Chapter Text
For the couple months between graduation and moving to New York, the Addams mansion welcomes both Wednesday and Enid so they can enjoy their summer break.
Even having been here once during winter break, her second stay at the Addams becomes one of the wildest experiences of Enid’s life, and considering she was stuck as a werewolf for three months, beaten and kidnapped by a crazy cult, killed by a Cowboy from Hell and brought back to life by her girlfriend, that is saying something.
For starters, as soon as they arrive, Enid is surprised to realize that the weather around the mansion continues being gloomy and foggy even with the summer sun trying to break through the clouds.
“What the hell? Does your house have its own microclimate?” She asks Wednesday as they help Lurch get their bags out of the car.
Wednesday doesn’t reply, which Enid is very used to. Many of her questions have become rhetorical since she started rooming with Wednesday.
“Darlings!” Morticia calls from the porch. She extends her arms for a hug and Enid hurries up with her bags to accept it, Morticia squeezing her gladly. Enid steps aside to let Wednesday greet her mother.
“Mother.”
Morticia touches her fingertips to Wednesday’s braid, a small smile on her face.
“Welcome home, my little thorn.” Morticia turns to walk inside, the girls following with Lurch. “As you know your father’s away with Pugsley and Thing on their annual camping trip, so it’s just us girls in the house.”
“Oh, they went camping?” Enid asks, curious.
“They do every year, yes,” Morticia replies as they walk upstairs, following the matriarch. “They like to reconnect with nature.”
“Cool.”
“Yes, very. They’re expecting many sightings of cryptids this year.”
“Oh, hah,” Enid stutters, remembering her last encounter with one of those.
As they reach Wednesday’s door, Morticia turns to them with a little smirk.
“Alright, girls. I shall leave you to your affairs.” She turns to Enid, puts one hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek. “I just wanted to say, on behalf of all the Addams family, we’re very happy you two found each other. Not that you need it, but of course, you have our blessing.”
Enid’s face flushes slowly as Morticia’s words reach her brain.
“Thank you,” she squeaks.
“Mother,” Wednesday hisses, also fighting a blush.
“Sorry, darling, I just had to get that out of the way,” Morticia says, a permanent smirk on her face.
Maybe all Addams do enjoy torture.
“Ah, to be young and in love! When Gomez and I were your age, we were quite insatiable…”
“Mother, I will lobotomize myself to forget this conversation if you continue this train of thought.”
“I just wanted you to know, girls, that I shall be in the greenhouse until dinner, so you have the house to yourselves.” She adds a very cheeky wink at the end of her sentence, then turns and walks away, her dress swishing behind her.
Enid pushes into the room, tossing her bags wherever they land.
“Oh my god,” she whines, falling backwards on the bed and covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I wanna die.”
“Not that I’m unfamiliar with the sentiment myself, but that would be inconvenient of you after everything,” Wednesday deadpans.
“Wednesday! That was mortifying!” Enid exclaims pointing at the door. “Your mom just basically gave us her blessing to have sex in your room!”
“I saw it more as psychological warfare.”
“I’m never gonna look her in the eye again,” Enid groans. She flops over in the bed, drowning her groan in the mattress.
“No need for dramatics.” Wednesday starts unpacking her things with her back to Enid. “She knew you were my chosen and that my soul was tied to yours even before I did.”
“Yeah, but not that we have sex!” Enid mumbles against the mattress, which means that what Wednesday hears is: “Yhh, bhh nuh th whe hah sehh!”
Still, Wednesday seems to understand the gist of it. She dumps her t-shirts in a drawer and turns to Enid. With an eye roll, she goes to stand next to her.
“Stop your whining,” Wednesday deadpans.
Enid flops over again, looking up at her girlfriend with a fading blush. She averts her eyes shyly.
“Sorry. I’m just not used to parents being supportive of… well, anything about my life.”
“My mother adores you, Enid,” Wednesday says, matter-of-factly. “She’s been pushing me to accept my feelings for you for a while.”
“A while?” Enid asks, eyes snapping back to Wednesday in surprise.
“Yes.” Wednesday sighs annoyed. “Her need to meddle in my life is apparently limitless.”
“Well, she’s the one that got you to tell me you loved me, so I can’t be mad about it,” Enid says with a cheeky little smile.
Wednesday rolls her eyes yet again. She grabs Enid’s face by the jaw with one hand, holding herself up with the other as she leans over her. Her short black fingernails bite into Enid’s cheek as she holds her, gently but tightly.
Wednesday’s mouth stops a breath away from hers and Enid inhales, short and sharp, her pupils visibly dilating at the proximity. Wednesday holds her eye for a beat.
“Unpack,” she says, her lips a whisper away from Enid’s.
Before Enid can reach out and grab her, or even push up to kiss her, Wednesday is gone, back to her unpacking duties. Enid stares at the ceiling, feeling her lips tingle of how unkissed they are.
“You’re evil,” Enid mumbles as she gets up to unpack.
“And this is news to you?” Wednesday drawls.
They continue to unpack in silence.
...
Enid insists on going for a walk around the property, claiming she didn’t get to see everything when she was here during winter break.
Wednesday takes her to the graveyard and the crypts, around the forest edge which Enid already explored, towards the swampy lagoon at the other side of the grounds and finally back to the house.
They walk hand in hand the whole time, and Enid almost wants to skip and swing their arms but she contains herself, lest Wednesday notices they are in fact displaying affection publicly (although no one’s around) and stops holding her hand.
Next, Wednesday takes her to the torture room, where she’s very insistent Enid’s not to touch anything.
Wednesday shows her her favorite contraptions: the stretcher, which apparently the Addams treat like an intense chiropractor, the electric chair, a favorite for the men of the house, the Iron Maiden—“Decorative, right? Right?!” Enid asks—and the spinning dart board, which Wednesday explains, is one of Granny and her’s shared hobby. There are reddish stains on the wood that Wednesday doesn’t explain and Enid’s too afraid to ask about.
Wednesday skips a few traps and devices, but Enid still catches glimpses of things she really doesn’t want to imagine the use of. Still, she has to reassure herself that most of this is decorative, a collection of sorts—or at least she very much hopes so.
Enid leaves the room feeling a little queasy, but Wednesday’s spirits seem to be reinvigorated.
“Whew, that was something,” Enid says as they walk back up the stairs.
“It’s my favorite room,” Wednesday replies with a permanent little smirk and crazy, wild eyes.
“Yep, you did say that.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“Sure did!” Enid’s voice wavers, her face still a little pale.
Wednesday pulls her into her room and locks the door behind her. She steps into Enid’s space, looking up at her through her lashes. Her hands grip Enid’s waist as she kisses her jaw, then her cheek and finally her mouth.
Wednesday’s fingers squeeze Enid’s sides as her body presses close and the kiss starts to become something familiar.
“Wait,” Enid mumbles against her lips. “Really? You’re… now?”
Wednesday just nods, her eyes dark and laser focused on Enid’s mouth.
“God, you’re so weird,” Enid rasps, kissing her back with instant heat and enthusiasm. “Why am I into this?”
“Shut up,” Wednesday says, pushing her back towards the bed.
Enid lays on her back and Wednesday straddles her hips, taking her shirt off in a flash. Enid stares, her mouth watering as Wednesday unsnaps her bra and throws it to the floor.
Seeing as her girlfriend is just staring and not doing anything, Wednesday takes Enid’s hands to put them on her chest. However, Enid intertwines their fingers but doesn’t touch her yet.
“Hold on, baby, let me look,” Enid says, entranced.
Wednesday looks flustered under Enid’s attentive stare. She casts her eyes down as a blush blooms on her cheekbones.
Enid loves seeing this side of her.
Finally, Enid puts her hands on Wednesday’s body. Her thumbs run over the underside of Wednesday’s breasts, and she watches her girlfriend’s skin erupt in goosebumps, her mouth parting in a silent sigh.
Enid’s stared enough.
She sits up, peeling off her tank top and her bra and wrapping her arms around Wednesday's waist. The seer trails her fingers up her toned arms with a mesmerized look, perpetually fascinated by the slim build and the lean, subtle muscles that hide the real strength of the werewolf underneath, without robbing her of an ounce of femininity.
Wednesday takes her face in her hands and slots their lips together, teasing Enid’s mouth open with her tongue. The kiss starts wet and a little filthy, Wednesday lapping at Enid’s tongue while she grinds on her.
Enid knows she’s not really doing anything; her pants are too wide for her to make contact with her abs, but the movement is enough to stimulate them both. She attaches her mouth to Wednesday’s neck, sucking kisses on her path down to her collarbone.
“Do you remember what you said the day you told me you loved me?” Enid asks before biting down, her fangs almost piercing skin.
Wednesday groans, her hand gripping Enid’s hair at the back of her head. Enid continues the kissing and the biting, leaving new bruises and marks where the old ones were fading.
“Do you?” She insists, before sucking a path down to Wednesday’s chest.
“Why are you talking?” Wednesday asks, pulling on her hair to tilt her head back and look into her eyes.
Without breaking eye contact, Enid leans forward and takes Wednesday’s nipple into her mouth. Wednesday gasps, her hips snapping uselessly, having nothing to grind against. Enid releases her with a wet pop.
“You said I could use my mouth. On you.” Her breath fans over Wednesday’s spit-wet breast, sending shockwaves down her body.
Through her foggy mind, Wednesday tries to recall what Enid is talking about. Her eyes darken when she remembers.
“You want to?”
“Uh, duh.”
“Okay.” Wednesday leans back a little, her eyes never leaving Enid’s mouth. “How—?”
Enid flips them over like Wednesday weighs nothing to her, laying the girl down and draping her body over hers. She kisses down her chest and the plane of her stomach, stopping to leave bite marks around her hip bones. Wednesday squirms under her. Enid finally reaches the button of her pants, wasting no time in taking them off. She stares at Wednesday’s black panties, at the darker spot that reveals her arousal.
Enid’s not used to seeing her like this, from this angle—Wednesday prefers to be on top even when Enid’s the one calling the shots. Not that Enid would ever complain, she gets to touch as much as she wants when Wednesday’s on top.
But Wednesday laying under her on the black sheets, delicious expanse of tan skin bared for Enid, the softness of her thighs, the curve of her waist, the dip between her hipbones… Enid feels her wolf rumbling deep in her chest, her fangs tingling slightly.
Wednesday, also not used to this position, leans up on her elbows. There’s a permanent blush on her cheeks, and she definitely notices how Enid’s looking at her like she’s her prey. That look alone from her girlfriend is enough to ruin her underwear.
Still, she stares back defiantly.
“Are you just going to stare?” She sasses.
Enid gives her a wolfish grin and shakes her head. She curls her fingers around the edge of her panties to pull them off. She gets comfortable between Wednesday’s thighs, the smaller girl having to part her legs to accommodate her. It spreads her open and Enid feats her eyes on her.
Enid doesn’t want to just stare again, because at this point it feels like she’s torturing Wednesday, but there’s a part of her that can’t help it. Wednesday’s sex is soaked and blushing without having been touched once. Enid preens knowing it’s all for her; because of her.
Her senses are overwhelmed, the smell of her making Enid’s mouth water. Even then, she takes her time, biting and sucking the inside of Wednesday’s thighs. It will drive her feral later, tomorrow, at any point, to know that under Wednesday’s baggy pants and goth dresses, she’s covered in Enid’s marks.
“Enid…” Wednesday sighs. And how sweet her name sounds on her lips.
Having teased enough, she dives in.
Enid doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing, but she’s very enthusiastic. Her tongue parts Wednesday’s folds, lapping at her until her essence coats her tongue and throat sufficiently. She sucks her into her mouth, her technique a little more forceful than Wednesday’s.
Wednesday stays up on her elbows watching her, but Enid can hear the breathy reactions to what she’s doing.
Not good enough, Enid thinks. She wants her to be loud, wants her to lose her mind, like Wednesday does for her.
She licks her messily while her mouth’s still attached and sucking. Spit dribbles down her chin mixed with Wednesday’s slick and she feels Wednesday’s clit harden like a pearl against the flat of her tongue.
Wednesday starts to hump her hips, her eyes fluttering closed and her arms starting to tremble from holding herself up. She falls back into her pillows, one hand coming to tangle in Enid’s hair. She tries to direct Enid’s mouth with firm pressure, setting a rhythm she enjoys. Enid feels her hair being pulled and lets out a muffled moan against Wednesday. The humping gets more intentional, more precise, until Wednesday’s practically using Enid’s mouth to get herself off.
There are few things that turn Enid on as much as Wednesday taking her pleasure from her.
Enid squirms on the bed, her skirt not offering any friction for her to get some relief. Wednesday’s panting and mewling, the muscles of her stomach tensing as she feels her pleasure escalating.But Enid still wants to do a lot more for her, so she moves the hand that holds Wednesday’s thigh, switching her tongue for her thumb.
She rubs in broad circles, with the right pressure for Wednesday to continue panting, and drags her mouth down to Wednesday’s entrance. She pushes her tongue in, feeling Wednesday’s inner muscles pulsing around her.
“Enid! What—?”
“Was that okay, baby?” Enid asks, voice scratchy.
“Yes, that was good.” Wednesday pants. “I want you inside.”
“My… tongue or my fingers?”
“Any, both, I don’t care, just—“
“Okay, I’ve got you.”
Enid dips her thumb down, gathering wetness up to her clit. Her bundle of nerves is red and straining, and Enid would be hypersensitive by now from how hard she’s abusing it but Wednesday doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, Enid can tell she likes it a lot.
The wolf laps at the wetness that pours out of Wednesday and then opens her mouth wide, curling her tongue into her lover. Wednesday seems to enjoy it, lifting her head and making eye contact with her with eyes that are completely clouded by lust. But Enid thinks it’s more because of the visuals and the knowledge of what she’s doing, than the actual feel of it.
Her jaw starts to twinge.
And it’s not like Enid cares; she’d be here all day if she had to and would dislocate a joint if it made Wednesday happy, but she can tell Wednesday’s not gonna be able to come like this. So she licks up again and pushes her index and middle fingers inside her.
It picks up from there.
Enid’s fingers curl in a come-hither motion, her lips wrapping around her girlfriend’s clit once again. Enid can tell when her fingers hit the right spot inside her because Wednesday’s spine curves, lifting off the bed, and an obscene moan falls out of her mouth. So she keeps hitting it, her attention divided between that and the swirling of her tongue.
Wednesday becomes a panting, moaning mess, applying pressure to the back of Enid’s head as she tries to dominate the pace and the rhythm again.
But Enid resists her this time.
She can tell her girl is so close, and she’s gonna be the one to take her there all the way. She pumps a little harder, her other hand gripping Wednesday’s thigh tightly and her nails that she keeps short biting into the flesh, threatening to unsheathe.
The muscles around Enid’s fingers contract and Wednesday starts to quiver. She sucks in her stomach as Enid relentlessly taps and strokes that spongy spot inside her, barely able to move at all with how hard Wednesday’s squeezing.
And then she starts to come, cresting over the wave almost violently. Wednesday’s not the most vocal person, in bed or otherwise, but this orgasm is intensely quiet. She takes a deep gulp of air and holds it as her whole body tenses.
Enid can feel the pulsing of her inner muscles around her fingers, her clit spasming against her tongue in time. She can see the tendons on Wednesday’s neck jumping, her face red from not breathing and her hands gripping the sheets so hard they almost rip.
After a few long seconds, Wednesday finally breathes out, gasping for air and grabbing Enid’s head again. She grinds against her mouth and her fingers, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm, until finally she stops.
Her hands rake through Enid’s hair to push her face away. Enid pulls her fingers out and sucks them clean. Wednesday watches her before letting her head fall back against her pillow, exhausted.
Enid crawls up next to her.
“Did I do okay?” Enid asks. She knows Wednesday came pretty hard, but she still wants to hear it.
Something about Wednesday praising her…
Wednesday takes a moment to reply as her breathing goes back to normal. “Alarmingly good. It was so intense I stopped breathing for a moment.”
Enid grins smugly. “I could tell.”
Wednesday flops to her side, her hand moving to caress Enid’s thigh underneath her skirt. “You’ve learnt exactly how to touch me. If you were anyone else I’d have to kill you because of how fast you seem to find my weaknesses.”
“If I were anyone else, I would hope you wouldn’t be doing this.”
Wednesday smirks at that, her hand moving to the front of Enid’s panties. She touches her over the fabric, making Enid’s mouth part in a gasp.
“You’re soaked,” Wednesday rasps, a little surprised. She wiggles closer, kissing Enid sweetly on the mouth, while her fingers feel her up over her underwear. “From pleasing me?”
“Are you kidding? How c—could I not be?” Enid’s voice comes out shaky. She tries to hold on to something, her hand clutching Wednesday’s back, blunt nails leaving crescent moon marks. “I think you’re the hottest person in the world and I get to—ah, fuck… I get to do this with you.”
Wednesday puts her hand inside her underwear, without bothering to take it or her skirt off. There’s something really hot about it to Enid; Wednesday touching her under her skirt.
Wednesday goes back to kissing her sweetly and slowly, nibbling her bottom lip, sucking her tongue lightly. Her fingers are immediately drenched in Enid’s essence. She finds Enid’s neglected clit easily, peeking out of its hood demanding attention. Wednesday gives it gladly, tight little circles that change in pressure, making Enid snap her hips to chase or hide from her.
Wednesday breaks the kiss, a thin line of saliva hanging from their bottom lips. She licks it away.
“I also think you’re delectable,” Wednesday says against her mouth as Enid starts to whine, feeling her pleasure mounting. “I’ve never hungered for anyone like I do for you.”
Enid’s moans turn higher and faster as Wednesday’s fingers keep their relentless pace.
“Are you close?” Wednesday asks.
“Yes. Don’t stop, baby,” Enid pants, neither really sure if she means her touch or her talking.
“My self-restraint falls apart around you,” Wednesday continues, getting the sense that her words are pushing Enid faster and harder to the finish line. “And no one except you will ever get to see me like this.”
Enid lets out a series of high pitched and feminine whines in time with her breathing. Wednesday concentrates her strokes, feeling Enid’s wetness grow and her muscles tense as her climax approaches.
“With you, it feels freeing to lose control,” Wednesday confesses, her voice a deep rasp of passion and lust. “I want you to lose it too.”
“Wednes—day,” Enid chokes, on the edge.
“Let go, Enid. I’ve got you.”
Enid tumbles over that edge with a long moan, thankful indeed that they are alone in the house at the moment.
She instinctively pulls Wednesday’s body closer, burrowing her face in her neck as her girlfriend helps her ride her orgasm. She breathes in gasps, feeling her heart beating like a drum in her chest.
Wednesday pulls her hand out of her underwear and Enid presses her body further into hers, chest to chest, legs tangling, arm wrapping around her back possessively. Enid feels a little exposed, even though she isn’t even the one completely naked. Wednesday hugs her back, her hand caressing Enid’s spine comfortingly.
“Did you mean that?” Enid asks after a moment.
“What?”
“Everything you said. Or was it just… you know, ‘heat of the moment’?”
Wednesday hums. “I believe I’ve told you many times that I always mean what I say.”
“Yeah…” Enid doesn’t know what to say. It’s one thing to be kissed and touched by someone who’s whole thing is being cold and detached, even to know you are loved by the person who swore she’d never love another.
But to be told in so many words that you’re the exception to every rule? That you can shatter their self-proclaimed unbreakable restraint? Especially because Wednesday keeps those secrets very close to her chest.
Enid is a little overwhelmed, in the best way.
“I love you so much, Wednesday,” she says finally, face pressed against the skin of her neck and heart feeling like it’ll burst.
Wednesday’s breath hitches. “I…” Enid feels her swallow. “I feel the same way.”
Enid doesn't mind the way she says it; the fact that she’s returning the sentiment at all is already huge. And it’s not like she hasn’t heard those words from her girlfriend before, a few times in fact, but she knows it’s still hard for her. So to be in her bed, in her arms, fingers trailing over her spine and being told she’s not alone in her feelings, it’s more than enough; it’s extraordinary.
As Enid’s body temperature drops, a shiver runs through her body. Wednesday lets go immediately to grab the blanket at the end of her bed and drape it over them both. Enid snuggles back into her as soon as she settles.
“Nap?” Enid asks with a yawn.
“I believe there’s a joke about falling asleep immediately after sex.”
Enid groans. “Shut up, it was a long ass drive.” She yawns again, her eyes fluttering closed, her body surrendering to the warmth of their embrace and all the good chemicals of her orgasm. “I have stamina.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’ll show you,” Enid mumbles. “Next time.”
“Very well, next time.”
They both fall asleep seconds after.
...
The rest of the summer is filled with new experiences that Enid can tell are a common occurrence in the Addams household but to her are mind-blowing on a daily basis.
There’s not a boring day with the Addams.
The first week without Gomez and Pugsley, the ghoul in the dungeons escapes and Enid is the one that finds him in the hallway first thing in the morning. Her scream wakes the whole house, and Granny Eudora yells and scolds the creature back to the dungeons, while Wednesday puts her body in between them protectively.
“Are you okay?” She asks, concerned.
“Yeah,” Enid replies, shaken. “I was just going to the bathroom. Is that common?”
Wednesday rolls her eyes. “If she forgets to lock the door.”
Days after that, Gomez, Pugsley and Thing come back with dozens of stories about wendigos and pukwudgies and some lake monster called Champ that almost swallowed Thing. That afternoon, Gomez and Morticia dance the tango all over the house, Lurch following them holding a gramophone.
It goes on for hours, with little breaks in between where Gomez kisses her arms, or they kiss against the walls. It’s kind of cute at first but it gets to a point where even Enid has to hide from them because it’s too much.
She finds Wednesday in the torture room, reading a book while sitting in the electric chair.
“They don’t dance this far.” She sighs. “Usually.”
“What are you reading?” Enid looks at the cover and reads ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’. “Can I sit? I’ve never read it.”
Wednesday looks around the space of the chair, it’d be a tight fit but—
Before she can reply, Enid lifts her out of the chair with ease, holding her bridal-style for a brief moment before sitting down and placing Wednesday in her lap, seated sideways with her knees resting over the armrest.
“Okay?” She asks.
Wednesday squirms to get comfortable, quietly surrendering to the warmth at her back as Enid’s chin comes to rest on her shoulder. Enid puts an arm around her waist, holds her closer.
“Will you read it out loud?”
Wednesday goes back to the first page of the book and clears her throat.
“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses,” she starts to read, her voice weaving a story in Enid’s mind that occupies them until late hours of the night.
...
On the twenty-eighth of June, Enid celebrates her nineteenth birthday with the Addams.
She receives an email from her brother Logan, her favorite out of all her family members.
SUBJECT: Happy Birthday
Hey,
I hope you receive this wherever you are.
Some vague and confusing news about the attack at Nevermore reached us. I’m not sure what really went down but we heard you defeated them and you’re okay. I was very relieved to hear.
Dad mentioned your birthday was coming up, so I just couldn’t help but contact you. Happy birthday, sis.
Did you change your number? The one I have doesn’t seem to work anymore.
You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.
Logan
She debates whether she should reply and ultimately settles on a simple email.
SUBJECT: Re: Happy Birthday
Hi,
The Addams have taken me under their wing. I’m okay.
Thank you.
Enid.
For the rest of the day, she finds herself checking her inbox more often than she’d like to admit. One minute she feels angry at the audacity to send her such a throwaway message after everything, and the next she feels infinitely sad, because deep down she wants her family to want her back, to ask about her, to worry about her. But mostly she feels numb, incredulous that this is what her life has become, that the people who’ve seen her grow up could just cut her from their lives so easily.
As much as she checks her email, Logan doesn’t try again and the disappointment stings more than it should.
Fortunately, Wednesday and her family manage to take her mind off it somewhat with the celebration they’ve prepared.
The living room looks like a bubblegum circus vomited all over it, with pink and red balloons, a white and red tablecloth, a red velvet cake on a gold plate, blush pink paper lanterns and a full size doll—god, Enid sure hopes it’s a doll—of a clown.
“Surprise, lobita! We hope you like it,” Gomez says, arms wide and looking proud.
“We know you like color, so we scoured the attic for some old things,” Morticia adds.
“My tío owned a circus once,” Gomez explains.
“Oh, gee, this is…” Enid walks towards the cake with a nervous smile, doing a wide arch to avoid the clown. “Just too much.”
Wednesday stands in front of her, looking up through her bangs.
“I told them it was unnecessary. They insisted.”
“It’s really nice,” Enid says, deeply touched, if a little disturbed. “Thank you all, really.”
Pugsley gifts Enid a hand grenade, to which Enid responds with a nervous: “Oh, Jesus. Hah! Wednesday?!” And her girlfriend takes it off her hands and puts it away safely. Morticia and Gomez give her a plushie of a cutesy version of a lake monster, and Wednesday gifts her a dark blue wool sweater with the phases of the moon embroidered on the sleeves.
“I know it’s not your usual color but—“
“I love it,” Enid says, already imagining wearing it in winter, and combining it with her more colorful outfits. “Thank you.”
Enid bites her bottom lip, one single fang peeking out for a second. She debates her next move briefly before she throws caution to the wind and kisses Wednesday on the cheek, very close to her mouth. Wednesday stays very still, some color rising to her cheeks. She glances at her parents with just her eyes, but they’re both distracted with each other. She relaxes a fraction, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
“You’re welcome.”
Enid spends her day laughing, smiling, and surrounded by people who love her. Still, when she finally goes to bed that night, she can’t help but wish things were different; that maybe her brother had insisted and asked for her new number, or that her family had cared enough to apologize and try to make amends.
...
A week into July, Wednesday takes Enid bone collecting.
They walk around the woods all day, stopping to have a picnic near the lagoon, and they collect small bones from animal skeletons and even the corpse of an owl that Wednesday wraps and takes back to taxidermy.
At one point in July, Wednesday’s extended family comes to visit and Enid meets Cousin Itt, which is its own surrealist experience. She doesn’t understand a word he says, but Enid gets the gist that he likes her, so she kind of likes him back on principle. He stays for a few days, during which him and the boys go fishing in the lagoon.
“Don’t forget your bait!” Pugsley calls as he walks past Enid in the kitchen, who’s drinking her coffee while she checks her messages.
“I’ve got it, my boy,” Gomez replies from somewhere in the living room. Enid catches him later, leaving the house with a bag full of grenades.
“Would you like to join us, lobita?” Gomez asks at the door.
“Oh, um…” she actually thinks about it, so very curious about the grenade fishing. But ultimately, she’d rather stay with Wednesday. “No, it’s okay. But thank you!”
Mid August, there’s a huge summer storm, thunder rumbling making the windows shake and lighting breaking the sky violently. Wednesday abandons her typewriter to watch through her window, captivated, while Enid watches the lightning illuminating her face with the same awestruck feeling.
“You like storms, huh?” She asks from the bed, where she was texting the group chat.
“Nature’s violence is the purest form of destruction.”
“That’s…” Enid shakes her head, amused. Wednesday is such a chaos gremlin and Enid’s still in shock that she saw her, the girl that likes storms because they are ‘the purest form of destruction’ and thought: that one, I want that one. And she’d pick her again and again. “I think they’re beautiful too.”
Wednesday’s eyes widen slightly; Enid recognizes it as excitement.
“Would you like to watch it with me?”
Enid grins and skips up to Wednesday, taking her hand with both of hers and squeezing in excitement. “Yes! That sounds super romantic.”
Wednesday’s gaze turns flat. “No, it’s not,” she deadpans.
Enid rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine, it’s not. It’s just gloomy and goth and macabre. Can we do it anyway?”
Wednesday squints. Enid gives her her best puppy dog eyes.
“Let’s go to the tower,” Wednesday decides.
“Yay!” Enid claps her hands, jumping in place. “Let me grab a blanket and some pillows.”
The tower is the highest point in the house, a small square room accessible from a spiral staircase that has a big window, a telescope and a metal rod that goes from the floor to the ceiling. Enid drops the blanket and the pillows on the floor and eyes the metal rod curiously.
“What’s that?” She approaches, hand out.
Wednesday grabs her around the waist, pulling her back just in time to avoid Enid touching the metal as lightning strikes. The rod vibrates, the air around them becoming charged with static. Enid’s eyes widen.
“Oh.”
“Father and Pugsley enjoy electrocution in many forms,” Wednesday explains. She pushes Enid to sit down, away from the lightning rod. “But I don’t suggest you touch it.”
“Yeah, no, that’d be bad.”
They sit together and watch the storm roil outside for about half an hour before Enid gets bored and starts planting kisses on Wednesday’s neck.
They don’t notice when the storm subsides.
By the end of August, Granny Eudora challenges Wednesday to a duel because of a throwaway comment about the smell of the stew. Morticia enlists the help of Enid to move the furniture of the living room around, while Wednesday chooses her weapon of choice.
First to draw blood wins.
Enid watches the duel a little terrified, sat on the ottoman while Morticia sips her wine from the armchair.
Wednesday weaves and dodges, her rapier fast and precise. Eudora is faster than she looks, swinging a scimitar around like she was a pirate in another life. But Wednesday’s younger, smaller, faster and as Enid knows very well, trains more consistently than Granny.
The tip of her rapier slashes at Eudora’s cheek, a thin line of blood that probably stings more than it hurts.
“Oh, magnificent!” Morticia says, clapping primly with her wine glass. “I believe that decides the duel, Granny.”
“Un día de estos te voy a ganar,” [One of these days I’m going to win] Eudora grumbles, putting the scimitar away.
“So you keep saying, but you’re not getting any faster. Or any younger.”
Eudora turns to Morticia, eyes wide in offense. “This girl!” She exclaims. “Your daughter’s a little nightmare.”
“Isn’t she just?” Morticia says adoringly, hand to her heart.
Wednesday rolls her eyes, slotting the rapier back on its stand. Enid goes up to her feeling a little breathless by the whole display of skill.
“That was really cool,” she says. “You’re really good at that.”
Wednesday looks up at her through her bangs. “I know.”
“You move so fast and with so much finesse,” she continues, taking her hand and playing with her fingers. “It’s kind of mesmerizing to watch.”
“I’ve trained a lot,” Wednesday says, an eyebrow rising in question. There’s something about Enid’s words and how earnest they sound right now...
“Yeah,” Enid nods. She steps closer, lowers her voice, aware that Morticia and Eudora are still in the room. “It was really hot.”
There it is, Wednesday thinks. That’s what she was picking up.
“Was it?” She asks, a hint of tease in her voice.
Enid nods again. “Do you—um, do you wanna go upstairs, to your room? For a bit?”
Wednesday pulls her upstairs by the hand.
Needless to say, from day one, that’s also been happening often. Turns out Morticia hit the nail on the head when she mentioned being young and insatiable.
Enid doesn’t know if it’s the novelty of it, or if she’s just always going to crave Wednesday’s body, and kiss, and touch, with the same dizzying need that she feels now. She doesn’t have any other experience on that front to draw from, and she knows she’s never going to want anyone else.
Wednesday’s her girlfriend and her best friend, but she’s also her mate and Enid’s wolf has chosen the one that she will love and desire for the rest of her life.
Wednesday feels the same way. The curse of love that her family carries likes to remind her of how much she craves Enid, that what she feels for her is in fact that deep, formidable love that she once rejected and vowed to avoid.
The curse is more inconvenient than anything else these days, since Wednesday is very aware of her desire and her feelings, and doesn’t need a reminder. And she still fights it sometimes, when it pushes her to act like a fool or show weakness.
She still needs to maintain some semblance of dignity; she’s not her father.
But for the whole summer, they keep running off to Wednesday’s room several times a week, door locking behind them to let hands wander and mouths part in breathless sighs.
Sometimes they don’t even make it to the room.
Once, Wednesday touches Enid in the study, pins her against the bookshelf and slips her hand under her summer dress. Once, Enid fucks Wednesday against the wall of her ancestor’s crypt, and then worries for days about their spirits coming back to haunt them. Once, Wednesday eats her out in the woods, Enid’s back against the rough bark of a tree and Wednesday kneeling and looking up at her through her lashes. Enid’s moans are so loud, the ravens that live in the woods start to caw.
And then there’s the quiet moments, sitting next to each other in the living room, in the kitchen, in Wednesday’s room, each one doing their own thing but sticking close by.
Like Wednesday checking on her, making sure she’s comfortable and doing okay in her strange house, not with words, but with attentive eyes, hands on her waist steering her. Or Enid showing her affection with no other goal; a kiss on the temple as she sits to write, a hand held as they wander the grounds, a peck to her lips when there’s no one around.
It’s almost September when Enid realizes that she’s packing her things to move to New York with her girlfriend, who she’s stupidly in love with, and that, even though she sometimes misses her family and her old pack, she's the happiest she’s ever been in her life.