Chapter Text
IMPORTANT: All characters have been aged up to their twenties because I honestly just don’t have it in me to write a high school fic at the moment. Enjoy! <3
Wednesday stilled when she saw her. It doesn’t feel like Gomez described. She doesn’t feel the world turn on its axis when she locks eyes with her, her tresor. She doesn’t feel much of anything other than peace. Now she knows.
She’d always feared the moment the Addams curse would strike her. It was her only fear, and the monumental weight of the revelation is enough to justify her years of apprehension.
It’s almost anticlimactic.
And then the peace shatters. Wednesday has never felt such rage as she watches the man caress her goddess’ waist as if he owns it. She doesn’t question her body as it takes her across the ballroom floor, guiding her like the arrow on a compass towards her own personal true north.
Wednesday doesn’t know her name yet, but no one will dare to even utter it in vain once she has staked her claim.
She pushes off the velvet couch, thankful for her years of social training. The Addams style of social decorum is unique, but effective.
When the blonde with bright cherry red tint on the ends of her hair lifts her head to look into Wednesday’s eyes, Wednesday finally knows what Gomez meant by the “Grand Entrapment”. She sees the woman nearly trip, her wide blue eyes locked onto Wednesday as she approaches, even as she smiles warmly at her approach.
She’d normally view such a stumble as weakness, much less the soft smile, but it only makes Wednesday more intrigued. Wednesday is used to the feral variety, positively or negatively. Whatever this ethereal woman is, she’s the furthest thing from an Addams.
Her face sparkles in the warm glow of the festivities around them. Literally. Every bit of makeup she wears appears to be laced with fine glitter in shades of bronze and red, save her lipstick, which is matte and deep red, the same shade as the figure-hugging dress she wears.
Wednesday’s favorite color isn’t black. It’s a closely guarded secret, one no one but her mother knows.
She’s always had a fondness for blood red.
The woman is draped in it. Everything about that dress was chosen to display her, frame her beauty, bring it to resplendent light. It’s simple, but the woman who wears it is not.
She must have her. There is no other course of action.
Like a dragon finding the crown jewel for her hoard, she faces the woman, finally, stepping too close to be proper, bowing her head respectfully as she offers the blonde her hand.
“Mon trésor,” the reverent praise falls from Wednesday’s lips in a far too familiar greeting. Her father prefers Spanish for his ramblings, but for Wednesday, it was always French that fell from her lips. Switching to her favorite tongue just seems right when addressing the blonde.
The woman blushes, allowing Wednesday to take her hand. She intended it as a handshake, but Wednesday can't resist, pulling the woman’s hand to her lips to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles.
“Aren’t you forward?” The woman’s voice is pleasant, kind and open.
“I tend to go by Wednesday, actually. Wednesday Addams,” she can’t resist taking the opportunity for the wordplay, feeling pleased when the woman giggles, for a moment looking years younger than she is.
“I’m Enid,” she replies.
Enid.
The title Wednesday would happily burn cities in the name of.
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Enid doesn’t know what she did to earn this night. Maybe all those good karma points are finally paying out.
First, she’d been invited to an actual ball of all things by her friend, and then this strange woman in a perfectly fitted suit had approached her and -
And now she’s dancing with the woman, who is supposedly called Wednesday, but that can’t be her real name.
Right?
Then again, the woman is so unreal that a name like that might be fitting. She looks like she’s from a different era, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the fuddy duddies in iterations of the same three fashionable suits.
She makes everyone else look like they’re playing dress-up compared to the way she wears her suit like a second skin.
Enid fully plans to take advantage of every second of this woman’s attention. She’ll probably never see her again after tonight, and won’t that be a shame?
It’s not even the end of the night and she’s already lamenting having to say goodbye.
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Wednesday doesn’t leave her goddess’ side all night. Wednesday becomes her shadow, ever present and attached in every physical way the goddess permits.
Wednesday doesn’t part with Enid’s hand as easily as it was offered. The blonde seems taken aback by the closeness of her raven companion, but she doesn’t push her away or show anything but pleasant surprise.
Wednesday feels victorious when the man from before tries again and Enid doesn’t even notice, apparently too busy paying attention to Wednesday’s hand on her waist, pulling her possessively closer.
“Ajax,” the man introduces himself to Wednesday, having apparently given up on attracting Enid’s attention directly. He’s obviously determined to take her attention by other means now.
Enid preens when Wednesday doesn’t release her, instead placing her body just slightly between the man and her destined.
Wednesday wonders if Enid is equally affected by the curse. Or maybe she’s just extraordinarily touchy-feely.
That seems highly likely considering the evidence.
“Wednesday Addams. Remember that name,” she says authoritatively, shaking his hand as firmly as Gomez trained her.
“Why? Will I be screaming it later?” he asks with a wink, trying to ease the tension with a joke, presumably.
“Yes, but not in the context you’re intimating,” Wednesday says, a small smile curling at the edge of her lips. She will be seeing a lot of her favorite color soon if he dares to touch Enid again.
She pulls Enid away then, back to the dance floor. She wants a good excuse to have both hands on Enid and her attention undivided.
And she’s really good at dancing. That helps.
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“Enid, are you going to introduce me to your new friend?” a less colorfully dressed female addresses Wednesday’s beloved, her eyes doing laps between Wednesday and Enid with unrestrained curiosity.
Wednesday looks over the woman with narrowed eyes. She’s overly friendly, but she’s not trying to stake a claim or distance Wednesday. Not yet, at least.
“Wednesday, this is my best friend, Yoko. Yoko, Wednesday,” Enid says with a casual grin on her face.
Wednesday dips low in a respectful bow before affixing her intimidating gaze on Yoko. “Pleased to meet a friend of my beloved,” she says formally.
Yoko’s eyes widen, looking at Enid with unspoken questions written across her face. “Um, Enid? Something you need to tell me?”
Enid shrugs. “I’m not sure. She just kind of started calling me that,” Enid looks at Wednesday, but doesn’t expect her to answer. “I’m here for it, honestly.”
Yoko’s eyebrows are so raised they’re nearly in her hairline. “Oh fuck,” she mutters more to herself than the other two. “Do I need to ask your intentions about my girl here?”
Wednesday tilts her head in thought. Despite her revulsion at someone else laying verbal claim to her goddess, she can’t fault Enid’s loved one for wanting to protect her. She should always be protected.
Enid starts to cut in and make a joke, but Wednesday stops her with a soft squeeze of her hand.
“I would expect nothing less,” Wednesday says. She meets Yoko’s eyes with ferocious intensity, nothing less or more than her normal. She’s trying not to make a good impression, after all -
“From this day forward, Enid will have my protection, and more than that, my devotion. I will raise armies, conquer worlds, and burn all who dare to defy even her most basic whim. The world will kneel before her at my knifepoint if only for the sake of my worship.”
It’s a statement that wouldn’t be considered odd for an Addams, but Wednesday does have enough worldly experience to know her statement could be considered…bold to other people.
Bold isn’t the right word, but she doesn’t know the correct one, so bold is what she’s assuming for now.
Okay, maybe her statement was a little bold, even for an Addams.
She believes every syllable she uttered, but now she’s questioning if it was wise to say them aloud.
Yoko’s mouth hangs open. Wednesday waits patiently to find out if she’s overstepped and just how badly. Enid hasn’t dropped her hand yet, so that’s a good sign. She looks as shocked as Yoko, but she seems to be waffling between being stunned and something…else.
“You’re completely serious, aren’t you?” Yoko asks, like she already knows the answer. Wednesday nods just in case it wasn’t rhetorical.
She takes a deep breath, rubbing the space between her eyes as if she has a headache. “Are you on board with this?” she asks, looking to Enid, who is still struggling to function.
Perhaps Wednesday should get her some food once it’s polite to leave the conversation.
They both look to Enid for her answer.
“Um, not sure exactly what this is, but so far, yeah, 110%. I could totally be Enid Addams. My horoscope said red would be my lucky color, and this is definitely proof,” she says, and Yoko physically bites her tongue to keep from saying too much.
“Addams?” she repeats, sounding a bit choked. “As in - ?” She looks towards the bar, where Gomez is kissing his way up Morticia’s arm as she discusses something with a dignitary from somewhere or another.
“The same,” Wednesday confirms with a brief nod.
Enid goes pale. “Will your parents approve?” she asks with a worried gasp.
Yoko watches Wednesday soothe her best friend with a few words, too quiet for her to hear. Enid relaxes into the shorter girl’s grasp as if she’s known her for years.
What the fuck.
“You should also meet my parents. As my love’s favored friend, you are also an Addams,” Yoko gulps. “By extension,” Wednesday amends, as if that helps.
“You know what, yeah, why not? I need a drink anyways,” she says, a forced smile on her face. She’s trembling a little, but what else is new when it comes to Enid’s decision-making skills?
Wednesday isn’t sure why Yoko looks so bizarre, but she takes what she gets and escorts both women across the room to the bar for a proper greeting.
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Enid beams up at Morticia and down at Gomez, her eyes literally glittering in the light. She looks like a photoshopped picture standing next to the grayscale that are the Addams, especially grouped together.
Yoko watches cautiously as Gomez shakes her hand as if she’s a princess, and Morticia brings her in for a hug immediately.
“We’ve been waiting with bated breath since Wednesday first spotted you. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer,” Morticia says welcomingly, a benevolent hand reached out to Enid not to shake but to turn her slightly in a circle, as if dancing.
“My, aren’t you colorful,” Morticia adds under her breath, just loud enough for Enid and Wednesday to hear. Her voice is so kind, maybe a tiny bit teasing, but there’s not a hint of meanness in it.
Wednesday blushes, the first time Enid has seen her wrong-footed all night. Her grin returns, more confident as she looks back to Morticia.
“I’m Enid Sinclair. Soon to be Enid Addams if Wednesday gets her way,” Enid delights at the grin Gomez aims at her.
She feels a rush of excitement. This is all absolutely bonkers insane, but if there’s a chance that any of this is real and that she’s not going to wake up in a second, then she’s not going to waste her chance.
Wednesday (she’s accepted that it has to be her real name. She’s met her parents now, it kind of makes sense) is bizarre, cold, and stoic. She seems to live in a state of permanent deadpan.
She might have literally killed people and might again in the future. Totally a plausible possibility.
Enid doesn’t care.
Every bone in Enid’s body says to marry the fuck out of her.
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Enid wakes up the next day to a large raven knocking at her window. It takes all of three seconds for her to figure out why it’s there, even with her sleep and champagne-addled brain accounted for.
“Hey there cutie,” she says to the raven, letting it into her window. When Wednesday said she didn’t have a phone and that she’d “find her”, Enid thought she had a 50/50 shot that it was a line, and Enid would never hear from the mysterious woman again.
Apparently she didn’t need to worry.
She unties the rolled up note that was fastened around the raven’s leg. The bird caws at her, pecking at the leftover sandwich she’d left at her desk the previous day.
She shrugs, “Have at it. You’ve earned it.”
The raven caws in response, picking at the bread with satisfaction.
It takes Enid a while to figure out how to tie her rolled up neon pink post-it note to the bird’s leg, but she does. Eventually.
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Wednesday paces back and forth, awaiting response.
She sent her request on her best parchment, crafted by her own hands for only the most valuable of missives.
This one required her top shelf paper, and of course her finest blood red ink.
Only the best for her beloved.
“Stop mother-henning, Thing,” she says idly as he tries to get her to drink the tea he’d prepared an hour ago for her. “I’ll relax when I have a response.”
Thing taps out the equivalent of a long-suffering sigh. Sometimes the tapping is more an emotional response than a literal one.
She can’t blame him. She feels the same.
And then Mordred arrives, a wrinkled pink note attached to his leg, and just to make Thing feel better, Wednesday takes a large swig of her room-temp tea before diving for the note.
She fears the worst when she sees the response to her highly thought out missive is only two lines.
And then she reads them.
Aloud, so Thing can hear too. He’s been waiting with her, he deserves resolution.
“Meet me at the woods outside the city graveyard as soon as you read this. I’ll find you,” Wednesday’s heart pumps adrenaline like it’s blood.
For as un-Addams-like as Enid is, she knows how to wrap Wednesday around her little finger like she was born for it.
The chase is on.
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Enid usually pushes down the feral side of her, but Wednesday seems to bring it out.
All her claims of eternal devotion are finally sinking in, and they sound a hell of a lot like mating.
She wants Wednesday to be real, but some part of her still fears she’s just a delusion, some dream her technicolor daydreams pooped out after running out of color ink.
Maybe she’s real, but she’s going to freak out the first time Enid gets a little wolfy with her.
She can’t live in limbo. She’s not good at that.
Time to lay her cards out on the table and see if Wednesday wants to keep playing.
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Wednesday cloaks herself in the shadows of the trees, letting her adrenaline guide her as she settles into the darkness.
Enid initiated the hunt. Her beloved is fierce - she knew that from a first glance - but now that she’s settled into her waiting spot, she feels anticipation. Her goddess is something other. Not human. Not an Addams, obviously. Not a vampire, considering how many hors d'oeuvres she consumed at the bar.
Nevertheless, Wednesday knows she’s something…predatory.
There’s nothing to do but wait now, hidden away amongst the leaves, and see.
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Enid tracks Wednesday’s scent easily for a while, inhaling the smell of roses and a slightly chemical-y smell that she usually only smells around hospitals.
And then the trail runs cold.
Enid sniffs around for a bit, at first worrying that something has happened to her, but there’s no scent of blood.
Only exhilaration.
And then she finds it. One single strand of hair snagged on a branch.
Her mate is here.
Her mate is hiding.
Something old and animalistic ignites in her. She challenged her mate, and her mate is rising to the occasion.
The hunt is on.
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Wednesday stills her breath in her chest, waiting.
Enid’s eyes scrape across every surface of the clearing. She knows Wednesday is here.
The young Addams might be offended if she wasn’t so turned on at the moment.
Her beloved’s eyes land on her hiding spot. She shouldn’t be able to see her, but Enid does.
Whatever her soulmate is, it isn’t human.
Wednesday does the only thing that makes sense. She’s been spotted - it’s time to run.
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Enid only gets to celebrate for a second before Wednesday is gone again, sprinting into the looming darkness of the woods around them. The sun is barely setting, but in the thick foliage, it already looks like night.
Enid growls in frustration that feels strangely similar to excitement, following close on her mate’s heels.
She should probably question her choices, like Yoko tells her to do constantly, but honestly?
Wednesday is one in a million. She’s being chased by a werewolf the day before a full moon and she’s somehow staying out of reach.
Not for long, but effort counts.
Enid’s lips curl around her teeth, exposing them instinctively as she gets close enough to practically nip at Wednesday’s heels.
Not that she would do that. It would be rude.
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Wednesday is in awe.
Even the adrenaline can’t get her far enough away fast enough to avoid the violent embrace of her werewolf.
She hadn’t known Enid was a shifter, but it makes sense. She revels in the strength of her beloved, even as it’s used to tackle her to the ground, rolling her against the ample moss on the forest floor.
“Caught you,” Enid breathes across her skin, her voice is deeper than before, so rough that it sends shivers across Wednesday’s skin.
It would be embarrassing, but Wednesday is past that by now. She’s putty in Enid’s hands, especially pinned under her as she currently is.
“Does that mean I’m yours now?” Wednesday asks, needier than she ever expected herself to sound.
Enid grins. “If you still want to be,” she says, and really, she may be her soulmate, but is she okay mentally?
Is she secretly dumb?
To think Wednesday might not want her?
It’s nothing short of insane.
She racks her brain for what she knows about werewolves and relationships. Maybe she’s missing something here.
And then it clicks.
A passage in a book she’d found fascinating but had no practical application to her life at the time -
Shifters take on traits of their transformed state. I.E., Werewolves often exhibit distinct mating practices not unlike that of wolves.
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Enid grins down at Wednesday. Sort of. It’s more of a display of teeth than a smile.
The smaller woman looks at her with such calm that Enid falters.
And then she does something Enid will never forget.
She bares her neck.
Her mate, her perfect mate, bares her neck to her, like she knows exactly what’s happening.
After all, she’s not just some woman, she’s an Addams.
Enid doesn’t waste time. Wednesday has promised to burn armies in her honor, or something.
The least she can do is lay her cards out on the table too.
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Wednesday stares up at the looming face of her future bride, awe written across her face.
She may be the furthest thing from an Addams, but Wednesday couldn’t be happier about that at the moment
She hasn’t even kissed her yet, but Wednesday can see it all before her, decades of her life spent revolving around this singular woman.
She won’t regret a single second.
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Enid looks down at Wednesday, wondering if it’s all too much.
And then the raven-haired woman surges up at her, capturing her lips in the most intense kiss Enid has ever taken part it.
She moans wantonly into Wednesday’s lips, too far gone to feel embarrassed.
Wednesday can tease her about it for the rest of her life if she wants, but Enid is going to relish every second of Wednesday’s mouth on hers, hopefully for the rest of their lives.