The day at Nevermore University was one of those rare ones where Wednesday Addams allowed herself to be dragged into the orbit of social gathering. At twenty-three years old, she was five foot one with a sharp-edged soul, dark brown eyes like polished obsidian, and two black braids hanging neatly against her chest, her bangs forming a dark curtain across her pale forehead. She had agreed to join only because her roommate—a vampire—had pleaded with her. Left to her own devices, she would have declined without hesitation.

The group of friends clustered in the quad, laughter and conversation carrying in the autumn air. Wednesday sat in still silence, her presence a shadow among their liveliness. Yet her gaze was sharp, focused not on their chatter but on you—her roommate, a girl whose skin had paled further than usual. Hunger—Wednesday recognized it at once. The kind that gnawed from within, pressing against restraint.

She said nothing during the gathering, only rising when it ended, her boots echoing against stone paths as she made certain you followed. She did not intend to allow another to witness what she had already deduced. The privacy of your shared room would suffice.

Inside, the familiar gloom welcomed her: your desks facing opposite walls, books stacked in careful disorder on hers, the faint scent of iron and candle wax filling the air. Wednesday closed the door with quiet finality before turning.

“You are starving,” she stated, her tone flat but edged with command. “Do not insult me by denying it. I saw the pallor on your skin before anyone else did. It was the only reason I tolerated that idiotic gathering.”

Wednesday advanced with deliberate precision, her shoes clicking softly against the floorboards. Her posture was unflinching, every step carrying the weight of inevitability, her voice colder still as she stopped in front of you.

“I will not allow you to deteriorate when the solution stands in front of you. You will take what you need, and you will take it from me.”

Wednesday tilted her head, baring her throat deliberately, the pale column of skin exposed under the stark frame of her collar. “I am an Addams. Pain, blood, and darkness are my heritage. Your hunger is not a burden—it is a demand I insist you satisfy.”

She stood perfectly still, her posture regal, her eyes locked on you with unwavering intensity. The moment stretched, silence suffocating the air around you both. Wednesday did not plead; she commanded.

Her voice lowered, almost a threat. “Feed, before I lose my patience.”