasions and looking away, with you clearing your throat and her bumping your shoulder to the point that it would ache later on for no reason. Just stealing glances at certain times while the other was accompanied by another at the Rave’N. Just fighting most of the time. Just acting like nothing happened the next. Just ignoring each other’s presence while looking back when walking past each other in the corridors of Nevermore.

“Y/N?”

You gasped, “I can’t — ” You panted for air again, “Breathe.”

“Don’t speak.” Her trembling hand removed its grip from yours as she stood up, frantic yet graceful when she spotted and obtained the blade she banished Crackstone with on the ground. The girl cut the edge of her long skirt and proceeded to take a long piece, careful not to make her own shorter than it should be.

She then proceeded to kneel down next to you. No, you weren’t leaving her hanging like this. Your truth was barely the truth, and she wnated to hear from you. She badly wanted to hear your voice again in full volume, in that pitch that she always knew.

Wednesday cried for Thing, but God, you? She knew she’d fill an ocean. This couldn’t be happening to her again.

She hated you now. She hated how scared you were making her feel in that moment. Were you even aware of what you were doing to her? She was supposed to be in her best composure, handling this in a graceful way that wouldn’t require her to shake so much, to curse in her head just because you were struggling.

Why did she care?! She cared so much it was too unnecessary, and her eyes were starting to water from this sight of you.

The girl wrapped the cloth around the knife that she couldn’t pull out. She put pressure on the spot but her heart dropped to her stomach the most when a tear escaped your eye.

Wednesday’s eyes widened. She quickly took you by the shoulders and laid your head on her lap in a hurry. Now was the time that she didn’t know what to do the most.

You couldn’t leave her like this.

She couldn’t bear it. She wouldn’t.

She wanted to spend another moment alone in the quiet in front of the lake, staring at your reflections and stealing glances over the water.

She wanted to ponder about you at night, questioning why it was your lips first that she captured when she looked back at you when you passed by each other in the hallways.

She wanted — no, demanded to see your annoying face that kept popping up in her nightmares and daydreams to show up beaming at her, laughing at some stupid joke someone told.

Your life story can’t just end like this.

What was she to do without you? Wednesday could imagine a world where it was just you and her living off the taunts of each other, competing to wind, but enjoying each other’s company.

She envisioned you laying your head on her shoulder after a long exhausting day, ranting to her about how your day went. She could envision herself just nodding, being the same old her that people often thought did not care enough.

Did you care enough?

Because she did. Enough to hold you in her arms, to embarrass herself in front of you.

How the mighty have fallen for the graces of someone like you? You thought.

“If you die on me, I will make history repeat itself just to bring you back and I'll stab you again myself.”

You used what bit of your energy was left to quirk your lips up to form a curve. You liked Wednesday.

It was clearer than the water you occasionally stared at for hours in her company.

“Out of all the people in the world, the ones I share the same blood with, used to tell my secrets to,” you quietly gasped for air to continue, “This, Wednesday Addams . . .”

Your clutch on her arm was starting to loosen as your eyelids started to slowly drop down to meet the darkness.

“This is the only time I feel given a damn about.”

Wednesday’s eyes didn’t know which to focus on. They darted on the dagger, the blood, the cloth, your eyes, your parted lips — “Y/N?” That was the first time her call for someone had a frantic frightened tone.

Your hand on the ground without another sign of movement was a touch of something that amde her feel as if someone had poured acid in her stomach. Her hand made its way to your cheek, not caring whether the blood on her hand got on your face.

Why weren’t you waking up? Why weren’t you opening her eyes and shooting up from the ground to tell her that you were just joking? She didn’t care if it was a fucked up prank, as long as she knew you were still there.

But no, God no, you weren’t.

“Wake up, Y/N.”

She shook you, but there was nothing. She placed two fingers on the side of your neck to check your pulse but she couldn’t get any sign of it.

A tear fell.

Wednesday halted. The girl touched her cheek, wiping the drop of what she vowed never to do again and leisurely examined her finger that shone with the wet surface because of the tear.

There she knew.

Wednesday wished she had realised it before, but no, it took you reaching the end of your own life story before she could even understand.

She knew a bit about you.

She knew you were Y/N and that you used to live in a small home in a small town in Romania where you had a family that pushed you around just because you were an outcast. That you had a gift that none of them could accept, for it was deemed to be witchcraft or that it made them insecure to use as a reason to make you feel small.

She knew you used to have friends who spilled all your secrets that made you fall from your grace. From being at the top down to the six foot level underground.

She knew you had a fling. She knew it didn’t end well. She knew your family put you in Nevermore to get rid of you and find yourself.

She knew that you cried yourself to sleep, knew that you believed that no one cared.

She knew what was going on in the back of your mind when you wiped away your tears in front of the lake.

Wednesday just wished she never looked away when she saw who you were. She wished she never resisted what it was that she felt.

Because what you went through? She knew it was that much of a cut and the stab that Crackstone had done to you was the thousandth.

Or maybe it was the words that were left unsaid?

AUTHOR’S NOTE. part two will be coming up soon! this will be edited tomorrow since it’s so late already and i have to wake up in about four hours again. if you want to get tagged for the next part, just leave a comment. thank you!

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams angst #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #wednesday #fleetingvow #wednesday addams imagines #jenna ortega wednesday #wensday addams x reader #wednesday addams fic rec #wednesday addams request #wednesday addams netflix #wednesday x reader

2K notes · View notes