Silent Pulse (W.A.)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Warnings: None

The Experimental Hemomagic course wasn’t a very popular elective for the majority of Nevermore’s alumni. You were only in the class so you could share a class with Wednesday.

You probably shouldn’t have chosen your courses based on a small crush, but what’s done is done.

Dr. Cartwright—the class’s professor—was handing out flyers. Volunteers needed.

“These flyers contain details for blood donation. Since our class isn’t approved by the Red Cross or the state of Vermont, we have to experiment through less official means.” He paused, glancing at you.

“You are not required to donate to continue this class. Remember that. But because this class is project-based, it cannot continue without volunteers.”

You read the flyer. ‘Please enter classroom 203 during lunch hours. All blood types are welcomed. Rh-Null is preferred.’ Of course it is. You sigh quietly, looking back up to follow whatever lesson he planned for today.

Practical applications of hemomancy. Wonderful.

.

.

When the class comes to an end, you pack up, the same as everyone else. “Miss L/N, please stay for a moment.” You pause.

Everyone else was indifferent, not caring whether you stayed or not. They all wanted to get to lunch. What you didn’t notice, however, was Wednesday watching Cartwright like he just said something rancid.

“Of course.” You respond, feeling a strange heat at the back of your head. You turn; Wednesday wasn’t just watching, she’s glaring.

‘I’ll be fine.’ You mouth. Liar. She doesn’t mouth it or say it, but you can tell that’s exactly what she’s thinking. You shrug and get up, going to Cartwright’s desk. You hear Wednesday leave.

“At your service, Sergeant.” You try to be nice, like you aren’t bothered by what he’s going to ask.

He just smiles. “I’m sure you’re aware why I asked you here.” You nod reluctantly. How did he even know?

“Your participation would be invaluable. Rh-null in itself is incredible; it bypasses all we know about blood magic. But that’s not all; despite the lack of antigens in your blood, you aren’t experiencing any health complications like a regular person would. That makes your blood extraordinary.”

“Is flattery meant to work here?” You’re still skeptical. It wouldn’t be the first time an outcast tried to gain access to your blood. He smiles again. “It’s your choice. Nothing’s going to be forced on you.”

Wednesday will like it. You think before you can stop yourself. Dammit. You two are supposed to be friends. She barely likes Enid, much less you.

“I’ll consider it. I’ll come by tomorrow during lunch.” He nods. You give him a polite nod and leave.

“Well?” You jump, making a small noise of surprise. “Fuck—don’t do that.” Your hands over your heart. Wednesday raises an eyebrow. She has basically hiding behind the door, waiting.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Wednesday starts walking towards the mess hall, and you trail behind her, falling into the role she’s already written for you.

“Good. It’d be foolish to.” That surprises you; you figured she’d want you to donate blood. “Why?” She scoffs. “Your blood is invaluable for certain spells. I highly doubt Cartwright will do a good job of protecting your identity.” You consider her warning.

‘You don’t want me to?’ You almost ask. Stop it. She’s trying to be a good friend. “Would be fun though… wouldn’t it?” You ask hesitantly.

She stops. “Do what you’d like.” You pause as well. “Ok.” Your voice is small when you reply. Wednesday keeps walking, and you follow, dropping the subject.

.

.

You lie on Enid’s beanbag. She’s rambling on about her Pinterest; she made a mood board on a ‘Sunshine Werewolf Aesthetic’ or something like that. You’re only half aware of what she’s saying.

Your mind is occupied with what Cartwright said. ‘Rh-null in itself is extraordinary…’ You were born rare.

Telekinesis was amazing, but other students had the same ability. Your blood was the only thing that separated you from them.

You hiss. “Wake up.” Enid poked you with one of her claws. “That hurt a lot more than I would have expected it to.” She grins, flopping onto the beanbag next to you.

“So… Someone told me about Cartwright’s volunteer flyers. I was thinking of donating some of my own, but I’m O positive so I’m sure he already has a lot. What about you?” You shrug, moving your arms above your head and linking them. “I don’t know yet. Would be cool to see how the spells react.” Enid already knows about your blood; she was there when Wednesday ran tests on it when she saw you bleed golden blood while fencing.

Cheeky bastard.

Enid hums. “I think Wednesday’s planning Cartwright’s funeral. I saw her looking at that little graveyard model you made her; she still updates it.” You begin to smile, but then you pause.

“Really?” She grins. “Mhm… told you she thinks of you as a friend.”

The model—you made her a graveyard model out of Legos. ‘For your murder plans.’ You told her. ‘So you always know where there’s an empty spot.’

Wednesday’s plan to commit premeditated murder on your behalf caused a concerning but not unwelcome warmth to your chest. It’s almost uncomfortable.

You let out a puff of air. “Mmm, I think I’ll try it. Maybe the experiments will be fun.” Enid hums in acknowledgment and starts rambling about her Pinterest again. This time you pay attention.

.

.

The next day during lunch, you find yourself outside Dr. Cartwright’s door. You knock faintly and open it. The cold air surrounding you smells like antiseptic. The professor is sitting at his desk writing down student information. Probably other volunteers.

“I wouldn’t mind donating.” He looks up from the papers. He doesn’t seem surprised, like he knew you would come.

“Miss L/N, nice to see you. If you truly want to donate, I’d be happy to do so now. This way we can experiment tomorrow.” You nod hesitantly. “How much would it be?”

He replies quickly, “Absolutely no more than one pint a day. Since you’re not fully grown, I’ll only take half a pint.” You nod. “That doesn’t seem like enough for so many students.”

He grins, “Don’t worry Miss L/N, each experiment should only use a drop, maybe a little more, for full effect.” He gets up, gesturing to you to sit at one of the front desks.

You hear a cabinet open as you find your seat. A few moments later he sits next to you with some supplies.

When the half-pint bag is filled, he expertly puts a cotton ball and gauze on the incision site. “All done. You can choose to donate more in 3 days if you wish.” “Alright.” And that’s the end of it. You get up and leave, meeting Enid and Wednesday in the cafeteria.

“Hi.” You say a small greeting as you sit down at the table. Wednesday sees your bandage, and her jaw clenches down slightly.

“Oh my gosh, how was it?” Enid seems happy. “Normal. It was just a donation.” You shrug. It really wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“How much?” Wednesday asks. “Half a pint.” She doesn’t respond, just looks back at her meal. Enid starts to rant to you, and the day continues just as it would normally.

.

.

“Hey Y/N, can you pass me the mint green?” Enid asks from her desk. You hum and make the nail polish float towards her–

CRASH

Glass shatters on the hardwood, the nail polish splattered around.

“Oh shit–I’m sorry.” You start apologizing. “Woah woah woah, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Enid reassures you. “That’s never happened before, has it?” You shake your head, already reaching for something to clean up the mess. “Shit.” Thankfully your backpack has some napkins from yesterday’s lunch.

“Least it wasn’t on the carpet.” You say, trying to calm yourself. Enid scoots back from the mess on the floor.

Enid grabs a napkin and helps you clean up some of the drops that splattered away from the main mess. “Are you okay? You look sick.” You puff out a breath of air, thinking.

“Thanks for the compliment.” You reply absentmindedly. When you stand up your vision clouds slightly. It’s not unusual for that to happen sometimes, right?

But your telekinesis has never done that.

Enid reaches for some of the glass. “Don’t cut yourself.” You say without thinking, already reaching to grab it yourself. She grabs the big piece of glass anyways and gets up to throw it away.

“I think we have a broom in Wednesday’s closet.” You grin, “Is that her midnight ride?”

“No, but we could test it if you repeat yourself.” You don’t even have to turn to know who it is. “Bummer. Suits you.”

Her eyes flicker to the shattered glass on the hardwood. “What happened?”

“Well you see, gravity causes-“ Enid smacks your shoulder. “She was making it float and it dropped.” Enid helps you scoop the glass into the dustpan.

You can feel Wednesday’s gaze lingering on you. You try to ignore it while you throw away the soiled napkins, but your chest decides to tighten anyway.

“Did you eat? Water?” You hear her ask. “Yes?” She doesn’t answer. If she nods you don’t see it—because the moment you look back at her she turns and walks to her side of the room.

.

.

So far you’ve only donated blood for Cartwright’s class twice. Once Tuesday of last week, and on this week’s Monday. You thought donating blood once every few days would be fine, but now it’s Thursday and your powers are still weak.

You sit at your usual lunch table with Wednesday and Eugene. Enid went off somewhere with another group which wasn’t unusual. She still needs gossip for her blog and of course she wants to be around her pack.

Your vision feels slow, like your brain isn’t registering it as fast. Maybe you didn’t sleep enough last night. You stayed up watching a new show and fell asleep at 2AM. Yeah, that’s probably why.

“Stop staring at me. You’re creepy remember—or am I that beautiful?” Wednesday’s been looking at you since you’ve sat down. But it’s more of a glare than a look of concern.

“I’m searching for symptoms of hypovolemia.” She ignores your comment. Eugene tunes in. “Oh yeah, you’ve been donating haven’t you?”

You nod. “Hypo- what?” You don’t hear Enid behind you until she says “AHH” and grabs your shoulders. You jump. “Dammit Enid.” She sits down next to you.

“Low blood volume causes weakness and dizziness.” Wednesday looks at your hands. “And loss of fine control.”

She looks up at you. Her gaze strong enough to kill you if she willed it, but maybe that’s just because she’s looking at you. “You have to be monitored.”

“She’s just worried you’re going to paint our dorm’s floor pastel again.” Enid teases beside you. “Do I hear a volunteer?” You ask, Wednesday doesn’t seem amused.

“I never specified that you had a choice in the matter.” Enid snickers, a heat creeps up your neck. You end the conversation there.

.

.

By Friday your movements still feel sluggish, like your head isn’t quite there. It’s only 2 donations a week—one on Monday and one on Friday—spaced out just like Cartwright promised.

Wednesday is waiting for you outside his class. She’s leaning beside the door like a guard. You ignore the faint hum in your head.

“I’ll be here when you’re done.” It’s not a question, not even a command. Ever since lunch yesterday she’s been monitoring you.

Commenting on your clear signs of low blood volume. How you press on your temple when you think nobody’s looking, or how your powers slip last second when you carry your phone towards you. How the paper cut you got yesterday hasn’t healed yet despite your enhanced healing ability.

“Yes sir.” You mumble and enter the class. Pretending to not be shaken by her eyes burning into you. That her presence itself doesn’t make your chest feel odd in ways you can’t explain.

When you come back out—sure enough, Wednesday is waiting in the same spot you left her in. “Wens, I’m fine.” It comes out softer than you intended.

“Your color’s off.” It’s a simple statement—clinical even. There’s nothing intimate about it, so why does it feel like it is?

You sigh quietly. Wednesday doesn’t comment, she just starts walking knowing you’ll fall in behind her. You always do.

.

.

It’s Saturday now, Enid invited you over to study for Monday’s English exam. Frankenstein.

You float your pen in the air, flipping it. It feels heavier than usual. You walk around Enid’s side of the room, it helps you concentrate.

Enid’s rambling about the creature, how his creator just left him like a newborn being left at an orphanage in an oldies movie.

You’re about to respond to something she said but something feels off. Your head starts ringing—loud. Then the edges of your vision blur, like a photo that isn’t fully developed. You close your eyes trying to steady yourself, reaching for her nightstand.

You have a faint memory of someone running to you. You’re on the floor, leaning against the nightstand. Why is it so loud?

Fuck can someone stop that ringing. Shit. And why is it so bright?

You can hear someone talking but it’s muffled. Your eyes are open, you know they are, but there’s black dots everywhere like you looked at the sun too long.

“Y/N.” Wednesday. You understood that. You can feel her hands on your face, your heart beating weird.

You hum a response, still dizzy. “I’ll get her water.” It sounds like Enid. “Look at me.” You try to focus your eyes on Wednesday’s face. You try to blink the dots away. Enid comes over with a bottle of water.

Wednesday makes you drink it. After a minute they can see your eyes start to focus. “How many times?” You hear Wednesday ask. Your vision comes back just enough to clearly see her.

“Monday and today.” Your reply sounds weak, almost empty. Her jaw flexes. “And you think that’s acceptable?” She sounds angry. I just wanted you to have fun. You think.

They give you a minute to catch yourself. “Ok. Ok, I think I’m good now.”

“You’re not donating anymore.” She pushes hair away from your face. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Just give me a bit.” You mumble, still a bit drowsy.

“You’re telling yourself what you want to believe.” Her voice is still stern, but her voice is softer now. “You were wrong.”

“C’mon, let’s get you off the floor before I have to be an alibi.” They help you up. You stumble slightly as they help you onto Enid’s bed.

You try to ignore the warmth building up on your face. Wednesday’s hand is still secured behind your head. She makes you lay back on Enid’s heart pillow.

You see Enid hesitating. You know she was planning on hanging out with Yoko later. “Go Enid, I’m fine.”

“She’s not.” Wednesday says quickly, looking back at Enid. “Go, I’ll watch her.” Enid nods hesitantly. You close your eyes when Wednesday hands you another water bottle. You hear Enid move around the room as you drink the water.

Before she leaves you open your eyes and look at her. ‘Good luck.’ She mouths. You give her a lazy thumbs up as she closes the door behind her.

The room goes quiet after the door clicks. Like a forest when it’s waiting for a predator to strike. Maybe I should try to make a joke?

“You don’t have to guard me Wednesday. I think I’m retiring from dramatic dizzy spells.” Her expression stays the same. “No. You’re staying where I put you.”

Your face feels slightly warmer. You ignore it—try to at least. “Bossy much?” She gets up and goes to Enid’s desk. She sits on the chair but spins around to look at you, arms crossed.

“Look, I’m fine Wednesday, really. I’m choosing to donate-“

“Well your choice is flawed.” Her tone is flat but just as sharp. “I can decide for myself Wednesday.” Your voice is defensive.

“No.” You freeze. “You are not donating again.”

You want to argue—you do—but when you look at her you just, stop.

The icy expression she usually wears is gone. Her jaw is tighter, movements far more calculated. Like she’s waiting for something to happen.

“Ok.” Silence fills the room again. It's not comforting, it’s loud, and it’s heavy.

She looks down. She turns and grabs whatever book she can find on Enid’s desk. Frankenstein. You almost laugh but you can’t find it in yourself to move. “I’m tired.” You mumble.

You don’t remember what happens next, just that you wake up in Enid’s bed. The digital clock on the nightstand says 8 PM. Two hours. You’ve been asleep for two hours.

“I’ve decided.” Wednesday says after a minute. “You stayed.” You tell her. She’s still sitting in the chair. From what you can see, she hasn’t progressed through the book. At least not enough for it to be noticeable.

“I told Enid I’d watch you.” She doesn’t look up from the book. You study her, her eyes haven’t moved much. Is she even reading?

You hum. “I thought you meant until I fell asleep, or I left.” She finally looks up, closing the book. She wasn’t reading.

“That would be pointless. You’re most vulnerable when asleep, and I wouldn't have let you leave. Not in your condition.” She turns around in the chair, setting book down and turning back to face you.

You move your head back against the pillow. “So you watched me sleep? What if I started snoring? Like, full blown middle aged man snoring.” You turn your head to look at her.

Her response is quick. “You didn’t.”

“You would’ve told me if I did?”

Her eyes narrow. “I would have documented it, for future leverage.” Wednesday’s answer makes you smile. “What did you decide?” You say, sitting up.

Wednesday stands up and hands you a snack bar. Where did she even get this?

“Cartwright. Bloodletting seems like a fitting punishment.” You laugh nervously. This wasn’t really Cartwright’s fault, he probably thought your quick healing would prevent this.

“Wednesday that’s not-“ She shakes her head. “Only if necessary.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “You’re inconveniently important to me.” Your mind goes blank. She looks away from you.

“Ok. I’ll tell him I’m out on Monday.” She nods. ‘Inconveniently important’ You know better than to mention it.

.

.

When Monday comes Wednesday personally monitors your conversation with Dr. Cartwright after class. She’s subtle, staying behind like she’s just moving slower than usual. Her eyes linger on you in front of Cartwright’s desk.

She can’t hear what’s being said—not clearly. But she catches the ‘of course’ from Cartwright and moves towards the door.

You fall in behind her. She comes to a stop when you both leave the classroom, the corridor already empty. “Wednesday?” You ask softly. She turns, a small glass jar in her hands.

“Hibiscus tea leaves, for blood circulation.” You take the jar from her when she hands it to you.

“For someone who says I’m an inconvenience, you seem to keep going out your way for me.” She doesn’t reply right away. She takes a step towards you. A small one.

“You aren’t donating again?” Her voice sounds small. Not gentle though—never gentle.

“No. I’m not.” Her stance relaxes slightly. The corridor is silent, but it’s calm. Wednesday leans in and you freeze.

Her lips graze your cheek. “Good.” She pulls back and turns around quickly. She starts walking, knowing you’ll always be behind her.

╰────╮

A/N: This is definitely the longest work I’ve written so far.

Want more? Wednesday Masterlist