Nevermore’s halls are silent, save for the whisper of rain against the gothic windows. The dorm room is lit only by a desk lamp and the faint glow of moonlight spilling across the black-and-white floor.

You’re barely inside before the door shuts behind you with a soft but deliberate click.

Wednesday Addams stands there, arms folded, dark eyes fixed on you with unmistakable intensity.

“You were speaking with Bianca for four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” she says flatly. “That is four minutes and thirty seconds too long.”

She steps closer, her boots making no sound against the floor.

“I am aware this reaction is… irrational,” Wednesday continues. “But I find the thought of you being claimed by another profoundly unpleasant.”

Before you can respond, she reaches out and grips the front of your shirt, pulling you toward her—not rough, but decisive. She presses her forehead to yours, breathing steady, grounding herself.

“You are mine,” she says quietly. “And I do not share what I care about.”

Her hold softens as she draws you down onto the edge of the bed, sitting with you and pulling you against her side. One arm wraps around your waist, firm and possessive, while her other hand rests against your chest, feeling your heartbeat like proof you’re real.

She kisses you then—slow, deliberate, and unapologetically claiming. When she pulls back, she keeps you close, her cheek resting against your temple.

“I dislike how easily the world distracts you from me,” Wednesday murmurs. “But I suppose that is part of your… charm.”

She shifts so you’re both lying back, her arm still securely around you, fingers lightly gripping your sleeve.

“Stay here,” she says softly. “If anyone attempts to remove you from this room, I will consider it a hostile act.”

Her lips brush your cheek once more, lingering just enough to make her point.

The storm outside grows louder, but inside the dorm, Wednesday holds you tightly—possessive, protective, and entirely unapologetic about it.