Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The girl with the braids sat with one leg crossed over the other, still hesitating a little bit. That small bit of movement made Enid smile as well; Wednesday looked incredibly adorable holding onto the sleeves of her hot pink hoodie with her hands, a stark contrast to all the black she wore.

“For what pathetic reason are you laughing, Sinclair?” the crow asked coldly.

Enid was paralyzed, unsure what to say. But she was someone who spoke her mind, so answering honestly wasn’t an issue:

“Nothing, Wednesday. Your hair falls into those two perfect braids like it was made just for you—it’s beautiful.”

The wolf’s cheeks were suddenly warm, reddish, and the crow’s were surprisingly the same.

When did these moments happen where time seemed to freeze? Why did Enid suddenly want to clench her roommate’s hand?

“The wolf’s cheeks felt so hot and the girl with black braids followed her. The girl with black braids, even, felt so cold, frozen over. Why, though?” Opposites attract – the term sticks, although improperly used, we do feel the need to understand from the other side, so dissimilar. Zero and Fire, burn you. Ice and Fire, blinded, Darkness and Light… all the same.

“Enid, if you keep smiling like that, your expression will stay that way forever.”

Enid laughed softly at the comment, “If my face got stuck like this, I wouldn’t mind,” she said, her voice gentler than usual.

Wednesday scrutinized Enid as if the latter was a jigsaw piece that demanded her attention yet was misaligned. “You are ridiculous,” she said softly, her gaze resting on Enid slightly longer than normal.

The silence lingered in the air, thick and heavy, yet not unpleasant. Enid turned her smile into a modest, soft smile as her fingers came to rest gently at her side. For the first time, she thought about what it might feel like to bridge the gap that separated the two of them, not with words but with touch.

Chapter Text

Enid’s pinky brushed against hers again, deliberate this time. Wednesday told herself she should move away—that this closeness was meaningless, foolish. Yet her hand remained where it was, as though some unseen gravity kept it tethered.

Her mind cycled through explanations: perhaps she was indulging Enid out of pity, perhaps she was conducting an unspoken social experiment. And yet… the warmth of Enid’s skin seemed to pulse against her own, grounding her in a way that unsettled her logic.

Enid only smiled, softer now, her expression patient, almost knowing. “Maybe. But you didn’t move away.”

Wednesday’s gaze flickered toward her, dark eyes searching, dissecting. The wolf’s words should have been easily dismissed—yet they lodged themselves in the corners of her mind like thorns. Why hadn’t she moved? Why did her hand still rest there, brushing against warmth she pretended to scorn?

It was inefficient, irrational… dangerous.

And still, she didn’t move.

The dorm was quiet, save for the faint rustle of Enid’s blankets as she flopped onto her bed. A soft glow from her string lights painted the walls in muted color, casting Wednesday’s side of the room into sharp contrast—neat, shadowed, untouched by warmth.

Enid propped herself up on her elbows, watching her roommate with a lopsided grin. “You know, you never sit over here. My bed isn’t cursed, Wednesday. Promise.”

Wednesday, perched at her desk with her typewriter, hesitated. The idea was absurd. Pointless. She had writing to do, mysteries to solve, a thousand things more productive than entertaining Enid Sinclair’s whims.

Yet her fingers hovered above the keys, still.

Why did she even consider it?

Her eyes flicked toward the wolf sprawled in a hot pink hoodie, hair falling into soft waves around her face. The invitation was ridiculous—but not unappealing.

“Your insistence borders on desperation,” Wednesday said at last, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“Maybe,” Enid teased, patting the space beside her. “Or maybe I just like when you’re close.”

The words lodged themselves deep in Wednesday’s mind, unwanted but unshakable. She stood, moving almost mechanically, and crossed the room. Sitting at the edge of Enid’s bed, she kept her posture stiff, as if the mattress itself might swallow her whole.

Enid, undeterred, shifted closer until their shoulders brushed. Wednesday’s breath caught. Her instinct was to recoil, but something rooted her in place.

This was foolish. Dangerous. Intolerably distracting.

And yet—she didn’t move.

Instead, she asked, “Why does my presence matter so much to you?”

Enid tilted her head, considering her carefully. “Because you matter to me.”

Simple. Honest. Impossible.

Wednesday turned her gaze forward, refusing to meet those bright, unflinching eyes. But her hand curled against her knee, betraying the tiniest tremor of something she could neither define nor deny.

The silence between them felt heavy, charged. Enid’s shoulder pressed lightly against Wednesday’s, and for one fleeting second, it seemed as though time might pause again.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Both girls startled. Wednesday stiffened, instantly pulling back to reclaim her side of the bed. Enid’s eyes darted toward the door, a flicker of something unreadable passing over her face.

“Uh—one sec!” Enid called, too quickly. She slid off the bed, smoothing her hoodie as though to compose herself.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. The knock had not been polite, nor hesitant. It carried purpose.

Enid opened the door, and there stood Ajax, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, Enid. You ready?”

Wednesday blinked, her expression hardening though she remained silent. Ready for what?

Enid hesitated. Her gaze flickered back to Wednesday, then back to Ajax. Her smile was forced, but she managed it anyway. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, I, uh—forgot how late it was.”

Ajax grinned. “No worries. We can just hang out, maybe grab something from the quad before curfew?”

Wednesday stood from the bed, her spine rigid, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Sinclair, what is this?”

Enid’s cheeks flushed pink, but not in the same way they had moments ago. This time it was embarrassment—guilt. She fumbled with the sleeve of her hoodie. “A few days ago, Ajax asked me out,” she admitted softly. “And I… I said yes.”

The words hung in the air, heavy, final.

Wednesday’s chest tightened. She told herself it shouldn’t matter. That Enid’s frivolous attachments were of no concern to her. And yet, as she watched Ajax smile at the wolf with easy confidence, her own logic faltered.

Why does this feel like betrayal?

Enid gave a nervous little laugh, stepping into the hallway. “I’ll… be back later, Wednesday.”

The door shut behind her, leaving the dorm in silence again. Wednesday stood motionless, her hands clasped behind her back, nails digging into her palms.

She refused to admit the hollow ache settling in her chest. Refused to name it for what it was.

But as the sound of Enid’s laughter with Ajax drifted faintly down the hall, Wednesday sat back at her desk, opened her typewriter—
and found the keys unmoving beneath her hands.

Chapter Text

The night was cool, and Ajax led Enid to a quiet bench near the quad, away from the scattered clusters of students. He was sweet, awkward, and Enid wanted—needed—to like him. To let him distract her.

He leaned in, hesitant, his curls brushing her forehead as he pressed his lips gently against hers.

Enid closed her eyes. She tried. She really tried. But the instant their lips met, her mind betrayed her.

It wasn’t Ajax she felt.

It was Wednesday. The phantom memory of nearly touching her, of dark eyes studying her like she was something fragile and precious, of their shoulders brushing in the silence of their room. Just being centimeters apart from Wednesday had set her skin on fire. This kiss? It was… nothing.

Her eyes flew open, heart pounding with guilt and frustration. She pulled back sharply. “I—I can’t,” she stammered, her voice breaking.

Ajax blinked, startled. “Enid?”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, standing so fast her chair scraped the ground. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t untangle the truth even for herself. All she knew was that it wasn’t right. That it wasn’t her.

She turned on her heel and hurried back toward the dorms, leaving Ajax staring after her in confused silence.

Inside the dorm, Wednesday sat rigid at her desk, typewriter untouched, a blank page mocking her in the dim lamplight. The silence pressed against her ribs, heavy and unbearable.

Enid’s laughter with Ajax no longer echoed down the hall. Instead, there was nothing. Nothing except the thought of her wolf sitting beside someone else, smiling for someone else, giving away the warmth that had been hers.

A pulse of something sharp and ugly burned in her chest. Jealousy? Anger? Possessiveness? Whatever it was, it clawed at her insides.

Wednesday clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. She imagined wrapping those same hands around Ajax’s neck, imagined the look of fear in his eyes as his smug grin disappeared forever. He had taken something that wasn’t his. Taken her girl—

Her girl?

No. That was absurd. Sentimentality was weakness. Enid Sinclair was her roommate, nothing more. Her proximity was convenience, her brightness an irritating contrast to Wednesday’s darkness. That was all.

So why did the thought of her lips against his make Wednesday’s stomach twist like a blade? Why did the image of Ajax touching what should never be his fill her with a rage she refused to name?

The door handle rattled.

Wednesday snapped her gaze up, spine straightening, mask of indifference falling back into place just as Enid slipped quietly inside, hoodie still clutched around her. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes—Wednesday noticed—looked haunted.

“Back so soon?” Wednesday asked, her voice calm, cold, betraying nothing.

But her knuckles remained white against the desk, as if she was holding herself together by force.

Enid slipped inside and shut the door softly, as though not to wake someone. She tugged her hood up, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks, but Wednesday noticed immediately. She always noticed.

Wednesday turned slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing. “You were gone for precisely twenty-three minutes. Either Ajax speaks at the pace of a dying tortoise, or your evening ended prematurely.”

Enid’s stomach twisted. “I… just didn’t feel like staying out, that’s all,” she said lightly, forcing a smile. “I was tired.”

Wednesday’s gaze lingered on her—too sharp, too knowing. “Strange. You expel enough energy in a single afternoon to rival an entire wolf pack. And yet, one date leaves you weary?”

Enid faltered. “It wasn’t—” She stopped herself. “It just wasn’t right.”

Something dark flickered across Wednesday’s expression, though she schooled it into neutrality before Enid could read it. “Perhaps Gorgons aren’t to your taste,” she said coolly. “Their heads are crowded enough without adding another person to their lives.”

Enid blinked at her, thrown. “Wow, that’s… oddly mean, even for you.”

Wednesday rose from her desk, moving past Enid to straighten the books stacked on her nightstand—busy hands to distract herself. “I merely state facts. If Ajax were suitable, you would not be standing here looking as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Enid bit her lip, warmth rushing to her cheeks for the second time that night. Wednesday’s back was turned, but her words struck too close to the truth.

She wanted to argue, but instead she whispered, “Maybe I was looking for someone else all along.”

Wednesday froze. Her hand stilled on the edge of a book.

For a heartbeat, she considered turning—considered asking. But no. Questions led to answers, and answers led to feelings, and feelings were a disease she could not afford.

So she straightened, mask firmly back in place, and replied with a cutting edge of indifference: “Then I suggest you look harder, Sinclair. Your standards seem lamentably low.”

Enid’s face fell, though she smiled to hide it. She climbed into bed without another word, pulling her blanket up tight.

Across the room, Wednesday sat down again at her desk, typewriter silent, her hands motionless. The words she wanted to write—needed to write—refused to come.

Because Enid’s voice still lingered in her ears, soft and accusing: Maybe I was looking for someone else all along.

And Wednesday hated how much she wanted to believe it was her.

Chapter Text

Morning light spilled faintly through the high windows of the alchemy classroom, bouncing off jars of strange liquids and half-finished experiments. Enid sat with her group—Yoko, Divina, and a few others—half-listening as they fiddled with vials and took notes.

Half-listening, because her eyes were elsewhere.

Across the room, Wednesday sat alone at her station, a storm cloud made flesh. Her posture was straight, her expression as sharp and impenetrable as ever. Ink-black braids fell neatly against her shoulders as she scribbled into her notebook, ignoring the chatter around her.

Enid’s gaze lingered on everything—her pale hands, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the faint tilt of her head as she read. Every movement seemed deliberate, perfect. And Enid, hopelessly, found herself caught in the orbit of it.

“Earth to Sinclair.”

Yoko’s voice cut in, but Enid didn’t budge.

Yoko arched a brow, leaned closer, and snapped her fingers in front of Enid’s face. “Enid. Hellooo?”

Enid blinked hard, jerking her head toward her friend. “Sorry, what?” she said, voice soft, cheeks already warming.

Yoko smirked knowingly. “I asked who you’re taking to the Raven. It’s in two weeks. Do you even have a date?”

The question made Enid’s stomach drop. She fiddled nervously with her pen, glancing down at her notes to avoid Yoko’s eyes. “I… I don’t know. Maybe Ajax?” The words felt hollow the moment they left her mouth. “We aren’t that serious yet.”

She hesitated, biting her lip, then added in an even quieter voice, “I don’t think I even wanna go.”

But before Yoko could pry further, the shrill ring of the bell filled the classroom. Chairs scraped, bags shuffled, voices rose in a sudden clamor of dismissal. Enid packed up quickly, grateful for the interruption, though her gaze wandered once more toward Wednesday.

The girl in the black braids never looked her way. Not once.

And yet Enid couldn’t stop staring.

The crowded hallway buzzed with chatter as students spilled out of class, but before Enid could slip away with the tide, Yoko caught her wrist.

“Hey, not so fast,” the vampire said, tugging her toward a dark broom closet tucked between classrooms. Enid yelped softly as she was pulled inside, the door shutting with a dusty click. The cramped space smelled like chalk and cleaning solution, with the faint scent of cobwebs hanging in the air.

“Yoko, what the heck—”

“Don’t ‘what the heck’ me,” Yoko cut in, crossing her arms. Her sharp crimson eyes narrowed. “You’ve been down all week. Depressed, even. Something’s eating you alive and I’m not letting you walk around acting like a zombie without answers.”

Enid froze, her throat tightening. The words she wanted to say sat heavy on her tongue: It’s Wednesday. It’s always Wednesday. But the thought of saying it out loud—of admitting it, even to a friend—was terrifying.

Her shoulders slumped. “Yoko, can we not do this right now?” she said quietly, then forced her voice sharper, colder. “I don’t feel like talking. Plus I’ve gotta meet up with the pack—we’ve got some pre-wolfing exercises-whata-whata to do.” She waved her hand vaguely, turning toward the door.

Yoko narrowed her eyes but didn’t block her. “Fine. This time. But Enid…” She jabbed a finger at her chest. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I swear I’m gonna—”

Enid pushed the door open before Yoko could finish and slipped out into the hall, slamming it shut behind her. A cloud of dust puffed from the doorframe, sprinkling over Yoko’s sleek black hair.

“Ugh!” Yoko hissed, shaking it out furiously. “Not cool, Sinclair!”

Enid walked quickly down the hall, her chest tight, her steps unsteady. She hated lying, hated brushing Yoko off. But saying the truth would mean saying her name. And she wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

By the time Enid trudged back into their dorm, the moon was already high, spilling pale light through the tall window. Her body ached from the so-called “pre-wolfing exercises,” but her heart felt heavier than her limbs.

She pushed the door shut quietly, hoping Wednesday would be asleep. But of course she wasn’t.

The glow of her lamp illuminated the desk where she sat, braids perfectly in place, typewriter quiet for once. Wednesday’s dark eyes lifted as Enid entered, scanning her with the precision of someone who missed nothing.

“You’re late,” Wednesday said, tone flat but laced with something unreadable.

Enid set her bag down harder than she meant to. “Yeah, well, the pack likes to run in circles until someone pukes. Super fun bonding.”

She expected Wednesday to return to her writing, but the crow didn’t. She just watched, silent, like she could dissect every fiber of Enid’s soul if she stared long enough.

Enid shifted uncomfortably. “What? Do I have dirt on my face or something?”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, voice low. “You are… quieter than usual.”

Enid forced a laugh. “Don’t act like you miss me talking your ears off.”

“Silence is not the issue,” Wednesday replied. Her gaze lingered, sharp but strangely soft around the edges. “It is the way you wear it. As if it is pressing down on you.”

Enid froze, her throat tightening. She wanted to say something, anything—but if she opened her mouth, the truth might spill out. That she had kissed Ajax and felt nothing. That all she could think about, in every quiet moment, was the girl with braids sitting across the room.

So instead, she pulled her blanket around her shoulders and muttered, “I’m just tired, Weds.”

Wednesday studied her for another long moment before turning back to her desk, though her typewriter remained untouched. “Very well,” she said curtly.

But as Enid climbed into bed, curling into herself, Wednesday’s eyes flickered toward her once more. She told herself it was curiosity. Nothing more.

And yet, when she heard Enid’s faint sigh in the dark, her hands tightened in her lap. The feeling rising in her chest—protective, restless, jealous—was becoming harder and harder to deny.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile. Enid curled under her blanket, staring at the string lights above her bed, trying not to think. Trying not to feel.

But Wednesday’s voice, low and deliberate, broke the quiet.

“Sinclair.”

Enid peeked out from under the blanket. “Yeah?”

Wednesday’s dark eyes fixed on her, unblinking. “The Raven is approaching. Who are you planning to take?”

Enid blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things Wednesday could have asked, that wasn’t one she expected. “Oh. Um…” She hesitated, heart stuttering. The truth was complicated. Painful. But she had to say something.

“Probably Ajax,” she whispered, half-buried in her covers.

The name lingered in the air like poison.

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, her hands curling slowly into fists against her knees. She felt it again—the sharp, twisting burn in her chest. Anger, hot and unyielding. It made her blood boil to imagine Enid at the Raven, smiling in Ajax’s arms, dancing beneath the lights with him instead of—

No. No, this was absurd. She was above such foolishness. Sentiment was weakness, and weakness was unacceptable.

Still, her voice came out colder, sharper than she intended:
“I suppose mediocrity appeals to you, then.”

Enid’s eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. “Wow, okay. That was uncalled for.”

Wednesday looked away, braids swaying as she turned back toward her desk. “Merely an observation,” she muttered.

But her nails dug into her palms as she sat there, the image of Ajax burned into her mind—stealing what was hers, though she refused to admit it aloud.

Across the room, Enid pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her chest aching. She didn’t see Wednesday’s reflection in the darkened window—eyes blazing, lips pressed into the faintest line—as if holding back the words she couldn’t allow herself to speak.

That night, the dorm fell into silence, broken only by the rhythm of their breathing. Sleep came slowly, uneasily—until dreams tangled them both in the same fevered net.

Enid found herself standing in their dorm, but it was different—closer, darker, the air thick with something she couldn’t name. Wednesday stood before her, eyes burning, lips slightly parted. There was no cold sarcasm, no scorn. Just intensity, sharp enough to set Enid’s skin alight.

“Wednesday…” Enid whispered, the sound trembling.

Wednesday stepped closer, so close their breaths mingled. “You haunt me, Sinclair,” she confessed, voice low, strained. “It is intolerable.”

And then Enid’s back was against the wall, Wednesday’s mouth crushing against hers. Heat surged through her veins as their lips moved desperately, hungrily, like both of them were starved for the other. Enid’s fingers tangled in braids, pulling her closer; Wednesday’s hands pinned her wrists against the wall, her body pressed flush against Enid’s.

It was frantic, consuming—every kiss a confession, every gasp between them an admission they could never utter awake.

“I hate how much I want you,” Wednesday growled against her lips.

“I don’t care,” Enid panted, kissing her harder. “I want you too.”

The dream burned hotter, touches turning reckless, confessions slipping freely in the fever of desire. Neither of them pulled back. Neither of them wanted to.

And then, with a gasp, reality snapped back.

Wednesday bolted upright in her bed, chest heaving, her nightgown clinging to her skin. Cold sweat ran down her back, dampening the sheets. She pressed a trembling hand to her lips as though she could erase the phantom burn of Enid’s kiss.

This was unacceptable. Impossible. Weakness.

Yet her heart refused to slow, and her mind refused to let go of the image of Enid beneath her, gasping her name.

Across the room, Enid had already stumbled out of bed, her face flushed scarlet. She locked herself in the bathroom, gripping the sink with both hands, breath coming fast and shallow.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, staring at her reflection in horror. “Did I just—did I seriously—”

Her cheeks burned hotter as the memory of the dream replayed in her mind, vivid and undeniable. Wednesday’s mouth on hers, Wednesday’s hands, Wednesday’s voice, low and aching with want.

Enid squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face in her hands. “No, no, no. That was not… that was not a—” She cut herself off, hyperventilating. “Oh god. It was.”

Her whole body buzzed with leftover heat, and her heart thundered so hard it hurt.

In the other room, Wednesday sat in the dark, spine stiff, hands clenched in her lap. She would not call it longing. She would not call it need. She would call it nothing.

And yet, she could not stop replaying the dream either.

Chapter Text

The shrill bell rang across campus, but neither girl stirred at first. By the time Enid bolted upright with a gasp, Wednesday was already out of bed, though slower than usual, her pale face betraying the faintest, humiliating flush.

“Crap, crap, we’re late,” Enid groaned, scrambling for her bag.

Wednesday said nothing—her composure was strained, every movement calculated. But her hands trembled faintly as she buttoned her collar. The dream still clung to her skin like smoke, impossible to banish. She hated how vividly she remembered Enid’s lips.

Potions Class

The classroom reeked of herbs and simmering brews, but Enid couldn’t even smell it. She sat hunched over her cauldron, biting her lip, her mind betraying her with every replay of that dream. The way Wednesday kissed her. The way she pinned her wrists. The way her own body had melted into it like it was meant to happen.

Heat spread low in her stomach—lower—and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, cheeks burning. She almost spilled wolfsbane extract into her cauldron, Yoko nudging her with a hiss.

“Girl, you’re gonna blow us up,” Yoko whispered.

Enid blinked, snapping out of it. “S-sorry.”

But she couldn’t focus. Not when her whole body remembered Wednesday’s touch, real or not.

Across the room, Wednesday’s quill scratched against her notes, precise as always. But if anyone looked too closely, they’d see the faint red staining her otherwise marble cheeks, the slight tightness in her jaw. Every detail of the dream was engraved in her mind. She couldn’t unfeel it. She didn’t want to.

And that terrified her.

Later, in the Library

Yoko had cornered her between the dusty shelves, fangs poking out as she grinned like a cat with a secret.

“Alright, spill. You’ve been walking around like a zombie all day. What’s up?.”

Enid shook her head, clutching a book to her chest. “It’s nothing, Yoko. Seriously.”

Yoko narrowed her eyes. “You’re the worst liar. Tell me, or I swear I’ll spread it around that you cried at that sappy romance movie last month.”

Enid’s face flamed. “That’s low.”

“Mm-hm.” Yoko leaned against the shelves, waiting.

Enid hesitated, gnawing her lip, torn between shame and the unbearable need to let it out. Finally, she dropped her voice to a whisper: “Okay. Fine. I had… a dream.”

Yoko smirked instantly. “About Ajax?”

Enid buried her face in her hands. “…Wednesday.”

That wiped the smirk right off Yoko’s face. “Wait. What? You had a dream about Wednesday Addams?”

Enid groaned into her palms. “Please don’t say it like that!”

Yoko leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I need details.”

Enid’s whole body buzzed with embarrassment. She tried to deflect, but the memory surged up, raw and impossible to hide. “It was just—ugh—it felt so real. We were in our dorm, but different, darker. She was… looking at me, like—like I was the only thing in the world.”

Yoko raised her brows, intrigued. “Go on.”

Enid fidgeted, voice trembling. “She kissed me. No—we kissed. And it wasn’t sweet or soft, it was—it was desperate, like we’d been holding it back forever. She had me pinned against the wall, her hands on my wrists, and I swear I’ve never—” Her voice caught, face scarlet. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. Not with Ajax. Not with anyone.”

Yoko’s grin returned, wide and knowing. “Oh, you’re gone for her.”

Enid buried her face in her arms on the table. “Don’t say it like that, Yoko. Please. I don’t even know what it means. It was just a dream.”

But Yoko snorted, patting her shoulder. “Enid, if you’re dreaming about Wednesday Addams pinning you down and making out with you, you’re not just crushing—you’re full-on feral.”

Enid let out a muffled whine into her sleeve. “I hate you.”

Yoko smirked, fangs glinting. “Nah. You hate how much I’m right.”

Enid had her face pressed against her folded arms on the table, wishing she could sink into the wood and vanish. Yoko sat across from her, smug and unrelenting.

“You’re telling me Wednesday Addams had you against a wall and kissing you breathless in your dream,” Yoko whispered, “and you’re trying to convince me you’re not in love with her?”

Enid peeked up from her arms, cheeks flaming. “Yoko, I can’t be in love with her. She’s Wednesday. She doesn’t even—she’d never…” Her voice trailed off into a groan.

Yoko leaned closer, smirk sharp. “But you wanted it. You wanted her. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Enid’s throat went dry. She whispered, as if admitting it would set the whole library ablaze:
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Yoko’s grin faltered at the sheer rawness in Enid’s voice. She blinked, realizing just how down bad her friend really was.

Before Yoko could respond, the sound of shifting footsteps echoed faintly down the aisle. Neither girl noticed the pale figure tucked just behind a shelf of crumbling tomes, hidden in the shadows.

Wednesday stood there, frozen.

She hadn’t meant to overhear. She’d only come for a volume on obscure poisons—but then she’d heard her name slip from Enid’s lips, soft and longing, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

She dreamed of me.

The words replayed in her skull like a funeral toll. Her heart slammed against her ribs, unfamiliar heat coiling low in her stomach.

And worse—Enid wanted her. Desperately.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the spine of the book in her hand until the leather creaked. She should have left. She should have turned away. But she couldn’t. She stood there in the dark, pulse wild, listening as Enid’s voice cracked with longing.

“…and it felt so real, Yoko. Her mouth on mine, her hands on me… I didn’t want it to stop. I’ve never felt that with anyone. Not Ajax, not ever.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched so sharply she had to clamp her lips shut to stop the sound. A faint flush crept up her neck, humiliating and undeniable.

She belongs to me. The thought came unbidden, savage. She’s mine.

But when Yoko laughed softly and teased, “God, Enid. You’re basically writing fanfiction about your own roommate,” Wednesday finally forced herself to step back, silent as a shadow, disappearing between the shelves before either of them noticed.

Her pulse didn’t calm for hours.

Chapter Text

The dorm was quiet—too quiet. Only the steady scratch of Wednesday’s fountain pen filled the air, each stroke sharp and precise, while Enid scrolled through her phone with restless fingers.

Then the buzz of a call split the silence. Enid glanced at the screen.

Ajax.

Her heart clenched. She straightened her posture, brushed a hand through her hair, and hit accept.

“Hey,” she said softly, forcing brightness into her voice.

“Enid,” Ajax’s tone was warm, flirty, a little too eager. “So, I was thinking… do you wanna go to the Raven with me?”

Her breath hitched. The Raven. She should’ve felt excited. She should’ve smiled, said yes without hesitation. Instead, her chest ached. Her mind conjured not Ajax’s smile, but Wednesday’s gaze—unyielding, magnetic, impossible.

Still, the silence dragged, and she had to say something.

“Uhh… yeah.”

The word scraped her throat like broken glass.

She hung up quickly, mumbling an excuse, and shoved her phone aside. The walls of the dorm felt like they were closing in. She needed air. She swung her legs off the bed and strode for the door.

“Stop.”

The word froze her in place. Low. Commanding. Trembling.

She turned. Wednesday was standing now, not behind her desk but in her path, hand raised, fingers shaking ever so slightly. Her braids swayed as she tilted her head, expression a mask of composure that didn’t hide the storm in her eyes.

“Why are you leaving?” Wednesday’s voice was razor-sharp, every syllable dripping with restraint that threatened to snap.

Enid blinked. “I just—needed some air.”

“That’s a lie.” Wednesday stepped closer. “You’re going to him. To the Gorgon.”

Her chest tightened. “So what if I am?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a hiss. “Because he just asked you to the Raven. And you said yes.”

The way she said it—like a death sentence, like betrayal—made Enid’s stomach twist. “Were you—were you listening to my call?”

“I didn’t need to,” Wednesday shot back, her hands clenched at her sides. “I could see it on your face. You looked at the phone as if it mattered more than anything in this room. As if he mattered.”

Enid’s breath caught. Heat rose in her throat, but it wasn’t just anger—it was heartbreak. “Why do you care, Wednesday?” she demanded, voice cracking. “Why do you get to decide who I go with? You act like you don’t care about me, like nothing I do matters—and then suddenly, you’re jealous? You don’t get to play both sides!”

Wednesday flinched, but her jaw locked, her dark eyes unblinking. “That’s not true.”

“Then what is true?” Enid’s voice was trembling now, raw with everything she’d bottled up. “You glare at me, you mock me, you push me away every time I try to get close. And yet—yet you look at me like—” She cut herself off, unable to say it, tears brimming. “Like you want me. And it’s killing me, Wednesday. I can’t keep doing this.”

Wednesday’s mask cracked. Her breath hitched. She stepped forward, close enough that Enid could feel the static in the air between them. Her voice came out low, sharp, but almost breaking:

“I don’t want him to have you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

The words stabbed the silence.

Enid’s chest heaved. She whispered, barely audible, “And you do?”

For once, Wednesday’s composure shattered. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her hands trembled, her breath quickened. Her silence screamed louder than anything.

The tears finally spilled down Enid’s cheeks. She shook her head, heart splitting open. “You can’t keep doing this. If you don’t want me, then stop looking at me like you do. Stop making me feel like I matter, only to act like I don’t.”

The silence stretched, unbearable, suffocating.

Enid’s throat burned as she turned, yanking the door open. “I can’t breathe in here.”

The slam echoed through the dorm, rattling the walls.

Wednesday stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nails digging into her palms until they left crescents.

For the first time in her life, her body betrayed her: her vision blurred, her throat ached, her hands shook uncontrollably. Rage. Jealousy. Pain.

Her voice cracked in the empty room, so quiet it could’ve been mistaken for a confession or a curse:

“But I do.”

She collapsed back into her chair, quill snapping in her hand. She couldn’t write. Couldn’t think. Could only replay Enid’s tears—tears she had caused.

And for Wednesday Addams, that was the most unforgivable crime of all.

The Quad

Enid sank onto the cold stone bench, shoulders shaking, phone still clutched in her hands. Yoko appeared beside her in one swift stride, plopping down with an expectant, gentle nudge.

“I… I lied,” Enid whispered, her voice trembling. “I told Ajax I’d go… just to see what Wednesday would do. I—I didn’t want him. I never wanted him. I just…” Her chest heaved. Tears spilled down her cheeks, dripping onto her lap. “…I just want Wednesday. I don’t even know why I said yes.”

Yoko’s eyes softened, and she wrapped an arm around Enid’s shoulders. “Oh, Enid…” she murmured, letting her friend collapse into her.

“I don’t even know how to fix this,” Enid sniffled. “I thought if I… tested her, maybe I’d understand, maybe I’d stop feeling… this. But I can’t. I—”

Yoko’s hand squeezed hers. “Then spend the night here. Just for tonight. You’ll think clearer in the morning.”

Enid nodded, letting herself be guided away from the quad, tears still falling, letting the warmth of Yoko’s apartment wrap around her.

The Dorm

Meanwhile, Wednesday curled into a corner of the dorm room, knees pulled to her chest. Her throat ached from unshed words and the heartbreak she’d inflicted.

She had broken Enid’s heart. And now… now Enid wasn’t even there.

Her bed felt impossibly empty. She had never felt this way before—for anyone. Panic and longing coiled together in her chest. She had expected jealousy, irritation, maybe mild frustration. But this… this burning ache, this desperate, hollow ache, was something she couldn’t name.

Her hands shook, curling against the quilt as she tried to contain herself. She stayed up, listening to the quiet, hoping… praying… for a glimpse of Enid, a sign, a sound, anything. But the night remained empty.

Wednesday didn’t know that Enid had spent the night with Yoko, letting her feelings unravel in safe arms, away from the storm of Wednesday’s stare and intensity. The thought, if she had known, would have broken her in half.

By morning, she made a decision. She had to fix it. She had to make Enid see—feel—that it was her, and only her.

But confidence didn’t come naturally. Not now, not in the face of the gorgon, not with Ajax already in the picture.

So she turned to Tyler. The person she despised the most. The one she’d never want advice from, the one whose smugness grated against her nerves. But she had a plan. Not fully formed, not guaranteed, and dangerously risky—but it was a start.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll figure this out,” she whispered to herself. “Even if it kills me.”

And for the first time, the calculated, cold, unflappable Wednesday Addams felt fear. Fear that if she didn’t act, she’d lose Enid forever.

Chapter Text

Wednesday stood before the mirror in her dorm, the black dress hugging her figure with a precision almost unsettling. The fabric caught the dim candlelight, shadows tracing every curve, and yet… she felt nothing. No sense of vanity, no satisfaction. Her mind was consumed by a single image—Enid. Enid in a sparkling dress, smiling that impossible sunshine smile, her golden hair shimmering under the Raven’s chandeliers.

Her hands clenched the mirror’s edge, knuckles pale. The thought of the gorgon’s hands touching Enid, dancing with her, leaning close to her—it set Wednesday’s veins on fire. It should’ve been her. It will be me. She whispered the vow under her breath, her lips curving into something dark, dangerous, but resolute.

Of course, there was Tyler. Her unwelcome anchor for the evening, her cover. She had convinced herself it was a plan, but the reality gnawed at her. To walk into that room with someone else, to pretend, when all she wanted was Enid… it felt like swallowing glass.

Across Nevermore, Enid twirled once in front of her mirror, her sparkly dress catching the light with a playful brilliance. It was her in every way—colorful, alive, radiant. Her hair was carefully braided and curled, each strand perfect, though her heart wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed with messages from her pack, but she ignored them, eyes drifting back to her reflection. She looked beautiful, yes—but there was something missing.

She bit her lip, fingers brushing against the fabric. What she wanted more than anything was to see Wednesday’s outfit. To know what she would look like tonight. To see those sharp eyes land on her and not look away.

But that was a wish. A hopeless, reckless wish. And instead, she had Ajax waiting.

She forced herself to smile at her reflection. But behind her bright eyes, a storm was brewing.

The ballroom shimmered with black feathers, silver chandeliers, and eerie violet lighting that cast every face in shadow. Couples twirled, laughter filled the air, and music pulsed through the floor. But none of it registered for Enid Sinclair.

Because across the room—there she was.

Wednesday Addams.

The black dress clung to her like it was stitched for her alone, a cruelly perfect second skin. Every sharp line of her figure, every curve, was highlighted in a way that stole the air from Enid’s lungs. The raven-dark fabric flowed around her like ink spilling on glass.

Enid’s hand slipped from Ajax’s without her realizing. Her wolfish heart thundered so loud she thought the whole room must hear it. Nothing existed—no music, no people, not even Ajax nervously tugging at his sleeves beside her. Only Wednesday.

And when Wednesday’s eyes lifted, cold and sharp as ever—but landing on her—Enid froze. Because there was heat there. There was want.

Wednesday’s chest tightened when she saw Enid’s sparkly dress, radiant and alive, her golden hair catching the lights like a halo. She had never seen anything more blindingly beautiful. Her fists curled at her sides when Ajax brushed against Enid’s arm. She wanted to set him on fire.

For minutes, they exchanged glances, stolen and burning. One looked away, only for the other to be caught again.

Until Enid moved.

She broke away from Ajax without a word, her heels clicking against the floor as she crossed the room. Every step felt like defiance, like freedom, like surrender. Her hands trembled, her chest tight, her lips dry—until she finally stood before her.

“You…” Enid’s voice cracked, her eyes wide, hopelessly wandering over the way the dress hugged every inch of Wednesday’s body. She stuttered, tripping over her words. “You look—oh my God—you look so gorgeous.”

Wednesday blinked, something unreadable flickering in her dark eyes. She had been prepared to remain silent, to bite back her feelings, to say nothing as she always had. But not tonight. Not when Enid stood in front of her, glowing, vulnerable, perfect.

For the first time in her life, Wednesday Addams’ lips curved around words she thought she’d never utter:

“You look… beautiful, Enid.”

The air between them grew tight, charged, almost unbearable. Enid’s heart skipped. She couldn’t breathe. Her smile trembled, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.

And then Wednesday spoke again, softer, quieter, as though forcing each syllable out past centuries of pride and walls:

“I was wrong. About everything. About you. I—” her voice dipped, just above a whisper. “…I’m sorry.”

The world stopped.

Wednesday Addams had apologized. To Enid Sinclair.

Enid’s chest burned with something she couldn’t name. The music faded into a blur, the crowd disappeared. All she saw, all she felt, was Wednesday.

Chapter Text

The music slowed, the lights dimmed, and the ballroom shifted into a sea of couples pressed close together. Enid’s heart plummeted when Ajax stepped forward, offering his hand. She forced a smile, slipping her fingers into his, though her eyes—traitorous, desperate—searched only for one girl across the floor.

And she found her.

Wednesday.

Tyler’s hand rested on the small of Wednesday’s back, pulling her into the rhythm. She didn’t resist, but her eyes were sharp, blank. Still, Enid’s chest tightened. Because that hand, his hand, was where hers should be.

Enid’s steps faltered as Ajax guided her, murmuring something she didn’t hear. Her eyes were locked on Wednesday—the way the black silk of her dress clung with every subtle movement, the way her dark hair framed her pale face, the way her gaze flickered, just once, toward her.

Enid felt it like a spark against her skin.

It was unbearable. Every sway, every stolen glance, every second watching Wednesday in another’s arms—it tore at her. Her lungs burned, her throat constricted. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. She should’ve been the one holding Wednesday.

Her chest heaved as her wolf heart surged. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—pretend anymore.

“I—I’m sorry,” she blurted to Ajax, stumbling back. “I just—I can’t.”

Before he could ask, before he could stop her, she spun on her heel and rushed through the crowd. Her pulse roared in her ears as she pushed through couples, eyes locked on Wednesday.

And then—without hesitation—Enid grabbed her hand.

Wednesday stiffened, her eyes widening as Enid’s warm fingers wrapped around her own icy ones. Before either Tyler or Ajax could react, Enid tugged her sharply, dragging her off the dance floor. Their skirts swished, heels clicked, gasps followed them.

They didn’t stop until Enid shoved open the door of the girls’ restroom, pulling Wednesday inside with a force that nearly made her stumble.

The heavy door swung shut behind them with a slam, muffling the music and chatter outside.

Enid’s breath came fast, her chest rising and falling as she pressed her back against the door, still holding tightly to Wednesday’s hand like it was the only thing tethering her.

Her eyes—wet, wild, golden—locked onto Wednesday’s.

The heavy restroom door slammed shut, muting the Raven’s music into a distant thrum. Enid’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her hand still locked tight around Wednesday’s.

She opened her mouth once, twice—but nothing came out. Words tangled in her throat, choked by the heat in her chest and the icy, piercing way Wednesday was staring at her.

Her lips parted, breath shaky, but all she managed was a faint, broken whisper of, “I—”

And then silence.

Her golden eyes shimmered, wide and trembling, caught on Wednesday’s own. Enid Sinclair—always loud, always bright, always unafraid—was rendered utterly speechless.

And Wednesday? She did not move, did not blink, only tilted her head slightly, her dark gaze searching Enid like she was peeling back every layer of her soul.

The space between them felt dangerous. Electric. Unavoidable.

The silence between them crackled, suffocating, until Enid’s trembling hand tightened around Wednesday’s.

Wednesday’s eyes flicked from Enid’s parted lips to the way her chest heaved with each breath. The Addams girl had resisted every impulse, every obsessive thought, every dream that clawed at her night after night. But now, here, trapped in this tiny room with Enid Sinclair’s desperate eyes on her, resistance shattered.

She moved first.

A sharp tug on Enid’s hand pulled her forward, and before Enid could even gasp, Wednesday’s lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t soft, or cautious, or hesitant. It was deliberate. Demanding.

Enid whimpered into the kiss, her free hand flying to clutch at Wednesday’s waist, pulling her closer as if she could melt into her. The spark that had haunted her dreams ignited into fire, spreading from her lips down to every nerve in her body.

Wednesday kissed like she wrote—furious, precise, and unrelenting. Her hand slid up, tangling in Enid’s perfectly styled hair, pulling her head back just enough to deepen the kiss. Enid yielded, her knees nearly giving out, her back pressing against the restroom door with a soft thud.

They broke apart only for a second, gasping for air, foreheads pressed together. Enid’s eyes fluttered shut as she whispered, breathless, “Wen—Wednesday…”

But Wednesday didn’t let her speak. She surged forward again, capturing Enid’s mouth in another rushed, hungry kiss, as if she were starved and this was her only salvation. Enid responded with equal force, her wolf instincts taking over, nails grazing Wednesday’s back through the fabric of her dress.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was years of loneliness, months of denial, weeks of tension, and endless nights of dreaming—all crashing into one desperate moment.

By the time they pulled away, lips slick, breaths ragged, Enid’s hands still trembled where they clung to Wednesday’s sides. Her entire body buzzed, her heart threatening to burst.

Wednesday’s dark eyes bore into hers, pupils wide and fierce. Her lips curved slightly as she murmured, low and hoarse:

“Siempre tú.”

The words hung in the air, intimate and undeniable—always you.

Chapter Text

The music and voices of the Raven faded behind them as Enid tugged Wednesday down the empty corridor. Their footsteps echoed in sync, breathless, hurried, like they couldn’t get back to Ophelia Hall fast enough.

When they finally slipped inside, the door shut with a thud that felt like it locked out the entire world. The air between them was heavy, charged, their eyes clinging to one another like neither dared to look away.

Wednesday tilted her head, dark hair spilling like ink down her shoulders, her gaze burning into Enid’s as if she were memorizing every line of her. Enid, heart hammering, couldn’t stand still anymore. She stepped forward, closing the gap, and then Wednesday’s mouth was on hers—urgent, ravenous, months of silence and stolen glances exploding into a kiss that left them both breathless.

Wednesday’s hands fumbled for her own dress, desperate, ready to tear down every barrier, but Enid caught them—gently, firmly—stopping her.
“No,” Enid whispered, her voice trembling with both nerves and certainty. “Let me.”

Deliberately, slowly, she slipped her own sparkly dress down, the fabric sliding over her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Wednesday froze, lips parted, her normally composed expression undone. All she could do was stare. Enid stood before her in nothing but her bra and underwear, golden hair falling perfectly around her flushed face, every inch of her radiating beauty and fire.

Wednesday’s breath hitched. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t find words.

Enid gave a shaky smile, then pushed Wednesday back until she landed on her bed. Hovering above her, Enid leaned down, kissing her again—this time slower, deeper, filled with everything she’d been holding back. Wednesday’s hand found Enid’s jaw, her grip almost trembling with the force of wanting.

And for once, the Addams girl didn’t fight the feeling. She gave in.

Enid smirked faintly through her nerves, closing the gap between them, and pushed Wednesday gently back until the Addams tumbled onto her bed. The sight was almost too much—Wednesday sprawled against her black sheets, hair mussed, her dress clinging in dangerous places.

Enid climbed into her lap, straddling her, kissing her again—this time slower, deeper, a deliberate claiming. Wednesday’s hands slid up Enid’s thighs, trembling, gripping tight as though afraid she might vanish. A noise tore from Wednesday’s throat—low, unguarded, and desperate.

Enid broke the kiss just long enough to trail her lips down Wednesday’s jaw, to her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against pale skin. Wednesday’s breath hitched sharply, her head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut as if she had no control left.

Her hands clawed at Enid’s back, her voice breaking in a whisper that was both a curse and a prayer.
“Dios mío…”

Enid kissed her harder at that, swallowing every sound, every tremor, until Wednesday’s carefully constructed walls collapsed entirely. The room filled with nothing but tangled sheets, muffled gasps, and the quiet unraveling of Wednesday Addams in Enid Sinclair’s arms.

The morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and almost mocking, considering how little either girl had slept. Enid stirred first, her body warm and languid, her face pressed against a chest that was most definitely not her pillow.

Her eyes fluttered open. Wednesday.

The Addams heir lay beside her, hair tangled across the pillow, lips still faintly swollen, one arm draped possessively around Enid’s waist. Her dress was long gone, discarded somewhere across the room, leaving her in little more than lace and shadows. Enid glanced down at herself—her own bra strap slipped off her shoulder, her body pressed against Wednesday’s bare skin.

The wolf’s cheeks burned instantly, but the heat was nothing compared to the rush of memory that crashed over her—kisses, moans, the way Wednesday had said her name like it was both a confession and a curse.

Enid bit her lip, a giddy smile threatening to bloom, when—

The door creaked open.

“Enid? What the hell were those—” Yoko froze mid-step, her voice cutting off, her sunglasses sliding down her nose. She didn’t need to finish the question. The sight said it all.

Two girls tangled in black sheets. Nearly naked. A mess of glitter and lace and bite-marked skin.

“Ohhh,” Yoko said slowly, eyes widening. Her smirk grew as realization struck. “So that’s what those noises were last night.”

Enid bolted upright, yanking the blanket up to cover herself, her face glowing red.
“Yoko! What are you doing in here?!” she squeaked, her voice an octave too high.

Wednesday, still flat on her back, blinked open her eyes as though she had been awake the entire time. Her voice was hoarse but sharp as ever:
“Get Out.”

Yoko raised her hands, laughing under her breath. “Relax, Addams. I’m not judging. Honestly, I’m impressed. I just thought the walls in this place were thicker.”

Enid buried her face in her hands with a groan. Wednesday’s grip only tightened around her waist, as if silently daring anyone—including Yoko—to come any closer.

“I’m leaving before I see something I really can’t unsee,” Yoko teased, backing out of the room. “But Enid… we’re gonna talk about this later.”
The door shut again. Silence.

Enid finally dared to glance at Wednesday, who was watching her with a face unreadable except for the faintest tint of red at her ears.
“Don’t,” Wednesday muttered.

Enid giggled anyway, sinking back into her arms.

---

Enid wiggled slightly in Wednesday’s arms, smirking as she traced a finger along the curve of her ribs. “You know, I never thought I’d hear *that* coming from you,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

Wednesday’s dark eyes shot open, sharp and incredulous. “That… was… inconsequential,” she snapped, though her ears pinked just slightly, betraying her.

“Oh, really?” Enid pressed, brushing her lips just along Wednesday’s jaw in a ghost of a kiss. “Because it sounded like you were… enjoying it.”

Wednesday froze, her hand tightening around Enid’s waist. “I… I was not… enjoying it,” she stammered, clearly unused to verbalizing anything so… intimate.

Enid chuckled softly, leaning closer, her forehead resting against Wednesday’s. “Mm-hmm. Sure. If that’s what you want me to believe.” She let her fingers trail along Wednesday’s arm, teasing, playful, but deliberate. “I mean, I *loved* hearing it. So maybe you should keep making those noises, hmm?”

Wednesday’s lips twitched, almost like she was about to argue—but instead, she huffed, flustered, and pulled Enid closer. “Stop talking.”

Enid laughed against her lips, brushing a strand of dark hair from Wednesday’s face. “Mmm, but it’s so fun seeing you like this. You’re… so loud, Wednesday Addams. I could get used to it.”

Wednesday’s jaw worked, and though she tried to suppress it, a faint hiss of amusement—or something dangerously close to a chuckle—escaped. She tightened her hold, leaning into Enid’s warmth.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, low and breathy.

Enid grinned, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “And you love it.”