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libraryofgage · 3 months

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Addams Family B-Side Four

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four (you’re here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One

Here it is boys!

Actually, this part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned lol

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Anyway, we have more developments in this chapter! I hope you enjoy them 👀

A meme is at the end for your entertainment too!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Eddie has plans for the walk to Steve's house. He's going to compliment the bats on Steve's cropped hoodie. He's going to ask if Steve is aware he's allergic to raspberries. He's going to gently broach the subject of how Steve knows Pubert Addams.

And then, in a moment of cosmic injustice, Pubert fucking Addams is waiting with Steve at the end of the day. Eddie slows some when he sees them, his gaze lingering on Pubert as Steve offers him a thermos to drink from. He passes it back, and Steve looks like he's going to take a sip as well when Eddie calls out, "Stevie!"

Something gratifying and warm floods through him when Steve stops and looks his way. A smile tugs at his lips as Eddie hurries over, relieved to see the thermos being capped and put away. "Hope you didn't wait too long on me," Eddie says.

"We did," Pubert replies, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him away.

Eddie frowns and catches up. "Why are you here?" he asks.

"Pubert and I walk together," Steve says, easily slipping his hand from Pubert's grip and moving to walk closer to Eddie. Their shoulders brush, Eddie gets another whiff of that cookies and cream scent, and Pubert glares. It's perfect. "Because we live next door to each other."

Eddie blinks, frowning slightly. Before he can say anything, Pubert smirks. "That's right," he says, pulling a cigar from his pocket. "We've known each other all our lives."

He strikes a match against his palm and lights the cigar, passing the match to Steve. When he takes it, Steve just lets the flame burn. Eddie watches as it gets dangerously close to Steve's fingertips, and without thinking, he licks his thumb and forefinger and pinches the flame to put it out.

Steve glances at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "Our parents are r--"

"Rather close," Pubert says, cutting Steve off and making Eddie's eye twitch at how rude it was. "In fact, Steve's parents specially requested I look after him at school."

"Oh," Eddie says, "you're the babysitter."

Pubert blinks and then frowns, looking upset that Eddie isn't more visibly jealous. That's good. That means Eddie is managing to hide his seething anger and envy well.

"So," Eddie says, deciding to steer the conversation away from Pubert. If he does it right, he can even ice him out entirely. "Why'd you transfer here, Stevie?"

"I caused irreparable emotional, psychological, and physical damage to students at my old school," Steve replies, finally passing the burnt match back to Pubert. He smiles lightly and adds, "That's what the police report says, anyway."

Eddie hums softly. "And, uh, why did you do that?"

"They wouldn't go to a museum with me."

"Sounds like they were just dumb, then."

That earns him a bright smile as Steve and Pubert stop outside a two-story home with fountains and cherub statues and an immaculate green lawn. It's surrounded by a white picket fence, the kind Eddie thought only existed in movies and 1950s nuclear family propaganda. Next to this house is a Gothic manor, for lack of a better description. It's dark, jagged, and seems to have clouds hanging over its rusted wrought iron fence.

"This is us," Steve says, gesturing to the Barbie Dreamhouse. "I'll see you tomorrow, Pubert."

With that, Steve grabs Eddie's hand and quickly pulls him through the fence's gate like they can't get inside fast enough. By the time Eddie has blinked, a large door is shutting behind him and he's standing in a foyer. "I'm home!" Steve calls, pulling off his shoes and gesturing for Eddie to do the same.

As he's wobbling to stay balanced while tugging one of his boots off, footsteps echo from the kitchen and a man's voice replies, "Welcome home, Steve!"

Eddie gets his first boot off and looks up as the owner of the voice steps into the foyer. The only thing that keeps him from dropping his shoe at the sight of the man is the unwavering desire to make a good impression on Steve and his parents.

"Father," Steve says, waving the man closer. "This is Eddie. We're going to be working on a project together. Eddie, this is my father, Fester."

Eddie sets his boot down and nods, taking the hand Fester offers. His skin is cold and clammy, probably corpse-like if Eddie had to guess, but he shakes with enthusiasm. Literally. The man's body is practically buzzing. "Great to finally meet you! Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable. We'd love to have you for dinner."

"I thought we were having pot roast," Steve says.

"The oven is big enough for both."

It's a normal enough greeting and joking exchange that Eddie relaxes. He can see some of Steve's energy in Fester, the same wild glint in his eyes, and a similarly overwhelming gaze. Though, it puts him a little on edge when it's coming from Fester. Still. The same.

"Thanks. I, uh, I'll have to check about dinner, I guess, but I'll let you know." Fester drops his hand as he speaks, and Eddie hurries to take off his other boot.

"Of course," Fester says, nodding once. "You two go work. Just scream if you need anything."

"We will," Steve replies, waving for Eddie to follow him up a grand staircase. Literally. Eddie can't think of any other way to describe the marble steps with a polished railing and gilded edges. The whole thing looks like someone from HGTV should be waltzing through a doorway to describe the exact shade of paint they used.

He takes as much of it in as he can, eyes wide as Steve leads him to a balcony that overlooks the foyer. There are only two doors here, both of them across from each other, and Steve leads him to the one on the right. It's painted a soft yellow that reminds Eddie of ducklings.

"Oh," Eddie says, his voice soft and his eyes wide as he realizes just how rich Steve's family is.

The room is practically the size of Eddie's home and sectioned off into different areas. Against the back wall is a dramatic four-poster king-sized bed with one of those gauzy curtains hanging from the ceiling above it. The wall behind it is covered with flowering vines that crawl up and reach outward from behind the bed. A tiny three-step staircase to the left of it leads to what Eddie assumes is the bathroom, considering the edge of a sink that he can see through the crack in the door. To the right is a doorway that leads to a balcony, and Eddie can see a small set of porch furniture through the glass.

To Eddie's immediate left is a whole corner dedicated to a grand piano. Not a mini one, but a full-sized grand piano and its bench. A bookcase pushed against the wall next to it is filled with books of sheet music. To his immediate right is a large work table. Papers are scattered across it, and Eddie wouldn't think anything was wrong if not for the wall of weaponry directly above it. Swords, maces, a few tasers, two spears, and one trident, among others, are carefully arranged on hooks and display pins.

Suddenly, Eddie thinks about that mace Steve pulled out when they first met. He'd told himself that Steve couldn't possibly have been serious about using it, but now he's starting to second guess that assumption.

"Where do you work best?" Steve asks, pulling Eddie from his thoughts about the weaponry wall.

"Oh, uh, on the floor," he says.

Steve smiles and leads Eddie over to the glass balcony doors, sitting directly in a ray of sunshine that makes his hair glow and creates a halo effect. Eddie nervously wipes his palms on his jeans before sitting across from Steve, marveling at how plush the carpet is.

"What did you think of my idea in class?" Steve asks, glancing at Eddie before pulling notebooks and pens out of his bag.

It takes a few seconds for Eddie's brain to catch up. "I like it," he says, hesitating for a moment before asking, "Do you actually find it interesting, though? I mean...you don't really..."

"Look like I know anything about heavy metal?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think the genre is given a little too much credit for converting people to Satanism. I mean, it's just discounting the work put in by others, you know? As a genre, though, it's pretty revolutionary, right? Like, it was doing and saying stuff nobody had heard before when it first made an appearance."

The more Eddie listens, the more excited he gets. Not only is Steve gorgeous and wild and unpredictable, he also knows a little about heavy metal and doesn't just write it off as unintelligible noise.

"How much of a history lesson are you prepared for, big boy?" Eddie asks, unable to help his grin as he leans forward.

Steve imitates his lean, his own smile a little softer. Eddie misses the way it becomes just a tiny bit smug when he glances down to see Steve's top hanging forward enough to see his chest. He's just about to do something incredibly stupid when Steve says, "As much as you're willing to give me."

Eddie blinks and looks back up, searching Steve's eyes for a few seconds. He doesn't seem sarcastic. In fact, he seems happy to listen to Eddie describe the genre, which only makes his already monumental crush grow three sizes.

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Eddie's heavy metal history lesson takes the better part of an hour to get through, and Steve spends the entire time slowly inching his way closer. He crosses the space between them as Eddie describes foundational bands and concept albums and the branching off of heavy metal from the rock 'n' roll genre tree.

By the time Eddie starts to lose steam, his eyes still bright and his face red from barely breathing the entire time, their knees are pressed together, Steve is happily leaning closer to occupy more of his space, and Eddie's hand had gravitated to Steve's calf without permission.

Steve smiles, happily filing away for later the bands Eddie mentioned and the albums he particularly liked. "So," he says, his voice soft but easily getting Eddie's attention, "sounds like we know everything for our presentation."

"You got the perfect partner for this project, sweetheart."

His grin widens, and Steve hums softly, leaning a little closer. This seems like a perfect chance to put one of his mother's lessons into action: ambiguously hint at more but don't follow through. "I'm not doing much work, though," he says, placing his hand on Eddie's knee.

Eddie squirms slightly, glancing down at Steve's hand before looking back up, a blush crawling along his cheeks and reaching for his ears. "You can, uh, design it. Yeah. Design the presentation."

"Is that really all I could do?"

Steve can see the moment Eddie registers his meaning, his eyes widening and the blush officially spreading to his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth, glances away, and seems to blurt out the first thing he can think of to change the subject. "So, uh, w-what's with the weapons?"

"Doesn't everyone have a weapons wall?"

"Yeah, no. Uh, that might just be you, Stevie."

Steve tilts his head, humming softly as he glances at his weapons. "They're weapons I've won fights with," he says, looking back at Eddie with a bright smile. "I'm the best fighter in the family."

"Oh. Cool. And, who were you...fighting?"

"My cousins. Wednesday is the best opponent. She fights dirty. Pugsley isn't much of a fighter, really. What is much faster than me, but they always trip over their hair. I haven't won against Uncle Gomez just yet, but he has years of practice on me. Aunt Tish says it's just a matter of time, anyway. The trident, though, that was a bar mitzvah gift."

"You're Jewish?"

"On my mother's side."

"Oh," Eddie says, glancing at the wall again. His eyes linger on the trident for a moment before he asks, "And what about your dad's side?"

"I'm an Addams."

"An....Addams?"

Steve knows he's just killed Pubert's fun, but he doesn't care. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry. He wants to see what Eddie looks like when he's angry for and about Steve. "Fester Addams," he says, "Harrington is just a name of a family friend on my mom's side. She thought it sounded nicer."

Eddie's brain is visibly chugging along, turning this information over until his eyes spark with anger and frustration, his hand on Steve's calf tightening without him realizing. "And Pubert?" he asks, his voice low and more of a growl than anything else.

It sends an excited shiver down Steve's spine, and he suddenly knows Eddie can be mean and vicious and merciless if Steve only nurtured those tendencies with very positive reinforcement. "Pubert's great with explosives, but he's not good at close range fights. He doesn't even protect his kidneys. They're so easy to stab," Steve replies.

"Well, if it's that easy," Eddie mutters.

His words send a thrill down Steve's spine, and he can't help leaning into his space. He places his hands on Eddie's thighs for balance, far above the knee, and only stops when their noses are almost brushing. "I could hold him down for you," he offers, hearing Eddie gulp at their proximity.

"I, uh, might take you up on that," Eddie whispers, glancing down at Steve's mouth and staring at it.

Steve waits a few seconds, but Eddie doesn't do anything more. He internally sighs, lamenting the lack of initiative but happy that he gets to keep teasing, and leans back. "Well, just let me know," he says, his voice light as he shifts out of Eddie's reach.

He picks up his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page, and looks up. Eddie is staring at him like he's just seen Heaven only for the gates to close on him. He looks desperate but confused, and Steve decides it's a very cute look on him. "So, do you want to hear my ideas for the presentation?" he asks, flashing an innocent smile that pulls Eddie back to the present.

"Yeah. Sure. Explain away," Eddie says, his voice a little strained. Pride swells in Steve's chest at having caused the strain, and he pretends not to notice Eddie's attempts to subtly inch closer as he outlines design ideas.

When Eddie is finally close enough for their shoulders to touch, Steve rewards his initiative by leaning against him.

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Tag List (there's no more room on the list, so please follow the addams family b-side tag to see updates!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

And now, two more memes because they're both funny

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #addams steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #addams family crossover #my writing

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thecrystalquill · 3 months

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A/N: Welcome to Chapter Thirteen! Thank you for waiting; I wanted to do it before Christmas, but you know how busy December is. Also find me on AO3: The_Crystal_Quill !

Also I'm so glad to finally give Rahim some appreciation <3

Please don't forget to leave a like!!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Thirteen ~ One Step Closer

Dear (Y/N),

It’s about time that you wrote me a letter that I didn’t have to share, and I don’t appreciate you keeping secrets from me, but I do enjoy having secrets to keep. I won’t tell anyone; I highly doubt they would be of any help anyway.

First of all, stop looking in the damned library, the answers to your Message aren’t in a book. I suggest you figure out where to go. This Spirit, whoever they are, obviously has something for you to find. They must have been to Hogwarts, or there would have been no point in Contacting you now. It must be there.

I would like to be involved in this, obviously you’re getting nowhere on your own, the only obstacle in my way is the fact that Hogwarts is so far. you should stay at Hogwarts to do some investigating. I will help.

I’ll start to set the seed in Mother and Father’s heads about what it would be like to see your school, I know there is a village near Hogwarts, find out the name for me. Then you can write home and tell them that you want to spend the holidays at Hogwarts – I’ll convince them to travel to see you there, it should be easy to get them to believe it was their idea.

In the mean time, you just look for some clues. I’m sure you can find something to do until I get there.

~ Wednesday

Emotionless, mildly condescending, and straight to the point, just like her sister. It was clear to (Y/N) that Wednesday was rather excited about this enigma; it had only taken a couple of days for her to reply, and she’d obviously put a plan together rather quickly in her eager state.

She really must be bored without (Y/N) there. It was a nice thought, in a way.

(Y/N) didn’t really want to spend the winter holidays at Hogwarts; she’d actually been rather looking forward to sleeping in her own bed and decorating the family tree, standing for another annual portrait and bickering while Lurch painted their every expression, and not to mention the flaming Christmas Pudding that only Grandmama knew how to make. But it seemed that some things were more important – (Y/N) was starting to despise this Spirit for interrupting her life; she was supposed to have a very normal year of magic and studying.

There were no practical lessons so close to the holidays, and most of her classes consisted of reviewing the work they had completed during their first term before it came to an end. For the last thirty-six minutes, she had been writing an essay about Rowena Ravenclaw and her life before and after the creation of Hogwarts, while Professor Binns lectured about how next term they would be looking into the other schools of magic around the world. It was a shame, (Y/N) thought, that Binns had a talent for making a subject so interesting sound so incredibly boring. It seemed the most exciting thing to ever happen to him was his death, and even then his retelling of the event was as dull and lifeless as the corpse which he left behind.

“…Now, Beaubatons, the French academy, that is – you may read it and think it is pronounced ‘beau’ as in ‘beautiful’, but is actually pronounced ‘boar’ like the wild pig, now that I think on it, it’s much like Hogwarts being named from the mole of a hog – anyhow, Beaubatons is in the Pyrenees, and takes students predominantly from, France and Spain, so I suppose they must also have language classes there too. Actually, quite a lot of them seem to speak a few languages, very talented students, they are, so I suppose they must offer language classes. So anyway, as I was saying, Beaubatons school is cloaked under a spell, much like the one that hides the Hogwarts grounds from muggles, but where here they simply get dazed and confused and return themselves away from the area, them being in the Pyrenees means a lot of muggles tend to get themselves lost off the edge of rocks and cliffs and the like, and as unfortunate as that is, it means that the whole area is highly advised against, as far as the muggles are concerned, so in the end it turns out to be not so bad. Sure, there’s a few injuries and the odd death every now and then, but it does a fine job at keeping the muggles away. So, as I was saying…” Sweet Hades take my soul to the depths of Styx already, (Y/N) thought. If he carried on any longer she may just pull her ears off, and her peers seemed to suffer similarly. Listening to Binns’ unique way of speaking was somehow the verbal equivalent of watching paint dry; his tone was slow and monotonous as if he were bored of it himself, and he drawled through each sentence like a snail, droning on and on, digression after digression, to the point where it’s hard to even hear what exactly he’s talking about over the constant sound. And don’t even get started on what it was like to get trapped in a conversation with him – there was no escaping the relentless torture of word after word for what felt like hours, and there was no helping his victims chained in place by the requirement to be polite to your elders.

Sharing her desk was Saoirse, of course, but (Y/N) had noticed she’d fallen asleep some time ago – Binns had quite the power for doing that. Now would be the perfect time for some earphones, yet another con to muggle technology not working at Hogwarts; she’d once wanted to ask why that was, but she dreaded how long the answer would take.

‘Rowena Ravenclaw then decided that her house would be one for students who valued wisdom and knowledge above all else, and created an environment which would nurture their minds and mould her students into some of the brightest witches and wizards at Hogwarts.’ (Y/N) wrote, hoping to finish her essay before the class ended so she wouldn’t have it for homework. Only ten minutes left until the bell would sound and release them from their torture.

When there was only four minutes left, (Y/N) nudged Saoirse with her elbow, waking her almost immediately; they had learned that it was best to leave as soon as the bell rang, rather than risk being caught up in a conversation with the professor, it was a mad-dash to leave.

As she rolled up her essay and put her quill away, (Y/N) thought about what she was going to write in her letter home. Wednesday must have already set the seed of seeing Hogwarts, as she’d put it, so now she needed to request that she stay. Only, she was finding it a little tricky to think up a reason for the strange request; in almost every letter (Y/N) had mentioned how she couldn’t wait to return home, what could possibly make her want to stay?

She needed a lie, and a good one at that.

When the bell finally dismissed them, the girls grabbed their bags and cloaks and exited the classroom. As December had rolled around, the snow was starting to fall each night, leaving a light layer on the grounds, and the hallways were becoming even more chilled than before. It was the perfect amount of cold for (Y/N); her breath fogged slightly in front of her, and she could wear comfortable layers, and feel like she was taking a lovely trip through the morgue.

The hallways gradually warmed up as they got closer to the Great Hall, their ever-burning fires seemed to heat the whole room, and the toasty warmth was trapped between the walls. Magic, probably, stopped the heat from escaping through the brickwork.

At the Slytherin table, (Y/N) sat and thought of what to write in her letter while Saoirse started a conversation about her latest obsession: vampires. “Wait, you really didn’t know they were real?” (Y/N) asked as she fiddled with the golden goblet in front of her. She sometimes forgot that Saoirse was raised by very ordinary muggles.

“I thought they were just a myth, like an old folk-tale, y’know?” Answered Saoirse with a wave of her arm, she gestured often when she spoke, (Y/N) noticed. “Like Dracula.”

“Dracula was real too.” She replied, amused at the way Saoirse dropped her hands on the table and gawked.

“What?” She said, moving her hair out of her face to pay proper attention to her friend. “Explain, now.”

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) succumbed to the distraction. “Count Dracula was from Romania, he came to Whitby by ferry, and he lived and died there. The story got a bit exaggerated through time, but he was very real. In fact, you can learn all about him in my town.” She was ready to leave it there as she saw her other roommates enter the room and look for them, but she thought one last piece of information would be worth sharing. “Local legend says he’s buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the town, but he’s actually buried in the Addams Cemetery next to my Great-Great-Uncle Wolfgang Addams.”

“WHAT?”

Dear Mother and Father,

I have so been looking forward to returning home for the holidays, as you know. But there has been an unfortunate incident involving a friend of mine and a carnivorous plant in one of the herbology greenhouses. She is having to spend the holidays in the hospital wing and can’t go home. I know you have been excited for me to be back home, but I may have already agreed to stay here so my friend wouldn’t be alone. Is that alright? I feel terrible about it all, but I’ve heard Christmas at Hogwarts is something to be awed. Perhaps you could send my gifts here? Or we can save them for the next holidays? It’s such a shame you can’t come here.

I have been practising my sword skills in the Forbidden Forest, luckily the cold weather means that few people are outside to see me. Sadly, I haven’t seen any terrible creatures in the forest, no ghouls or monsters, but there’s still time.

My lessons have been going well; my potions are near perfect, herbology has been coming naturally to me, and I only fell off of my broom once. Though, Transformation is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.

The Hogwarts Express leaves from Hogsmeade Station early on Saturday morning next week, and I’ve agreed to accompany Saoirse as she boards. I look forward to hearing back from you.

~ (Y/N)

It wasn’t a perfect lie, but it would do. (Y/N) was attaching the letter to Mortis’ long leg as he finished up the steak and kidney pie she brought him, hoping he wouldn’t get too cold during his long flight. She’d already sent a note to Wednesday, informing her of the name of the nearest town and any updates on her mystery. With luck, she could easily convince them to stay in Hogsmeade – it would be a shame to not see them all for the winter – perhaps (Y/N) could sneak Wednesday into school.

“Go on then, Mortis.” She said to the great bird, giving his strong back a pat. “Fly back home as quickly as you can, I’ll see you soon.” (Y/N) took a step back, and watched as the vulture gave her a farewell nod and spread out his massive wings, diving from the tall tower and catching the wind to take him south. She watched until the giant creature turned into a brown-ish blur and disappeared into the white horizon, hoping it didn’t snow on his journey.

The trail back to the castle was long and peaceful; dark fir and pine tree tops were dusted in white and the snow on the ground had set a foot deep already, crunching beneath her shiny black boots with each step. For a while, that was the only sound she heard, until she neared the castle grounds and saw that there were students dotted around – some were settled around the courtyard some were walking through the fields to the iced-over lake, and two identical red-heads were throwing snowballs either at their friends or at unfortunate bystanders.

(Y/N) tugged on her leather gloves and tightened the emerald scarf around her neck, feeling a chill breeze redirect her way. She was pondering returning to the library to once more search for a useful book in the Divination section; she had all but given up on that idea, there was no way she could search through so many on her own, but she’d hate to admit that Wednesday was right.

She was just ascending the salted stone steps that lead into the castle, when she felt a soft pat on her head, and cold water melting into her hair and run down her neck. (Y/N) froze, and the whole courtyard seemed to freeze with her. A curse was muttered from behind her, and she turned to face the culprit. Maybe a dozen people were in the open area, all staring wide-eyed between the black-clad Addams heir and the group of damp third-year boys at the centre of it all. Three of the boys took a step back, pointing at their red-head friends accusingly, who watched warily for her reaction. (Y/N) said nothing, waiting for them to go first.

They straightened themselves out, faces pale from the cold and shock, noses red, gloves wet, both covered in snow. They looked to each other briefly, seemingly deciding what to do. “It was him!” The one of the left exclaimed, pointing to his brother.

The second twin gasped and put his hands up in surrender, shooting his brother a horrified expression of betrayal. “It was an accident, I swear!” He defended, giving her what he hoped was a sincerely apologetic look, crossing his heart with his forefinger. “I was aiming for Lee!”

A boy on the right threw his hands up, mirroring the look of innocence his accuser displayed. “Don’t drag me into this, you’re just a crappy shot.”

“Oi!”

“Well you’re the one who hit her!”

It was clear a petty argument was about to break out, so (Y/N) turned to face them fully from the third step and crossed her arms, successfully regaining their focus. They expected her to yell, to scream, to throw insults and curses. But she didn’t – she already had their attention; she didn’t have to cause a scene to get what she wanted.

All eyes were on them as the boys looked between themselves and her nervously; the longer she stood silent, the more anxious they became, wondering what she might do. Nothing in her face or body language gave away any indication of what she was thinking. Lee elbowed the twin nearest to him, seeming to snap him into some sort of action. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose, I promise.” The guilty red-head said, pulling his knitted hat over his ears as he gave her another genuine expression.

There was a pause of complete silence, all lesser-noises absorbed by the blanketed snow, as everyone watched. Then, with only a single, small nod, (Y/N) turned and continued on her way, leaving them to their business.

Sometimes (Y/N) forgot about the reputation she’d somehow accumulated since her arrival, after all, she did very little to build it. Somehow, in simply being herself, people had made her (and her family) to be some sort of fantastical being of dark and mysterious origin. Saoirse often made her feel so normal, that she often forgot that, in the eyes of everyone else, she wasn’t. So it wasn’t too drastic of her to assume something as simple as a rogue snowball may have been thrown on purpose, she thought. But an apology was all she needed, and the boy was polite enough to give a sincere one. So perhaps not everyone outside of her inner circle was all that bad, even if they thought some truth was behind the rumours about her.

It was half-past eleven on a Saturday morning, exactly one week before the Winter holidays, which meant that the library would be full of people finishing up assignments and catching up on reading. As she entered the quiet hall, she was unsurprised to see most people wearing Ravenclaw jumpers. Making her way towards the back, (Y/N) passed a table piled high with books; curiously, she peered around a stack to see Hermione in a discussion with her two Gryffindor friends. “This is taking forever, I don’t know where else to look.”

“I know I’ve read his name somewhere.” Harry said, flicking through a copy of Great Wizards Of The Twentieth Century, before Ron nudged him in the arm and nodded to their observer. “Oh, um… hi…” He said, drawing back slightly, as if unsure of what to say. It was then that (Y/N) noticed how Harry didn’t seem to ever say her name – perhaps, (Y/N) considered, he simply hadn’t decided on if he should call her by her first name or her last.

“That’s quite a lot of books,” (Y/N) commented, busying herself with undoing her coat.

“Yeah well, we’ve been doing quite a lot of reading.” Said Ron with a slight edge of defence. (Y/N) couldn’t understand why, it seemed to her a silly thing to defend.

Normally, (Y/N) would have resigned the attempt at conversation. But given that these were Hermione’s friends, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to show a little effort – she thought it was very grown-up of her. “Anything interesting?”

The answers from each of them varied, but Hermione simply huffed at them and turned to her. “(Y/N), do you know anything about Nicolas Flamel?” She asked, ignoring Ron’s noise of protest.

(Y/N) hummed as she removed her scarf and hung it on her arm. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Why?”

“No reason.” Said Ron, closing his book and moving it aside, interrupting Hermione before she shared too much.

Hermione only sent him a glare and ignored his frown of disapproval. “We’ve looked everywhere but we just can’t seem to find anything on him. The only place we haven’t checked is the Restricted Section.”

“The Restricted Section?” (Y/N) repeated, wondering why a library would hide books rather than share them. “What’s in there?”

“Mostly books on restricted topics, advanced dark magic and the likes.” The intelligent girl explained, turning to look to the back of the library. “Unfortunately, you can’t go in without a consent form, and that’s never going to happen.”

“Well, can’t you just ask the librarian? Surely she’ll know something about this Flamel.” (Y/N) offered, though she was clearly intrigued.

Harry shook his head. “No way, she’ll tell on us for sure.” He said, but the moment he did his eyes widened and Ron made another frustrated groan.

(Y/N) raised a brow and felt her curiosity grow. “So it’s a secret, this Flamel stuff?” She guessed, and it seemed she hit the nail right on the head.

“Look, you can’t tell anyone.” Ron stressed, moving the stack of books from between them so she could see all of him properly. “It’s very important that no one finds out about any of it.”

(Y/N) nodded, she wasn’t one for spreading secrets. “Of course.” Seeing then that she had nothing more to offer, and not long before lunch, (Y/N) stepped away from the table to take her leave. “I’ll let you to it then, I’ll see you here in the week, Hermione.” She said, then gave a nod to the group and made her way to the Divination section.

She thought that went relatively well; at least this time they actually talked with her.

With her coat and scarf placed safely on a desk chair, (Y/N) chose a shelf to scour, and began her ascent up the ladders to have a look at the M’s. Perhaps today was a good day to go through Meteoromancy: Secrets in Storms. She did love the sweet lull of thunder.

The Great Hall was decorated beyond (Y/N)’s expectations; snow dusted trees standing twenty feet tall at the front of the room, snowflakes falling from the ceiling only to fade away halfway down, colourful ribbons and garlands hung on the walls, and everything smelt of cinnamon and pine.

It was all very light and bright and colourful… it only made her miss the smooth blacks and blood reds of their tree at home.

At the Slytherin table, (Y/N) sat picking at a bowl of fruit as everyone discussed the holidays; Saoirse was looking forward to returning to her home most of all, telling Millicent all about her dog and how much she’d missed him. (Y/N) wished she was going back to Whitby – the beachside town was so charming in the winter; there were rarely any tourists, the wind was icy cold from the sea breeze, and the famed abbey looked so beautifully haunted covered in snow and salt-ice. The Addams Manor would be decorated with silky blacks, silvers, reds, white, and plum; the tree decorated with skulls and spiderwebs, piles of gifts wrapped in black paper; and the games they would play would bring a smile even to Wednesday’s face (especially when they played autopsy).

There were exclamations of excitement and dozens of owls came flying down from the highest windows carrying letters and packages to their owners, dropping them in their laps. Saoirse, Millicent, and Bridgit tore open their letters eagerly, as (Y/N) waited for Mortis to deliver a letter from her parents.

“I’ll just be a minute,” said Bridgit after a gulp of pumpkin juice, standing with a letter in hand, “this one’s addressed to me and my brother, I need to catch him before he goes to class.” She explained with a huff, turning to find him at the Gryffindor table.

Saoirse leaned across the table to stab her fork into an untouched sausage on Bridgit’s plate, then put her own letter safely in her bag. “What about yours?” She asked Millicent. “That from your parents?”

Millicent nodded, fiddling with the page in her hand. “Yeah, just how they’re looking forward to me going back and all that. Not very long, though.”

A moment later there was a scuffle of wings from the high window as a few owls rushed out of the way, making room for Mortis to fold his enormous wings to fit through, then reopen them again to glide down. He had the usual black envelope in his talons, dropping it for his young mistress to open, and bending his head low for a pat. “Good morning, Mortis.” She greeted him as she dragged an unused knife under the fold of the envelope to reveal the off-white paper inside. “Go get something to eat.” She said, watching him waddle over to a plate of bacon; his walk might have been cute, if it weren’t for the sharp talons that tapped the table with each heavy footfall that showed his weight. With all of the long-distance flights and buffet of foods, he really was getting bigger by the month.

(Y/N) unfolded the pages to read her mother’s swirling black handwriting.

Dear (Y/N),

We understand your desire to stay at Hogwarts with your friend. If you had something to do with the injury, it shows good character that you would agree to make up for it, & for that we are very proud of you. Pugsley would very much like to know more about the injury and how it came about, & if there were any limbs lost or infected wounds. Well, you will be able to tell him yourself. After we received your letter, Wednesday subtly pointed out how Hogsmeade is a popular visit this time of year, & how it isn’t too far from your school – she will deny it to her dying breath, but I believe she misses you more than she’ll admit. But nonetheless, we agree. We have made reservations at the Hog’s Head, & will be arriving on Sunday 22nd and staying until January 5th. As for you, you may stay with us or at Hogwarts with your friend, we can make arrangements for whatever you decide. I’ve included a note for the deputy headmistress in the envelope, if you would please give it to her.

We are all so looking forward to seeing you, Darling. It has been far too long already.

Missing you,

Mother

(Y/N) let out a small sigh; Wednesday might not have been as subtle as she’d said, but her intentions worked out anyway – and her family believed the lie she’d crafted, so all was well.

She folded the letter back into the envelope and took out the page written for McGonnagal, curious to be sure that she hadn’t written anything about the lie, but was relieved to read only about last-minute plans to Hogsmeade. (Y/N) would be glad to deliver it at the end of her Transfiguration class.

A tap on the arm brought (Y/N) back up from the page, seeing Saoirse collect her bag and grab a biscuit. “C’mon, we’ve got Potions.” She said, and (Y/N) noticed she had Millicent’s letter in hand.

“Why do you have that?” She asked as they made their way out of the Hall.

“She left it on the table, I’ll give it to her in class.”

The Dungeons were icy at this time of year, which was no surprise really – actually, what was a surprise was that they let students live down there in the damp and the cold. Their breaths fogged up in the air as they descended the steps and turned down the classroom’s corridor, seeing most students already at their desks, still wearing their robes and gloves. Saoirse gave a quick indication towards Millicent, nodding to (Y/N) as she returned the letter.

Snape entered the classroom with a swish of a cloak, glaring at those left standing around. “Be seated.” He demanded with upturned lips, watching as everyone shuffled to the nearest table. Truly, that man shouldn’t be working with children.

(Y/N) saw a spare seat in the centre-left of the room, where Rahim was sitting alone, and decided to occupy it (seeing as Saoirse had panicked and immediately sat with Millicent). She gave him a nod in greeting, receiving a shy smile in return as she unloaded her textbook, notes, and parchment onto her side of the desk.

“Today we will review the Forgetfulness Potion.” Snape drawled, and if it weren’t for the fact that so many of them were scared of him, many students would be lulled back to sleep by his monotonous voice. “This includes ingredients, directions, effects, cures, and history. Find the page in your textbooks, and I want an essay of at least two feet before the end of class, or you will be finishing an extra foot for homework.” There were a few groans from the back of the room, which he ignored completely. “You’ll do well to pay attention – you will be tested on it at the start of your next term, and it will be included in your final exam at the end of the year, along with the many other potions and ingredients that we cover.”

For a long while, there was near-silence in the room, only the scratching of quills and the low mumbles and whispers of discussions. And as (Y/N) was writing about the effects of the potion (which she was already having a hard time remembering), she felt a cramp in her hand and decided to take a short break.

Rahim was writing quickly, copying a list from his textbook rather efficiently, until he noticed the bored look on his friend’s face as she studied a satisfying lower-case ‘b’ on his paper. “Um… you alright?”

Nodding, (Y/N) continued to rub her hand as she glanced in the direction of their professor, seeing he was busy marking papers with vague disappointment. “Yes, just… in need of a break.” She answered truthfully.

Rahim nodded and straightened himself out, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “Yeah, me too. But at least there’s not long before the holidays.”

(Y/N) hummed, deciding against mentioning how she was staying back. “Yeah, you can finally spend some time away from the library.” She teased, as if she wasn’t in there far more than him.

Humming a laugh, the boy gave her another shy smile, half-hidden by his dark hair. He seemed to be considering something, opening and then closing his mouth hesitantly.

(Y/N) realised that she couldn’t recall ever having a conversation with Rahim alone; they were always accompanied by Saoirse or Hermione. Perhaps that was why he was hesitating – or maybe it just made him all the more shy. “What is it?”

Rahim scrunched his brows slightly, before opting to say what was on his mind. “Well, uh… I was just wonderin’… about them books you’re always reading from the library…” He finally said, fidgeting with his quill and smudging his fingers with the first ink-stains of the day. “They’re just a bit… um… odd… I guess.”

She could tell he was trying very hard not to offend her, which she found very endearing, and was pleased that he was putting such effort into his phrasing. She thought perhaps that he could be trusted with the vague truth; after all, he didn’t have anyone to tell secrets too, other than Saoirse maybe. But (Y/N) was too tired to think up clever lies – it was a skill she’d have to work on. “I received a Message from a spirit, and I’m trying to figure out what to do.” She strategically answered.

To her surprise, Rahim didn’t seem all too shocked by this. Given his quiet nature, she’d expected a bit more of… a reaction. But instead, he seemed to be thinking over her answer seriously. “Spirit? Like a ghost?”

She waved a hand in a ‘sort of’ gesture. “Kind of… but a more dead ghost than a… living... ghost?” She cringed — not so elegantly put.

Rahim thought nothing of the peculiar answer, going along with it in understanding. “Well… where’ve you been lookin’?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Well, just about everything really. Auramancy, Occulomancy, Tarot, runes… so far I haven’t found anything helpful.”

“And Necromancy wasn’t any help?”

She stopped. For the first time in a while, her brain seemed to stutter and freeze. Necromancy.

Necromancy.

Oh how the hell did she not think of Necromancy?

“Oh… I am such an idiot.” She muttered, massaging her forehead in frustration. It was so obvious now, she seriously questioned where her head had been all this time. “Rahim, it’s extremely rare that I’ll ever say this again, but I owe you one.” (Y/N) said, earning another shy smile from the boy.

She had one last shelf to check in the library.

Thank you for reading! Pleeeease like/comment/reblog to support!

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ladye-zelda · 3 months

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Ladye

Morticia and Gomez

Ravio and Hilda

Hehehehe….. YES

#the ladye answers #amazing isa!!!#ik you probably meant non bunny Ravio #but I couldn’t resist lol #the ladye draws #a link between worlds #albw ravio #albw hilda #Addams family crossover

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snnnailmail · 1 year

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goth vs emo

#gaz membrane #wednsday addams #invader zim #the addams family #crossover #invader zim crossover #addams family crossover #my art

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batbusiness-schooldropout · 24 days

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Hannibal/ Addams Family crossover where Hannibal is distantly related to Morticia and has tea with the family often

Morticia: Hannibal are you alright? You seem....conflicted

Hannibal: Will sent someone to kill me

Morticia: Oh that's wonderful!

Gomez: Stupendous!

Morticia: What's there to feel conflicted about?

Hannibal: I wish Will would attempt to kill me himself. And he practically seduced the man! Why won't he seduce me into killing someone for him?

Morticia: Because you framed and imprisoned him, dear-

Gomez: Remember when you framed me for that double homicide?

Morticia: -As if I could ever forget how you looked during your questioning. You mustn't be upset with the man for using the tools at his disposal. If he is trying to kill you, then he is thinking of you. Who cares what methods are used as long as it comes from the heart.

Hannibal: You're right as always, cousin

#hannibal #addams family #morticia addams #gomez addams #gomez and morticia #hannigram #crossover

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animepopheart · 7 months

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★ 【1102】「ハロウィン」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter

#spy x family #the addams family #wednesday #illustration #yor forger #artist: 1102 #crossover

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kabukiaku · 8 months

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finally....the crossover that was meant to be.

#my art #omega ghoul #terzomega #terzo #papa emeritus iii #the addams family #morticia addams #gomez addams #terzo x omega #crossover #halloween #spooky

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zu-is-here · 6 months

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The Addams Family (1991) ♡ Happy Halloween~!

#zu art #halloween #crossover #the addams family #cross!sans #dream!sans #gomez!cross #morticia!dream #undertale #undertale au #utmv #I knew the idea would come the last moment but not SO many ideas! XD #first two crossovers ideas then Toby's letter like omg—#and now The Addams Family (winner ;D)#of course OF COURSE it's these two cause who else (〃ω〃)#(a sofa was a sight from above <3)#I wanna draw Cross & X!Papyrus dancing Mamushka together XD

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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happy Halloween from Morticia Sukuna 😭🌹🖤🩸 (might be the dumbest cosplay I’ve ever done but it’s cute)

#cherry chats 🍒#haven’t wiped it off yet bc it’s so adorable #halloween cosplay #halloween costumes #crossover cosplay #morticia addams #ryomen sukuna #jjk cosplay #addams family #morticia cosplay #black girl cosplay #cosplayer #back to the writing though #sukuna

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libraryofgage · 2 months

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Addams Family B-Side (5)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

This part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner than I originally planned!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Steve meets the other CC boys in this one, and they all realize just how perfect the two are for each other hfjdks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Steve realizes something very important about Eddie over the next few days of school: he's a coward. Not that Steve minds, of course. In fact, he likes that; it means he gets to have more fun teasing Eddie to his limit and watching him get flustered.

He has to find Eddie to do that, though, and he starts with the Hellfire Club room (an English classroom that the teacher lets them borrow during lunch). Without knocking, he walks right in and looks over the three boys huddled together with monster figurines placed between them.

The boys look up at Steve, and the four of them begin a minute-long staring match before Steve finally smiles at them. "Gareth, Jeff, Asher," he says, pointing at each boy in turn. "Nice to meet you. Where's Eddie?"

"Who's asking?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowed as he looks over Steve in his sweater-vest and chinos.

"Steve Harrington."

They recognize his name, if their expressions are anything to go by, and before Steve can ask again where Eddie is, Jeff stands up and crosses his arms. "Why do you wanna know where Eddie is?" he asks.

"Because I want to talk to him."

"What about?" Asher asks, leaning around Jeff to level a similar glare at Steve.

"Our project."

"Let's cut the crap, Harrington," Gareth says, moving to stand next to Jeff. "What are you trying to pull here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Someone like...you isn't interested in Eddie unless you want something," Asher says, looking Steve up and down once more for emphasis.

Oh. They think he has bad intentions. Steve can't help a slight smile, glad Eddie has good friends. "I do want something," Steve says, nodding once as pride and vindication flash in the others' eyes. "I want to chain Eddie to my bed and never let him leave until he's so utterly enthralled by me that he'd never think of looking away even if I did unchain him."

"Wh....what?" Jeff asks, his voice cracking slightly.

Steve nods once and sighs regretfully. "Unfortunately, Mother would never let me because his disappearance would raise too many questions," he admits, pouting slightly as he looks up at the boys, "So, I have to get his attention in other ways."

"Like...leaving gifts?" Asher asks.

"Exactly," Steve says, smiling brightly. "It's as close to proper courting as I can get."

"Okay, you're weird," Jeff decides.

"What do you even like about him?" Gareth asks, his eyes narrowing slightly now that he's over his surprise.

"His conviction. And Eddie is so cute when he's flustered or jealous. And he gets along so well with Nox. He didn't scream when he met my father, and he seems perfectly happy stabbing Pubert's kidneys, too. I think he's got such Addams potential, I can hardly control the urge to slip him a little belladonna or raspberry to get him all breathless and gasping."

"Dude, do you wanna kiss him or kill him?!" Asher asks.

Steve blinks, frowning slightly at the question with such an obvious answer. "Well, murder attempts are only appropriate after marriage, don't you think? Nothing says I love you like a post-nuptials bomb or a toaster in the bath."

"Oh," Jeff says faintly, "you do wanna kill him."

No, they still don't get it. Steve's frown deepens, trying to figure out how to explain things properly. "Even if Eddie did die, I wouldn't let him stay dead," Steve explains, "I would get him back. We have an understanding with Death. I want to make Eddie's wildest nightmares come true and keep him company in his dreams. I want us to bury ourselves alive in each other's arms so we can pass out breathing the same air. I want to dance a Mamushka for him. I want Eddie to feel accepted and support his deadliest ambitions until he feels absolutely smothered and helpless to get away."

A few moments of silence pass. Steve waits patiently, smiling at them as they process his words. "I've got it," Jeff finally says, "he's clinically insane."

"How'd you know?"

"You know what?" Gareth asks, looking to Steve, "I think you and Eddie might be perfect for each other, maybe just leave us out of whatever weird flirting thing you've got going on here."

"I need to find Eddie to do that."

"He's in the loft in the black box," Asher says, "That's where he goes to, uh, think."

"Oh, does he have buyers today?"

"No, he goes there to actually think, too," Gareth explains.

Steve smiles brightly and nods. "Thanks! I'm glad Eddie has such good friends. I think we'll get along, too," he says.

"Yeah, if you don't kill us first," Gareth mutters.

"I wouldn't! Not until we were friends ourselves, at least."

With that, Steve turns on his heel and waves as he leaves the classroom, heading straight for the black box with a plan already forming.

-------------

Eddie grimaces as he hears someone climbing the loft stairs. He throws an arm over his eyes and soon realizes that only makes the image of Steve leaning close and looking up at him even harder to ignore. With a huff, Eddie squeezes his eyes harder as he calls out, "I'm not selling today!"

The steps pause, and Eddie thinks the person is going to leave only for them to continue again. He frowns and drops his arm in time to see Steve's head poking around the railing. His face is a little blotchy, his eyes are slightly red, and his voice is rough like he's been crying when he says, "I'm not here to buy."

What else is Eddie supposed to think when Steve looks like this?

He jerks up, leaning against the arm of the prop couch with wide eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asks.

Steve sniffs and looks away, still hesitating at the top of the stairs. "No," he says, his voice closer to normal as he takes a deep breath and marches over to the couch. He stares at Eddie for a moment before sitting on the other end. "I've done something wrong, haven't I?" he asks.

"What? No!" Eddie says, jerking forward and stopping himself before he can actually touch Steve's shoulder. He clears his throat and forces his hand to drop. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been avoiding me," Steve says, his tone resigned as he sighs. He glances at Eddie, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away. "I guess I can be overwhelming, huh? I'll stop now. With the gifts and all. Just pretend it never happened. You can even keep Nox."

Eddie feels the entire world lurch beneath him at Steve's words. Yeah, he's been avoiding Steve, but only because he felt at risk of confessing undying love in the middle of the crowded hallway if he so much as met Steve's eyes. Not to mention how Steve's voice as he offered to contribute more to their project keeps echoing in Eddie's head, making him think of things that definitely aren't school appropriate.

But it backfired. It backfired so so bad. How could Steve not realize that Eddie wants to be more overwhelmed, actually? Like, please keep overwhelming him until he dies, thank you.

Without thinking, he pushes himself into Steve's space, hesitating a moment before throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders as the smell of cookies and cream washes over him. "You definitely didn't overwhelm me, sweetheart," he says, the name just slipping out.

Based on the way Steve's eyes widen, he doesn't take it back. "Then, why were you avoiding me?" Steve asks.

"I, uh...I just...," Eddie looks away, frowning as he tries to come up with an answer that doesn't involve him confessing to Steve on a couch at least three different couples have fucked on.

"Is it because you don't like me? You could just say that, Eddie," Steve says, his shoulders slumping as he leans out of Eddie's space.

Oh fuck. Eddie scrambles, his brain reaching for anything to say that will fix this. Finally, he blurts out, "I like you too much. I like you so much I want to smother you until you can't breathe." Steve blinks, and Eddie feels the world fall out from under him. Well, he's confessed on the couch. Shit. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat and pulls away, an anxious laugh bubbling from him.

And then Steve smiles, robbing Eddie of his laughter. His face is no longer splotchy, his eyes are no longer red, and Eddie feels like he's fallen into a trap that couldn't be more obvious. "Did...did you just..."

Before he can get the rest out, Steve leans closer until his lips are brushing over Eddie's earlobe. "I like you, too," he whispers, the words ghosting over Eddie's skin and sending a shudder down his spine. With that, Steve pulls back and stands from the couch, walking over to the staircase.

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks, leaning so far forwards that he falls off the couch and lands on his ass on the floor.

Steve looks back at him and smiles fondly, the curve of his lips making Eddie's hands curl into fists so he doesn't reach out to drag his thumb across them. "I was thinking of skipping the rest of the day to see a movie," he says. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie scrambles to his feet faster than he thought possible, hurrying after Steve as he starts down the stairs.

-------

"I just don't get it!" Steve says, frowning as he paces across the room. His mother is stretched out on a chaise lounge, idly flipping through a VINTAGE MACABRE magazine Morticia lent her. "I mean, I took him to a movie, it was plenty dark, I leaned in and whispered to him the whole time and did that thing you taught me with dragging my finger up his arm, and nothing!"

"He's just a tough nut to crack," Debbie says, her voice reassuring as she flips a page.

Steve turns on his heel to face her, his frown deepening. "What am I doing wrong?" he asks, his voice breaking slightly at the end as sheer frustration overwhelms him. He's given Eddie gifts, he's dressed provocatively, he's made it so clear that he wants to be with Eddie, but nothing has happened. "Can't I just...ask him out myself?"

That makes Debbie pause. She looks up, closes her magazine, and sits up on the lounge, gesturing for Steve to join her. He carefully sits next to her, sighing when Debbie pulled him into a hug. "You're doing nothing wrong, dear," she says, her fingers running through his hair. "You're just impatient. It's only your first hunt."

"My only hunt," Steve mumbles, resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I don't want anyone else."

"You should enjoy it more, then," Debbie says, gently tugging on a few strands of his hair. "Don't get so caught up in your end goal. The longer the hunt takes, the more you'll savor your victory. Besides, he'll just be more passionate when he finally breaks."

"Well," Steve says, "Eddie is cute when he's flustered. And when he's jealous. He has great potential, by the way, I mean, he really wants to kill Pubert, I think."

"I'm sure it's nothing Pubert doesn't deserve," Debbie says lightly. "Anyway, I think you're doing just fine, Steve. From what you've told me, Eddie isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Should I try harder, though?"

Debbie thinks for a moment, humming softly as she considers the question. "How about this," she says, perking up some as the idea comes to her, "Invite Eddie to dinner on Friday. I'll get a look at him myself, and if he still hasn't cracked by the end of the night, you can crank things up a notch."

Steve slowly nods, turning the suggestion over in his head. He wanted Eddie to meet his mother anyway, especially since he already met Fester. This would also be another opportunity to spend more time with Eddie alone. In Steve's room. With the door closed.

And maybe something will finally happen.

"Okay," Steve says, "I'll invite him."

-----

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@jinx-nanami, @solene1324, @nailbatwielder, @y4r3luv, @happylittletrees3, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @itcanbepalped,

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b side #steve deserves good parents actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #debbie jellinsky #addams family crossover #my writing

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thecrystalquill · 10 months

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A/N: Finally it’s chapter 7 of our Harry Potter/Addams family crossover. Not as long as future parts but sssh we’re getting there. Don’t forget to read your letter and intro!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Series Intro Your Hogwarts Letter First Year

Chapter Seven ~ The Ceremony

A tall, rather regal woman greeted them at the entrance. She was slim and elegant, and reminded (Y/N) of those ghosts of beautiful women who suffered a tragic death and haunted the halls of their manors at night, the ones from only the finest works of literature; graceful and poised and full of wisdom beyond words. “Good evening,” she said in a refined Scottish accent, immediately demanding the attention of everyone in the room, “I am deputy headmistress McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.”

(Y/N) listened as she took in her surroundings. The grey stone walls were intricately carved, flaming torches casting shadows, statues of armoured knights stood high above the entrance, and a chilly draft breezing in – oh yes, this would surely feel like home.

“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily.” McGonagall announced, before excusing herself.

The deputy headmistress slipped through the grand doors, and for a moment everyone was silent. And then the murmuring started. “Are you nervous?” (Y/N) asked Ron and Harry as she fiddled with her tie.

“A little,” said Ron, “I’ll be in Gryffindor, with any luck.”

The three chatted for a minute, until they were rudely interrupted. “So it’s true then, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” The boy standing before them was pale and blond, and had an air of arrogance about him; a certain look in his eye that said he wanted to be taken seriously. (Y/N) could respect that, but the stench of his arrogance far overpowered any other personality traits he might have. She didn’t like that – arrogance was stupid and anyone possessing such a belief of their own superiority was even more a fool. No, (Y/N) didn’t take a liking to this boy – not one bit. “This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy… Draco Malfoy.” The name was familiar to her.

Ron snickered, who could really blame him? His name was as pretentious as him.

Malfoy looked displeased. “Think my name’s funny do you? No need to ask yours – red hair and a hand-me-down robe, you must be a Weasley.” He spat, looking Ron up and down with distaste. The nerve. “You’ll soon find some wizarding families are better than others – don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He said to Harry, holding out his hand to shake.

(Y/N) was about two seconds from standing between them and slapping this boy in his stupid face, no matter how highly he thinks of himself. She’d just opened her mouth to throw him a belittling and no doubt devastating insult when Harry came up with his own response. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

Malfoy shot her a glare when she let out a snort, lazily hiding her snickers behind her hand. She knew she liked Harry for a reason. The look on Malfoy’s face was priceless.

The boy seemed like he was about to say something, when he was tapped on the shoulder by McGonagall – who would’ve thought she was so light on her feet? “They are ready for you now.” She addressed the room.

The nerves began, everyone felt it.

(Y/N) had hardly been so nervous in her life. As the grand doors opened to reveal the Great Hall in all its splendour, (Y/N) could only bring herself to appreciate its beauty for a few moments, before she was reminded of the task at hand. The first years were huddled further into the room, grouped together in an uncomfortable swarm, whoever tried to make their way in slowly was soon forced along by eager students. Pupils sat at every table gossiped amongst themselves as Professor McGonagall began to call out names to be sorted, cheering when someone was placed in their house. She knew that whichever house she was placed in would bring pride to her family, in their eyes she could do no wrong – but that wasn’t what nerved her; what if she didn’t fit in well? What if they treated her differently because she was an Addams? Or worse, what if she was put in the wrong house?

They walked down between the tables in a giant huddle, students eyeing them up and guessing who would fit where. Behind her, (Y/N) could hear a girl talking about the ceiling, and looked up to be amazed at the night sky above. Hundreds of lit candles floated in the air, filling the room with warm light. As they reached the front of the room, the huddle of first years came to a stop by some stairs. Before the staff table was a little stool, a wrinkly old leather hat sat atop looking a few centuries overdue a good polish.

After they all settled, Professor McGonnagal announced that the headmaster would be making a speech – as curious as she was, (Y/N) wasn’t all that interested in what the mysterious old man had to say; her feet hurt and she was far too eager to be sorted, bats fluttered her stomach with nerves and anticipation.

…“Note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students.” Said the wizard, giving a pointed look to some boys at the Gryffindor table. “Also our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.” He said, then gave a smile and a nod, and sat back down.

Many students looked rather serious as they contemplated his words, but Harry, she noticed, seemed quite horrified. “Probably nothing to worry about,” (Y/N) leaned over to whisper, doing her best to reassure him, “we have some rooms like that back home too.”

Though it seemed to have the opposite affect she was hoping for.

One by one each new student was sorted alphabetically, the sentient hat calling out houses and chatting briefly. (Y/N) was hardly that surprised. she’d seen stranger things – she lived with a living, crawling, disembodied hand for goodness sake. Very soon she knew her name would be called out.

“Addams, (Y/N).” Called McGonnagal, searching for the girl’s face. Whispered bounced around immediately, no doubt gossiping about the eldest Addams heir and whatever rumours they’d heard.

Giving one last look to Ron and Harry, (Y/N) was glad to see them smiling at her as she went. Walking up the carpet covered steps, she took a seat and tried to savour the moment of her first and only sorting. The hat was placed on her head just over her eyes and the hat began to talk about all the things in her head – it was rather invasive, actually.

“Oh, an Addams, eh? Hm yes, it’s been a while. Let’s see…” Said the hat, in a gruff voice, rummaging about her brain no doubt. “Loyal like Hufflepuff, oh yes, open-minded… no no, not quite.”

Was it really so hard to figure her out?

“Some Gryffindor bravery in there, that’s for sure. Playful and stubborn, that’s true… hmmm… Ah! Intelligent, yes. And curious, witty – very wise old soul you are. Yes, I know where you belong, Rav--”

He paused. And so did her wildly beating heart. “Oh… I see, what’s this? Brimming with ambition. And something else… That’s it. Slytherin!”

Not many faces in the room seemed so surprised, the Slytherin table clapped the loudest, everyone whispering still; but (Y/N) was disappointed to see her new friends gossiping too, not all too pleased about her placement. As she rose to find somewhere to sit at her new table, (Y/N) tried not to think on it too much. She could just be imagining it, they were shocked is all.

There were mixed emotions about the Slytherin table; some where pleased to have a new student with them, others wary of her name. The plain look on her face may not have helped her case. She could feel the rumours brewing already.

Though the feast was grand enough to suit a king, (Y/N) ate somewhat solemnly at her table. She watched from across the hall as her new friends mingled joyfully at the Gryffindor table, all smiles and laughs, while she sat feeling rather iced-out. Every few minutes she could feel people glancing her way; the students either side of her left as much space between them as they could spare, and hardly a single person wanted to speak with her.

It was rather annoying.

Though she couldn’t say she was too surprised, after all, this sort of treatment wasn’t alien to her. So, she straightened her posture, held her head high, and ate as normal, hardly sparing a single thought for the people around her – as an Addams should.

Friends were overrated anyway.

This was just another school, so she would do what she always did. In true Addams fashion, (Y/N) was going to be as unapologetically herself as she was raised to be.

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