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Chapter Text

Wednesday’s PoV.
The final days of Nevermore, weeks before graduation. Wednesday has done it all, being a back-to-back instrumental player in winning The Poe Cup every year, made The Hummers the most respected extra-curricular club and somehow winning best dressed her final year even though her style had not evolved at all. Maybe the rest of the world had instead. But she had not done the one thing that truly matters. Confessing her love for Enid Sinclair, the one light bright enough to shine through and illuminate the darkness within Wednesday Addams. Though no one would expect or believe it of the petite goth, she pines for Enid and her affections. She has thus far accepted being a close friend and roommate to Enid and with ever-present jealousy seen Enid try, and thankfully reject, partners of both sexes. Wednesday cannot for the life of her understand what Enid saw in the insipid Ajax nor in her later partners-for-a-time though at least somewhat pacified by them all being of the female sex. Many a murder plans had been hatched by Wednesday before Enid finally dumped them and made the actions, for now, redundant. Wednesday could always resurrect them though, situation willing. Merely thinking of anyone else but her with Enid makes her blood boil.

Wednesday fondly thinks back on the early days of their life together. Enid was much too colorful, in every way, for her when they started out rooming together. Whether clothing, personality or interest-wise. While color gives Wednesday the hives, she somehow has grown to not just like, but love, the profusion of shades that is Enid Sinclair. How her hair sparkles with inherent sunlight, and edge-dyed in the ombre colors of the rainbow which should make her beat a hasty retreat but instead just makes her intrigued. Watching the interplay of shade, light and color in Enid’s hair can captivate Wednesday for hours on end. And often does. The always so chipper Enid can light up any room, even ones inside Wednesday’s heart, with her smile and while her peals of laughter ring like the sweetest bells it often feels tinged with sadness these last few days. A situation that must, must, be rectified. Something always hovers behind the curtain, a shadow in the middle of the zenith sun. It saddens Wednesday to her very core that Enid cannot see how beautiful, inside and out, she is and why she is the most precious person on earth. Wednesday vows to herself to alleviate this situation, come hell or high water.

Shocked out of her reverie by the pealing of the class bell Wednesday realizes she has only minutes to get to class. She is already, impeccably, dressed in a crisp white wide-lapelled dress shirt with double cuffs, held together with elegant skull and bones cufflinks in 925 sterling silver, a black cashmere sweater so dark it absorbs any light that hits it, worn together with a long pleated skirt of the same colour, custom-made brogue-patterned low heels (also black) and as the perfect accessory the chicest of silk gloves in a matching dark colour. This along with perfect braids that fall behind both shoulders. She sweeps out of her and Enid’s room and in a very elegant, if distance devouring, stride heads to some of her final classes. A room that used to be all colour on one side, and all bleak on the other. While it over the years morphed into a more hotchpotch of both, whichever side you chose. Having used her breakfast time thinking about Enid she will have to forego sustenance until lunch, but she has been subjected to survival games without food since she was four so what else is new. As she passes the Quad she spies Bianca Barclay, dressed in marine blue crop top, an even darker jeans jacket and athleisure style pants of a lighter blue, and her cronies who have converged around a dejected-looking Enid. Making a beeline for the group, her mien darkening like the sudden onset of storm clouds on the horizon. Bianca sees her coming and makes an imperious gesture to her posse, who have tried to copy Bianca’s look with less panache, who respond without breaking stride in whatever shenanigans they have going on with poor Enid. Enid, while dressed in a very cute set-up of baby pink top with Hello Kitty motif as well as light yellow shorts creating a very Barbie get-up paired with one pink and one yellow sneaker in a style that comes off as fun rather than weird somehow, looks nauseous in the middle of this pack of hyenas. A look that has Wednesday’s furious, no one is allowed to hurt her Enid. No-one!
“So what is even your plan this year, you can’t do what you did last year.” Bianca drawls and makes suggestive eyes at her posse. Who snigger as if on cue.
“Like it’s any of your business?!” Enid snaps back. Looking both embarrassed and miffed at the same time. A combo of emotions that does not do wonders for her aesthetics.
“Or are you suffering through it alone, or with your ”roommate”?” Bianca’s tone rises as if incredulous while moving her eyes over towards the onrushing Wednesday, making those classic wavy hands around the final word. Wednesday surely does not like her tone, not one bit.
“You have an issue with me Barclay you can take it up with me, directly. And leave Enid out of it.” Wednesday snaps at her, in a tone low and murderous. A voice that could freeze boiling water.
“Oh I have issues with both of you just existing, and I will talk to whomever and whenever I like without your by-your-leave!” Bianca snarls right back, her registers also diving down to try and match Wednesday. If not really finding the right tone. Though she does come close, and her confidantes ooh and aah in appreciation of the comeback.
“You are just jelly it isn’t me Enid, and you know it!” Bianca drawls and makes a biting motion toward Enid, who recoils and turns even paler, before Bianca spins on her heels and marches away with her cronies doing similar moves as if they’ve practiced it beforehand. Which they surely have, what other things do mean girls spend their time on after all.
Wednesday watches the gaggle of fools leave, with murderous intentions, before turning back to Enid. “What was that all about?!” Wednesday asks, maybe a bit too harshly as Enid recoils from this too. Making Wednesday feel like a bully, to the one person she cannot stomach ever harming. “Nothing… Er. No, we can talk about it some other time. Ignore the bitches, haters gonna hate.” Enid says all this while pointedly not meeting Wednesday’s eyes, which makes it clear that she is either lying or at least not being entirely truthful. Her body language is also very muted, barely moving either arms or legs in a very non-Enid fashion. “If they ever bother you, I will eviscerate them. Just say the word.” Wednesday means every word, and enunciates them carefully and deliberately.

Enid chuckles in response, which makes Wednesday’s mood lighten, and perks up somewhat while still looking a bit despondent. What Wednesday would not give to take all those worries away, there is no cost great enough that she would not pay to see her golden girl smile ear to ear and with conviction. “We can discuss it tonight… yeah. Tonight…” Enid chokes out, it seems to come out almost against her will, or at least with a lot of effort. Making Wednesday confused and interested at the same time. Wednesday doesn’t want to pressure her anymore than she already has and decides that truth will out later today, Enid willing or not. Wednesday can be very persuasive when she wants something. Very persuasive. “Let’s get to class, I’ll escort you so no more morons accost you.” Wednesday deadpans and Enid nods along happily.

Together they saunter out of the Quad toward some of their final classes before finals. The weather is fine and white cottony clouds scud across the sky on the spring breeze, the sun is finally warming rather than just bringing a modicum of light. Wednesday is at the same time making plans, many plans. Many of a murderous nature, but what else is new.

Chapter Text

Enid’s PoV.

Enid cannot remember when Wednesday started to be so protective of her but she secretly loves it, she just wishes it wasn’t just because they were roommates and best friends, or at least good friends she hopes. Nothing Wednesday does could leave Enid indifferent, the way she dresses, moves and talks is all just so powerful . All the things Enid doesn’t see in herself, not in any perceivable way. All those things can be found, and in abundance, in Wednesday Addams. Once they hugged after defeating Crackstone she has hungered for more body contact, and for a different reason than just being friendly. You don’t think the way Enid does about friends, unless you think of benefits along with the friendship.

The girls have grown way closer over the years and one is rarely seen without the other, but stepping over that final border seems to still be too large a leap to make. A chasm so wide Enid can’t even imagine seeing the other side, since going all the way there would mean having to declare her infatuation with Wednesday. And it could harm their friendship and leave Enid without Wednesday, a fate worse, much worse, than death. It does not bear even thinking of it. So Enid will rather pine and suffer in silence than lose her object of affection completely. She is after all quite used to not being given what she wants and desires. Always the runt of the litter, never thanked for anything nor even spoken to unless to criticize. Her mother is chiefly to blame but no one of all the would-be alphas of her pack seem to want to stand up to Esther. At least not for Enid.

The rest of the school day blazes past in what seems like seconds. Enid trying to take notes and follow along in the lectures and instructions while Wednesday just sits in the seat next to her, never writing a single word down and always delivering flawless answers to even the hardest of questions. Enid wishes she had an iota of Wednesday’s confidence, just that would far eclipse what she has in herself.

But more than school work what is foremost on her mind is how to get through the week without fucking things up for herself, Wednesday or both. She can feel her core growing hotter for no other reason than that it is that time of the year, she has somehow contrived to stay out of Wednesday’s way during this period in her previous terms but this year with finals so close there is no chance Wednesday will be out of Nevermore for Enid’s coming heat. Oh the horror.

Of course her core is always a bit on fire if Wednesday is in the room, the way Wednesday sits on a chair or grips a pencil can make Enid slick up any day of the week. The grace of Wednesday and the purpose of action just hits different for Enid. And with heat looming whatever she usually feels is magnified tenfold. Making focus not only hard, but downright impossible. Who cares about rune language or deadly plants and their effects when images of Wednesday’s long and lithe fingers going to work on her nether regions crop up, whichever hole doesn’t matter to Enid or her imaginary Wednesday partner. Usually imaginary Wednesday will take the lead, being somehow the greatest sex partner and gentlewoman known on earth. Asking for consent of course but will then deliver Enid to multiple imaginary orgasms, one hotter than the other. Worst are the hot dreams that have happened every night the previous week, Enid often wakes in a puddle of slick, the heavy vanilla and cinnamon smell of her pervading the air. Or worse yet she wakes from the orgasm going from dream to reality. She awakens, her chest heaving and breath shuddering, as she tries to perceive if Wednesday has noticed or not. Somehow what the dark and somber girl thinks is more important than anything else to Enid. She cannot ever really know though, that girl sleeps like a corpse in a chest and nothing reveals if she is cognizant of Enid’s depraved state or not. All while her pussy convulses around nothing now that the imaginary fingers, or tongue, are absent.  And the climactic dreams usually involve not just Wednesday’s hands, but also her mouth.

Just thinking about the dreams makes Enid grind her thighs together to ease some of the tension, releasing another wave of pheromone-riddled slick making the room smell like fresh baked cinnamon buns. Causing Enid to flush a red so deep it borders on crimson. Wednesday eyes her suspiciously, forcing Enid to wonder if she inadvertently moaned as well. She sure hopes not, she is mortified enough as is. If Wednesday knew what Enid was thinking she would never see Wednesday again, and she would be crushed like never before. Never to recover, for what would be the point of life if there was no Wednesday there to live alongside anymore.

After their final class is dismissed and they head to their room to chill before dinner Enid decides that she has to come clean, she cannot keep Wednesday in the dark about what is about to happen. No matter how mortified she is about it. Wednesday sits down in her chair, beside her ancient typewriter and the massive hardwood desk, and nails Enid with her hawklike gaze. If Enid wasn’t nervous, and horny, before she surely was now. She freezes like a deer in headlight at the same time as her slick further destroys her already soaked underwear. She really cannot keep her shit together when Wednesday looks at her that way. She doesn’t know who could, I mean really…

“You were going to explain yourself.” Wednesday says calmly, leaving what needs to be explained up to Enid. Who, being Enid, obviously panics and draws the wrong conclusion. “I… uh… You see… I am so… W….” Enid stammers and massively unsure of what she can and cannot say. How far is she willing to go? She cannot make Wednesday leave, she cannot!
“Jesus, Enid. You said at breakfast that you were going to explain the Bitch Pack’s behaviour toward you this morning.” Wednesday clarifies with a roll of her eyes, using their favorite moniker for Bianca and her posse that is only ever uttered between close friends. While Wednesday would gladly utter it at any time, Enid has implored her not to and she for some reason has heeded her advice.

Enid composes herself, draws a shaky and shuddering breath, which causes her chest to push out and her nipples strain the tops fabric and she sees how Wednesday’s eyes shoot down for a second. Enid then looks up to meet Wednesday’s eyes who appear to not at all have flicked downward, is she hallucinating on top of everything else?!. “How much do you know of Werewolf biology?” Enid hesitantly starts, better to tread lightly than fuck it all up.
“I know a lot, I study. Religiously. Do you want a TL/DR or the full lecture on your own species?” Wednesday answers drily. Her one eyebrow shooting up, asking a question as much as her words are.
“We, uh, submissive wolves go through a special thing every year.” Enid clearly cannot bring herself to say the word, but she desperately wants Wednesday to understand. Her eyes are big, almost tearing up with the intensity of her feelings. Surely Wednesday must understand enough from this information.
“Are you talking about a heat? Wait, did you say submissive wolf?!” Wednesday is never caught out, but she sure looks to be having a hard time comprehending what is coming out of Enid’s mouth at the moment. If Enid wasn’t so wrapped up in her own revelations she would be rather proud in being able to shock the oh so put-together Wednesday. As is she barely even cognizant of it happening.

“Yeah… uh… heat. That’s it, the submissive part I just thought everyone knew. I don’t ever stand up for myself, you must see this. Not that all submissives are like this, but… eh… whatever.” Enid’s monologue peters out as she peeks up from under her bangs at Wednesday, her heart hammering in her chest like never before. This is not just talking about something embarrassing but also to her best friend, she hopes, and someone she could not comprehend spending any length of time without. No matter how short.
“You are not a coward Enid… I will not hear you speak so of yourself. I refuse to let you believe such uncouth lies about yourself.” Wednesday is snarling and her eyes are narrowed in a way that shows her at her most lethal and dangerous. Enid gulps at the sight of it.
“If you say so… Eh… Anyway. My heat is coming in any day now and I am sure you will want to move out for it… or something.” Enid can hardly breathe anymore as she mutters these words in her smallest of voices. Wednesday’s eyes shoot wide in consternation or shock. Enid sure hopes she hasn’t driven her away forever.
“Leave you?! Never! Why ever would I do so…” Wednesday exclaims, and Enid draws a massive sigh of relief. Hear heart fluttering as much as her lungs. Wednesday’s eyes narrow as if recollecting something.

“That abhorrent siren upstart, that is what she meant. She thinks she is good enough for you, I will gut her like the fish she is!” Wednesday all but shouts, this from a person who never so much as raises her voice in any circumstance. Enid is about to query Wednesday about what the heck she is talking about when said minute goth springs out of her chair as if shot from a cannon and strides toward the door at a speed that might break the sound barrier. Enid can’t do much else but follow, totally clueless as to what is going on. Wednesday has always been odd, but this is surely being extra.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s PoV.

Wednesday is shocked, a feeling she is not very accustomed to, by a number of things today. One , how can she not have realized Enid had gone through several heats during her time here at Nevermore. Did she not trust Wednesday enough to say it? The thought did not give her any rest, she absolutely could not lose Enid. Not now, not ever. Two , she feels things way more than she ever has before. Could this be because she has finally accepted that she loves Enid. It is a logical conclusion Wednesday thinks, and she is logical if she is anything. Yet these emotions are troubling as Wednesday has no real experience handling them, nor knowledge of if her feelings are requited or not. Three , that absolute tool of a water-dweller thinks she is on Enid’s level, or even above. The thought both makes Wednesday laugh, and seethe with fury. It will not stand, she will not let such a slight go unnoticed.

Wednesday sprints down towards the dining hall while working off her right glove at the same time. Enid is following as well as she can with her heart in her stomach, clearly bewildered about Wednesday’s actions. Making small noises of protest or query which Wednesday at the moment chooses to ignore. Wednesday is known for a singular focus when necessary.
Bianca and her gaggle of suck-ups is at their usual table and the queen herself merely glances at Wednesday as she stops at the head of the table.

“Well… What got your panties in a twist Addams?!” Bianca drawls and twirls her fingers against the side of her forehead to further push her point that Wednesday is acting completely loco. Her cronies giggle along.

“You are unworthy of being the ground Enid walks on, and by an order of several magnitudes even less worthy of sharing her bed!” Wednesday spits the words out with such a dose of venom that even people at other tables gasp at hearing it. As she says the final words she throws her black silk glove in the face of Bianca. If it only were a gauntlet Wednesday thinks, it would hurt more. And she wants Bianca to hurt.

“What the fuck Wednesday?! Is this about the heat joke? Come on, like I would stoop that low. What’s with the glove? You hate having complete pairs?” Bianca is having a hard time controlling her voice which shoots from a high shocked register into something more like her usual disinterested drawl. She is clearly not accustomed to this way of someone acting toward her and her voice can’t really find the right timber. The hang-arounds gasp with collective ire and shock. The sound curiously synchronized.

“I would think you would recognize a challenge when one hits you in the face, you do claim to be a fencer after all. All evidence to the contrary…” Wednesday hisses, showing how a low register threat is meant to be delivered. The sound creating a reverberation in the stomach of people around her.

“Challenge?! To what? For what reason?!” Bianca is clearly so shocked she can’t even try to sound anything but questioning, and possibly a little afraid. She has after all been challenged by an Addams, a lethal concept for anyone. And Bianca is not ready, not by a mile.

“To a duel, your choice of weapon. You have slighted my Enid, and will answer for it. Today!” Wednesday clarifies the terms as Bianca’s eyes grow ever larger. There is now so little white left that her eyes look black.
Enid is stood right there gaping and throwing her eyes back and forth between the siren and the goth like there is a high-speed ping-pong game going on. She could not look more surprised if she tried. And Enid is a trier, die-hard.

“You wanna lose so badly, who am I to stop you. I already beat you in fencing, so why not have a rematch. With a rapier this time! And as if there is any honor to slight on that air-head you call a friend.” Bianca growls back, she is clearly trying to omit the fact that she has not beat Wednesday since that first time at the very start of the first year. She has pointedly avoided ever meeting Wednesday in a new bout. A fact not lost on Wednesday.

“You will regret those words, have your dinner and meet me outside the main gate in an hour. Bring your weapon and a second. And maybe say a last prayer or send a final message to your relatives.” Wednesday doesn’t even wait for a response but charges out of the dining hall with Enid following along like a confused puppy on a string.
Outside the dining hall Wednesday turns to Enid and grabs her by the shoulders and looks deep in her eyes.
“I need to seek out Eugene and grab my weapon, but this shouldn’t take long to settle.” Wednesday speaks evenly, like this is just another stroll along the cemetery that she often frequents because it, and I quote, ”lightens her spirit”. No matter how much she claims to loathe Morticia’s presence she does practice a lot of what the older woman taught her. Curious really.

“Eugene?! Wait, why?” Enid is still as clueless as before and is more and more looking like a fish out of water. Mouth opening and closing aimlessly. Which is cute, if repetitive. Those lips could, and should, do so much more Wednesday ponders.
“He is my second, do you know nothing of duel protocol?” Wednesday deadpans. Oblivious to how confused Enid seems to be. Wednesday is locked in now and nothing can stop her.
“Duels, yeah. Not really a thing we submissive tend to get involved in. People only do it for us… To show who can best ”take care of his sub”…” Enid’s voice travels down toward a whisper, face falling again and lips turning downward. How Wednesday wishes she could turn that frown upside down.

Wednesday scoffs at the statement and for a short second rests her forehead on Enid’s, having to stand on her toes to do so being as short as she is. She grips Enid’s shoulders tighter, not really wanting to let go but when there is a duel to win she needs to prepare. If she were to lose this it would not just be her own loss, but failing to stand up for Enid. A fate worse than death. Determination settles like a bottom-frozen lake at the base of her stomach, grounding her in the absolute fury she feels about Bianca and anyone else insulting her sweet Enid. But then again, revenge is dish best served cold. And Wednesday can be cold, the absolute zero kind. Letting Enid go she sprints off towards the hive. Leaving Enid alone and bewildered, though her eyes are no longer downcast and her shoulders are pushed back into a pose showing some confidence. Had Wednesday seen it, she would’ve been mighty proud of her puppy showing some claws.

Eugene is startled by Wednesday barging into the hive and grabbing his arm to haul him out of there.
“Hey, what is going on Wednesday?” Eugene yelps as he tries to keep on his feet and feebly struggles against the tug of Wednesday.
“We have a duel to win, you are my second. Let’s go. Leave the hive duties to one of the newbies, they need the experience.” Wednesday barely even looks at him as she informs him of the state of things. Eugene nods along while his eyes grow wider.
“You have finally decided to tell her then?” Eugene asks. Making a statement out of something that drops like an atomic bomb on Wednesday’s world.

“Tell her what?!” Wednesday stops, letting Eugene get back on his bearing. Without the insistent pull of the much stronger girl.
“That you love Enid, of course?” Eugene replies. Like it is the most evident thing in the world. And it somehow just is.
“How do you… I have not told you anything.” Wednesday is struggling to control her tone, and to be honest her breathing. Not a feeling she has any experience with, she is used to being strangled of course. By Gomez, Fester, other relatives, but it has never felt quite like this. She was then always sure to recover, and give back worse than she got. This could be spiritually fatal instead.
“I am your closest friend, and I know you better than you think. I see the way you look at Enid, how protective you are of her. It is more than just friendship.” Eugene states this as if it is clear to anyone with eyes. And to him it probably is, to anyone else Wednesday is an ice queen.

“I see, no fooling you. Hmm. Does everyone know?” Wednesday does not look, or sound, as if she is blindsided by this information but internally she is reeling. She has always been so good at controlling her emotions and actions, can she truly be so easy to read? She feels cast adrift at sea, in the choppiest of waters.
“I don’t think so, but I’m probably not the only one who suspects this.” Eugene says in a warm comforting tone, careful to not try to pat Wednesday’s shoulder or anything as the only physical contact she seems to accept is Enid’s. Anyone else she will hurt, a lot, if they touch her.
“Ah, well. No use crying over spilled blood, we need to find my sword and dress accordingly. No time to lose.” She drags Eugene out of the hive and he seems to take it in stride and just accepts that this is his evening now.

As the sun is starting to descend Wednesday strides out of the main gates of Nevermore in an all black outfit made out of what appears to be very tight-fitting leather. It could look dominatrixy if not for that it just screams swords-master, or even more ninja or assassin or something in that vein. Which is not far from the truth, Wednesday has after all spent more time with blades than most people have spent on social media. Her father has drilled her in all bladed, and non-bladed, weapons as well as unarmed hand-to-hand combat since she could move about on her own accord. Gomez has never believed in half measures and Wednesday has never handled a blunted blade, if you make a mistake you bleed. That is just a fact of life to Wednesday. To say she is an accomplished fighter is to call a Navy SEAL a basic soldier. The lush lawn outside Nevermore is growing beautifully green in the ever warmer spring as it slowly, slowly edges toward summer. The sky is still bright as the sun stays longer and longer for every day, meaning anyone looking will have no problem following the spectacle that is about to ensue.

Bianca is waiting on the lawn with her head yes-sayer girl, Anastasia Grey, as a second. Along with most of the Nevermore students as onlookers. Everyone is somehow clumped in the middle, not wanting to be seen to be choosing sides. Getting on the wrong end of either of the two girls about to throw down would be a bad idea. So why chance it. Bianca is dressed in more classic athleisure of a snug curve-fitting modern synthetic material in navy blue. Anastasia is holding Bianca's rapier for her in a polished and highly decorated sheath with a billowing pattern of seaweed in lighter shades of blue than the scabbard itself, very in keeping with her Siren ancestry. She flexes her shoulders and does some warm-up patterns to get ready for the coming duel as she sees Wednesday coming. Eugene, also dressed in all black but a more somber get-up of what seem to be a silk doublet and trousers along with some weird-ass sack-of-leather black suede shoes that do seem to be comfortable as hell. Looking like something out of Game of Thrones or the nearest LARP-group, if LARPers had access to the finest silk and tailoring skills in the world. Wednesday had produced the entire get-up from an extra drawer in her chiffonier. Almost like Wednesday expected to one day have to do this, and had clothes for a second, somehow tailor-made for Eugene, just lying around in waiting. Expenses mean nothing to an Addams, so why not be well prepared? And Eugene looks very dapper to boot.

Eugene also carries Wednesday’s rapier. Completely unornamented except for a small Addams family crest close to pommel and the french grip shaped like a stylized W. Hand crafted by Gomez himself. Haunting yet classically beautiful, much like its owner. The sheath itself is a thing of understated beauty, made out of whorled steel that has been worked and reworked so many times an intricate pattern forms in the steel itself. A technique few can even master anymore, let alone use for the scabbard of a weapon, and making the covering for the sword neigh on unbreakable. Given a chance Wednesday could show how to use just the case of the sword with devastating effect without even drawing the blade itself. Wednesday draws up parallel to Bianca and draws her blade via the French grip leaving Eugene with the scabbard. If the outer part of the sword was magnificent it pales in comparison to the absolute perfection of the blade. It is not shiny but rather in a thousands shades of grey and black. It seems to be more made of smoke than of steel, shifting in tone from the lightest of mist to the darkest of sooty haze at a forge. The effect is unsettling, much like the focused visage of its wielder. Bianca is seen to swallow extra hard when she sees the weapon but resolutely draws her own. Her blade is, like its scabbard, of a blue shade and worked with snaking tendrils of seaweed intaglio in golden green. While a thing of marvel in most cases, it doesn’t hold a candle to Wednesday’s weapon of choice. Just like the torch does not outshine the noon-day sun.

Wednesday wastes no words, she just brings her rapier up toward her forehead in the classic salute and waits for Bianca to do the same. A heavy silence settles across the lawn as Bianca copies Wednesday’s gesture and barely having done so Wednesday is no longer standing where she was. Not giving her opponent the slightest of time to adjust Wednesday is on Bianca in less than the blink of an eye, her blade coming out in a vicious swipe that would’ve taken out one of Bianca’s eyes had she not parried in the last second. 
Bianca yelps and backpedals quickly to try and build some distance and recoup. Wednesday is having none of it and releases three quick snaking strikes of which two make it through Bianca’s hurried guard, leaving angry red lines along Bianca’s shoulder and hip. Splitting the synthetic material, and then underlying skin, like a hot knife through butter. The tiny wounds start to weep a thin stream of blood.
Bianca hisses at the pain and tries to go on the offensive herself. Delivering a perfectly executed advance-lunge that Wednesday effortlessly just sidesteps it in the esquive style and slaps her own blade down on the crossguard of Bianca’s blade making a clanging sound and almost causing the siren to lose her blade. Wednesday thinks to herself that this was easier than anticipated, Bianca is not even close to her own skill anymore. Having trained every day for her entire life, something her time at Nevermore has not hindered, Wednesday is more than a little bit better than her first day. Something that cannot be said for Bianca, who has probably just kept her skill level intact rather than grown it.
Wednesday turns her back to Bianca and by just listening to the sound of the taller girl’s blade whining through the air manages to duck under it, passata sotto style, and with a perfect spinning riposte leaves Bianca with yet another bleeding gash, now across her stomach. Bianca grunts and her movements, and her eyes darting around erraticly, show how completely out of her depth she is. Wednesday, with the grace of a ballet dancer, draws up into an En garde position directly followed by a sweeping advance lunge of her own that shaves off a few inches of Bianca’s hair on her right side. Not exactly improving her coiffe, she will have to go back to her earlier buzz cut. The crowd is tittering now, shocked gasps can be heard for every hit Wednesday scores. And snickers at Bianca’s increasingly desperate counter-lunges, which all miss.

Clearly not even trying to hurt Bianca anymore, Wednesday is now playing with her food. Wednesday is moving like lightning, with the murderous intent of a cold-blooded killer and giving absolutely no ground to her opponent. Gomez himself would be proud to see his daughter so absolutely trounce her opposition while not letting herself slip the slightest or revel too hard in her victories.
Wednesday is only scoring the minimum of touches, but making them count. Every slash and strike leaves a new thin line of red somewhere on Bianca’s body where it will hurt, and show, the most. Soon enough Bianca’s uniform will no longer stay together at all and this will become more of a strip-show, albeit with swords, than a duel.
Wednesday feels that she has better shit to do than play around with Bianca Barclay, even if it is nice to work off some anger and look good while doing so. Wednesday glides from a new En garde into a smooth collection of forms that end on a Prise de Fer froissement as Wednesday twirls her blade around Bianca’s, unbalancing it, and ultimately brings her blade down on her opponent’s hand in a rapping motion which causes Bianca’s hand to spasm and lose control of her iron. Wednesday follows it up with a sweeping drop kick, where Wednesday’s leg hits the back of Bianca’s, which topples Bianca to her back on the grass. As Bianca is dropping Wednesday catches the blue blade in her other hand and brings the two swords down on either side of Bianca’s throat in a cross like a pair of scissors. Clearly showing who has won, unequivocally.

“OK, OK! You’ve won, Jesus Wednesday. I am fucking sorry or whatever!” Bianca has lost control completely and shouts this out in a fearful panic. Her voice rising in panic. Not completely sure Wednesday will stop at just harming her, as murder is not uncommon for an Addams. And there is no mercy to be found in the dark depth of Wednesday’s eyes. Contrasting massively to the bright spring sky behind her head, innocent blue versus abyssal black.

“It is not me you have slighted, Barclay. Your life is in Enid’s hands, not mine.” Wednesday delivers this like she is reading a shopping list and swivels her head to look at Enid, conveying with her eyes, by lifting both eyebrows, that Enid gets to decide what is to happen with Bianca. Enid strides up with a triumphant smile on her face, and this time it reaches her eyes. Wednesday’s heart soars to see it, feeling that this might have been her best decision in a while.

“Shit, yeah. Absolutely.” Bianca shifts her eyes toward Enid and swallows pointedly and audibly.

“Eh, sorry.” Bianca mumbles, eyes on Enid.

“I am not sure they heard you at the back, Bianca.” Enid states very loudly, clearly speaking to the crowd of onlookers who have gone from muted tittering to boisterous gaiety about the scene they are witnessing. Seeing the self-proclaimed queen of Nevermore be brought low is quite the show. Muted laughs can be heard from the spectators.

“You better make it good Barclay, or I might slip.” Wednesday hisses and minutely slips the blades closer to Bianca’s throat. Making Bianca gasp.

“I am sorry Enid, I should never have joked about your heat. Or said I was worthy of your bed during it!” Bianca all but shouts, eyes darting between Enid and Wednesday. The golden haired one’s eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth and the darker one merely watching with eyes narrowed in speculation. The crowd in the background gasps, smatterings of ”Did you just hear that?!” And the like can be heard.

“Enid? Do you find this acceptable as an excuse or should I slit her unworthy throat for good measure?” Wednesday asks, completely genuine in both tone and intent. Wednesday is someone who finishes what she starts, it is known.

“Haha, I think it will suffice. Sure she would look better with a bloody smile but being expelled so close to graduation seems a waste to be honest. Let’s leave her to live with the shame.” Enid’s tone is gloating and jubilant and this rather than what she says makes Wednesday relax, her baby is back. The forthright, headstrong and effusive Enid she knows, and loves, and loves, and loves.
Enid’s eyes meet Wednesday’s and seems to read some form of emotion there that causes her to stop and truly look at the diminutive goth. Enid makes a sidewise nodding gesture to say that they should head out and Wednesday drops Bianca’s rapier beside her prone body. She brings her own iron up to her face in the salute, weaves a complex pattern in the air and on the final thrust just flings it, without even looking, through the air so that it lands in the scabbard in Eugene’s hand with only the slightest whisper of metal on metal. Then she is walking away without so much as a backward glance. Like the complete girl-boss she is. Cool girls do not look at explosions after all.

Chapter Text

Enid’s PoV.

Enid cannot for the life of her understand what the fuck just happened. Wednesday dueled for her honor as if she was in some medieval knight movie and Enid the beautiful damsel in distress. Enid is floating on clouds and can’t stop smiling. Her biggest bully begged for her forgiveness and all but called herself inferior in front of the whole school, it is a dream come true. Like rainbows, My Little Pony and her Social Media posts trending all wrapped up into one. 

Not to mention how fucking hot Wednesday is in tight fitting leather. Sure the blade is cool and all but seeing that ass hugged by leather like that should be forbidden in some kind of law of decency. She could hardly decide what to watch more, the bladework or the lithe movements that all but show not just the awesome body of Wednesday but also how flexible it is. Enid can picture so many things she could do to try just how truly flexible she is. So many positions, so little time. Enid giggles to herself as her fantasies spiral out of control. Going from hot to blazing in no time at all. Wednesday shakes her out of her reverie by making a questioning sound at the back of her throat, making Enid realize they are back in their room again.

“That was just sooooo cool Weds!” Enid squeals and rushes to hug Wednesday before she can say no. And weirdly enough Wednesday both accepts it and even hugs her back, when did this start happening?

“Eh. It was truly nothing. She is more of a poser than a fencer that girl.” Wednesday replies in a tone very unlike how she usually speaks. Almost warm. Enid can get used to it. Definitely.

“Still, you fucked her up for me. For me!” Enid replies and leans back in her hug to stare deeply into Wednesday’s eyes. She wonders to herself if using the word fuck was going too far, or too close to her real intentions.

“Yes, and I gladly will do so again. For you.” Wednesday says back while holding Enid’s eye contact all the while, still in this new warm tone so incongruous with the usual Wednesday. Though Enid really likes it, it is like she is seeing a wondrous undiscovered valley that no one else has access to. That it looks dark and forbidding from a distance does not mean it isn’t lush and captivating once you get close enough. Few are ever given the chance to do so though.

“Eh, yeah. Sure. I’ll just call my private Black Leather Knight to deal with any further issues I encounter” Enid says jokingly while reluctantly letting Wednesday out of her arms and she falls back onto her own bed. Landing among her many stuffed animals in a plethora of colors. Most in some sort of pastel but neon style versions are allowed as well, Enid is big of heart. In most things.

“I can come in other materials as well” Wednesday deadpans back. Her face seems to say that she misses the touch of Enid’s arms, or maybe this is just Enid projecting her own thoughts onto it. Surely Wednesday does not crave contact.

“I’ll bear that in mind, so materials are OK but no other colors?” Enid can play this game too and fires the question back in a similar nonplussed tone. Engaging in the whimsy.

“I do best with black, white and grey to be honest. But for you, who could say?” Wednesday shoots back her own salvo, and somehow ups the ante. Enid feels emboldened.

“If you do so much for me, then why not stay with me during the heat?” Enid tries to keep her tone light even though her stomach is clenching and she feels like she might faint. Did she really say that? To Wednesday?! How very bold.

“Interesting idea. Do tell me more what this would imply” Wednesday retorts. Forcing Enid to become more detailed or miss out on a time of her life. Enid must be dreaming, she must pinch herself.

“Well. We submissives get a really high libido during heat and if we aren’t… um… satisfied. We would hurt. A lot.” Enid feels like she is going to swoon, she really put it on the line here. But no one remembers a coward, go big or go home.

“Well we wouldn’t want you hurting, now would we.” Wednesday’s voice is no longer coming from across the room but rather right beside her bed. Enid looks up to see Wednesday hovering right next to her. Only inches away. Enid’s eyes go wide. Damn that girl can move silently.

“Yeah… that would be… a shame…” Enid breathes these words out, barely audible. At the same time her nether regions flood with slick, and the cinnamon and vanilla scent wafts up. No way is Wednesday far enough away to not smell it. Enid is going to die of shame!

“Ah, this smell. Takes me back to, well. Every night this last week.” Wednesday drawls while elevator-eyeing Enid’s entire body. From top to, very stained, crotch.

“You… noticed?! I thought you were sleeping!” Enid gasps out, while the thought of Wednesday having experienced every one of her debauched moments just makes her cream harder. Being caught out is apparently not only embarrassing, but also hot.

“I am a light sleeper Enid, but I figured you wouldn’t want me noticing. So I hid my interest.” Wednesday replies, like she is commenting on the weather and not how wet and willing her roommate is. Enid cannot fathom what she is hearing, Wednesday being interested. In her. No. Way. This has to be a vision.

“Now tell me more about what you need during a heat Enid, and I will try to alleviate your. Needs.” As Enid is still gaping at Wednesday the tiny goth forges on, her words are coming a bit faster and in a somewhat excited tone.

Enid can tell that the black-haired girl is breathing harder too. Which is funny, she didn’t seem to be at all winded from kicking Bianca’s ass on the lawn. Is Wednesday into her?! Is she over-reading things? Is her heat making her invent things to fit her needs? Trying to collect herself she throws caution to the wind.

“I touch myself to get through the heat. A submissive wolf needs to come, several times, if she is to get through it well.” Enid pants out, minutely scanning Wednesday’s face for tell-tale signs of revulsion. Finding none. Wednesday just nods, slightly furrowing her brow.

“And how do you make yourself, come. Usually?” Wednesday asks, genuinely seeming to be interested in learning this new facet of life.

“Oh you know, the usual way.” Enid mumbles and glances down, feeling nervous about how detailed she should be. And flustered as hell.

“No, I wouldn’t know. Enid. I don’t do those things.” Wednesday says, tone even and measured like she isn’t spouting the largest pile of rubbish ever. Enid sits up, so shocked that she even forgets how wet she is.

“WHAT?! You mean you don’t… to yourself…?!” Enid almost shrieks, her mind boggling to even try to comprehend how someone cannot be into masturbation, or other tools of the trade. To Enid it would be like imagining not having arms or legs.

“I have never been interested in sex, or its prerequisites of a like nature. Until…now.” Wednesday keeps to her even, measured tone, but that element of warmth creeps back toward the end of the sentence.

“Oh, what?!” Enid falls back onto the bed, trying to wrap her head around both revelations. That someone so hot could be so disinterested in sex, and that the same someone is willing to go there. For her. Wednesday is, interested, in, her?! Enid cannot comprehend how she ended up in such a position. Why did god somehow decide to now, after all this time, drop a benediction on her ass.

Growing up she never had as much as kind word from within her family, always the runt of the litter. Never good enough for her absolute bitch of a mother, and while her father was fine he never dared stand up for Enid. She was always the last to be cared for, asked about things or even spoken to, unless to criticize.

Enid has never seen herself as someone worthy of interest, let alone love. So to have the hottest woman in the universe allude that she sees something in her is, bewildering. She is floating in the revelation until her inner heat suddenly ramps up out of nowhere. This intense, and quite sexual, discussion must have triggered her heat to start.

“OW! So hot!” Enid squeals and Wednesday first rocks back as if to flee but when she sees that Enid fears this she instead leans back in and places her hands on Enid’s arms. Enid immediately lets out a shaky breath and basically mews in relief. Causing Wednesday’s eyes to grow very wide, in a motion so uncommon to Wednesday it is hard to describe. Had Enid not been lying back with closed eyes she could’ve been the first person to ever witness Wednesday like this.

“What do you need Enid?” Wednesday tries to be as warm as she ever could, not a tone she is well versed in but she hopes her honesty carries across.

“You… You!” Enid begs, her words come out breathy along with her panting gasps.

“I am going to need more elucidation Enid!” Wednesday retorts, if there is one thing she is truly unused to it is physical contact and all its derivatives.

“Elu-what?! Don’t say this is an ancient languages class we are performing this during?!” Enid looks around bewildered, clearly lost in all the sensations of her body and not letting much else in.

“Elucidate, to clearly explain what you mean. Give me details, what do you want me to do and where?” Wednesday keeps a level tone, Enid can’t tell if she is angry, disinterested or just so in control when Enid is a total emotional wreck right beside her.

“Ungh… I need you, any part of you really, inside me. Down there… Preferably your fingers.” Enid cannot believe what is coming out of her mouth, is she deranged?! You do not say these things to your roommate, not even in full heat. But her body is screaming for contact, and her instincts want her to be filled. Preferably ten minutes ago.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes then.” Wednesday sounds as focused as she does during classroom lectures and gets to the point, as she always does. Enid cannot believe she forgot about still being clothed, they do need to come off. And come off they shall.

Chapter Text

Shared PoV, Wednesday starts.

Wednesday has never had an interest in relationships nor whatever comes from them, and this includes sex. She has watched porn, so dull, but much prefers the more intellectual venture of reading stories with a smutty nature. At least it fulfills the mind as well as the body, and the spirit if there is such a thing. Ever since she was little she has excelled at anything physical, be it digging up graves or duelling with knives. Not something she shares with Pugsley, but with Gomez for sure.

Morticia does seem to be of a similar vein but she dislikes getting hands on, being more of a shifty manipulator. Which is something Wednesday can support and respect, why get your hands dirty when someone else can dirty themselves instead. Like most children Wednesday is a curious mix of both her parents as well as something very much her own. 
An amalgamation as well as a completely new substance, at the same time. Seeing Gomez and Morticia so ravenous for each other has always made Wednesday pity them, but looking down on Enid writhing in the throes of heat she sort of gets it.

Enid is beyond beautiful right now, so wet, so needy, so very hers for the taking. Wednesday could not describe how seeing Enid like this makes her feel, something hot was brewing in the very core of her being and she feels both protective and possessive at the same time. Who knew one could feel like this for someone else. But she wants Enid to show her best features, those pretty eyes who have been resolutely shut most of the time. Unacceptable.

Wednesday puts her fingers under Enid’s chin and tilts her head up, and forward.

“Open your eyes Enid.” she states in a commanding voice, Enid responds immediately by snapping to and opening her eyes that dial wide. Wednesday relishes the directness of the response and the feel of total control, of the one thing that matters most to her in the world. Safe-guarding this gem of a woman will become her reason for existence.

“Such beauty…” Wednesday gasps out as she stares into the deep blue shimmering pools of Enid’s eyes. Snowstorms, glaciers, icey lakes as well as the first snows come to mind but none of them can truly describe the interplay of colour in Enid’s eyes. They have always captivated Wednesday, ever since the first days in Nevermore and to this day they still do. They probably always will.

“Don’t mock me…” Enid mewls out and tries to avert her eyes.

“Eyes on me, Enid!” Wednesday commands. “I. Do. Not. Mock. Never you Enid, never.” She grinds out through gritted teeth, if these words were said by anyone else about Enid. rather than by Enid, they would be suffering massive blood loss at this very moment.

Wednesday cannot fathom how Enid cannot see the lusciousness that she sees in front of her, the unparalleled attractiveness that is Enid Sinclair. It must be evident to anyone with eyes.

“You really think so?” Enid returns her eyes to stare into Wednesdays. A shade of the very lightest pink shades her cheeks creating a wonderful contrast to the startling blue of her eyes. Wednesday cannot but disappear in the unrivalled landscape of Enid’s face.

“Yes, oh yes. You are an inimitable marvel Enid.” Wednesday sighs the words and tries to tinge every syllable with meaning, with intent. The slight pink blooms and spreads across Enid’s face as she makes a low thrumming sound at the back of her throat. Wednesday loves the sound and leans down to plant a slow but purposeful kiss on Enid’s lips, trying to taste the sound.

What she can taste on Wednesday’s breath is the unmistakable aroma of lily of the valley. For some it would be a curious blossom to link to such a strong woman, but it is really perfect. A small, lithe flower which is poisonous in its every part and aesthetically perfect. Why would they not match? Enid meets Wednesday’s lips with a ravenous hunger of her own and clenches her fingers around the hair at the back of Wednesday’s head. Absolutely refusing to let go.

Wednesday never expected that a mere meeting of body parts could spark such fires in her belly, that the world itself could evaporate like morning mist and you could lose yourself in the warmth of another person’s mouth. Wednesday could die now and be content, in this feeling of absolute safety and fervor. She mumbles into Enid’s mouth, words completely lost in the intensity of their mouths meeting.

Wednesday starts to move her hands down Enid’s body tracing light circles over the bright pink T-shirt and down over the yellow shorts. Enid’s body bucks up towards her hand and follows the movement of Wednesday’s hand like a miniature tectonic shift localized around the thin and delicate fingers of the tiny goth.

Wednesday breaks the kiss, Enid protests by making mewling sounds and trying to forcibly bring back Wednesday’s head, and the attached lips, to her own.

“I thought you wanted out of your clothes.” Wednesday’s voice is hoarse and breathy, sounds she has probably never let leave her before. Enid is lost for words but nods her head fervently in agreement.

“Use your words, baby.” Wednesday’s more assertive and commanding voice is back, resolute and unmovable. Much like her head which has not moved an inch closer to Enid’s despite the wolf’s fervent attempts. 

“Yes, off. Want them off.” Enid gasps out, pouting in annoyance at not getting to continue the kiss. It really is unfair.

“Are you terribly attached to these items of clothing?” Wednesday asks, nonchalant in tone but serious in intent.

“Eh… no. Why?” Enid doesn’t really follow. What happens is evident to anyone else, the sound of cloth ripping rings out in the shared room. Wednesday has grasped the top in a two-handed grip and forcing them apart she easily tears the garment in two, ripping it apart to reveal the flushed skin and perky breasts of one Enid Sinclair. Enid gasps and her eyes grow even wider, defying the laws of physics. What is a word beyond wide-eyed, Enid?

“Oh, right” She gasps out. Tugging with both hands the now ruined top is yanked from under Enid’s body and hangs as shreds in Wednesday’s hands. She drops them without so much a glance in their direction, the top’s sacrifice will be honored though. We salute you, Hello Kitty-top. Wednesday’s hands move down toward the shorts with firm resolution.

“Hmm.” Wednesday makes an evaluating sound. The shorts are of a denser twill material and being thoroughly soaked in slick they might not be as easy to break.

“Lift your hips.” Wednesday cajoles and Enid is all too willing to comply, anything to be without those damn obstacles to complete body contact. Wednesday slips her fingers under the band of both the shorts and the underlying panties and peels the sodden garments off of Enid’s body. Soon joining the ripped face of Hello Kitty on the floor, not as ripped but having suffered death by slick they are as defunct as clothing.

Wednesday stares down at the now completely nude form of Enid Sinclair and cannot for herself understand why it took her so long to get this girl nude and writhing under her. Enid is a vision of pinks from the pale around the arms and lower legs to the more flushed version around her chest and pussy regions.

Wednesday drinks it in, heady with the feeling of being where she is meant to be. With a naked Enid under her the universe suddenly seems to align along the axis it should always have had. She has truly lived half a life, maybe even less, before this. “Touch me.” Enid gasps out and shakes Wednesday out of her reverie. She reaches down to clasp Enid’s breasts in her palms.

*** Enid’s PoV, switch***

Enid is reeling, there are just too many revelations to take in at once. Wednesday finds her beautiful, Wednesday is in her bed and she is naked, Wednesday just ripped her clothes off of her, if she wasn’t already creaming to her fullest extent it would definitely happen now. And the kiss, THE KISS!

It was beyond anything Enid has ever experienced. She thought she had been kissed before but compared to this it was nothing but borrowed light, Enid had only ever seen the moonlight and now the sun rose. Enlightening her about not just what a kiss could be, but how empty her life had apparently been beforehand and how full it could become. If only she could keep this dark creature with her forever, and ever, and ever.

Enid’s mind wanders back to previous heat partners she has had. The worst year was probably the one she tried to battle through it alone, no matter how she tried her own fingers and whichever toy she used it just did not fill her void. She craved actual human contact for her inner wolf to acquiesce. Not that Beverly was much better the year after. She was a fellow lycan, of some lowly sort, but she only really used Enid because she seemed to find it funny to toy with another wolf.

Having played with Enid’s head as much as with her body and left her feeling dirty and exploited rather than sated and content. That moment still haunted Enid, how she just agreed to it all and then tried to shut it all away. She had sort of accepted the idea that heats were now meant to be endured rather than enjoyed.

Wednesday showed her how wrong she had been, and they had just gotten started. She had only been kissed and it still eclipsed any other sexual encounter she had ever been in. By miles.

Enid gives a throaty gasp as Wednesday starts to fondle Enid’s breasts. But being a novice and unused to wolf partners she is being much too gentle, and it is more that Wednesday is doing it to her than the sensation of the groping itself that makes her gasp.

“Harder, I am not made of glass.” Enid whines out, wanting to truly feel this and communicating said meaning clearly by at the same time grinding her chest toward Wednesday’s hands. Making the contact more intense.

“Clearly, my bad.” Wednesday quips and suddenly alters both the tempo, intensity and direction of her handling of Enid’s bosom. Enid sure feels it now,

Wednesday is tweaking Enid’s nipples and in a countermovement grinding the orbs the opposite direction to the nipples making the feeling stronger and more intense. Enid’s gasping becomes frantic, she cannot believe it but she is nearing an orgasm from just having her tits fondled. What. The. Fuck. 

“You said you didn’t have any experience with sex” Enid rasps out, every single word interrupted by gasps as her libido is growing ever hotter. 

“I don’t, but I know how to read Enid. And picking things up from text and transferring them into reality is something of a knack of mine” Wednesday’s voice is so damn controlled. Unreal given the situation they are in.

How does she keep her composure while she is eroding every single iota of control Enid has at the same time. Enid becomes vaguely aware that she is the only one naked though, how unfair.

“Why are you still dressed?!” Enid whines, she wants true contact skin to skin, but also to see that marvelous lithe goth in the nude. Wednesday’s one eyebrow shoots up in the most quintessential Wednesday way, this girl is such a mood. 

“Take them off!” Enid commands, as much as you can command while gasping and on the edge of climax. 

“Giving orders now are we?” Wednesday drawls back, her voice creeping down in register which should make it sound dangerous but somehow just makes it sexier. There truly is no thing about Wednesday that does not enthrall her.

Wednesday suddenly lets go of Enid’s breasts, making the golden haired girl make sounds of clear protest, like a puppy being denied its bone.

“I can hardly get undressed and fondle your breasts at the same time” Wednesday explains clinically as explanation to the wordless protest. Enid understands the theory but dislikes the reality.

The petite dark girl reaches behind her neck and grasps some hidden contraption that turns out to be a hidden zipper and making less sound than a whisper slides all the way down to the end of her back and allows Wednesday to peel it off herself with little trouble.

Leaving her in a matching pair of black silk bra and panties. Clearly of the finest quality possible and of perfect fit on the finely limbed goth girl. Along with the sight, what hits Enid is a new smell as well. Along with the lily of the valley she has always smelled on Wednesday what wafts out of the lower regions can only be described as a resinous pine.

To her mind evoking endless fields of evergreen trees, crisp winter air and a deep earthy heart. It somehow perfectly complements the floral notes, no wonder Wednesday naturally smells like the most expensive of perfumes. Is there anything she does not excel at?

As Wednesday reaches back to undo the bra clasp Enid moans out “Let me!” and Wednesday freezes and arches her brow yet again.

“As the lady wills.” She agrees and lets her hands drop to her sides and Enid leans up and embracing Wednesday she both places her hands on the darker girls back and her lips again meet their fated counterpart.

While sharing a sultry kiss Enid deftly unhooks the bra and keeping the grip on it with one hand drags it away from their entwined bodies and flings it away like yesterday’s news. Her remaining hand draws circles on Wednesday’s back and elicits something of a moan from the dark-haired beauty.

Enid smiles during their kiss at the sound and draws her hands down toward the panties and Wednesday, with that grace of a ballet dancer, perfectly aligns her bodies to move so that there is the least resistance in the removal of the last item of her clothing.

Finally they are both naked and Enid can feast her eyes on the fine example of nubile womanhood that is Wednesday Addams. Enid sure is feasting right now, not only is she naked with another human being during her heat. But she is naked with the one person she always wanted to share this with, but never dared think it could ever happen.

Her eyes devour the petite but oh so well toned body of Wednesday and a long slow exhale comes out of her mouth as it drops open as if unable to truly comprehend the reality in front of her.

“Like what you see eh?” Wednesday asks, forcing Enid to snap her eyes back to meet Wednesdays.

“You are beautiful Weds, beyond words.” Enid’s voice comes out too high, just like her emotions.

Wednesday doesn’t respond but Enid can catch the slight hitch in her breathing and the miniscule widening of her pupils, which in Wednesday terms is like screaming at the top of her voice.

“I do think you said you wanted more contact” Wednesday states, eyes narrowing in focus. Wednesday grabs Enid’s left leg and hoists it up in a near split, one does reach a certain level of flexibility from all those TikTok dance challenges after all.

With a fluidity of a dancer Wednesday does a similar movement with her right leg so it comes on the outside of Enid’s and then slides her lower body down in a long languid motion. Enid cannot keep her eyes open as she feels Wednesday’s pussy come in contact with her own.

How the heck does a non-sexual person know about scissoring?!

Chapter Text

Shared PoV, Starting on Wednesday.

One would maybe think that Wednesday, being a virgin and not really interested in sex in any way, would be clueless about sexual positions. But nothing could be farther from the truth. Even if she saw little interest in the act itself, the human part of intercourse was interesting. And never more so than in the powerplay aspect of BDSM and its affiliate regions, if anything Wednesday was a connoisseur of kink.

She had read voraciously on the topic and had quite a collection of her favorite kinks but never truly anyone to share it with, nor much of an inclination to do so beforehand. But now a brand new, and exciting, world is opening up before her. Enid won’t know what is about to hit her.

The sound of skin hitting skin can sound so many ways, and one of two excited and well-lubricated pussies impacting has to be one of the dirtiest sounds in the universe. Enid is making mewling sounds at the back of her throat and her eyes seem to be rolling back in their sockets and Wednesday has barely even started.

The night is young. Nothing really prepared her for the sensation of grinding her vagina against Enid’s, when she had tried touching herself no real spark could be felt. Now it was like an electric current was linking the two of them, and the more she moved the higher the voltage turned.

It seems it was not about not having a sexual drive for Wednesday, but about not having the right partner. Feeling emboldened Wednesday starts to move and grind her cunt against Enid’s which elicits small shrieks of joy from the blonde.

“Yes! Weds! More! Faster!”. Enid practically shrieks out, hardly able to control herself. Wednesday hears this as the sweetest of music, greater than any opera or grand concerto she has ever heard.
Wednesday can feel how Enid is growing ever slicker, she did not think one could get any wetter than Enid already was, but where there’s a will there’s a way I guess.

“So wet for me aren’t you, baby” Wednesday groans out. More affected than she thought she would be by the stimulation happening pussy to pussy. Enid’s breathing first stops completely and then becomes ever more labored than before, like she has shifted gear.

“Oh you like that don’t you?!” Wednesday’s tone shoots up and she decides to test her theory.

“So good for me aren’t you, baby.” Wednesday breathes out in her sultriest of tone and she hears how Enid completely shuts down and her entire body convulses with her first orgasm of the night. This reaction is very interesting and a very fruitful discovery Wednesday thinks, it will have to be explored further.

*Enid’s PoV switch*

Enid’s brain is turning to mush, but the most delicious of mush. Like Robuchon’s mashed potatoes but with cinnamon slick and pussy instead of butter and potatoes. Not only is Wednesday far and away the greatest fuck she has ever had, Wednesday is doing this as her first time, ever!

Enid barely knew what to do with herself the first time she had sex and felt awkward and out of place all the time, Wednesday is taking to this as a duck to water. Goth to slick?! Mush is what her brain is…

The way Wednesday speaks to her during it all just brings it to another level, provocation followed by praise that has Enid’s mind spinning. She wants to be good for Wednesday, so good! Hearing praise from Wednesday, who is never content with anything, is like receiving manna from god himself. Spectacular, astounding, exhilarating.

Enid is both floating and more grounded than she has ever been. A discombobulating feeling and one she readily welcomes.

Slowly Enid is coming down from her orgasmic high and somehow Wednesday has shuffled around to lie behind her and holds her from behind. She has never felt safer than in those arms, nothing in the world could harm her now. Not a feeling she is in any way used to. But she also feels that her inner wolf is just getting started, a single orgasm is not enough to satisfy her during a heat.

“Mmmm, need more…” Enid manages to grind out when all she wants is to mew or purr. But those sounds should be reserved for mated couples, not heat partners.

“Insatiable, aren’t you?” Wednesday quips, her words carrying a playful humorous tone, so unlike the way she usually speaks. Enid shivers just from the tone alone, only she gets to hear this. No one else. 

“You make me this way, not just the heat.” Enid mumbles back, tone as warm as a stone under a zenith summer sun. Enid hears Wednesday draw a short, nearly shocked, breath. Not a sound she tends to make either. Enid smiles, so many benedictions in such a short time. She truly is blessed.

“I need you… inside me… Please. Weds!” Enid gasps out as her heat builds to near-hurting levels again. Faster this time than before. Biology waits for no man, or woman. This is quite another duel than the one versus Bianca, but Wednesday has no intention of backing down from this either.

“Well, you sure seem wet enough.” Wednesday makes the overstatement of the century, not just the sheet but the mattress as well is all but soaked through. The cinnamon bun smell is near suffocating, a scent Wednesday has come to not just know and love. But something she immediately relaxes when she notices, as it indicates she is home somehow.

Wednesday’s right hand starts to trail down Enid’s body, starting at just below her armpit it wanders downward. Making a detour to cup the blonde’s breast and tweak a nipple before, with infuriatingly languid slow-motion pace trails across the stomach and finally toward where Enid most wants it.

To her consternation it doesn’t stop there but rather just skirts around the outer labia and continues downwards across the thigh and leg.

“Inside!” Enid chokes out, not wanting the touching to stop but also not wanting it to be where it is.

“Patience, young lady.” Wednesday chuckles, clearly enjoying herself and the teasing going on. But her hand does start to ascend again.

Still slow, unhurried but with clear purpose. This time it finally stops where Enid wants it, making slow circles around the labia before moving backwards and trailing through the thick and creamy slick it skirts over Enid’s arsehole which puckers under her touch.

Enid moans even more wantonly than before. Wednesday makes a humming noise, clearly finding  the reaction interesting.

“Stop teasing me!” Enid gasps, as forcefully as she can. Which is to say, it comes off more as a moan than a command.

“But why?! When it is so much fun.” Wednesday hums back, the smile on her face evident in her tone.

The hand trails back, echoing the same movement across the anus before it finally starts to slide along and separates the lips of Enid’s pussy. The ensuing moan elicits a chuckle from Wednesday.

“So eager for me, baby.” And Enid moans out. “Yes, anything. For you.” 

And Wednesday is heard musing “Anything, eh. Oh the choices…” In that same warm and joking tone.

In contrast to her words her fingers do start to dive into the sloppy kingdom that is Enid’s pussy. Starting on one finger slowly, but implacably, pushing in along the convulsing channel. Enid’s moans redouble and change pitch.

“Yes… yes… yes….” That she can even speak is beyond Enid’s comprehension. It is everything she ever dreamt of, just like imaginary Wednesday the real one seems to be supernaturally skilled and every movement causes a shockwave of feelings to rush into Enid.

Shockwave turns into full on earthquake, magnitude building by the second, as Wednesday starts to saw back out and then plunge her finger in again in a true fucking motion. Oh. My. God. She is actually being fucked by Wednesday, for real!

It is every fantasy she has ever had, but better as it is real. Oh so real. Wednesday is keeping a slow tempo but her angle changes constantly, at a new angle when coming in and curving lightly on the way out. Causing maximum stimulation of Enid’s already supercharged pussy.

“Oh god, oh Wednesday, oh!” Enid is just spewing incomprehensible nonsense, she hasn’t ever believed in god but possibly the current situation is a reason to revise her position.

“A god am I?” Wednesday responds, the warm tone continuing.

“Yes! God-like, amazing, love it, looooove it.” Enid keens out. Her voice climbing into soprano and down to alto in a desperate attempt to try to express her emotional state in all ways she can.

“More, fill me!” Enid begs.

“Since you are asking so nicely” Wednesday breathes out and rather than one finger coming in, there are now two.

Enid shudders as she is filled for the first time tonight, she can take more but this is a very good place to start. Just as she is starting to get used to this new sensation Wednesday decides to up the game further.

Her left hand has snaked around Enid’s waist and now ghosts onto her pussy from above and starts to make subtle rubbing motions across Enid’s clitoris. As if this wasn’t enough Wednesday also leans in to breathe out into Enid’s ear.

Enid is completely overwhelmed and the plethora of sensations bring her yet again over the edge and in a much stronger way than before. She practically screams out her passion as her climax hits her and Wednesday rather than stilling ups the tempo on both hands and starts mumbling breathy dirty words into Enid’s ear.

Causing the climax to roar up in intensity. She has never known pleasure like this, everything in the world narrows down to her pussy and ear. Her entire cosmos shrinks down into these two sensations, words like “such a wet pussy” and “come for me baby” filter in via her ear accompanied by the occasional sucking feeling on her earlobes.

At the same time the fingers on her pussy match her convulsions beat for beat both up into complete crescendo and down into the after-flutters as the orgasm finally dies down.

“Wow… just… wow…” Enid is lost for words, what happened was world-defining. Nothing she has ever experienced before even comes close to rivalling the sensation she just had.

“Messy little thing, aren’t you.” Wednesday muses out loud as she holds up her hands, absolutely drenched in Enid’s slick.

Enid moans in the most debauched manner and tries to cover her eyes with her hands in embarrassment.

“Oh no you don’t!” Wednesday snaps and Enid is barely even cognizant of having snapped her arms to her sides and opened her eyes wide to search for Wednesday’s. She must be a good girl!

“Much better, I love your mess after all. It is a part of you, beautiful girl.” Wednesday’s voice rolls out like a litany, a prayer, a benediction. Enid shivers to hear it, to know it, to be it.

“One does wonder if it tastes as good as it smells?” Wednesday’s tone is inquisitive and she raises her right hand toward her mouth and sticks out her tongue to sample Enid. No, fucking, way?!

Chapter Text

Shared PoV, Starts on Enid.

Werewolf biology is a curious thing. It is just something that is, not a wish or a disposition. You couldn’t change it if you wanted to, the magic of it that allows transformation also brings with it a certain limitation. The lycanthrope gets access to superhuman strength, endurance, sense of smell  and taste and one can, once trained and of age, turn into a full wolf at command. These are things all werewolves share, how it affects the individual is more down to their pack role. A common misconception is that this is societal, it is not. You are born alpha or omega, there is nothing you can do about this. Enid never chose to be submissive, she always was one. Down to her very bones, as immutable as time itself.

Alpha wolves are many, but not all alphas get to lead. They can try but they then have to compete with other alphas, who might be stronger and more cunning. Omegas are less common and a true submissive is a cause for total celebration in a family. All alphas seek to mate with an omega so a family with a submissive wolf can most likely land a high ranking alpha from one of the prominent leader packs in werewolf society. Esther Sinclair has realized exactly this and made it her mission to control Enid in every conceivable way. If only she had realized fear and coercion are not the only forms of control, but bigotry is not reserved for pure humans. It is a disease that pervades all versions of conscious life.

Enid has learned to not take place, not speak, not be seen and never to believe in herself or her worth. Leaving all such choices to Esther, who is biding her time wrangling for the perfect mate for Enid that will give the most power. To Esther. She will not be happy about the current situation between Wednesday and Enid, thankfully for her she isn’t present. As Wednesday would annihilate her. Completely. She has always protected Enid, and no one has hurt Enid as Esther has.

Submissive wolves in heat are a special case in many ways. They have near limitless libido and seek to breed and be bred. It is biology and neither controllable or preventable. The wolf in heat does not feel pain the way they normally would and the alpha or heat partner can almost do whatever they like to the omega in heat and they will respond favorably. Something that would usually hurt instead is translated to pleasure. Something Beverly thought was very fun. She would slap Enid, in the most unbelievable of places like her nipples or right onto her pussy, and rather than get a growl of anger or howl of pain be met with groans of lust and pleasure. Sure, Enid’s body handled it beautifully but her mind less so. If Wednesday were to ever find out, Beverly’s days on earth were numbered. And it would be a very low count.

Another aspect of submissive biology, whether in heat or outside, is that their slick both has special, very strong, pheromones and that the taste is both intense and can have quite potent effects. Especially on non-wolves who maybe are not built to really handle it. These thoughts pass through her mind as Wednesday’s fingers, dripping with Enid’s slick, are moving toward Wednesday’s open mouth. Enid is just too awestruck by what is happening to say anything other than make a somewhat strangled moan as Wednesday’s lips close around her digits and a sucking sound can be heard from deep in her throat. Not one for half measures Wednesday guzzles the cream down rather than just taking a sip. Wednesday’s eyes go from half-lidded to their very widest and she makes a groaning sound that causes a similar reaction from Enid.

“Glorious! I need never go to that Swedish bakery again, now I know we have a massive supply of cinnamon buns at home.” Wednesday states, causing Enid to swallow audibly and make a mewling sound like a little puppy. Wednesday resolutely pops each of her sopping fingers into her own mouth one by one and sucks them clean. Making contented sounds as if she is partaking in a feast of the gods, and she is. She pauses when she is down to one finger uncleaned and something lights inside her eyes as they swivel towards Enid’s face.

“Open up wide, baby.” Wednesday commands Enid in no uncertain terms and not just because she is a submissive wolf, but because she wants to be Wednesday’s good girl, Enid opens her mouth hesitantly. Wednesday pushes the final slick-drenched finger into Enid’s own mouth and says.

“Lick.”, it is not a command but a statement. Enid complies while her face reddens even more than it already is, which is quite a feat. The taste of her own slick is to her cloyingly sweet but being fed by Wednesday is such a dirty act that she moans around the finger anyway. And a new gush of slick pushes past her nether lips, with a sound that draws Wednesday’s eyes down there.

“More, eh? Why not try it from the source?” Wednesday muses out loud, almost as if she is asking a question but one she has already clearly answered. This is just so not happening, seeing Wednesday taste Enid’s slick was crazy. What happens next is beyond comprehension as Wednesday slides down to prop her head right in front of Enid’s sloppy pussy. Enid makes a strangled sound of embarrassment and tries to close her knees, impeding both access and view of her debauchment.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Wednesday breathes out “Are you suddenly becoming a prude now?! Really Enid?” Wednesday huffs out, merriment clear in both voice and facial expression. Enid groans deep in her throat but cannot bring herself to unclasp her knees. Wednesday’s face changes, eyes narrowing in consternation and her tone sharpens as well. What was previously jokingly phrased is now a command.

“Open your legs, Enid!” Wednesday does not shout, but the enunciation is crisp, clear and commanding. Enid wants to but her inner brat has taken over and she shakes her head disconsolately. Not one to be hindered by anything Wednesday ups the ante and what registers first is the sound and then the feeling of Wednesday’s hand slapping her right arse-cheek. A measured but stinging slap.

The shock more than the pain causes Enid’s knees to fall open and restore Wednesday’s access to her pussy and thus the source of slick. Wednesday makes a happy kind of humming sound as she leans in and, rather than directly start lapping like Enid expected, actually talks to her pussy instead.

“My, my. Aren’t we just the wettest and prettiest pussy in the world? Yes we are” Wednesday is talking to it like you would to a newborn baby or a toddler. The juxtaposition of what she is doing and saying makes the situation even hotter than it should be. Someone is holding a conversation with her pussy and Enid is going crazy, that said someone is Wednesday Addams just makes it even crazier. Enid moans and mewls as the air from Wednesday’s breathy monologue washes over pussy causing stimulation she didn’t think could happen from so slight a pressure. Enid did not think she could be made more embarrassed than she already had today, she was wrong. So, so wrong.

*PoV Switch, Wednesday*

Wednesday has of course read about all of these things online but performing them live is quite a different thing. Kissing, scissoring, finger fucking, simultaneous stimulation of ears, clitoris and pussy for maximum orgasmic effect. Seeing them work so flawlessly on Enid is breathtaking, every time Enid shows pleasure Wednesday feels a return deep in her heart. What she has felt for Enid was not a mere delusion or mistaken emotion, but true, eternal, love.

Tasting Enid’s slick was of a magnitude greater than anything she had ever eaten, and for a family with a basically unlimited bank account and thus they could, and had, eaten at many a Michelin-acclaimed restaurant. Enid’s slick beat them all by miles and miles. Wednesday could easily have forgone all other sustenance in her life and persisted on nothing but slick from now on. And she hadn’t even had it straight from the source yet. But she was about to.

She felt a tad guilty about the use of force earlier, she had read so much about it and felt inclined to try it out. The feeling, the sound and the effect was better than she had expected. It also made her feel powerful, and in control. Thinks Wednesday really liked to be. And judging by the moans coming from Enid she didn’t seem to be too put out either. Talking to the pussy had mostly been a bit of a joking idea but the effect it had on Enid could not be disclaimed. While she could do this for quite a long time more, she did want to taste Enid and try out another thing she’d read about. Cunnilingus.

“Eyes on me Enid, I want to see you see me eat you out.” Wednesday breathes the words out huskily, heady with the rush of emotions. Enid makes a pained groan deep in her throat but lifts her head and aims those startlingly blue eyes toward Wednesday’s darker pair. Satisfied with control reestablished Wednesday leans forward and opens her mouth to lodge it around Enid’s gushing canal of love. All the while not letting go of Enid’s gaze for a second.

Wednesday closes her lips around the outer labial lips of Enid’s pussy and starts sucking in slick straight from the pot as it were. At the same time her tongue darts downwards and collects a dollop of creamy overflow dragging the tongue upward and brings it back up and into her gullet. If Enid’s slick was amazing from her fingers, drinking it directly from its point of conception is stupendous. The buttery and floral vanilla meeting the near-spicy concentration of cinnamon is just staggeringly good. Wednesday moans around Enid’s pussy and redoubles her efforts to get more of it, more!

Wednesday is not one for losing control though and her eyes never waver from Enid’s, nailing her in place with the most unrelenting of heated gazes. At the same time she starts to actually use her tongue to go inside, rather than just collect what is outside already. Truly eating Enid out for the first time. First tightening her tongue and forming it like a spear to delve as deep as she can and then relaxing it and curling it to rake in as much of the sweet sweet nectar on the way out.

*Switch to Enid’s PoV*

Enid though that she had experienced the height of sexual experience already this night, she was oh so wrong. Wednesday eating her out like a lesbian superstar while nailing her with the bore-like gaze made her feel things she had never before, nor even dreamt of their existence. Yet again her pussy is filled but now, like some of her wettest dreams, with Wednesday’s tongue rather than her fingers. Enid is yet again thundering toward her third orgasm of the night. Usually she did get there but no one had ever done it with this tempo, this intensity and the care and love at the same time. 

Wednesday did it all for Enid, not to her. Enid was every step of the way in on it, accepting and willing. She would have been begging for it if she could find her voice. But with what was going on nothing could draw words out of her mouth right now. Only moans, mewls and purrs. Her inner wolf accepted Wednesday not like a heat partner, but as a true alpha mate and she felt a bond with the young goth grow stronger than ever. Something that would endure past time, place and the end of the universe.

Just as she thought things could not get more intense she felt another new sensation, not only was Wednesday eating her pussy out like there was an olympic medal to win for it. She was now also working one of her fingers into Enid’s ass. Not only was she being eaten out, filled by a warm lapping tongue, she was also being skewered from the other end by an implacable lithe finger massaging against her sphincter. The finger was helped by the generous lubrication happening earlier from Enid’s pussy and via incessant attempts and natures own vaseline Wednesday’s finger suddenly popped through the sphincter and caused direct stimulation into Enid’s ass.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sensation and even a submissive wolf in heat has her limits. A mind-blowing orgasm swept through Enid and not only nearly choked Wednesday in a fountain of slick from her pussy and a unmitigated scream at the top of her lungs she also spiraled so hard that her consciousness fled. Enid collapses onto Wednesday as she faints from coming so hard.

Chapter Text

*Wednesday’s PoV*

Wednesday slept next to the prone form of Enid all through the night, not always maybe sleeping so much as relishing the complete safety and feeling of everything being right in the world for once. No weird murder-beasts or backstabbing teachers, no resurrected proto-fascists or dead relatives demanding attention. Just peace, contentedness and the warmth of Enid’s body. The closeness not just warming Wednesday’s body, but also her soul. 

Wednesday knew Enid liked to sleep in and expected this need to be ever larger now post-heat. She could feel Enid’s body temperature markedly dropping after her conscious-shattering final orgasm. And had read enough about werewolves to be sure that the heat was over. Now Wednesday could start on the actual courtship of Enid, to woo her in the way she deserved. No half-measures or shoddy shortcuts, Enid deserved the very best and to truly see that Wednesday meant to mate her for life.

As dawn was brightening the sky outside their part-rainbow, part-black and white, window Wednesday kissed Enid on the back of her head. Very lightly so as not to disturb Enid worked her way free, no matter the mumbled sounds of protest from the yet sleeping Enid. Wednesday wanted to draw Enid a bath, to truly care for her when she woke. But there was no time to lose in making preparation for the courtship to end all courtships.

Wednesday moves to the bathroom without making so much a sound, learning to sneak from ninja masters tend to lend one this ability. Wednesday freshens up and washes off the dried-in slick that is both on her body and in her hair. She rebraids her hair in keeping with Addams tradition for unwed women, hoping to soon be able to wear it free for Enid. She dresses in easy linen clothes of somber greys and black with a knitted sweater of silk and linen blend. She steals out of the shared room without disturbing Enid the least.

Wednesday has a full day if she is to court in keeping with her family traditions, and having decided to follow both the traditional werewolf style and her own family’s she has her work cut out for her. The first step in both is thankfully fairly similar. The Addams tradition calls on her to “Feed from the heart”. Meaning to cook something she has gathered herself and then present it in a fashion preferable by the intended. The werewolf one has a similar idea of “Providing for the pack”, whereas the alpha shows their ability to hunt and provide for their omega and thus their pack. This calls for a hunt, and then to cook said game before Enid wakes. A tall order for such a petite girl, but she is more than prepared. Wednesday Addams comes prepared, and does it well.

Wednesday has made sure to broach the topic of food often over the past weeks in preparation for this. She has learned that Enid likes deer and that she likes it rare, much in keeping with her werewolf ancestry. Wednesday has made sure that she has access to whichever part of the kitchen she needs and at any time of day, or night. Sometimes being courteous to people who most people ignore can buy you more than any amount of money. Wednesday had stopped by in the school kitchen many times over the years to discuss food, cooking and preparation techniques and was seen as something of a chef herself by the people working at the cavernous school kitchen.

Wednesday swings by a shed at the hive to pick up her bow, stored there behind the beekeeper suits and smokers and other paraphernalia commonly used in beekeeping. Unwrapping her bow from it’s oilcloth sleeve she also digs out her quiver with arrows and the string for the bow itself. Deftly stringing her recurve bow, Wednesday likes the classics as can be seen in for instance her use of a classic typewriter, she slings it across her back in the slot made for it in the quiver. She absentmindedly checks the fletching of her arrows to make sure they are up to standard. Wednesday has maintained both the bow, arrows and string religiously over the year and is quite the deadshot with it. She also straps on a belt for a knife and some rope before heading out.

Setting off into the woods outside Nevermore Wednesday pads across the dewey grass and much like in her and Enid’s room she makes less noise than a butterfly as she deftly traverses the woodland. Nevermore’s grounds are not a place to camp in lightly, but there is most likely nothing deadlier in it than Wednesday herself right now. The sun slowly edges above the horizon as Wednesday, going mostly by knowledge of where deer can be found and by listening for tell-tale sounds as to their activity, steals away in pursuit of prey.

After not much more than 30 minutes Wednesday has cornered a majestic roebuck. Sure, a younger example would to most people sound ideal but Wednesday knows Enid prefers the gamier taste of a more mature animal. And landing a roebuck will be more conducive to the werewolf tradition of showing skill in hunting for food, rather than the easier kill of a doe. Wednesday lines up her shot, draws the string back and exhales halfway to control the tension and then releases the arrow. It strikes true, piercing the heart of the roebuck and causing it to fall over without moving as much as an inch. A truly humane kill, the deer had no idea it was dead before it happened and it did not suffer.

Wednesday deftly slings rope around one foot, hoisting the deer up via nearby branch of a red maple tree and with practiced cuts disembowels the buck and bleeds it out. She discards the intestines, not one of Enid’s favorites and while Gomez says they are a delight this time it’s all about Enid. Wild animals will take care of whatever she leaves. Wednesday ties ropes to foreleg and hindleg on one side of the animal and then uses this to transport it easily back to Nevermore. One could think she had done this before.

In the prep kitchen Wednesday skins the deer and separates the head from the body for taxidermist purposes. With aplomb she quarters and further breaks down the body of the roebuck into manageable pieces. Keeping the very choice cuts for Enid and gifting the rest to the kitchen staff, goodwill buys you loyalty forever. Rinsing off the blood she transits from hunter to cook seamlessly.

The stock for the red wine jus has been cooking and reducing since a week ago, refined and tweaked daily for maximum intensity and depth of flavour. The deer fillet is fried with butter and the pan deglazed with the stock, red wine (a rich Cotes du Rhone) and finally mounted with butter for a velvety finish and perfect balance of tart, sweet and umami. The first new potatoes of the year, planted and tended by Wednesday over the year, have been barely boiled and then tossed with browned butter and a collection of Wednesday’s privately foraged herbs and Nevermores very own Hive Hot Honey. Roasted wild asparagus completes the dish and as breakfast is served Wednesday is ready with the complete dish for a very special breakfast service. Every item on the plate has been touched by Wednesday somewhere along the way, truly in keeping with tradition.

Enid looks clean, content if a little bit forlorn. Dressed in a new pastelly collection of turquoise top, coral harem pants and a lightly multicoloured pastel scarf together with classic white trainers she looks put together. Everything just so matches her edge-dyed hair without it becoming camp. Enid perks up markedly as Wednesday saunters up with her tray covered by a cloche.

“So I, uh, got your note to wait with breakfast. Why though?” Enid asks as Wednesday sets the tray down in front of the blonde girl. Wednesday doesn’t respond but rather makes a sweeping gesture toward the try and reaches to lift the cloche.

“So dramatic…” Enid chides, but smiles nervously. With a theatrical flourish Wednesday lifts the cover from the tray and reveals to Enid, and the rest of the dining hall, the sumptuous meal.

“Wow! Really?! What is this?” Enid leans down to smell the plate “Deer!!” she exclaims excitedly.

“Dig in, I made it just for you.” Wednesday states and Enid lifts an eyebrow questioningly.

“You made this? The kitchen stocks deer?” Enid looks baffled.

“Of course not, I shot it myself this morning.” Wednesday deadpans back, like it is the most normal pre-breakfast thing to do. Enid gawks back at her, mouthing “shot it” without actually uttering the words.

“Yes, shot it. And then cooked it, and all the rest, for you. Now eat it before it gets cold, the sauce will congeal.” Wednesday fishes up a bit of everything on a fork and lifts it towards Enid’s mouth, hand-feeding the pastel-dressed girl in front of the entire school. Mutters of “what the fuck?” and “is this for real?” or “what kind of breakfast is that?” can be heard from other diners. Wednesday ignores them all completely, having eyes only for Enid and she relishes the attention.

Closing her lips around the first forkful Enid chews slowly, eyes dropping closed to truly savor the sensation of the food. The texture, the freshness, the depth of flavour. Everything harmonious and complementing the other elements on the plate. She makes a contented sound and grabs the fork from Wednesday and settles in to devour the rest of the plate. Wednesday watches Enid eat with rapt attention and a slight smile on her lips.

First. Step. Done!

Chapter Text

Enid’s PoV.

Waking up alone after the best night of her life is shocking to Enid. First she wonders if it was all some form of massive wet dream, but she can tell her heat has receded and the tattered garments on the side of her bed attest to the veracity of the previous night. The Hello Kitty top torn in half, the sodden shorts and even Wednesday’s amazing leather get-up along with that crazy expensive silk underwear set can all be found in heaps on their floor. The room reeks of Enid’s cinnamon and vanilla slick with a faint undertone of lily of the valley and pine, but the latter smells are probably only discernible if you have as good a sense of smell as a lycanthrope.

All evidence to the contrary Enid’s inherent, deeply ingrained in her subconscious, self-doubt starts to make up reasons as to why Wednesday has left. She was probably just doing what Beverly did, using Enid for some fun. Enid feels this is deeply unjust to Wednesday’s character but her inner curmudgeon keeps circling back to any thing that could be construed as exploitative rather than tender. Nitpicking over these details rather than seeing all the evidence that Wednesday was the for Enid and wanted only the best for her. Leaving Enid alone the morning after her heat is somehow the final straw that breaks the camel’s back and somehow verifies the theory for Enid. Wednesday was probably just mercy-fucking her out of kindness rather than interest is the final position she lands on. Feeling the blues set in Enid opts to shower rather than bathe, even though she would love a long soak. Enid rinses off all residue of her slick which seems to have gone everywhere, in the most illogical of places. She even allows herself to cry a bit in her loneliness in the shower, no one can tell when the tears wash away down the drain anyway.

Enid dejectedly moves around the room tidying up and finds a curious note sitting on top of Wednesday’s typewriter addressed to her. She grabs the card, made of thick expensive paper and opens it with the help of her pastel-coloured nails. Inside is a note addressed to Enid with what she hoped would be a heartfelt apology for why Wednesday isn’t there, but no luck there.

“Enid.

Do not eat breakfast today, wait in the dining hall for me.

Wednesday.”

What the hell. This is how she leaves her? No info, no explanation, no apology. How very Wednesday… For all the studying she has done, did she not find information on caring for her sub post-heat? Enid shakes her head and the doom-spiral inside her head continues and she throws away her wrecked outfit and folds Wednesday’s pristine one into a neat pile on Wednesday’s well-made and undisturbed bed. Enid finds it curious that she would’ve made it up before leaving, not realizing that Wednesday had slept beside her, in Enid’s bed, for the vast majority of the night and didn’t so much as touch her own bed the last 24 hours. Frost settles over Enid’s heart and it starts to beat slower and hold less hope than the night before.

Enid can’t eat breakfast, Wednesday would never forgive her, but the notes doesn’t say she can’t hang around there. Being among people must surely be better than staying cooped up in her room waiting for no-one. What should’ve been the best morning of her life has somehow morphed into just another post-heat dep-fest. Enid’s mind goes over everything that happened in the previous 24 hours and somehow decides that it is not what it appeared to be, but rather a nefarious plot to unman Enid. The commands of Wednesday’s become barked orders, the playful slap a brutal beating, the whispering of dirty words a litany of debasing comments. On some level Enid knows it’s not true, but her mind has entered complete self-destruct mode and she does not know how to abort.

Enid dresses in things that could bring her at least a modicum of joy or comfort, but even clothes seem to have lost their magical effect right now. Feeling left out by the one person she was sure was on her side has unmoored Enid. She is drifting headlessly in foreign waters, not knowing where she is or where to go. Wednesday had duelled for her honor less than 24 hours ago, just to leave her high and dry. It just does not make sense to Enid.

Enid enters the dining hall together with most of the other Nevermore students and aimlessly wanders around to try and strike up a conversation with anyone. Seeking just a modicum of human contact to alleviate her burdened soul. Bianca is at her usual table, looking rather worse for wear with her weirdly lopsided hairdo. Enid looks her way and the former queen of Nevermore shrinks back in her chair, pointedly avoiding meeting Enid’s gaze and deflates back into herself. Lest she bring Wednesday’s ire back onto her again, not a fate she is looking to renew any time soon. Enid does feel somewhat strengthened by the fact that some things seem to line up with what she believed to have happened the previous day, but the absence of Wednesday continues to grate on her.

Esther Sinclair surely has done prime work on her daughter to make her such a master of self-doubt. Most people would believe that what actually happened the previous 24 hours was real and not a figment of imagination. But someone as whipped and belittled as Enid is made of a different kind of wood. Worm-eaten and dilapidated, not having been oiled or cared for at all. Prone to failure and rot. Enid finally lands her eyes on a friendly face and moves over to join Eugene at his table.

Eugene is holding court with a gaggle of prospective, and current, apprentice beekeepers for the hive club. They all want to be closer to the prodigy that is Wednesday Addams but will settle for second best, a friend of hers. The crowd around Eugene’s table falls into a hushed silence as Wednesday's best friend and roommate Enid sits down next to Eugene, shocked and awed exhales can be heard from some of the fiercest fanboys and fangirls. To be so close to someone who has been in the same room, and touched, Wednesday Addams is a rare privilege. Little do they know that more than that has passed between the two young women.

Eugene nods to Enid as she sits down.

“Want me to fetch something for you?” Eugene asks, tone warm and comforting. Friendly. A lone fire in the pervasive night of her existence this morning.

“No, Wednesday is bringing me something.” Enid says, hoping she doesn’t sound as mopy as she feels. Eugene just nods and smiles, a rare twinkle in his eyes as if he knows something Enid doesn’t.

“I’m sure she is.” He states, conviction clear in his voice, tone and demeanour. Enid wishes she could be as sure about it as he is.

“Why do you look so smug? You know something I don’t?” Enid asks, a bit peevishly.

“I am not coming between Wednesday’s plan and you. No, no, no.” Eugene states, clearly sidestepping the question and making clear he will not fall prey to Enid’s scheming.

Enid’s huffs disconsolately and stares into the table rather than looking up, around or even at Eugene. Eugene makes a questioning face but shrugs and thinks Wednesday will sort it out, she always does.

Eugene makes small talk with Enid, he gets mostly monosyllabic answers out of her and then he has to head out to drill the new keepers in the noble art of beekeeping. Enid waves a half-hearted goodbye as Eugene and his hang-arounds troop out of the dining hall. Just as she is about to give up on this venture and grab some last minute breakfast Wednesday suddenly sweeps in with a massive tray and a curious metal dome on top of it. Wednesday looks mighty pleased with herself.

Enid is presented with the deer, somehow both hunted and cooked by Wednesday herself, and ravenous from the night’s activities devours it all even if it is much more dinner than it is breakfast. Had she not known better she would have thought this was a courting move, as presenting one’s intended with food one has brought down and prepared themself is the first step in werewolf courting. Not that Wednesday would know this, why would she ever study lycan courting traditions? And as if she had any real interest in Enid?! A girl could dream, but it doesn’t mean said dream will happen.

Enid is hand-fed the first bite of the dish by Wednesday herself, kind of weird, kind of cute, kind of possessive. All kinds amazing. Enid basks in the attention, especially Wednesday’s. As she bites down she relishes the food. The deer is perfectly cooked but not too soft, coming from a slightly older specimen with more taste and some structure to it. The accompaniments are amazing in giving creamy, potatoes, or crunch, asparagus, contrast and the sauce just binds it all together into beautiful harmony. Much like how every instrument in an orchestra is played well individually, but together they make something grander. A symphony.

As Enid touches Wednesday’s skin to take the fork off her, she freezes for the duration of a second. Suddenly she is no longer in Nevermore. She is standing outside a circle of roughly 20 ft across, ringed by torches at every 5 yards along the perimeter. Inside is Wednesday dressed for combat. Short leather shorts and a sort of corset-like leather vest with leather sneakers. All in a sooty black. The skin she shows is covered in war paint that glitters with something in the colour. Across from Wednesday is a monster of a man, a hulking beast of muscle at least twice the tiny girl’s size. He is clearly a werewolf, Enid knows this in her bones. Enid is shocked to realize they are about to fight. Enid is seeing this from outside the circle, she knows she is there but not allowed, or really wanting to, interfere. But she does not know why she is there, why Wednesday is to fight. Why it seems to be about her somehow. She knows these things, but they make no sense. Just as Wednesday and the man move toward each other the world shifts again.

She is back in Nevermore and nothing but a fraction of a second has passed. The heat must have hit her hard Enid thinks, that was fucking weird.

Finishing her meal and feeling full, and thus with replenished energy, and finally reunited with Wednesday again Enid feels invigorated to take on life again. As long as they are a team nothing can stop them!

“So what should we do today then?” Enid asks lightly, not wanting to pressure the darker girl into anything.

“You should recover Enid, you had a very “full” night yesterday.” Wednesday quips back, making full use of innuendo.

“Haha, yeah. I sure was.” Enid chuckles along with Wednesday, joking this way is good as long as it is with Wednesday. Everything is just better with Wednesday somehow.

“I have to go, things to do. Don’t wait up, I might be out a while!” Wednesday declares and without further ado stands up and marches off. Taking with her all the joy, laughter and life in Enid’s world. Leaving her dark, desolate and alone. Again.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s PoV, though more third person this time. Not sure why it ended up that way, but it did...

Creation has always been a particular interest within the Addams family, most people think of them as destructive but this is only partly true. Gomez is an amazing smith and woodworker, Morticia an afficionado of singing, dancing and music. Both in its creation and enjoyment. This has rubbed off on their children as well. Wednesday is more of a daddy’s girl while Pugsley more takes after his mom. Wednesday was early on fascinated with the forge and the manipulation of metal. How heat, pressure and temperature regulation could have such a massive effect on the final product. Working the furnace, managing the bellows and the force, and pace, of hammerwork as well as that final dip of something in water to temper it. Every step fraught with possible missteps but also, when managed right, yielding the most amazing of results.

The second step in the Addams’ courting tradition says to “Craft from the soul”, a step quite open for interpretation. But then again there are many types of craft and as long as what is given is made by the giver, and represents the soulful wishes of the same, it wouldn’t matter if it was a walking staff, claymore or ring. Wednesday has a clear idea of what she wants to convey, but exactly which item will represent her soul to Enid is less clear. Gomez had made the wedding bands they wear himself and Morticia danced a specially choreographed dance that only he had ever seen. Both soulful, both beautiful.

The first step went as well as could be expected Wednesday thinks but it is increasingly clear that she won’t be able to double dip in the courting traditions much more. The second step of the werewolf version calls for “A show of strength” which is also quite loose in its limits, but crafting something seems too far a stretch even for the most liberal of interpretations. One could maybe call the trouncing of Bianca in the duel a sort of show, but Wednesday didn’t think it merited enough of a challenge to truly be considered showing off Wednesday’s strengths. The meaning behind the step is to show how capable the alpha will be in taking care of their omega, or beta, and the rest of the pack. It’s a thinker, and Wednesday is usually quite good at that. She will come up with something, just later.

While most parts of her craft are decided Wednesday still needs to fix the center stone somehow. It must represent Enid completely, but how to do so? Someone so colourful, beautiful and passionate. Something of just one colour will not do. This limits the stones available drastically. Enid is always wearing a profusion of colour, in her hair, her nails, her clothes, her soul. The only true solution is to choose something that includes all the colours, a rainbow gem. There are a few venues Wednesday can walk down for this, but she has her eyes set on a very specific one. And it requires travel.

Eugene, having not really recovered from his seconding duties, is once again called upon by Wednesday. Interrupting his drilling of the Newbees (he made this up himself of course, Wednesday just sighs, and rolls her eyes, whenever he uses the word) in the noble art of bee-wrangling. Eugene is something of a magician with the smoke gun and the bees probably wouldn’t even sting him without it, but the same could not be said for the newcomers. Some of them seemed genuinely scared of the bees, kind of begging the question as to why they signed up for the club in the first place. Excited whispering started when Wednesday joined Eugene at the hive, the show yesterday was only part of why Wednesday was something of a legend at Nevermore and people would go to considerable lengths to edge closer to her. Not really understanding that this made them as uninteresting to Wednesday as if they had just stayed where they were in the first place.

“You have a passport, right?” Wednesday doesn’t believe in wasting time, better to ask what you want to know than spend time waffling. Wednesday has somehow had time to switch from her hunting outfit to a more classic Wednesday getup of black and white. White casual shirt, with a rather special collar covered in lacey details. Black and white checkered sweater of thin wool, ankle-long skirt of a straight kind, also black. Long white socks. Ending in a very practical pair of black Dr Martens boots.

“Eh, yeah. Sure. Why?” Eugene asks, knowing he won’t get much of an answer, and he is right.

“To fly, of course. Let’s go. And grab some of the special honey. You know which one I mean.” Wednesday states, grabs Eugene by the arm, much like yesterday, and Eugene has only a few moments to convey some orders to the rest of the Hummers before he is out of earshot.

“And where are we going?” Eugene asks, not really bothered as Wednesday would never endanger him. He knows this like he knows his bees.

“Brazil.” Wednesday states, not bothering to further develop her answers. Her mind is obviously elsewhere, and she has never really bothered with social codes anyway.

“Ah, I see. Why?” Eugene feels prompted to ask, just to get it out of the way. Otherwise he will wonder the entire flight.

“They have the mines I need.” Wednesday elucidates, barely. Giving really no more information than she must.

“Okidoki.” Eugene feels he won’t get more out of Wednesday and resigns himself to pondering the question himself instead. What mines could be in Brazil? And why do they need a mine?

Wednesday opens the door of a limousine parked outside Nevermore’s outer gates and they get in. Lurch grunts and and the car shoots off as soon as the doors are closed.

“Are we flying coach?” Eugene asks jokingly.

“Hardly, I’ve commandeered the private family plane.” Wednesday deadpans, not even lifting a brow. She is busy with a sketchpad, drawing something. Looking focused, looking like Wednesday Addams.

Eugene accepts this in silence and watches the landscape flow past outside the tinted windows. No words are wasted in moving between vehicles and soon they are in the air rather than on ground. The seats are different, the situation the same. Eugene perusing some magazines on beekeeping somehow on stock in the plane and Wednesday continues sketching. The only sound beyond the air circulating and the woosh of air outside the plane is the turning of pages and the scratching of a pen.

Landing in Brazil is not really new, airports are airports wherever you go. Often the dullest architecture conceivable and a place no one wants to stay in, just pass through. At least flying private means no waiting for luggage, not that they had any, and very efficient security checks with no waiting in lines. Eugene is impressed, for Wednesday it’s a Tuesday. Barely even moving a muscle in her face through it all. Relocating to another car, still with the same driver who also somehow was their pilot. Was there anything Lurch didn’t do? Probably not.

“Not that you asked, but I can see the question on your face and it was going to come out sooner or later. No, he does it all.” Wednesday states before Eugene even has drawn breath to ask, uttering more words than in the previous hours combined. A veritable buffet.

Eugene is about to comment on this when a weird otherworldly tinkling of ghostly bells peal out. Wednesday makes a grimace and reaches into her leather holdall and retrieves a velvet bag and from this pouch extracts a crystal ball the size of a football.

“Yes, mother?” Wednesday drawls out, clearly knowing who is calling without even looking.

“Cara mia, not even asking to borrow the family chauffeur or plane? Not so much as a note?” Morticia’s drawl is just as effective as Wednesday’s, could they be related?

“No. I needed them, I used them.” Wednesday’s answer is curt, cold and to the point. No reaction can be seen on her face.

“As is your prerogative, what is in Brazil that you need so badly?” Morticia pushes on, more of a statement than a question. Wednesday eyes Lurch through the gap towards the driver, he just grunts.

“Of course we would know of the flight plan. Don’t blame Lurch.” Morticia answers the unuttered accusation clear on Wednesday’s face.

“I need a stone, Brazil has the best mines for them”. Wednesday grinds out, clearly reluctant to pass on any information.

“A stone you say? What is the need for it, my little hatchet?” Gomez voice comes across, clearly seated right next to Morticia for the voice to be thus clear. But then again, who knows what the pick-up field of a crystal ball is?

“Is the entire family listening? Pugsley you there too?” Wednesday asks. Voice low and threatening.

“Yes, but you are dodging the question Wednesday.” Pugsley retorts, clearly not fooled by Wednesday’s antics. The girl huffs in annoyance.

“Courting step two calls for crafting from the soul, and the stone is a pivotal part of the creation.” Wednesday grinds out. Gasps can be heard from the stone.

“I knew it, I had foreseen it but did not truly trust that it would happen now.” Morticia muses out loud. Her voice triumphatory.

“Who is it for, my little storm cloud?” Gomez asks. Vocalization warm and loving.

“It’s Enid of course.” Pugsley answers in lieu of Wednesday, making the girl change her expression for the first time. A slight lifting of the eyebrows showing some form of shock. Not a face she would make often.

“Yes, Pugsley is more alert than we give him credit for.” Wednesday keeps her tone even, though a slight tremor can be heard.

“Aaah, my little death trap has finally caught something worth keeping.” Gomez’s tone is heartfelt and brimming with emotion.

“Do let us know if you require any other help, darling.” Morticia states in a drier, if still carrying some warmth, tone. Wednesday need just say the word, and the world will be turned upside down for her.

“Yes, there is one more thing. I need a special treatment for the stone. Not the usual crap, I need Hayoto for this.” Wednesday for once actually sounds hesitant. This is apparently not something she would like to do, but if she has to ask for help for once she will do so. For Enid. She would give her life for that girl, so asking for help is only slightly worse.

“Hayoto does not come cheap, my little viper. But it will be done, where do you need him?” Gomez asks, his tone also showing some hesitation but willing to push through.

“At the Minas Gerais mining area. Leave his coordinates with Lurch and we will go to where he deems he can work best but is closest. Time is of the essence.” Wednesday forges on, heedless of any potential dangers.

“It will be done.” Morticia shuts the conversation down and the ball goes still, losing the interplay of colours present in it before. Just before it cuts off you can hear Pugsley shouting “Good choice, Wednesday. And good luck, not that you need it.”

“Of course it’s a good choice, it’s the best choice. Anyone could see this.” Wednesday states to no one in particular. Her tone low and deadly, like someone is disputing the fact of her words. Eugene nods along.

The rest of the ride to the mines, this Minas Gerais place, passes in silence. Wednesday no longer sketching, but brooding. Obviously her mind has a new focus, or maybe the drawing is done already. As they arrive they are directly waved through the gates and someone with two hard-hats and a pickaxe meets them by the car.

Wednesday accepts the headgear, passes one of them to Eugene and wears the other. She hoists the pick onto her shoulder and asks to be led to the deepest mine shaft they have. The man picking them up shrugs and leads the way. Less than an hour later, and several lift rides, they are standing in a subterranean tunnel where the walls glitter occasionally. Wednesday closes her eyes and starts turning slowly in a circle, holding her left hand out towards the walls. Suddenly she stops, her hand closes to a pointing finger.

“There.” Wednesday states and strides toward the wall and with a few well placed blows of the pickaxe, obviously a tool she is confident with, cracks the stone and out spills a gem cluster. “Yes, this will do.” Wednesday hums to herself. Clearly pleased with the result. Wednesday picks up the cluster, sweeps it in a velvet cloth she produces from somewhere and turns on her heels to get out of there as fast as they came.

“Just charge the Addams account for the expense.” Wednesday states over her shoulder to the man following them, he no longer has to lead as Wednesday has apparently memorized the way they took there from walking it once, as you do.

Once outside Wednesday asks Lurch to take them to this Hayoto guy, as they roll away from the mines Wednesday turns to Eugene and says.

“I am sure you wonder why I brought you eh?”

Chapter Text

Enid’s PoV.

Enid could not, ever, remember being loved. All of this stems from her mother of course, but Enid has a hard time not feeling guilty for it herself. But then again going through all the mental abuse and gaslighting that Esther had put her through it wasn’t weird. Enid was the only daughter in a family of only brother alphas, fucking 5 of them. They did not play nice, and growing up did not know, or care, that their baby sister was a submissive. Being a submissive is not always clear from the outset, alphas are so much more common and the line between a true submissive and weak alpha can sometimes be hard to differentiate. Only with the onset of the heat does it truly become clear which one you are.

Heats do not start appearing until someone wolves out, which took Enid an uncommonly long time. Thank you very much for reminding me, mom… So Enid was already at Nevermore when she went through her very first heat, the lone one. When she disclosed this to her family it was met with derision from her brothers, happy good wishes from her dad and a weird gleeful look from Esther. A look that did not mean good things. In most families a submissive is a godsend, as they are rare they are often respected and cared for. Enid was seen as a pawn to wrangle even more power into Esther’s hands. She left Enid in Nevermore while she planned how to best use this new asset for her own nefarious benefit.

One would expect all Werewolf couples to be between an alpha and an omega, but this is hardly the truth. Most couples are of two alphas where one is stronger, and thus more dominant, than the other. The weaker alpha is thus having to play the beta in the relationship, but will never truly accept their role and it can never live up to a mating with a true submissive. Esther knew this very well, having wrangled not just her beta husband but all of her family to do her bidding in all things. She loves the power, not the person.

So love was not exactly something she was used to. Before she met Wednesday that is, but she was pretty sure they had a friendship at least. That Enid now was sure she had fucked up via that heat shenanigans. Why could she not just be happy with friendship, damn it, thrice damn it?! It was evident that Wednesday was absent because of Enid overstepping some invisible border, which is funny in a way. It wasn’t Enid that had a finger up Wednesday’s ass while eating her out a mere day ago.

To say Enid is feeling down is an understatement of the century. She moves around morosely with no plans. A spring Saturday should be fun, basking in the sun just because it finally gives some form of warmth rather than that it actually feels nice. Eating picnics in the park, even though you have to dress too warmly to really enjoy it. All things you could do, if you had someone to be with. Enid thinks about reaching out to Yoko but she didn’t want to drag other people down with her.

Avoding human contact could never lead to anything good but Enid is somehow very adept at it. Everyone else would think of her as this vibrant and outgoing girl, chipper to her very core. But it is much more a front than it is reality. She does not believe in herself, and thus trusts no one else to believe in her either. When she really should be close to people, she shuns them. Acting against her own best rather than with it. If only Wednesday had stayed things would’ve been different. Wednesday can protect her against all terrors, of the mind or reality. But Wednesday isn’t there, and Enid is spiraling ever downward.

At lunch, no sign of Wednesday, Enid sits alone at a table in the dining hall. Aurora glides past and makes a face at seeing Enid alone.

“What are you looking at?!” Enid snaps at her, her nerves are frayed enough as it is and it comes out in her tone. Aurora’s eyes widen and she looks around as if Wednesday could appear out of nowhere and eviscerate her.

“Eh, nothing. Just shocked to see you alone and all.” Aurora mumbles back. Words come out hesitantly, if not coldly. As if unsure how she is allowed to talk to Enid after what went down the day before.

“Yeah, well. I am… alone.” Enid sighs morosely. So very fucking alone. A feeling she has gotten used to but became ever less complacent with after meeting Wednesday. She never felt alone with Wednesday. Even if she was typing on her endless novel projects, inventing weird torture devices or practicing with her chello. None of these things were about Enid, but she could watch and think about the dark girl endlessly.

“I can see that, one would think she’d stay close. Time of the year and all.” Aurora mumbles on, oblivious to the effect of her words on Enid. How the gulf in front of her is swallowing her whole at the very moment.

“Yeah…” Enid’s reply is barely audible and her lower lip is starting to tremble. No amount of pastel colour can brighten such a sad sight. You would want to hug her just to alleviate it the slightest.

“Shit, I did not mean to make you sad. If Wednesday sees this I’m toast.” Aurora speaks her mind out loud, like the airhead she seems to be. But then again she does hang with Bianca. So…

“You have nothing to do with my mood. Just leave. Please.” Enid is racing toward the edge but she refuses to cry because of mean girls, when this has nothing to even do with them. At least this time.

Aurora beats a hasty retreat, looking even paler than usual, and races toward Bianca’s table and the rest of the bitch pack.

Enid is then approached by a member of the kitchen staff. She learns that they were told to continue serving Enid choice pieces of the deer from her breakfast, by express instruction from Wednesday. It does at least shine a weak light into Enid’s darkness that Wednesday thinks about her, if not enough to actually be there though. Slim fucking light that…

What she is given holds no candle to Wednesday’s immaculate cooking but it is a solid dish of deer filet and roasted potatoes with a creamy gravy. It is probably amazing, but tastes like ash in Enid’s mouth. Just like the rest of life without Wednesday.

Darkness is no new friend to Enid, but this pervasive kind is worse than she can remember it ever being. It is truly strange how exposure to something new can make you crave it all the more. She has now learned how sweet the touch of Wednesday is and cannot for the life of her understand why she can’t have more of it. Now!

Enid doesn’t go anywhere after lunch but rather shuffles back to her room and lies in Wednesday’s bed. At least the sheets somewhat smell of Wednesday’s lily of the valley but she oh so misses that pine scent. She remembers that those panties of Wednesday’s are still in the hamper and they are sure to retain some of the sweet fragrance. She really should not, it is crossing a massive line, but she just can’t stop thinking about them.

Digging the panties out of the hamper she feels that soft silk gliding across her fingers, almost as soft as Wednesday’s skin. Almost. She presses the panties to her face and there it is, that fresh and earthy pine scent. She can feel her shoulders releasing some of their stress and the darkness seems less pervasive now. Clutching them to her bosom she trips back to Wednesday’s bed and falls on it, curling into a kind of fetal position.

Intermittently pressing the panties to her nose she dozes and finally completely falls asleep in the memory of the safety in Wednesday’s hands. Post-heat exhaustion can hit you hard and now it does for Enid. She continues sleeping through the day and the night.

Chapter Text

Wednesday’s PoV

The Imamoto family is legendary for their smithing skills, especially in the paranormal world as their method of production falls under the umbrella of magic imbuement and not just normal creation. This is a closely guarded secret of a few families and only ever taught to the most deserving of apprentices. The Imamoto is one of these families, and Hayoto one of their most prominent imbuers. A would-be master in his own right but as of this moment one of only 4 active imbuement artisans in the Imamoto family in the world.

Meeting such an illustrious person is not common for anyone, Gomez once apprenticed for them but chose to forego the imbuement training as he did not want to spend time away from Morticia. But he earned the respect of the family and it is via this token of respect that Hayoto is in Brazil, having set up his workstation in a smithy in a nearby village.

Wednesday and Eugene exits the car and at the entrance to the smithy Wednesday halts. Takes off her shoes and bows to the room before entering, not wanting to offend Eugene follows suit. At the anvil stands a man in a Hakama outfit dyed in indigo so dark it borders on black. He is not a tall man but he is wide and his arms are like tree trunks, corded with muscles and in one of his massive hands he holds a smithing hammer. His face is blocky with a square jaw, a massive nose and flat forehead. He sort of looks like a stone troll or something, but as a human.

“Wednesday.” He states her name and his voice is like boulders crushing smaller stones. He bows toward her in a formal Japanese manner which Wednesday returns flawlessly. Eugene looks on questioningly. Seeming to not know if he should bow as well, but then again he was not greeted either.

“Hayoto.” Wednesday says the name coming up from her bow and the tone conveys her deep respect for the man.

“I understand you need imbuement, of what?” Hayoto is not a man to waste words, or time, it seems and cuts straight to the chase. A man to Wednesday’s taste, especially as every moment wasted now is one less with Enid. And time with Enid is never something Wednesday intends to waste, ever.

Wednesday digs out the gem cluster they took from the mine and hands it to Hayoto.

“It’s a two part process, first I need you to cut out a Constantin Wild Emperor Topaz out of that chunk. And then I want it made into a Mystic Emperor Topaz via imbuement.” Wednesday states this clearly, as if she is asking for milk and eggs at the department store rather than one of the most precious stones in existence.

Hayoto raises his eyebrows at the information. Which is not weird considering that only a colorless topaz can be made into a mystic topaz, and usually with an addition of a titanium coating in a specialized lab. It is this coating, together with the natural topaz, that causes the stone to shimmer in the colours of the rainbow. Now, a Constantin Wild Emperor Topaz is not colorless, it shimmers in shades of pink to warm orange through fiery yellows. Much like Enid. Warm, fiery and pink in just the right places.

Though Enid is so much more than just those colours, and Wednesday wants the stone to reflect this. Imbuing it with a magical coating instead will alleviate the issues of a normal titanium coat, that it is easy to harm. The magical process will make it neigh on indestructible and rainbow iridescent as well.

“Ah. I see. Not for a weapon then? How uncommon.” Hayoto does seem to know Wednesday well then, as implements of destruction are much more her forte than gems fit for jewelry.

“It can be done. But we must discuss payment.” He states. Short, curt wording. There is weight behind those words, this does not come cheap.

“I understand the imbuement process requires an element of inherent magic, something with a natural affinity. And we have brought something to help with this. Eugene, the honey.” Wednesday responds and holds out her hand to Eugene.

“This is a special project pioneered by me and Wednesday you see, the bees are handpicked as the best honey producers. They have been reallocated to a specific hive, this hive only harvests honey from a rare and magical flower, ghost plants, found only where lots of magical creatures tend to live. And where do we find loads of them in concentration? Haha, nice of you to ask. In a school for specially gifted children of course, Nevermore! This means the honey is rich in magical residue which should be especially conducive to imbuement. No?” Eugene is excited now, which means he would never stop talking if Wednesday hadn’t chosen this time to place a strategic hand across his throat, and squeezing. Cutting of air flow, and thus also speech. Clever really. If disconcerting.

“Hai, very interesting.” Hayoto agrees, nodding with widening eyes. He picks the curiously translucent honey from Eugene’s grip to open the jar and smell it. Nodding all along. “This will suffice for the cutting, but only halfway for the imbue-work.” Hayako states, nailing Wednesday with narrowed eyes.

“I see.” Wednesday does not seem shocked or even surprised by the turn of events, she steps up next to Hayoto and leans in to whisper into his ear.

Eugene cannot hear what is being said, and even if he did his grasp of Japanese would not be good enough to understand it anyway, but Hayoto’s face betrays that he is surprised by what is uttered. He nods toward Wednesday solemnly, seeming to agree to whatever deal the tiny woman has brokered.

“Is it alright if we stay for the process?” Wednesday has stepped back and asks this with some trepidation, it does not seem to be a thing one would ask normally. Nor is she sure of an affirmative answer.

“Hai, Addams-san.” Hayoto accedes and turns toward the anvil with the hammer in one hand and the topaz cluster in the other.

“Which size are you shooting for, carat-wise. And which style of cut?” Hayoto asks, all business now.

“Round millennium cut, can the cluster yield a 15 carat?” Wednesday’s tone is hopeful. She does want to truly impress Enid.

“Hai, let’s see if I can make it 20.” Hayoto sounds sure of himself, Wednesday’s eyebrows shoot up. It is a truly impressive stone size.

Normally cutting semi-precious stones is a laboratory process using specific saws, grinding wheels and cutting disks in a very complex and industrial fashion. Hayoto needs none of this. He puts down the large smithing hammer and instead opens a trunk standing a few feet off from the anvil.

The trunk is actually a miniature storing cabinet with thin drawers filled with tools. Hayoto opens the first tier and draws out a kondo-point as well as a small kondo hammer. Placing the topaz cluster on the anvil and with precise and meticulous strikes Hayoto starts to work off the silica and other residual rocks and metal deposits from the cluster, to expose the raw topaz underneath.

Every strike causes the white and grey elements to fall away, leaving a muted red, orange and yellow stone with a rather lackluster sheen. Very far from your average jewelers stand. Hayoto switches to a narrower point and continues to work off minor flaws and continually turns the stone in his hand, assessing it by eye. Nodding his head as he surveys it.

Spotting some form of flaw or issues Hayoto strikes away parts of the topaz as well, leaving a large handsized stone of a rough circular shape. It will become vastly smaller during later processing. Hayoto puts the hammer down and pulls out drawer number two, picking out a handsaw with a diamond edge.

With the saw he starts to shape the stone into a rounder object, a crude replica of what it will finally turn into. Happy with this basic form he puts the handsaw back and opens a larger lower section of the cabinet. From it he retrieves a disk-like object, a slightly smaller disk inside a larger one, and places it on top of the anvil, attaching it to a foot pedal almost as for a sewing machine. What attaches the disc and the footpedal seems to be some form of wide band. It is a lapidary, just very unlike one you’ve ever seen.

Making sure they are all level he starts humming a tune with an Eastern melody, no words are discernable but the melody carries something with it. A feeling as if the hairs on the back of your neck are rising. Magic is somehow involved now. It conveys a feeling along with the melody, of monstrous waves, whirlpools, tranquil springs and shaded glades. How these disparate things can come from the same tune is weird, but it does.

Hayoto’s foot taps out a rhythm that is so fast that the eye can hardly follow it and the disk on top of the anvil starts to rotate. Hayoto holds the stone with a pair of tongs and rotating it, every time he presses it to the rotating pad a high keening sound appears and the stone changes shape. Making the very minutest of motions he carefully rotates the stone, creating the 1000 facets necessary for a millennium cut. Pausing occasionally to apply some oil to the disk which further brightens the resulting stone.

A process that should take forever is somehow done in less than an hour, Eugene and Wednesday sit in the corner of the room and follow Hayoto’s every move intently. It should be dull, but is fascinating. The dull stone step by step turns into the most flawless of gems.

Being happy with the cutting Hayoto packs the disk away. What he now holds is a truly marvelous Imperial Topaz of the Emperor variety. Now comes the actual imbuement. The song he has sung continually now becomes words. A language none of them recognize, and it is not Japanese.

Hayoto opens the Ghost Flower Honey and dips the stone in the viscous fluid and what happens next makes no sense. The temperature of the room first becomes scorching, causing sweat to bead on their brows, and then abruptly plunges to freezing, making the beads of sweat into ice crystals. Something similar happens to the honey around the stone, first it bubbles around the stone and then solidifies around it. A scent of warm wood, burning stone and some spectral flower pervades the room and then suddenly fades to nothing.

The chanting suddenly stops and Hayoto leans forward, breathing out hard and gazes into the stone. What was a colour that spanned reds to yellow and everything in between is now a kaleidoscopic rainbow. Fractally changing with every lightbeam that hits it and your angle of viewing. The pink, yellow and fiery orange dominate in the base but all other colours can be found toward the edges. If Enid was a gem, this would’ve been it. Thankfully she is a girl, that Wednesday loves.

“It is done.” Hayoto states, unnecessarily, as anyone can see that the stone is flawless. Wednesday takes it from him reverently and puts it in a small velvet pouch, which she pockets. Her eyes are fervent, glittering in the low light of the forge.

“Until we meet again then. Imamoto-sama.” Wednesday’s tone is tinged with deep respect as she drops into a graceful, but very low, bow. Eugene does a half-arsed attempt to copy it and follows Wednesday out of the smith, into the car, onto the plane and back to Nevermore.

The glory of private air travel is that you don’t need to wait for the plane, it waits for you.

Chapter Text

Shared PoV. Enid starts.

Esther is a cruel woman, but thankfully not the brightest. She does not understand that continuous application of the same method desensitizes the subject toward it. Esther uses the same sharp words and barbs throughout the years and they do hurt, but had she thought about it she could’ve truly wrecked Enid. What do you take from someone who has nothing? You give them something, so that you can take it away again… Inadvertently Wednesday had achieved exactly this effect.

Enid wakes up Sunday. No sign of Wednesday still, she is not lying behind or beside her in bed. Nor has she slept in Enid’s as far as Enid can tell. She truly is avoiding me, Enid thinks. I just had to fuck it all up, damn, twice damn and thrice damn. A pit of ice builds at the bottom of her stomach, she is so cold. Enid even struggles to care about clothes. Just choosing at random, ending up with a peach top, cream slacks and paired with basic white trainers. Listlessly she goes through her day, breakfast alone and lunch alone. Whatever happens in between those times is just a grey haze to Enid. Nothing she cares about nor pays any great attention to. Time passes but does nothing to affect, or impress anything of worth to, Enid.

The first part of this grey haze is filled with incessant scrolling on social media, something Enid usually enjoys. But now all she can see are people, often couples, oh so happy together. Every smiling person makes her feel more shitty about herself. People describing their ideal dates, welcoming home long-absent relatives or soldiers, all the classic tropes that Enid tends to enjoy now reinforce her feelings of sadness. Every kiss she sees makes her miss Wednesday’s lips more. Every hug causes her to feel the sharp want of touch, Wednesday’s touch. It doesn’t have to be sex, just comfort. Enid tries to activate herself in the later stage of the haze. She tries walking around Nevermore, only seeing grey stone or couples making out. Like social media without either social aspects or media, really. She tries to do dance challenges on TikTok but is hardly engaged enough to even effectively followed the choreo and thus it just makes her feel clumsy. A real shit show of a day.

Enid walks to Yoko’s place, but she seems to be out. Probably found some new girl to harry and fool around with. Never one for long term engagements that one. Probably having fun though. Yoko tends to be fun. Enid wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in the ass right now. She moves around the school, but she barely registers where she is going or what she sees anymore. The haze has become a blanket, blocking almost everything out. A fog so thick it shelters her from the world, but also the world from her. Numbing any and all feelings and emotions, except those deep inside.

At dinner, still no sign of Wednesday, Enid is about to just give up completely. She barely even notices the voice and what it says.

“You wanna join us Enid?”

Enid looks up, barely even engaged enough to focus her eyes. Aurora again, what the actual fuck? Why is this girl so focused on me?

“You done doing straight up bullying and are playing some long game shit now?” Enid is too hurt to control the vitriol in her tone. Aurora visibly shrinks back but somehow, doesn’t leave. The girl must have a spine somewhere in there. Even if it is damn hard to find.

“No, really. Enid, you shouldn’t be alone now you know.” Aurora stands her ground.

“I had a submissive wolf friend once and she really needed people around her to come back to herself after heat”. Aurora nods towards Bianca’s table, trying a hesitant smile. She is actually trying to be nice, inviting. Such a stark contrast from the bitch packs normal antics.

“Fine.” Enid grunts. She can’t see what Aurora’s game is but it can’t be worse than what she is currently going through. Someone running her through with a blazing poker wouldn’t be worse…

“This deer meat is fucking excellent Enid, you need to thank Wednesday for us.” Bianca says, she has fixed her uneven hair by going back to the buzz cut of her early days. Go figure. It does suit her though, maybe Wednesday did her a favor somehow. Wednesday does favors for others but not for her eh. She completely refuses to acknowledge that Wednesday duelled Bianca for her earlier.

“Yeah, sure. Not that she’s around.” Enid states, trying to stay as neutral as she can. The words still come out sad, heavy. Along with her posture it really paints a depressing picture of a girl.

“Huh?! Really?! That is just unreal. Even I could smell you on her yesterday morning, and the hand feeding shit.” Bianca sounds genuinely confused. Her tone climbing for every word she utters. She is leaning forward, weight on her arms on the table. She really looks like she wants to know.

“Hah, yeah. You’d need to ask her.” Enid sighs out, this is not making things better. Not anywhere. Bianca isn’t being bad, weirdly enough, but there is only one person who could truly dispel this fog. Wednesday.

“I did know you guys were close and all, didn’t think she would go there though. Really didn’t see it in her. But good for you, I congratulate you, you know.” Bianca forges on, eyes alight with some emotion. It isn’t malicious, she seems genuine. Enid really has no idea what she is talking about. Is the fog impeding her mind too? Is she being obtuse?

“Doing what? Being my heat partner?” Enid grinds out. Words low, hesitant and slow in the coming. Enid doesn’t want to talk about it, she feels forced to. And forcing a wolf to do things tends to not be a good idea. They bite, hard.

“Eh, what? No. Well sure, grats on that too or something. The courting obviously.” Bianca’s brows would disappear behind he bangs, but she doesn’t have any. So she does look very surprised. Eyes wide, face sincere. No trace of the trademark snide scowl.

“Wednesday isn’t courting me, why would she?” Enid sighs out rises from the table, this was a bad idea after all. And she leaves the room, slowly heading back to her empty room. The idea is so preposterous it is insane. In Enid’s wildest dreams she could not envision a world where she is loved by Wednesday. It lies much too close to her hearts warmest of desires. To not just love and be loved, but to love and be loved by Wednesday. The things she would not forsake for this to become reality. There was not an object she would give up, not a quest she would not undertake. If the opportunity presented itself somehow she would take it, not a fraction of a seconds hesitation. To hear Bianca imply it strikes much too close to home for Enid, she must run away or bleed to death from the thought of it.

“Is she fucking blind or dense or something? Or both?” Bianca says and the rest of the pack look just as confused. Rarely have you seen pretty girls look so confused.

Enid ignores it like all other interactions this day. She shuffles her way back to her room, doing a repeat of the day before she collapses into Wednesday’s bed, retrieving the used panties from under the pillow. Takes a deep breath of their sweet aroma which seems to be the only thing keeping her from truly suicidal thoughts, and falls into sleep.

*Switch Wednesday PoV*

Having just returned from maybe the quickest there and back again trip to Brazil, thanks to the Bombardier Global 8000 that the Addams family own. Barely having done anything else than go between places, Wednesday has had no time to change and only slept the minimum of required hours on the flight back. The trip can only be described as a roaring success though, very productive.

Entering the room she shares with Enid she spots that Enid’s bed is uninhabited, making chills run down her spine. No way. Where is she? Panic is already near the surface for her, she did leave Enid way too long. Every second has hurt them both. She knows this in her heart of hearts. She then spots that her own bed is being used instead and her shoulders relax and she lets out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in. She approaches the bed, silent like the part-ninja she is, and looks down lovingly at Enid. She then spots that Enid is not just in Wednesday’s bed but she is snuggling something too, on closer inspection it turns out to be Wednesday’s used panties from the heat night. What a little minx. Wednesday is impressed by Enid’s daring. And she comes up with a great plan of her own.

Wednesday eyes Enid’s bed and then takes Enid’s phone from her bedside table, learning her screen lock was not very hard to be honest. Looking through her phone was deathly dull though, TikTok dance challenges. Make-up tutorials. Colour matching apps. Ugh. Not a serial murderer in sight. Wednesday strips off all her own clothes and crawls into Enid’s bed. She spends a few minutes arranging Enid’s plushies and stuffed animals into a “voyeurs circle” before she chooses one, she is pretty sure it’s a favorite of Enid’s. This one she places between her legs, she then leans back provocatively and uses the smartphone camera to take a picture of herself. She thumbs up the picture, fiddles with the lighting levels some, adds some text to the photo and then makes sure to leave the camera image as the app last used before she thumbs off the phone.

She then sneaks over to, and climbs into her own bed. Snuggling up behind Enid’s back and lets out a sigh of contentment, drifting off to sleep in the one position sure to leave even a curmudgeon like Wednesday safe and content.