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libraryofgage · 5 months

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Addams Family B-Side (1)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell (on the way!)

This is part of a series of unrelated works entitled "Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually" and I think that title is fairly self-explanatory. If there are any other couples you think would be good parents for our Stevie boy, let me know and I'll take them into consideration!

Anyway, the B-Side thing is because this is like taking my Addams Family Steddie au and just flipping the cassette tape hfjsdk

This time, it's Steve that's the Addams and Eddie that's normal!

Anyway, blame @whatthemeepever for this one specifically cuz it's gonna spiral into a wild ride actually, so let's all pray for Eddie in advance

If you'd like a tag for any future parts, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

-------

The moment Steve is born, his father sticks a light bulb in his mouth. When it glows, he jumps with joy and throws Steve into the air. The moment Steve's mother realizes what's happening, she slaps his father upside the head, throws the light bulb at him, and threatens to blow him up again if he sticks anymore into Steve's mouth before he starts teething.

She follows through on the promise exactly two weeks later, and Steve's parents (one smug and the other notably singed but delighted) rebuild their house next door to his father's brother.

Steve's mother chooses his first and last name (Harrington, a reference to some long-lost family friend or other), and his father is reluctantly given the freedom to choose his middle name. In the end, he is dubbed Steve Faustus Harrington, a name his mother is so surprised to find acceptable that she kisses his father as a reward.

And so begins Steve's life.

------

"I can't believe you got expelled," Steve's mother seethes, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turn white. "Again!"

Steve crosses his arms, sinking lower in his seat as he glares out the window. "It's not my fault they were shitty friends. They got what they deserved."

He hears his mother laugh, the sound strained and indignant and very quickly followed by his father turning to look at Steve from the passenger seat. His sunken eyes are filled with suppressed delight as he asks, "What did they do this time?"

A few seconds pass before Steve sighs. "They said they couldn't go out later because they had to study for finals. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Finals are three weeks away, and they can't spare one weekend for the funeral museum?" he says, scoffing as he looks at his father, grins, and adds, "So, I brought the funeral museum to them, coffins and cremations and all."

His father's eyes light up, sheer joy and pride dancing in them. And for the very first time in Steve's life, his mother pulls over to the side of the road and parks the car.

"Pumpkin?" his father asks.

"Fester," she says, her voice low and somewhere in the range of upset, "do you remember when I tried to kill your entire family?"

"Of course. It was a splendid attempt."

She nods and looks at him with a tiny, somewhat pained smile. Then she turns and sets her gaze on Steve. "Darling, what kind of grades do your friends have?" she asks. "Because if you're anything like me, and I know you are, you tend to befriend people who are significantly dumber than you."

Steve blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, most of them were about to fail," he admits.

"Then, isn't it possible they really were studying for finals? Especially if they were close to failing at a school where passing is a requirement of attendance? Perhaps you could have suggested going to the...funeral museum after finals?"

A few seconds pass as Steve considers her words, a crushing sense of realization and guilt dropping on his shoulders and traveling to the pit of his stomach. It makes him feel nauseous, and he stares down at his lap. "I fucked up," he finally says, voice quiet and apologetic.

"Of course not!" Fester says, reaching out and ruffling Steve's hair despite the affronted noise from Debbie, "Your plan was beautifully conceived and masterfully executed. Perhaps you should just talk a little more before pulling out the urns next time."

"Incredibly, your father is right," Debbie says, looking pleasantly surprised before turning her gaze to Steve. She sighs and holds out a hand, squeezing Steve's when he takes it. "Don't get so blinded by a beautiful pair of shoes that you completely miss the sale two aisles over, Steve. At the very least, do a little more research before resorting to torture and murder. Personally, I'm very tired of calling the family's lawyer."

Steve snorts at the utter lie. Debbie loves calling the family's lawyer. She does so regularly just to double-check the state of Fester's stocks and bonds and deeds and general worth. "Okay," he says, nodding once, "I'll remember for the next school."

"You know," Fester says, looking at Debbie hopefully, "Pubert is a senior this year. Maybe Steve could go to high school with him."

Debbie hesitates, frowning slightly before saying, "Yes, but it's...public school."

"The best Gomez and Morticia could find! It was highly recommended by Margaret, and Pubert can make sure Steve adjusts and makes friends."

Steve can see the moment his mother agrees. She sighs, lets go of his hand, and fixes her already perfect bob. "Well, I suppose," she says before looking at Steve once more. "And you, Steve? Would you like to try...public school for your junior year?"

"Sure, might be fun," Steve says, thinking about all the movies he's seen that display public high schools as a zoo and the worst place on Earth. It sounds great, and if the place is still standing while Pubert attends, it must be somewhat entertaining.

------

"You've got everything you'll need?"

Steve looks up from lacing his shoes and smiles at his mother, earning a nervous grin in return. Her blonde hair is uncharacteristically frazzled, and Steve feels warm and fuzzy (like a mold growing over his heart) at knowing she's so worried as to appear less-than-perfect in front of him.

"Yes, I've got everything," he says, gesturing to the backpack on the stairs next to him. In addition to notebooks and his pencil case, Steve has also packed a travel mace, a miniature bomb (alarm clock detonator stored separately, of course), a tiny bottle of tequila, and his lucky lightbulb (just in case).

His mother nods once, takes a deep breath, and then turns her head toward the kitchen to shout, "FESTER!"

Something crashes, a cat (they don't have a cat) yowls, and Steve's father slides into the doorway. "Yes, Pumpkin?" he asks, eyes bright and happy and utterly stuck on Debbie.

"Is Steve's lunch ready? You made something normal, right?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Fester glances at Steve, a brief look shared between them that's both sympathetic and endeared toward Debbie. "Of course," Fester says, disappearing for two seconds before striding over to the stairs with a pink lunch box decorated with black skulls (Steve chose the color, Fester chose the pattern, and Debbie gave them her stamp of approval). "A turkey sandwich, fruit, cookies, and juice."

"Fruit?" Debbie asks, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Apple slices!"

After a few seconds, Debbie nods, and Fester gives the lunch box to Steve, shifting some so Debbie doesn't see the conspiratorial wink that tells him the juice is definitely poisoned. Steve grins and shoves the lunch box into his bag. He finishes lacing his shoes and stands, holding his arms out so his mother can inspect him.

"You've done a wonderful job pairing your shirt and shoes," Debbie says, walking around Steve with an air of pride and approval. She rubs the sleeve of his pastel yellow sweater between her thumb and forefinger, nodding once. "The plum pants are a bold choice, but it pays off. And, as always, your hair is flawless, dear."

Steve grins, letting his arms fall to his side. "I tried that new mousse you gave me," he says, fingers twitching as he fights the urge to run them through his hair. "It works great."

His mother smiles even wider and kisses his cheek, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the lipstick residue she leaves behind. "I knew it would," she says, inspecting Steve's face once more before nodding with approval.

"Pumpkin, it's time for Steve to go. Pubert is waiting."

Debbie huffs softly and gives Steve one last once over before nodding and hurrying him toward the door. "Have a good day at school, try not to blow anything up, and call me if Pubert tries to cut off your head with a rusty knife again," she says.

"What if it's a clean knife?"

"Well, that's fine. Grandmama will just sew it back on."

Steve grins and waves to both of his parents before hurrying toward the sidewalk where Pubert is waiting. His hair is parted down the middle and gelled down, his pencil-thin mustache is immaculate as ever, and he's wearing a three-piece suit. When Steve is closer, he pulls out two cigars and offers one.

"This isn't an exploding cigar again, right? I'm wearing a new shirt," Steve says, taking it and looking it over.

"Nah, that joke only works once," Pubert says, dragging a match against his palm to light it. He holds it to his cigar first, puffs a few times, and then does the same for Steve. "How long till you get expelled again, you think?"

Steve shrugs as he takes a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment before skillfully blowing it out in perfect circles as they walk. "I haven't been to a public school before," he says, tapping the cigar over the sidewalk, "so, hopefully, at least a year."

"Public school is fun," Pubert says, getting a wicked grin as he looks at Steve. "You can get away with a lot."

"And the other kids?"

"Well, they've certainly got a lot to learn. I mean, most of them can't even handle a little cyanide."

Steve scrunches his nose and takes another puff of his cigar. After a few seconds he asks, "Will we have any classes together?"

"You're a year below me, so maybe an elective or two. What did you sign up for?"

"I signed up for, uh, shop class, forensic science, and Gothic literature."

"We'll have Gothic lit together," Pubert says, flashing a smile before asking, "And you know what shop class is, right?"

Steve blinks, suddenly a little hesitant. "Is it not, like, something about shopping?"

"No. It's building things. With wood, usually."

"Oh! So, I can build anything?"

"I guess. I haven't taken it."

"Well, I'll find out. Maybe I can build Dad a catapult or guillotine or something."

As they get closer to the school, more students fill the sidewalks, but Steve notices that most of them seem to give him and Pubert a wide berth. They also stare, looking at Steve like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved, with more than a few flashing sympathetic smiles like he's trapped and can't get away. "You're popular," Steve notes, taking one last puff of his cigar before dropping it into a trash can.

"I would fucking hope so," Pubert says, finishing off his cigar and tossing it into the next trash can they pass. "I didn't flood the place with roaches and vermin to not be known."

Steve grins, listening as Pubert regales him with the tale only to cut it short when they get inside the school and pass the front office. "I need to get my schedule, but Mom said she made sure we'd have lunch together," Steve says.

Pubert waves him off. "Yeah, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Have fun, cousin," he replies, mockingly saluting him before heading off down the main hall.

-----

Steve's first class of the day was AP Calculus, followed by AP Physics, Wood Shop, and AP U.S. History. When it's finally time for lunch, he surveys the cafeteria for a few seconds before finding a table in a dark corner that everyone seems to avoid. By the time he gets there, Pubert has sat down with a tray from the lunch line.

Steve sets his backpack on the table, sits down, and says, "For a place that's so lifeless, it's not even fun."

"Yeah, it's like that," Pubert agrees, poking some unidentifiable mush on his tray with a spork before spooning some into his mouth.

It's with a somewhat jealous expression that Steve pulls out his lunch box and removes a thermos of poisoned juice. "Is it bad?" he asks, nodding to the tray.

"Utterly repulsive."

Steve sighs and takes a sip from the thermos before pulling out everything else in his lunch box. "They made me wear safety goggles in shop. Safety goggles! It's like they don't know how fun splinters in the eyes are. And everyone is soooo scared of the saws, it's ridiculous," he complains, taking an angry bite of his sandwich.

"What about your other classes?"

"Physics would be better with more practical examples. I mean, who cares about apples when we could learn if a body falls faster than a cannonball?"

"From experience, no," Pubert says, "Anyway, you gonna join any clubs?"

"Maybe the swim team? If I'm lucky, I'll drown," Steve says, perking up a little at the thought.

"Best of luck with that," Pubert replies, stealing Steve's thermos to take a sip of his juice. When he places it back, he offers Steve a sporkful of the mush.

Steve lights up and happily tries it, wondering how something can be so perfectly undercooked and overcooked at the same time. "Impressive," he says, passing the spork back. "Is that freezer burn?"

Before Pubert can answer, a bang from the other side of the cafeteria cuts off all other sounds. Steve glances over to see a boy in heavy combat boots climbing onto his table with a mischievous grin. He's wearing a shirt with a devil head on it and "Hellfire Club" emblazoned above and a vest with spikes, pins, and patches. His hair is just below his shoulders and a little curly, and Steve can see from here the wild glint in his eyes as he stomps down the table while talking.

"I'm tired of the double standards of this lame school. If you're into science or band or some other 'uncool' interest, the administration couldn't give two shits! Oh, the choir room needs new risers so the current ones don't break any necks? Well, that's too bad, we've got to give the football team new monogrammed towels for the locker room!" the guy says, grinning when a group of kids to the side shouts their agreement. "And never mind that our Robotics team has won the school three trophies when the basketball team so valiantly scraped into third place last year for being kinda good at throwing balls into laundry baskets."

"Prick!"

Steve glances at the guy who shouted, taking in his letterman jacket before quickly dismissing him. He looks back in time to see the boy on the table sticking out his tongue and holding his hands to his temples to make horns. There's an even wilder look in his eyes now, a sheer glee at causing a scene and getting under someone's skin.

Steve doesn't realize he's smiling until the boy scoffs, shouts one more line about the school's unfair preference for "mediocre jocks," and hops off the table. He looks over at Pubert and asks, "Who was that?"

Pubert glances at Steve, studying him for a moment before swallowing another mouthful of mush and saying, "Eddie Munson. He does that once a week, usually."

"Eddie Munson," Steve murmurs, glancing over at Eddie's table again and smiling a little wider.

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #that'll be the tag for this one lol #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #debbie jellinsky #fester addams #pubert addams #steve deserves good parents actually

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1liv · 1 year

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#wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #jenna ortega #userstream #cinematv #wednesday #wednesdayedit #netflixedit #theaddamsfamilyedit #the addams family #wednesday x xavier #xavier thorpe #percy hynes white #fester addams #wednesday 1x07 #uncle fester #fred armisen #vsnom #wednesday gifs

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thatisentertainment · 6 months

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THE ADDAMS FAMILY (1991) dir. Barry Sonnenfeld

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deadbunnybar · 16 days

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This comic is shitty but I just wanted a “good ending” for the eraserhead baby

(Yes I know I spelled some shit wrong I made this at like 2 am over spring break)

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monstermelodies · 2 years

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Addams Family Official Magazine posters

(Fangoria Presents #3 1991)

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one-time-i-dreamt · 22 days

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A flood of children in Fester Addams cosplay came out of a local hangout spot and one of them told me they were practicing corpse paint.

#dream #text #fester addams #addams family #cosplay #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

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ayoedebiris · 1 year

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You've seen one before? In '83 during my vacay at the Zurich Institute for the Criminally Insane.

WEDNESDAY | S01E07, If You Don’t Woe By Now

#wednesday #wednesdayedit #wednesday spoilers #netflixedit #userbbelcher #filmtv #dailynetflix #userbru #userrachel #userlanie #userjacko #useraashna #tuserlucie #usertix #fester addams #wednesday addams #*#i screamed

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queondagrey · 9 months

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like uncle, like niece

#my art #my comics #fester addams #wenclair #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair fanart #wednesday fanart #wenclair comic

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nightmareglitter · 2 months

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Y'all, I want a DC x Addams family AU.

Janet Drake (nee. Addams) is Gomez's cousin. She wants nothing to do with them, but she's not cruel enough to cut her son off from his family. Upon Tim's adoption by the Wayne's, the Addams' adopt the whole family. Notable quotes include:

He saw it? Baby's first deaths! (Fester to Janet, re the graysons)

He likes Bats! (Gomez to Mortica about Tim. He does not realize "Bats" refers to the heroes and not the animals)

Oh, you're stalking them? How sweet. (Mortica to Tim, age 9)

A crowbar? That's a new one, I'll add it to the list (Pugsly to Tim, age 12, re Jason's death)

While I do approve of the late night fighting, perhaps consider a more lethal weapon? I believe Wednesday has a spare spear you could borrow (Mortica to Tim, age 13)

I always forget coming back from the dead isn't really a thing for you normies (Tim, age 15, to Bruce, re Jason)

So you know those pits that Goody mentioned her aunt having? I think I found them (Tim, age 16, to Wednesday, re the lazuras pits)

My darling, how sure are we that Mr Pennyworth is not one of ours? (Gomez to Mortica)

Enid and Steph can never be allowed to meet. Ever. (Tim, age 15, to Wednesday, who wholeheartedly agrees)

You must bring your partner and your friend to the next family gathering! We can share stories about our deaths! (Gomez to Tim, age ??? timelines are weird, re Kon and Bart)

Edit: y'all I forgot about the spleen thing, how could I forget about the spleen thing

Ah, you lost your spleen, you say? We'll have to retrieve it, put it on the wall with the others (Gomez to Tim, age ??? 16 I think?)

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onlyangelxo · 1 year

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Debbie Jellinsky you will always be famous

#debbie jellinsky #joan cusack #addams family #addams family values #fester addams

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libraryofgage · 5 months

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Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

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

---------

Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family b-side #addams! steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #pubert addams #fester addams #steve deserves good parents actually #my writing

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ellievickstar · 1 year

Text

Second Place 🥈 (Xavier Thorpe x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Reader is Wednesday’s cousin and has always felt inferior to the raven haired girl.

A/N: So I watched Wednesday….please tell me I’m not the only one that thought Tyler’s voice was low key hot when he was confessing everything to Wednesday at the police station. But, I am team Xavier. So as some of you know I ran into a bit of a writer’s block, and I was reading some angst and then poof, inspiration. So enjoy my imagination that I acted out to figure out what the characters were going to say. Also, just angst. Yeah, angst. But also fluff.

Inspired? Definitely, by someone. Multiple people. Fanfiction writers that have written Wednesday fanfiction.

Masterlist? Yeah, that doesn’t exist yet. I’m working on it. Don’t judge me.

Requested? No. Uh no, I’ve disappeared for a bit so everyone forgot abt me HAHAHAHA (I have issues okay? I’m sorry T^T)

WARNINGS- I forgot warnings….uhhh: insecure reader, angst to fluff

(Side note: Xavier is a hufflepuff or slytherin, and the gif is not mine)

~*~*~*~*~

Rain patted down your windows as you listened to Fester and Wednesday talk. Fester was your dad, and though you did not mind his absence most days, you couldn’t deny that you were hurt. Why would your father visit his niece, yet not spare a minute to check in on you.

However, you were not surprised. Growing up, you noticed how Fester was more affectionate towards Wednesday compared to you. When he came back from trips he always greeted you with a pat on your head and a smile. Wednesday, on the other hand, was hugged and they joked and laughed together. They had this unspeakable bond. It made you jealous, but you didn’t require a father, and you wouldn’t in the future.

A soft knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts. Your attention snapped to open threshold. Xavier, your childhood best friend, was leaning against the door frame.

“Hi,” he smiled. You grinned back at the tall brunette. Xavier had first met you during his godmother’s funeral. While Wednesday felt like it would be amusing for Xavier to scream until the adults found him, you had immediately sprinted for the red button that kept him from being burnt alive.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Nightshade library?” You asked. From what you knew, Xavier intended on doing some research in the secret library about the monster.

“I am,” He confessed, “But I wanted you to help me.” You pretended to think, but you couldn’t say no to his soft, pleading, green eyes. He hummed with delight as you rose from your bed and set down the book that you had had no luck reading.

~*~*~*~*~

“Uncle Fester?” Wednesday called out as she entered the Nightshade’s library.

“Who’s Uncle Fester?” Xavier asked as he seemed to materialise from the shadows. “My father,” You replied as you scanned through the last page of the book you held before putting it back in it’s rightful place.

You watched as Wednesday and Xavier insulted each other, it reminded you of squabbling rats. You rolled your eyes when Wednesday said that he liked her. Then you paused. No, it wasn’t possible. Xavier could not like Wednesday after she kept pushing him away.

“Wow!” Fester commented. You whipped your head around to him as he came out of absolutely no where.

“How long have you been lurking?” You demanded. “Long enough to feel the tension between Wednesday and Xavier! Seriously, you could cut it with an executioner’s axe,” He smirked. Wednesday’s eyes widened. You winced at the blatant reminder that your childhood best friend clearly liked Wednesday more then you, like everyone else.

The patter of fingers distracted you. Thing showed up from behind a pillar and Fester seemed so happy to see him…until thing started to throttle him over an old mission. You rolled your eyes. This was not new to you, Thing complained to you all the time about Fester, especially after they returned from a mission together.

“Stop,” Wednesday snapped. You froze as well at her intimidating tone. Wednesday was always the scary one. You giggled as Fester turned around, Thing still held on to the side of his mouth as they both looked at Wednesday innocently. Wednesday rolled her eyes this time.

Soon after, Fester approached the picture of Iggy Itt, one of the ancestors of the Nightshades, a distant relatives of you and Wednesday, as you recalled. Behind the portrait was a safe. You were astounded as you never noticed the safe when you were poking around the old portrait.

“Can you crack this one quickly, or do I have time for a nap?” Fester remarked. Thing stretched his fingers as he begun to fiddle around with the number combinations. After a minute or two, Fester let out an exaggerated yawn before saying, “you know, this is starting to become a replay of Kalamazoo.” Just as he finished his sentenced, the safe opened with a creek and Thing turned to give a little bow.

The safe only held a diary, Nathaniel Faulkner’s old diary. You had overheard Fester and Wednesday speak about it when he was in her room. Wednesday flipped through the pages before pointing to a well sketched drawing of the monster.

Scanning the pages you absorbed the information like a sponge. The monster roaming around the school grounds was called a Hyde. The Hyde required a master in order to be unlocked or a traumatic event. You have to manipulate the Hyde into doing your bidding by using hypnosis or by other means.

“This means…” You muttered as you pointed at the sketch of the master and the bowing Hyde. “It means we’re not looking for one killer, but two,” “The Hyde and it’s master,” You agreed with your cousin. “Whoever that wants to unlock a Hyde is a next level psycho,” Fester murmured. And he was right.

~*~*~*~*~

You left the Nightshade library soon after with Fester, the both of you knew that it was best to leave Wednesday alone when she wanted to think.

“Look, YN” Fester started, “I know about what happened,” You paused. Turning back to face the tall man, you feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what your talking about,” “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” You had never seen Fester lose his cool. He always seemed to be happy and optimistic. But now, he seemed irritated.

“I’m sorry that I was absent during your childhood. Most of all because I left you with your horrible mother. I was angry at you when you told her off during the family reunion but when Gomez drove her away, I dug into what happened when I was absent,” He explained. He begun to pull out your medical records. All of it was your personal medical reports from when-

“I found this at the hospital nearest our home. Your mother kept everything under wraps because she didn’t want anyone to find out what she was doing to you. Gomez seemed to crack the case first, which was why your mother left when you were thirteen,” You remembered that day.

You had awoken to an empty house, had run all the way to Uncle Gomez’s Family estate with tears in your eyes as you begged him to find your mother. He had refuse and told you that it was for the best that your mother left.

From what you could remember, your mother was abusive from a very young age. It only began to become physical when you were nine or ten. You were often brought to the hospital because of how hard she beat you and sometimes, she grabbed the closest thing to hit you with. It varied from flame pokers to golf clubs to even a vacuum stick at one point.

Why she hit you? Well, you were the spitting image of your father and his absence made her irritable. She used you as a form of punching bag. If she wasn’t hitting you, she used her words and it hurt like blades and daggers being stabbed into your back. She most often compared you to your cousin, Wednesday. From grades to fighting skills, she critiqued and compared the both of you. You were either the best, or a failure. Your cousins perfect grades didn’t help, nor did her shaky record and habit of getting the two of you into trouble.

You began to harbour resentment against the girl. The raven haired cousin who always had the perfect the grades, the perfect family, the perfect attitude. The one who gave zero effs about what other people thought of her, the one that had Xavier pinning for her because he strongly believed that she was the one who helped him out of that casket. The one who didn’t have to dress up to be pretty, who didn’t need to try hard to get people to like her because she didn’t care.

You wanted that. You wanted a mother who didn’t criticise every little thing you did. You wanted a mother who would be by your side. You wanted a mother who didn’t care about what you wear, who only cared that you were happy. You wanted to grow up thinking that only your opinion mattered. You wanted to be first place for once. You wanted, more then anything, to be the best, to not seem so insignificant compared to your cousin.

You stared into the guilty looking eyed of the man you used to call your father before he left you, time and time again, with that horrible excuse of a mother.

“I don’t need your apologies. I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” You deadpanned as you began to walk away. And as you did so, you could have sworn that you heard Fester say, “Then why do you not call me your father anymore?”

~*~*~*~*~

“Why so down?” Xavier asked as he dashed paint again on the canvas. You hummed as you looked down at your empty sheet again. You were usually good at biology but Fester’s words kept bothering you. It felt like you were spiralling and the nightmares. The nightmares sucked. It kept feeling like you were back in that house, that you were still scared to wake up to your mother’s yelling.

You flipped through your textbook for something to help you write your essay. Defeated, you closed the text book and stuffed the empty paper in your bag with your books. “Hey,” Xavier stopped to look at you, “You know you can talk to me, right?” You nodded, but your next train of thought was:

‘Well not really because I can’t exactly tell you about how I’m starting to spiral because I’m slowly starting to believe I’m no good compared to my cousin, who you also so happened to probably like because you are so damned interested in her. You look at her like she’s the only person in the world and I wished that you out of all people would like me for me, and not because I’ve done anything for you, or helped you, or have because I have anything to offer, but i know that’s not possible because compare too Wednesday I might as well be insignificant.’

“I’m going back to my dorm, if I’m not there then I’ll be at the library,” You said as you got up to leave. “Uh-uh, sit down,” Xavier commanded, pointing to the chair that you just got up from. He pulled a stool from the corner and sat opposite you. “What’s going on?” He asked, trying his best to look you in the eyes. You looked away, silently begging him to let this all go and to continue with his painting of…

“Is that Wednesday!?” You blurted out as you spied the unfinished painting. Xavier flushed as he stuttered, “I just, well, no- I just-” You stood up quickly and left without another word. Tears flooded your eyes. It’s not like you didn’t know that he obviously liked your cousin, it just hurt to see the confirmation. Xavier mostly painted things that either haunted him, or made him passionate. The monster was something that haunted him, and before he dated Bianca he painted her too.

Yet, even as his best friend, you have never seen him paint a single portrait of you, let alone sketch you as practice.

It felt childish, but you stormed to the library, ready to let out some steam. The library was notorious for it’s good acoustics…and the number of student who made out here. You pulled out your violin, the smaller instrument from the string instrument as compared to cello. “And apparently the ‘easier’ instrument” You murmured bitterly. You had first started violin because you found the instrument fascinating. Your mother had been extremely supportive, until Wednesday picked up the cello a few weeks later. In her words, the violin was pathetic and unimpressive compared to the low octave and precision of the cello. It wasn’t even that impressive! By far, the violin probably was the most solo pieces in history and the most impressive composers known for composing the most difficult pieces were either Rachmaninoff or Paganini! One of which played the violin and was literally nicknamed the ‘devil violinist’.

You sighed again as you tuned the violin according to memory. It’s not like you had a piano near-by. You breathed in as you began your favourite Sarasate symphony (A/N: I hate making author’s notes mid-fic but if you want to know which symphony I’m talking about it’s Sarasate Malagueña Op 21 No 1. I know it’s not technically a symphony but I didn’t know how to dumb it down. Also, I do actually play the violin so this was so fun to write but I also had to hold back from spewing more really random facts)

When you finally finished playing it over and over again four times, you heard clapping from behind you. You turned around to see Ms Thornhill.

“Well, most students usually make out here and I was so surprised to hear Sarasate! Big fan of classical music?” She smiled warmly. You gave a polite smile back as you nodded, “Sorry if I disturbed you but I just love the smell of book and I love playing,” She laughed, “I much rather catch a beautiful piece then two students making out,” You flushed. “I wouldn’t call it beautiful-” “No way! You are gifted YN, maybe even more then your cousin in terms of music,” Her sentence made you flush again. Many people seemed to always think that cello was a lot harder then violin because of it’s sheer size, they always focuse on praising Wednesday’s gifts, being shocked on how she was able to write three novels while mastering an instrument.

You thanked Ms Thornhill for her compliments before picking up your violin case, you decided to bring it back to your dorm today instead of leaving it in the library.

~*~*~*~*~

“is that a violin?” Yoko asked as she looked poked at the case. “Yes,” You replied as you jotted down the last sentence of your biology essay. “How have I not known this last few months?” “Cause you didn’t need to know,” I said.

She huffed as she exited the room. Probably to go hang out with her friends or go on a date. You opened your music score sheets as you wrote down notes at areas you constantly made mistakes.

A soft knock caught your attention. The flash of green eyes and the familiar soft smile made your heart flutter.

“Busy?” He asked, motioning to the scores on your desk. You shook your head. “It’s not like I’m gonna figure out a good fingering any time soon, it’s been driving me crazy,” “That’s what she said,” He joked as he came close, observing the score and the numbers already written. “You know that’s not what I meant,” You hit him lightly. “You should change the C to an A1 so that you’d be on second position, shifting would be easier,” You were almost going to laugh. Surely, you probably already tried that, but as you rewrote the numbers, you were shocked.

“How did you-” “I started reading into music theory, specifically string instruments after…” You stopped listening. Of course, of course he read into music theory after he found out Wednesday played the cello. You turned to him as you spied flowers being held behind his back.

“Are those for Wednesday?” You asked as you pointed to the bouquet of beautiful purple mallows. “You probably should have gotten Black dahillas, that’s her favourite colour and flower. I’m actually surprised you didn’t at least get a black flower, but purple mallows are my favourite, I keep spare Dahillas for special occasions for Wednesday so I can give you one to put in the bouquet-” “The flowers are for you,” Xavier interrupted.

You raised you eyebrows. “I don’t understand,” You began but you were quickly interrupted as Xavier suddenly pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second. He pulled away as he kneeled before you, holding your waist after setting down the flowers on your desk.

“I know that you think you’re second place to your cousin in every way. But, not to me. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You might think that you’re not beautiful, but you only see yourself in mirrors or photos. You don’t see yourself when your excited for lunch, or when you watch the newest marvel movie trailers, or even when you finally master a new piece on the violin. I overheard you and your father talk and I know that your mother didn’t see you for you, but I love you. Not for the achievements you have or the grades you get. I love your excitement, your sensitivity, your empathy towards others. I love how you’ve struggled and you still find a way to love the world,” Tears filled your eyes as you looked his sincere ones. His genuine words made you choke on sobs as you hugged him tightly.

“I love you, YN Addams, I have loved ever since you befriended me. I love you for your crazy ambition, your murderous plans when someone pisses you off-” “You can’t lie and say that making someone choke on their own blood isn’t a cool way to kill them,” You mumbled against the crook of his neck.

“It’s my turn to talk, Addams,” “Is that so?” You giggled. “I love you, little psycho,” You laughed again as he kissed your hair. “You stole that from one of my books,” “I’m not wrong, though,” He mumbled.

You spent the rest of the day in your dorm, unaware of what was coming, but you couldn’t care less. You spent your life thinking you were second place. Now, you were finally, someone’s number one.

A/N: This made me cry. But it was also happy tears. I love the reader so much. Also, to the anon that made the Draco request, I’m working on it. But as I always say, procrastination is key :D (this is also a cry of desperation for more requests)

#Wednesday character’s x reader #Xavier x Reader #Xavier Thorpe x reader #Xavier Thorpe #Xavier Thorpe x you #Wednesday Addams #the addams family #Fester Addams #Uncle Fester #Reader

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