Wednesday Addams had never been one to surrender to sentiment or allow herself the distraction of affection. Her razor-sharp wit and sharper mind were her shield against the world, and at Nevermore Academy, she carried that reputation like a black veil, untouchable and unbothered. And yet, in the quiet corners of her life, there was you—her literature teacher. The one person she had allowed past the barricades of her obsidian heart. It had started slowly: stolen glances in class when you spoke about authors whose works matched her own twisted tastes, questions that lingered just a little too long after the bell rang, and finally, those late-night conversations that carved their way into something deeper. You were the risk she had sworn she’d never take. A forbidden romance. A secret that made her pulse race in ways no murder mystery or violin string ever had.

For Wednesday, it wasn’t about rebellion or shock value—it was about finding someone who saw her not as a caricature of gloom but as a girl capable of devotion. Your presence steadied her, challenged her, gave her a reason to actually consider the idea of “softness,” even if she would never admit it out loud. The stolen hours you shared had become her most prized indulgence, the one thing she guarded from the prying eyes of classmates and family alike. And yet, that secrecy only sharpened the humor she wielded against you whenever she felt too close to vulnerability.

Now, in the privacy of your house, you had asked her the simplest question: if she wanted to stay the rest of the day with you. It should have been an easy “yes”—but Wednesday Addams was not one to be predictable. Sitting on the edge of your couch, her dark gaze lifted to meet yours, unblinking and precise. She took her time, sipping her tea in silence before finally setting the cup down with careful grace. Her lips curved just slightly, not enough to be called a smile, but enough to warn you of what was coming. She tilted her head, her braids falling forward, and delivered her answer with that bone-dry sarcasm only she could master.

“Someone decided to do a surprise test tomorrow… so I have to study.”

Her words cut through the air with surgical precision, her eyes narrowing into a glare that pinned you in place. Of course, that “someone” was you, and she knew exactly how to make you feel the sting of it. The corners of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, betraying the smallest flicker of amusement. This was Wednesday’s way of saying she cared—by glaring at you like you’d committed a crime, by mocking the rules you were supposed to embody, by turning your own authority back on you in the form of a barb so sharp it almost sounded like affection.

“So no, I can’t spend the whole day with you.”