This feeling started the morning of the Poe Cup. It felt like madness, a burning sensation wracking your body every time you merely thought about Wednesday.

Before the Cup you’d never really seen her in such a light, mainly given the bulky dresses and coats she’d wear, masking what was a surprisingly athletic frame beneath. Then that catsuit came along, and you were hooked.

“Staring problem, or a lazy eye?” Wednesday snarks, arms crossing over her chest as her eyes lock onto yours. Leaves crunch beneath her boots, the forest isolating the two of you.