♡Mon Cheri♡ (Wednesday x Male Reader)

(Season Two) Chapter 1: A Long Awoeted Return

Back on Nevermore turf, where Outcasts could feel accepted and free from judgment, free from the cruelty of normies, the school buzzed with life.

Inside the music classroom, a werewolf sat confidently among amplifiers and cables. Y/N, one of the few students who had helped save Nevermore the previous term with the help of Wednesday Addams, was currently lost in the electric hum of his guitar. The intense sound poured from the speakers, rattling the ribcages of the new students crowding the room.

Y/N’s fingers strummed along to the tune of Somebody to Love by Queen, though he infused it with a more aggressive, electrified melody, his own signature spin.

As he glanced up, he caught the mesmerized expressions of the crowd.

They were hooked and the final note hit, the room erupted in applause. Y/N gave a small nod of thanks, still not entirely used to this kind of reaction.

As the applause faded and students began filtering out, many discussing his performance and Y/N caught the sound of a few younger students rushing past.

“Did you see her down at the quad? That was Wednesday Addams! In the flesh!”

A quiet smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as he gently placed his guitar back on the rack.

“She’s going to hate this attention,” he muttered to himself. The thought of his girlfriend surrounded by people, all gawking and whispering, clashed with her morbid personality and deep love for solitude. Over the summer, she’d suddenly stopped replying to his messages and instead began sending letters with parchment.

She must’ve gotten rid of her phone. Honestly, Y/N wasn’t the least bit surprised. In fact, he had an ongoing bet with Enid about how long Wednesday would last with modern technology. He’d guessed two months, now he owes the fellow werewolf 20 bucks.

“Hey!” a voice called from behind.

Y/N turned around to find a girl standing there. She had short, brightly dyed hair, a leather jacket adorned with patches and pins, and a spiked collar wrapped around her neck. She looked like she had walked straight out of a gritty underground punk show.

Now that she had his attention, she spoke again—this time more excited. “I heard your entire set. The way you play? It’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said with a small nod, assuming she was just another fan passing through.

“But you’re clearly pulling from The Clash,” she added, her eyes lighting up. “Mick Jones, right?”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Really? You noticed that?” He raised a brow, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. “I figured everyone in here was just here to look at me, not really listen to the music.”

“That’s... actually what I’m here for,” the girl replied, flashing him a confident, lopsided grin. “The name’s Sadie and I’m a drummer. On a self-appointed mission to save music, one beat at a time. And I think you and I could work together... precisely well.”

Ophelia Hall

Y/N walked down the halls of Ophelia Hall, his boots thudding softly against the floor. Just as he was rounding a corner, he felt a hand land on his shoulder.

“Hey! Y/N!”

He turned to see Ajax jogging up to him, slightly out of breath.

“What’s up, dude?” Y/N asked, raising a brow at his awkward but well-meaning roommate.

“You haven’t happened to see Enid around, have you?” Ajax asked, his tone dipping, brows furrowed in concern.

Y/N shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Sorry, man.”