Wednesday (One Shots and Imagines)

Spilled Coffee [Wednesday x Male Reader]

There was a powerful feeling in Wednesday's meagre heart- a feeling she only ever usually got through epicaricacy or the misfortune of those around her. It was a feeling something similar to joy, only this feeling hurt. It was truly quite painful. It had taken her a while to pick her own mind but she wouldn't the mystery of this feeling beat her. Wednesday quickly narrowed the source down to Y/N. It was his fault- he was the only explanation. When she talked to him, she found that her snake like tongue wouldn't hiss as much- though she definitely still laced her words with all the venom she had. Her cold hands would become clammy when they were together- a perfect excuse as to why she so often lost fencing duels to him.

Often in the early hours of the morning- before their classes, Y/N and Wednesday would meet in the fencing hall to go head-to-head a few times, test one another's abilities before Coach Vlad got to his office. With her all black fencing attire in her bag, she wandered into the large duelling space to find it empty and without a trace of life. He head scanned the room. No dirty footprints, no equipment had been moved and it was peacefully quiet. She furrowed her brows- perhaps Y/N had meant to inform her that he couldn't make it- or, more likely, maybe he slept through his alarm. An indistinct sigh left her dulled lips while her shoulders dropped a little. The feeling in her heart calmed much to her dismay.

As the boots of her heels dug into the floors to swivel, she caught onto the heavy scent of coffee. The distinct bitter and yet sickly sweet smell of a strong cappuccino caught her tongue and filled her nostrils. As far as she knew, Coach Vlad never drank coffee, and he never showed up to his workspace this early- unless he had decided to pick up new habits but Wednesday doubted it. She rested the soles of her shoes back to the ground as she advanced deeper into the hall and reached a hefty wooden door beyond the corner of the duelling hall. Coach Vlad's office. The scent grew in strength. She was fairly certain that even the smell of coffee was strong enough for her to feel a kick of caffeine.

One of her slender hands faced flat on the rough wood of the door as she debated on whether or not to push the door open. Again, a sigh escaped her before she gave into her curiosity and hopes- she pushed the door open. Despite the weight and presumable age of the timber door, it gave little to no sound, and it was obvious that it had been well oiled.

Sure enough, her hopes gave her the correct assumption as her eyes set on the side profile of her prey- and what an amusing prey he was. Y/N had his head buried into a leather stitched book as he leant back in the coach's swivelling chair, his legs also up on the desk. He hadn't even noticed the small figure walk in, evidently far too engrossed in the read.

The girl took his oblivion as a chance to take in his beauty. Not even the most priceless paintings or greatest gruesome of dead bodies could give Wednesday the visual satisfaction he did. A slight pull on her elfin lips formed as the wild ache in her chest grew once more. Once she felt somewhat satisfied, she loudly cleared her throat.

"Oh- Crap!" Y/N blurted as he recoiled his legs from the mahogany desk in a panic that he'd been caught by the chair's true and dreadful owner, knocking off an open flask of steaming coffee in the process. The next few sentences formed by Y/N could only be described as a shaken and desperate flurry of curses and swears as he proceeded to drop his book into the milky brown puddle on the waxed floors. In yet another take of trepidation and cursing ensued as he scrambled to pick the flask and book up before too much liquid slipped out or soaked in. He placed the flask on the desk and the set down the book, resulting in a wet slap against the wooden surface. Y/N turned his head only to find that it was Wednesday that had intruded. His hand settled a top of the position of his heart, it's fast beating was a hard speed to follow despite its obvious, rhythmic pounds against his palm.

Amused, Wednesday's smirk grew. "Your footwork always has been messy." She teased, mocking him and his fencing abilities and his fumbling.

"Yeah, well... Whatever." Y/N muttered, his head scanning the panelled room for some paper towels to clean up the mess he made. "Not good..." he breathed while standing over the mess. "This was your fault, not mine." he commented, using the sole of his shoe to attempt to disperse the mess rather than leaving it to sit. This however, was an awful choice as the coffee only spread, sinking ever deeper, ever further across the floor.