#woeful wednesday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikavlcs · 1 year

Text

Flowers

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Summary: Wednesday’s plan to court you is thwarted by an unforeseen issue.

Warnings: allergies(?), an inability to write good kiss scenes, the tone for this one is kinda all over the place tbh but it’s just fluff

Word count: 2.5k

Notes: this is a request for my mother, hope you enjoy<3 (also i know nothing about flowers, all information is from google. hopefully i didn’t piss off the gardening fandom lol)

Masterlist

Frustration was nothing new to Wednesday.

To her woeful dismay, she experienced it almost constantly. During the day when imbeciles in the halls with no concept of an indoor voice spoke loud enough to be heard by the entire school. In the evenings when Enid’s obnoxious pop music was loud enough that she could hear it through her headphones. When she was on the cusp of solving another mystery and suddenly her leads went cold.

No, Wednesday was no stranger to frustration. But the type of frustration she was feeling now was completely new to her.

Because, usually, Wednesday could find a reason for her frustrations.

Her fellow students acted idiotic because they were Neanderthals. Enid, though a werewolf with heightened senses, was unaware of just how loud her music was at times. Periods of inactivity during a case typically either meant that she was missing something (unlikely) or that she needed to wait for her target to make their next move.

There were always reasons. Cause and effect. A perfect balance for her logical brain to understand—even if she didn’t like the answers in place. But no, not this time.

This time, there were seemingly no reasons for what you were doing. No matter how much she thought about it, no reasoning that her mind put forth made sense. It was simply impossible. Like trying to solve a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in the dark.

And it was especially maddening because, by all accounts, she had done everything right.

Wednesday had plans to court you. She was initially going to do something traditional like hand-deliver you the heart of one of your enemies, but Enid was repulsed when she found out about these plans. Instead, her roommate insisted that flowers were a much better substitute.

Initially, Wednesday thought it was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard, and she still thought the idea of a “secret admirer” was moronic at best. But the idea of expressing her revolting feelings through the language of the Earth’s flora…undeniably enticing.

So she begrudgingly began to put together a plan.

(Wednesday did not, however, inform Enid of this. She refused to give the werewolf the satisfaction.)

She was originally going to start small. A posy of Black Dahlias, maybe, or a small vase of Hydrangeas. But she supposed she got a bit…carried away.

It was demeaning honestly, how much effort she was putting into something so stupid. Getting seeds from her mother, finding a secluded place to plant and tend to them, breaking into your locker during the early hours of the morning so no one could witness just how low she was stooping for you. She put weeks into this nonsense.

And all of that time and effort culminated in you throwing the flowers away.

Every. Single Time.

Actually, no—it was worse than you just throwing them out. Every time you opened your locker and saw the flowers, you leaped back as if you had found a bomb amongst your things. You immediately, without even inspecting them or trying to decipher their intended message, took the flowers and disposed of them in the nearest trash can.

She didn’t understand it. Whatsoever.

Especially because they were good flowers. Expertly grown and cared for, picked in the early morning to make sure they stayed fresh for as long as possible. She even made sure they had contextually appropriate meanings to try and get her emotions across without words.

Her first foray into this madness was a bouquet of black roses, to tell you that she would die for you if given the chance. Then the next day, an arrangement of orange lilies to represent how she was willing to humiliate herself for you (clearly). The next, a black vase of Deadly Nightshade, simply because it was a personal favorite of hers.

There was an array of others as days passed—the aforementioned Black Dahlias and Hydrangeas, black petunias, red tulips, and yellow carnations. There was a superstition that Chrysanthemums brought bad luck and terrible nightmares, so naturally, she gave you those as well.

(She had considered giving you Aconites to signify the hatred that wished she felt for you, but given the fact that they were poisonous, she decided against it. As much as she yearned to poison someone in this godforsaken school, she didn’t wish to see you suffer that fate. Yet.)

Hell, she had even turned to the likes of red roses and sunflowers when she saw the negative reception to her first picks, but they all ended up in the same place: the trash can at the end of the hall.

It was torturous. Because Wednesday knew you returned her affections, she had known for a while. She originally thought it a burden, a weakness for her to potentially exploit until she made the startling discovery that she returned your wretched feelings.

So the idea that she might have misconstrued something she thought to be incredibly obvious made her physically ill. The implication that she was…incorrect tormented her.

There were few things Wednesday hated more than being wrong.

But one thing she was beginning to despise more was the feeling in her chest whenever she saw her flowers in that trash can. You were making her feel something she prided herself on never feeling: defeat. And she was tired of it.

Wednesday refused to sit by and allow you to make a fool out of her from the shadows for any longer. Enid’s stupid plan be damned.

She was going to find you and she was going to get answers. Whether it was quick and easy or slow and painful was entirely up to you.

Finding you in the Nevermore library was unsurprising.

You went there often to read and recharge your “social battery” when needed. And it seemed like now was one of those times. You sat silently with your eyes trained on a book in front of you, the headphones covering your ears turned up so loud she could hear the faint hum of your music from across the room.

It was clear that you didn’t want to be disturbed. Unfortunately, Wednesday did not care.

She stalked up behind you quietly, resting her hand on your shoulder once she was within arm’s reach of you. Wednesday took far too much joy in the way you quite literally jumped out of your seat. The sudden movement sent the chair backward into Wednesday, who easily caught it and settled it back into its original position.

Breathless, you spun around, eyes widening when you saw who it was.

“Wednesday, wha-“

“Why do you always throw them away?”

You blinked owlishly. Once, twice, then spoke. “What?”

“The flowers,” she clarified, impatience creeping into her tone, “why do you always throw them away? Did you not like them?”

Wednesday could tell you wanted to ask why she wanted to know about this, but thankfully you were smart enough to answer her questions before asking any of your own.

“Well, n-no. I didn’t dislike them. They were pretty flowers.”

The admission did nothing to comfort Wednesday, whose patience was running incredibly thin. Still, she kept her tone as neutral as possible.

“Then what was the issue? Why throw them out?”

“Well-it’s just…” you paused, cheeks darkening as you mumbled something incomprehensible. Wednesday blinked.

“What was that?”

You sighed.

“I’m allergic.”

Oh.

Well, she supposed that made sense. It certainly explained why you reacted the way you did whenever you saw the flowers in your locker. Her prior anger melted away, understanding slowly replacing it.

She thought back to her earlier musings, the dark irony nearly made her smile. The flowers really were, for all intents and purposes, an allergen bomb.

Wednesday noticed a moment later that you were still speaking.

“-not technically life-threatening or anything. I just get itchy and my eyes water, although my throat does start to close up if I’m around them for too long, but it’s usually pretty manageable. It happens around most plant life. That’s why I transferred out of Botany class. Principal Weems thinks it might be a pollen allergy but I’m not sure-“

Your rambling would be (barely) tolerable under any other circumstance, but right now Wednesday just wanted to express the feelings that had been plaguing her for months on end.

“It was me.”

That effectively shut you up. She watched patiently as the gears turned in your head, the words that came out your mouth not quite keeping up with the realization she saw in your eyes. “What?”

“I put the flowers in your locker. To inform you of my…feelings,” she said, disdain creeping into her voice at the end.

You looked positively devastated. “Oh, Wednesday, I’m-I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to look like I didn’t like the flowers or didn’t appreciate the gesture. I like you, Wednesday. I really do. I-“

With a sharp inhale, you cut yourself off and look away. Concerned, Wednesday’s brows furrowed. Before she could properly investigate the issue, you looked back to her, a question in your eyes that she couldn’t decipher before you said it aloud.

“Can I hug you?”

The smaller girl blinked. She, admittedly, wasn’t expecting that to be your question.

Wednesday wasn’t one for physical affection, but she found herself stepping forward before she could think better of it. And when she felt your arms settle around her, gently pushing her against you, she couldn’t muster even an ounce of regret.

She didn’t return your embrace—she had a reputation to uphold, after all—but she did lean into you, turning her face into your neck and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Your apology is accepted,” she whispered against the nape of your neck. Your shoulders relaxed against her, but your grip tightened.

“I still feel really guilty.”

Wednesday tilted her head up slightly to meet your eyes, brows furrowing. “Guilty for what? I practically tried to kill you.”

“Unknowingly,” you added, a smile pulling at your lips. “Though, it would have been fitting for you.”

Wednesday’s lips twitched.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Wednesday stepped back, eyes traveling down to your lips. A split-second decision was made, the words falling from her lips before she even realized what she was doing.

“Kiss me.”

Part of Wednesday wanted to be laid to rest right then and there, the humiliation she had felt before returning with a vengeance. But another part just wanted you to comply, to sate the curiosity she’d been fighting for months now.

Somehow, you managed to look more shocked than she felt.

“W-What?” you stuttered, eyes wide and mouth partially agape as if what Wednesday just said was the most preposterous thing you had ever heard.

“I said kiss me,” she stated with a confidence she didn’t fully feel. You swallowed.

“I-uh, are you sure?”

You shifted on your feet, still unsure. Wednesday nearly sighed again.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

That seemed to be enough for you to finally act. Timidly, you brought your hands up to cup her face, your touch lighter than a feather on her skin. Your wide eyes never strayed from hers and she stared back in hopes of speeding up your glacial pace. To her chagrin, it seemed to have no effect.

You leaned in agonizingly slowly, likely to give her ample time to pull away if she changed her mind. But Wednesday didn’t have the patience for your kindness. So she took the initiative to lean up and pressed her lips to yours, her eyes fluttering closed upon contact.

It was both everything and nothing like Wednesday thought it would be.

Kissing you wasn’t anything like the dumb things Enid said to describe kissing Ajax (she loathed the fact that she even knew any of that in the first place). There weren’t any fireworks or godforsaken butterflies or any other insipid romance cliché her roommate was obsessed with.

It was soft, slow, and utterly addicting. Even more so than she predicted it would be. She knew long before this moment that the press of your lips to hers would be her downfall, and like usual, she was correct.

Everything about your kiss was ethereal—the warmth that encompassed her from head to toe, the tenderness in the way your lips moved against hers, the feeling of your thumb lovingly stroking her cheek. She knew that she would crave it from this moment forward.

In mere moments, her senses were completely overtaken by nothing but you. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and she savored it for as long you would allow.

Wednesday stepped back only when air became an unfortunate necessity for the both of you. After a long moment, she dared to open her eyes and look at you. Your eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted as you regained your breath. A light flush crept onto your face, tinting your skin a light shade of red and though Wednesday didn’t care for color, she liked the way it looked on you.

“One more thing,” she muttered when she finally regained a fragment of her composure. You blinked back into awareness, a sweet smile tugging at your lips, complimenting the light blush on your face quite nicely.

“What’s that?” you whispered into the space between you.

“You must go on an…outing with me.”

“An outing?” Your face scrunched lightly. Then you gasped softly, eyes alight with something far too exuberant. “Do you mean a date?”

Wednesday cringed, breathing a quiet sigh through her nose. She stepped back to fully look at you, and you let her, dropping your hands back to your sides. Momentarily, she mourned the loss of your touch.

“You may call it whatever you want as long as I get to choose the location.”

“Alright, and where do you want this date to take place?” you inquired, smile a little too sly for Wednesday’s liking. But she simply grinned.

“The morgue. I’ve been itching to perform a proper autopsy lately. It’ll be nice to have a partner with all of their limbs.”

She watched the color drain from your face with a bit too much amusement. To your credit, you regained your composure faster than she thought you would.

“Ok, y-yeah, sure,” you stammered, eyes darting around the library. Wednesday’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, totally.” You straightened up, taking an audible gulp as you tried your best to look unbothered. Her grin grew at the sight.

“Then I will pick you up from your dorm at 9:30 tomorrow night, got it?”

“Yep.” You nodded. She turned to leave but stopped.

She knew she should leave but…

Turning back on her heel, Wednesday grabbed your blazer and pulled your lips back to hers for one more kiss. This one was harder than the last, sure to noticeably bruise, but it was no less satisfying. Actually, the feeling of your body pressed flush against hers made it even more pleasant, she decided.

She allowed herself a moment to revel in your warmth, your taste again before stepping back and meeting your dazed eyes.

“See you tomorrow.”

Without another glance, Wednesday exited the library. The small smile on her face didn’t waver the entire journey back to her dorm. Not even when she passed the trashcan with all of her flowers.

If anything, her smile only widened at the promise of what was to come.

#just noticed the coat she's wearing has flowers on it...fitting #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday #jenna ortega

1K notes · View notes

sabrinasfadingmoon · 1 year

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everyone: having a normal reaction

Wednesday: having the most Wednesday reaction ever

BONUS:

oh my little woeful I love her

#wednesday netflix #Wednesday Addams

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 2 years

Note

Maybe a Helena fic where mc gets hurt/killed and Helena is using all of her power for payback (god I need sleep! >~<)

WRITTEN BY @evoedbd

(Extract of an old work “In my Blood” Warnings for mentions of assault, mentions of sexual misconduct, strong language, violence, implications of mass murder of innocents, wildlife and plantlife, an OOC take on Helena if she had given into her demonic side and was focused on a single purpose.)

++++++++++++

“We can mobilize within the week. Any sooner is suicidal, my lord.” August was talking, informing Reiner of their troops even as the other retainers poured over their map. The sounds became sharper, the screeching of steel on steel that crescendoed into Helena’s waking conscious. The voices were clear, continuing from the group of Retainers as Helena blinked, centring herself for a few moments in reality. As expected, Kya was not by her side.

A week? That was unacceptable. Too long to be without warmth. Too long to wait for her heart to be returned to her chest, her soulmate to her arms. Kya didn’t have that week, plus however long the march would take. Every minute was two minutes too long for Kya to be alone in that vile bitch’s grasp. For every moment they waited, the Queen had longer to run her fingers over Kya’s flesh. To greet her thighs and flanks with knives as magic burned every nerve in her body. Would that week fade into years? Would Kya be exposed to the bruises down her thighs from fighting? The torn nails from clawing at the ropes? Would her own muscles cramp and clench as she rebelled against every advance? Worse, would that damage haunt her as it still haunted Helena? Would they both be reduced to desperation for their lover’s touch, yet their body still resisting the moment desire licked at their senses? How deeply would the Queen scar Kya within that week?

“Unacceptable...” Helena spoke, barely registering the instant silence in the wake of her words. Fires flickered all around her, potential deep beneath the ground. Blazing halos of possibility if only Helena willed them into a new direction. If she took from those too weak to use their strength. If she claimed. Devoured. Destroyed.

The choice was easy. With a single breath, she tightened her will around the sparks, harnessing her existence into a single purpose. Whatever blazed within her was overwhelming, stronger than anything she had summoned under the Queen’s reign. Where her magic had demanded control, this maelstrom was beyond the need for direction. Its existence alone was the path to her heart.

Helena took that first stride along the path, a vision of the past. A silhouette of shadows and manic glee. A witch of immeasurable power. With hair of moonlight, and impenetrable eyes of midnight black.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

The horizon offered nothing but a mantle of chaos. Dark clouds loomed, livid as bruises across the flesh of sky. The wind wailed, echoing cries of anguish from within the forest. The trees groaned, bending under the unending assault. Each gust disrupted the torches, which cast their flames gallantly in the face of such an incoming storm, scarcely enough to repel the encroaching darkness. The boldness of the flames flickered, casting shadows across the road as the Solders paced, the clunk of their steel joints birthing a duet with the screaming winds. Rain fell, creating a curtain of reflected whites as the skies growled, thunder rumbling as the force approached the simple barricade.

The herald of this destruction was a lone figure, tall and strong, almost unaffected beneath the protection of her cloak. Only wisps of winter gold were blown from beneath her hood, tussled on the wind. Shadows rippled across her body and spiralled around her legs in an impenetrable noxious smog. Dirt whipped through the air, dragging into the core of the storm as she advanced. Ash was left in her wake, footprints of desecrated life, redirected potential torn from everything within her reach.

“Halt! In the name of the Queen!” One Soldier yelled, his voice a whisper against the storm. The winds simply howled in return, as if the storm spoke for the approaching mage. The Soldiers ceased their patrol, turning to look at one another doubtfully. The air was charged with the promise of violence, tense as if holding its breath for the moment everything collided.

The woman did not give a response, continuing her advance. The air crackled and hissed around her, sounds that grew with the rumbling thunder as she came within range. Eyes void of humanity gazed out from beneath her hood, so immaculately dark that even the storm appeared as bright as the sun in comparison. The woman’s gaze devoured, silently promising to claim anything foolish enough to stand in her path. In contrast to the chill of the wind, the air surrounding the woman was blistering, baring the promise of flames. Her entire body appeared to smoulder, covered in wisps of rising steam as the rain met her heated flesh. Still, the soldiers held their ground, nervously looking to one another for guidance against such a force.

“I said halt or suffer the Queen’s wrath!” The first solder yelled once more, stepping forwards with his hand extended. His palm collided with the woman’s shoulder, halting her advance. The unforgiving void of her eyes shifted to the hand, gazing at the annoyance with no trace of emotion. Words evidently meant nothing, the threat apparently inconsequential. Her white gold hair fluttered briefly on the wind, which blew the smog from her figure as if it were smoke.

What remained was a powerful woman. Her legs were armored by shadowlike steel, embellished with delicate blue swirls that formed an impenetrable design of glyphs. Gold contained the swirling chaos of the magic, highlighting buckles that connected armor to dark leather. A skirt flowed around her legs, dark velvet with the stars painting the insides, reflecting the glow of her magic. Closer, one could see her armored corset matched the design of her guards, leaving defined biceps open to the air. Her forearms were protected by matching steel, blending into the covering over the backs of her hands. Her palms, remarkably, remained bare.

All that stood out of place was a brown traveller's cloak, which hung to the back of her knees. A cloak that was evidently too short for her tall, regal frame.

“I have endured her wrath long enough. It is time she suffered mine.” The Woman claimed, her regal voice a whisper of defiance that shook every man to their core. She had not shouted, yet effortlessly her declaration was heard above the brewing chaos.

“It’s Klein!” One of the soldiers yelled in a panic, drawing his blade in such a haste he almost lost his grip. The second could only stare. Paralysed by his indecision.

The soldiers shared stories about the betrayer. The Sorceress who turned on her Queen. Yet, they had not painted the picture he saw before him. They had spoken of a woman in pale armor wielding swords and spells. A woman who could easily dispatch ten men at once without her spells. The tales said one could hear her manic laughter before she struck down another foe, spoke of blue eyes filled with glazed enjoyment. A woman who fed off death. The stories he had heard spoke of how Helena Klein had fled the Queen’s side with her lover, attempting to remain as far away from the war as possible. They did not speak of a demon who commanded the skies, who spoke within the mind of every soldier. They did not prepare him for this.

Fear tangled his guts, rendered his fingers too stiff to hold his weapon as he watched his friend. Ash wafted from the inside of the armor as it collapsed upon itself, knees buckling and arms falling as more and more white ash poured out on the next gust of wind. Nothing was left of the soldier, his flesh reduced to ash by the mere gaze of The Sorceress. Years of life seized in a moment. A family left with not even a body to bury. Just a pile of armor and perhaps a pouch of disintegrated flesh. Soon, the helmet bounced along the ground, clunking as it collided with the steel of Helena Klein’s boot. The Sorceress mercilessly kicked it aside, indifferent to the life she had claimed. The glyphs of her armor swirled, always moving within their confines as she once more began her approach. She scarcely paused as the second soldier rushed at her, instead drawing her blades. The clash of steel on steel echoed a single time before there was a gurgle, along with a burst of red that stained the divine pale skin of Helena’s collar. The second solder crumpled at Helena’s feet, head falling backwards at an unnatural angle once Helena’s fist met his face. The gaping wound in his neck continued to pour blood, defiling the purity of Helena’s armor as she strolled by. Her sights set on the third man.

“P-please!” He cried desperately, falling to his knees as his hands came together in front of his chest. He was one man, a lone soldier against a legend. He knew he would be struck down, knew she could take everything away in moments no matter how hard he fought. He couldn’t die here. Who would feed his little girl? Or his son? Who could pay for his mother’s medicine while his wife kept the house? Their faces dominated his vision, printed behind his eyelids. The cheeky, toothless smile of his little boy. The beautiful eyes of his sweet girl, just like her mother’s. The croaking laugh of his mother filled his ears, along with the wet coughs that would bring blood to her lips.

“M-m-my family! I can’t die! Please! I’ll do anything!” He continued as the Sorceress stopped before him. His hands clung to her boot, slipping on the blood of his fallen comrades as he sobbed. The Queen’s cause was not worth this. Not worth the pain it would cause his family. Cool steel against the underside of his chin lifted his gaze to Helena’s, meeting the terror of her eyes for the first time. Briefly, he saw his pain reflected in her face. He thought he saw her brows twitch, a flinch through her body that could have just been the lightning cracking in the sky. Or, could it be sympathy? Could he have a chance?

“Where is Kya?” She demanded, her words slow and clear. There was no harshness in her voice, not when she spoke that name. That name rolled from her lips as if she were reluctant to part with it yet longed to scream it to the heavens in place of prayers. Even void of expression, the soldier instantly knew of whom she spoke. Her lover. Helena was attacking the Queen alone for her lover. She had to be!

“I don’t-” he began, his head aching as he tried to recall anything to aid in Helena’s search. To buy his life, and the wellbeing of his family. Instead, he saw her fist approaching his face, hilt held firmly in hand as her voice echoed within his entire being.

“Wrong answer.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fire. It filled her vision, writhed around her with the shadows of magic and death. The light danced across her skin and blades, answering the reflected gleam of soldiers armor as she ducked and weaved between the closest threats.

Of course there would be fire. Fire had been the tool the Queen had truly used to begin to break Helena. Magic had tormented her, touch had torn her dignity away, but it was the flames that burned the houses of her village down that had signalled the beginning of her fall into the monster she had become. A fire cast by her own vengeful hand, inspired by the whispers in a broken girl’s vulnerable ear. It only made sense the Queen would attempt to wield this tool in the face of Helena’s challenge, attempt to remind the Mage of her crimes in such a backhanded manner. A compliment to the threat she posed, and an insult to all she had ever held dear.

It was funny, how Helena had never found herself afraid of fire. It came to her naturally. Her body was constantly warmed by her magic, licking just beneath the surface of her skin. Her flame was radiant in its beauty, effortlessly controlled even though was tainted blue and black in her hands. It warmed her palms, flickering to life between fingers that caressed the spell. Collected and focused on her task, she casually flicked her wrist out towards the approaching soldiers. The flames faithfully leapt at her command, eager to illuminate her darkened path towards the castle.

Amidst the calming crackling, her ears caught the creak of steel joints. Helena didn’t need to see to know what was coming next, the woosh of a swung weapon. A thicker sound than a blade, slower and heavier. It was effortless to pivot to the left, twisting her blade to lightly knock the head of the mace aside. Just enough to unbalance her foe. The soldier went tumbling with a scream. It fell on deaf ears as Helena twisted once more into the next attack, slashing violently out at a soldier’s neck. Before even confirming the next man fell, Helena was turning to a third with a rapid thrust, her jagged left blade sweeping low as she completed her turn. She released her sword whilst driving her left blade down into the first man’s prone body. Where a normal blade may have failed, magic and skill allowed Helena to effortlessly plunge her weapon into the man’s chest cavity. She only had the time to claim a single breath before the thud of the final corpse hitting the ground flooded her ears, her blade still embedded in his unkempt armor.

“Archers! Take aim!” The commander’s voice echoed across the battlefield, along with the sound of a dozen steel boots striking the ground in unison. The Sorceress straightened, her shoulders baring the tension that crackled in the air. She turned her head to glare towards line of Archers out of the corners of her darkened eyes, which were filled with the calm promise of merciless carnage. All they saw was the determined slant of Helena’s jaw, complementing the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly, almost as if she were calculating which man to blame for the impasse. None thought to watch her shifting fingers, which twisted around the threads of black that wafted up from the fallen.

“Ready!” The Commander’s voice echoed. Helena’s fingers began to move more forcefully, tracing the shapes into the darkness as she waited for the moment to snap. She no longer acted on what she knew of magic, instead everything became infused with her memories. The curl of Kya’s shoulder blade beneath her palms. The erratically crisscrossed strands of raven hair a moment before she brushed it behind Kya’s adorable ears.

“Light!” The sound of that voice banished every joyful recollection and replaced them with reality. Helena homed in on that voice, focusing on the painfully bitter fact that this commander stood between her and her love. That was where she wanted all her rage targeted, to strike out and erase the obstacle holding her from the missing piece of her identity. Ash caught in the vortex of energy she channelled, swirling to bring the shapes to life across the ground beside her. Death crept and crawled into the circles and lines, black and menacing across the trampled earth as the moment drew out.

“FIRE!”

Helena dove for her jagged blade, allowing her magic to unleash the instant the sound of released strings echoed. The swirling of a portal opened before Helena, shielding her as she tore her blade from the husk of the soldier. As the dust flew from within his helmet, Helena moved to her other blade, grasping the hilt firmly in hand. Panicked screams reached her ears as flaming arrows flew, attempting to catch any of Helena’s garb in the flurry. Those arrows flew through her spell, redirected towards the source of her wrath. Splinters and flames rained down on the commander, setting his clothes aflame. The spell only lasted long enough to confuse the archers before they found Helena in their sights. No longer unified, every man fired for himself, feeding the disorder Helena thrived upon.

Swiftly, she withdrew her blade from the soldier. She swung it in a tight arc, filling the air with the scent of burning flesh as flames erupted from her blade, baking the blood coating it. The small burst of flame blistered through the arrows, lighting the battlefield in azure as ashen shapes fell at the Sorceress’ feet.

“How is she not dead? We can’t hit her!” A dismayed cry rung across the field as an archer lowered his bow, dark eyes widening in horror as he watched the smoke clear from the seemingly indestructible sorceress.

“Hold firm! She has to be nearing her limit!” A second called out in a louder voice, tone flooded with authority. The other archers remained steady, clinging to the words as if they were a lifeline. The faint hope that they could indeed overcome the odds.

That futile hope was terrifyingly familiar for Helena. An old friend. It was the power that motivated her through every trial, allowed her to cast when her body screamed in agony. The futile hope that it would earn the affection she had longed for. Take the lives and maybe she’d be spared, or better yet, touched. That was what love was, touch. Giving delight to the other. Now she understood how futile that had been. How that hope had truly been an enemy, driving her to self-depreciation and torment again and again. Just as it drove these soldiers to death again and again. It was a toxic hope she fed with every sword swipe, fighting as if she were bound by these ineffective rules. Acting on the restraints of human warfare.

She was methodical as she resumed her approach, sliding her blades back into their sheaths as she began to mentally chant her spells. The chanting would be wasted energy if she let the words escape, yet they were such a part of her that her mind galivanted through the sounds like a child skipping through the grass. The air surrounding her became alive, distorting and warping into the shapes of her glyphs. Black sparks ran wild, playing the role of fish in the face of the tidal wave of spells.

“KILL HER! FOR FUCKS SAKE JUST SHOOT THE BITCH!” A borderline frenzied soldier cried out, loosing his arrow in sheer desperation. The air became dank with fear, the sound of unravelling soldiers filling the ears of the battle field as they all doubled down on their efforts to slay Helena.

Arrows rained down between the archers and Helena, bouncing off the air as if it had solidified once within range of Helena’s body. Each time, sparks erupted, briefly illuminating a complex layer of hexagonal and circular links that formed a net before Helena’s extended hand. The twang of bowstrings became louder and louder in her ears as she sprinted closer and closer, closing the distance between herself and her goal. Each strike was small, yet the arrows began to prick through the projected glyph, ripping traces of blue apart as if it were made of twine or leather instead of magical essence. Like a thousand little cuts that would lead one to bleed out without a bandage. Without action. Her reaction was a risk, a calculation Helena wouldn’t usually have made so quickly. One second her hand was extended, attempting to mend the broken barrier, the next she ducked an oncoming hail. Her boots skidded on the field, causing a cloud of disturbed dust to burst before her. Without the glyph, Helena was free to focus her energy once more, freezing the air before her until a pillar of blackened ice gleamed like polished onyx between herself and her prey. Her foot collided with the ice, followed by her shoulder as she righted her posture with a calm breath in.

She was the spider, weaving her web of magic and power as ants put up a token resistance. Ants too entwined and tangled to disengage and too few to pose any threat. With savage fangs, Helena tore their illusions of hope apart. Her fingers spread, copied by the shadows lapping at her ankles. She clawed at the air, almost sneering as she twisted her hand and reached for the men. Like the material of a tapestry, she could feel them beneath her fingertips. Fine strings of cotton throbbing like a pulse. Heartbeats infused with fear and agony which she followed back to their cores. The colours at her disposal were unfathomable, potential energy she could harness to any purpose if only she wove the strings correctly upon the loom of fate. Unfortunately, she did not have the patience of fate nor the foresight. She had a single purpose. A picture of black to create for any standing in her way. Thus, she tore the threads from the tapestry, threading them into the coils of power simmering beneath her skin. Dark as the void, black as the moonless night. Death.

For the soldiers, it was agonizing. A group of men trying to cling to shadowy claws that tore into their chest cavities. Steel, flesh and bone meant nothing to the power as it pulled their lungs in opposite directions, intent on exposing their smouldering hearts. Their veins darkened beneath their skin, turning the colour of dusk the longer the power tore at them. Blood swiftly dried, turning to muddy, crumbling dust between their fingers, coating the earth before crawling towards Helena.

For Helena, it burned. Every muscle in her body longed to cringe away, to writhe free of the agony such a flood of energy brought. A single body was not enough to contain this much raw power, a prison of mere flesh trying to hold back the tides of the ocean. A child’s hand attempting to still a hurricane. The blood dust crept along her skin, forming layers of runes that continued to creep and move across her flesh. A thousand words in a thousand lost tongues flowed across her hands, around her arms and chest, turning her into something akin to a living shadow. The maelstrom of dust embraced her legs, concealing them from sight as her feet left the ground. Darkness embraced her once more, causing her hair to gleam like sunlight as it fluttered amidst the storm. Wordlessly, she extended her arms, allowing the wings of shadow to hold her aloft as she floated past the dead, oblivious to the sound of their armour striking stone again and again as her eyes fixated upon a single goal... the gates of hell itself, frozen over by a depraved lunatic masquerading as a Queen.

#anonymous #answered #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #helena klein #helena x mc #love & legends #angst #heavy angst #tw: violence #woeful wednesday

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lots-of-pockets · 1 year

Text

Masterlist!

Requests are currently open!

Hey guys! I write x reader sickfics for Scarlett, Natasha, Yelena, Florence and sometimes Lizzie! I also write/have other stuff too, so I’m most definitely open to requests! I also dabble in age regression, so just shoot me a message should you have any ideas!

Braids (Natasha)

Christmas advent 2023

Five times you find an excuse to carry Natasha, and the one time she asks (Natasha)

Taken (full Nat fic)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (coming soon)

The sick assassin (Natasha)

Accidents happen (Natasha)

Woeful Wednesdays (supercorp)

Trust in me (Natasha)

Unconventional comfort (Natasha)

Tender moments (Natasha)

Bedtime. (Natasha/little!reader)

Clingy snuggles (Scarlett)

Sleepy assassin (Natasha)

Hot soup and massages. (Natasha)

Cold as ice (Natasha)

Vulnerable (Natasha)

I’ve got you (Natasha)

Dancing round the kitchen (Natasha)

Premiere anxiety (Scarlett)

What we left behind (part 2) (Natasha)

Let me help you (Natasha)

Shelter me from the cold (Florence)

Everything’s gonna be okay part 2

(Scarlett)

When it rains, it pours (Lizzie)

Troublesome patient (Natasha)

You don’t have to hide (Natasha)

I love everything about you (Scarlett)

Let me take care of you (Natasha)

My poor, sick baby (Scarlett)

Touch starved (Natasha)

Attack of the bugs (Natasha)

Sick (Natasha)

#masterlist #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #yelena belova #marvel #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #florence pugh #lizzie olsen #sickfic #scarlett johansson x reader #snzfic

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alucard-and-dracula-askblog · 2 months

Note

Wednesday keeps her head down writing in her notebook as she follows the crowd through the museum.

She is however mildly distracted by the beautifully kept scold’s bridle that is behind the red velvet rope.

A very very slight smile crosses her face as she imagines Pugsly in such a contraption.

She doesn’t even notice that the rest of the group has gone ahead.

@woeful-wonder

Alucard leads the group up the stairs away from the torture chambers, not noticing at first that he lost someone in the tour. Though once at the top of the stairs he notices that instead of three individuals all in black there's now only two, as the rest of the crowd wore bright colors. "Um... Mr and Mrs Adams, was it? Has your daughter by chance left the group to use the restrooms?" He hopes she isn't lost in the castle, there are far too many dangers within it.

Dracula starts to stir in his coffin in a room just beyond the torture chambers, but Alucard had locked it so he wouldn't be able to get out during tours

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

Text

Like Love

Wednesday x Kitsune!reader

You finally got the chance to take the Addams Manor grand tour. Each place you were taken to fascinate you. There were always some sort of surprise to find in every nook and cranny. Wednesday, in turn, was fascinated by you and your wonder. This house she lived in all her life found new life in your eyes.

As you two made your way down the grand staircase, a saber was suddenly coming at you, tip first. Your fox ears flare up in surprise as you dodged the flying blade. When you follow the trajectory of the missile, you find Gomez poised on the chandelier with another blade in hand.

"En garde, zorro!"

With a spin, you pull the saber from the stair and block the elder Addams's attack. Now the fight was on and you were glad you were a part of the fencing club. Your footwork was near perfect. It was difficult for Gomez to destabilize you and he loved it.

"Amazing! Your stance is impeccable," he praised as he swung at your feet. You jumped and dodged it with ease. When he goes for another strike, you shoot upward and flip over the man, landing at the foot of the stairs. Gomez turns and cheers.

"Brava! Bravo!" He takes a stance and races to join you and continue the bout. "Venga, zorro!"

Wednesday is joined by her mother while watching the battle. She made the excuse that it was under the pretense of criticizing your form but Morticia knows better.

"My woeful child. You seem to have found quite the catch." Her eyes sparkle with mirth. Wednesday's matching eyes sparkled with disdain.

"This isn't like you and Father. I don't have feelings for them... To that disgusting extent." Watchful eyes continue to follow each strike and parry as they spoke.

"Au contraire, my darling." There's a moment of pause before Morticia shrugs and continues. For Gomez to be that enthralled in a skirmish was a treat. "I see the way you look at them. And how they look in return." Her hand comes up and soothes away some of her daughter's flyaway hairs. "Why is it so awful to embrace that feeling?"

"Because it's a weakness."

"And yet, here they are. In our lovely home. Hardly ever an arm's length away from you."

Wednesday's stone face tightens. She hated the idea of becoming her parents. The fact that there's a possibility for love in this relationship made her nauseous. Those damned bats in her stomach just won't stop fluttering when she is around you.

But then there are moments like now where she'll watch you and see the smirk on your face as you fight her father. It was like you were fighting for his approval, which was moot. Her whole family adores you. In these moments, though, her heart calms. A rare veil of peace covers her and puts her at ease. At least until her mother speaks again.

"You have nothing to fear, you know." Wednesday gives Morticia a sideways glance at that. "Love is different for all. You don't have to be as passionate as your father and I. You're your own person, my daughter. Your love will be different."

When Wednesday looks back at you and her father, your blades are locked between your bodies. Neither one of you are giving into the other's push. In an effort to break the stalemate, Gomez pushes the swords to the side and swings them around. However, the momentum sent both blades into the air and straight into the high ceiling.

Both combatants watch dejectedly as the sabers wobble in place. When they look at each other again, Gomez grins wide and takes your hand and shakes it before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Fantastic show, my child!" You huff a thanks, the sudden hug stealing the air from your lungs. "A wonderful addition to our familia."

You blush and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Thanks, Mr. Addams." He just slams a hand onto your back.

"Please! Just Gomez. Or Papa. Whichever!"

The Addams women decide then to go down and save you from Gomez's affection. As soon as Morticia is in sight, he immediately is at her side, kissing up her arm.

"Don't think I didn't hear your French, Cara Mia." A few kisses. "You know what it does to me." More kisses. "It spurred me to finish our duel as quickly as possible." Even more kisses.

You stood amused as you watched the interaction. It left you wondering how Wednesday ended up how she was with parents like these. Said girl was rolling her eyes at her parents.

"They'll be like this for a while." She turns and grabs your hand. "Come, mi amor. We still have the cemetery to see." You follow her, but not without a smile on your face at what she called you.

When you reach the cemetery, you marveled at the size of it. Your eyes were constantly loving to look at each gravestone and mausoleum.

"This place is amazing, Wednesday." She had been watching you wander around, a small smile on her lips. "Even the spirits here are happy. Well, for the most part, heh." That caught her attention.

"You can see the spirits?"

With a smile, you trot back over to Wednesday. "Kind of. They're kind of just balls of energy. Oh, lemme see if I can show you."

You turn to face the rest of the cemetery, tails flaring out as you manifest your powers. Wednesday watches as wisps of your foxfire bob around your tails. Soon enough, small orbs of light start to appear near the gravestones. Dark eyes flick around to see the names on the gravestones. Uncles, aunt's, distant Addamses. Some of them were grouped together, as if they were conversing. Some moved across the field. It was fascinating to see life after death.

"Whew." You slouched slightly from the energy you just released. "Oh hey. That was a wider area than I've done before." You mentally pat yourself on the back and make your way back to Wednesday.

"There's more around, but that's as far as I can manage."

"Incredible." The glow of the orbs makes her eyes sparkle and it draws you in. You're sure that you just fell a little bit more for the girl beside you.

She takes your hand and you walk amongst the orbs as she tells you about each ancestor. Eventually, you two make it to the pet cemetery and the goth leads you to her beloved Nero.

"Is he still here?"

You smile at the question and hold your hand out towards the grave. Wednesday watches as a small orb appears and slowly morphs itself into a scorpion. Her eyes widen slightly as she turns to see your face in concentration. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she crouches and holds her hand out, allowing the small creature to crawl onto it and scurry along her arm.

"It's been too long, my lovely Nero. I see you are as loyal as ever."

She lets the ghostly pet down and turns to you when you allow the image to fade.

"Thank you for this chance, mia volpe. It means a lot to me." You just smile and shrug.

"Anything for you, Wednesday. I..." There's a pause. You turn away in embarrassment. The feelings you have for Wednesday were strong. You know the extent of it, the word for it. It bubbles in your heart, threatening to overflow.

But you also know Wednesday and her aversion to the feeling. You didn't want to assume anything when she called you 'her love' earlier. It was already established that things would go at her pace. You didn't want to overstep.

Wednesday also knows your feelings. She sees it in your actions. Not many people would duel her father for as long as you did or let her revisit a dear friend. You were patient with her, even when she was unsure of something. Calling you 'her love' was a slip of the tongue but it didn't change the fact that it was true.

"You what?" She pried, as if she didn't know the words already.

"Nah, it's nothing." You waved your hand. "Don't worry about it." She steps towards you and takes your hand, making you look at her.

"You... What?" She insisted. A soft sigh escapes your lips and suddenly you're nervous. Is she really going to make you say it? Did... Did she want you to say it? You decide to throw caution into the wind as you take her other hand with a steely resolve.

"I... I love you, Wednesday. I adore you. You stole my heart right from my chest and I don't care because it's you." She steps closer to you. "I know you don't want to be like your parents. I know that kind of affection makes your skin crawl, but I'll do everything in my power to show my love for you. Just say it, and I'm yours to command."

Cold hands caress your cheeks and you let yourself sink into the feeling. You feel a soft, chaste kiss on your lips. Lips you never want to part with.

"There's no need for commands. I can simply ask you and you'll do it." You let out a soft laugh at that. It was true after all.

"This feeling is something I've only witnessed before. It's a very different love than I'm used to. Seeing how my parents are made me terrified to see if a simple switch could just ignite that in me outside of my control." Her eyes wander around your face, taking in the look of pure adoration you had for her.

"But with you, it isn't like that. There is no surge of passion that overtakes me. No unbearable need to kiss you. I spend my time beside you because I want to." She takes a moment to breathe. This display of emotion was a lot for her.

"Yes, when we're apart I wish to be near you, but it's not debilitating. I can still be my own person." Her eyes find yours again and the look you give her doesn't change. "I was scared of losing that, of being trapped as a pair. With you, I am both us and me." She takes another breath. Your hands come up to rest on her cheeks and it soothes her.

"I... I love you as well, Y/N. You are irreplaceable in my life. You found a way to breathe life into my dead heart." She stares into your eyes. "Mi amor, mi vida. I am yours for as long as we shall be."

"And I'm yours for as long as time itself, my love."

In the midst of the family cemetery, among the spirits of loved ones long since passed, you share a kiss with your girlfriend, your lover. A promise of forever sealed in that embrace.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @anxietylemonice @tundra1029

#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday (netflix)#i realize i forgot my tag list for 'shall we dance' oops

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