Chapter Text
Wednesday Addams
Though she was loath to admit it, and any member of her family that dared to bring it up had a knife thrown their way immediately, Wednesday has been obsessed with werewolves since before she could talk. Her parents had indulged the obsession with trips to werewolf sites, any artifact they could get their hands on, and a whole wing of their library dedicated to lycanthropy studies. House’s collection rivaled even Nevermore’s, and was possibly the most extensive collection of werewolf texts in the world. Every gift she received from the age of two was in some way related to wolves, including a white plush wolf with blue eyes, the only speck of color Wednesday ever allowed in her room.
One day, when her parents were subjecting her to the humiliating experience known as “the talk”, her father dared to suggest it would be a werewolf that would one day make her succumb to the Addam’s Curse.
“I will never fall in love,” she’d said, indignant at the very idea.
“Oh dear, every Addams is cursed to fall madly in love. It’s a truly marvelous gift from Fate herself,” her mother had said. She’d even smiled, clearly refusing to even listen to Wednesday’s own feelings.
From that day forward, Wednesday hid her obsession, though it never truly died. She only visited the lycanthropy books late at night or if she was home alone, and hid the wolf plushie she slept with deep in her booby-trapped wardrobe. It was high time she dropped such a silly, childish habit anyway. She found new things to focus on, making sure no one could ever accuse her of a particular interest in anything romantic. She would not be her parents, especially not her mother.
Her family quickly learned not to mention her girlhood obsession, and Wednesday even allowed herself to be convinced she’d fooled them into believing she’d outgrown it.
So when her roommate at Nevermore was none other than a werewolf, she couldn’t help but feel as though Fate was laughing at her. Especially since Enid turned out to be so colorful and girly. This was not the powerful beast that so enchanted Wednesday in her youth.
At the same time, she couldn’t help but find Enid fascinating. She was clearly very strong–easily ripping open a door that bested Tyler, sending a tingle down Wednesday’s spine–and she had powerful claws sharp enough to tear metal to shreds, yet she couldn’t turn and scared easily. Wednesday may keep her lycanthropy expertise to herself these days, but Enid had so many markers of a particularly powerful werewolf that she couldn’t fathom why Enid’s mother put so much pressure on her to transform and “be normal”. Wednesday saw Enid in gym class, the girl was stronger and faster than the strongest and fastest boy in their grade, and he was a werewolf that presented as an alpha two years ago. She didn’t know for sure as she hadn’t had the opportunity to observe it herself, but Wednesday suspects that Enid’s stronger than her older brothers, and all of them had already wolfed out. It was clear to her that Enid’s wolf would show itself eventually, and Wednesday had only hoped she’d be there to see it when it did.
However annoying the girl could be, she had a way of disarming Wednesday’s defenses. She couldn’t help but care about her, and that was something she simply didn’t do, at least not about anyone outside of her family. When Enid gave her the snood, an object she should detest for many reasons, her heart leapt in her throat. A handmade gift was the first thing a werewolf presented to a potential mate. Though she wasn’t fortunate enough to possess the heightened olfactory senses of a werewolf, she could smell it was soaked in Enid’s scent. A warm, flowery scent tinted with vanilla that Wednesday would deny to her dying breath that she quite liked. Enid was certainly friendly enough to give any of her many friends a gift like this, especially on their birthday, but Wednesday’s traitorous heart clenched with hope that this meant what all the books she’d read about werewolf mating rituals said it meant.
It was the scariest thing Enid could have given her. Wednesday refused to let the Addam’s Curse sink its claws into her. She tried to leave the snood behind, but of course it made its way back to her. And when she finally did rid herself of it, she felt bad about it. Even though she preferred the embrace of the cold, when she’d put the snood on and was immediately surrounded by Enid’s scent, her warmth seeping into her bones, she’d liked it. When Enid had clearly been trying to make her jealous when she was rooming with Yoko, Wednesday had hid it, but she was jealous. She’d always liked to think of herself as above something as trivial and hormone-fueled as sexuality, but Enid had her asking herself questions she’d never entertained before. Even her fascination with Tyler, who’d been by all accounts a boring normie, felt different than her fascination with Enid. She’d only kissed Tyler because a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Goody kept insisting she was missing something.
Safe to say that was the understatement of the year. And now, as she lay awake after defeating Crackstone and Gates, she was beginning to think that every time she’d thought she maybe liked him, he’d been acting like Enid. Taking her on a date at Crackstone’s crypt and showing her a pink, girly movie. Talking about his daddy issues. Trying to get her to consider other people’s feelings.
And Enid was better than him in every possible way. Had wolfed out and soundly kicked his ass. Had wormed her way into Wednesday’s cold heart, made her care. Hell, Wednesday had even apologized to Thing after Enid told her to when she’d only known the girl for two weeks. She’d even told her about Nero the night they met. It wasn’t even that she just did these things to get Enid to do what she wanted, which would be a tolerable explanation. No, she cares about what Enid wants, cares about what Enid thinks of her. Can’t imagine her life without the colorful wolf.
Yes, Fate was laughing at her.
Enid Sinclair
Ever since she was just a pup, Enid has always believed in True Love. She’d sat in her father’s lap, snuggled against his side as he read her fairy tales about True Mates. Even as a little girl she dreamed of the day she would find her mate and finally, finally feel wholly and completely loved.
So of course her mother had to take her claws to her girlish fantasies.
It started small, with derisive comments about how fairy tales were a silly waste of time and True Mates aren’t real. Her father would gently remind her mother that Enid was only five, of course she wanted stories with princesses and true love’s kiss. But ever the obedient omega, he always meekly listened to his alpha, so Enid stopped getting fairy tales during storytime unless her mom wasn’t home. She had to train herself to watch what she said while playing with her dolls when she could hear her mother nearby. If her mother heard her playing True Mates, she’d be put in time out.
And as she got older, it only got worse.
“Are mates always boy and girl? Girls are so much prettier,” she’d said, only seven years old. She’d been thinking about how gross the boys at school were and how pretty her friend Jessica was.
Her mother’s clawed hand had reached across the table and smacked her, hard enough she’d seen stars. It was the first but not the last time her mother hit her.
“Girls only marry boys,” she’d sneered. “Especially weak little omegas.”
She hadn’t even presented yet; she was far too young. Werewolves only present upon their second transformation, which wasn’t expected until reaching the teenage years. The range of “normal” that Enid was taught at the special werewolf elementary school she attended was much wider than what her mother expected. Her mother was the pack leader, with ambitions of becoming the clan leader, and she had sky high expectations for all her children. Somehow her brothers, however they presented, easily met those expectations, and Enid only ever fell short. A secret, evil part of her had hoped that her mother would be disappointed when both of her eldest brothers presented as betas, but her mother had only beamed with pride.
“They’ll both be such good supporters to the alphas of the pack,” she’d said.
And then when one of the triplets, Ron, presented as an alpha, she was over the moon.
“You’ll be such a good leader!”
He’d always been her favorite. She didn’t even bother to hide it.
Enid’s only hope had been that one of her brothers would present as an omega, because despite selecting a male omega as her mate her mother looked down on omegas, but her last brother presented as an alpha as well. Enid was constantly reminded that she is the eternal disappointment, being born as the first daughter instead of the seventh son her mother always wanted. And she was so girly, so weak, so easily frightened that her mother was sure she’d be an omega. A particularly weak and undesirable one too, the longer she went without transforming.
“Remember, the only good you’ll do for the pack is getting a strong mate. Are you sure you don’t want to try camp? You can finally be normal. You might even meet someone there!” her mother had asked the summer after her first year at Nevermore.
It was like her wolf, wherever she was hidden inside her, growled at the thought. “No, mom. It was a long semester, I just want to relax before going back to Nevermore.”
A good call on her part, as her sophomore year was even more hectic than her freshman year. Ever since meeting Wednesday she hasn’t had a moment to rest.
Wednesday. She glances over at her macabre roommate, who is lying in her usual corpse pose in her bed, but Enid suspects she’s only pretending to sleep just like she is. She could say something, try and broach the subject of anything and everything that happened tonight, but the words died in her throat. Her thoughts were too scattered, jumping from subject to subject before reaching coherence. Wednesday wouldn’t appreciate her word vomit right now. And she probably has enough on her mind right now anyway. She nearly died tonight. God, that makes Enid’s heart clench. She can’t imagine her life without Wednesday in it.
Funny how quickly she’d become pack to Enid. They really did work together, even though it doesn’t make any sense at all. What was it that Wednesday had said earlier? The mark Enid left on her was indelible? That morning already felt like a lifetime ago. Hard to believe she’s finally wolfed out since then.
Right. She’s wolfed out now. And of course, of course, she had to go and do it on the one full moon that would still disappoint her mother. Why did her wolf have to pick a Blood Moon to show up? Her whole life she’s always been taught that of all the special moons that could influence First Transformation, a Blood Moon was the rarest and the weakest of all. Blood Moon wolves were practically destined to be Lone Wolves, inevitably leading their packs to chaos and ruin. No one ever went into any sort of detail, but the message was clear: Blood Moon wolves equal danger for the pack. Avoid at all costs. And now, Enid, already the eternal disappointment, is one.
No wonder her mother hates her.