#i have not watched the addams family but that seems right

[wereh0gz]

Y'know that one song. The red flags one where the girl's favorite movie is human centipede

That's Edna and Eli's relationship when they started dating except he's really into it

#ramblings #oc posting #edna the cat #eli the cat #i have not listened to the whole song just the bits ppl use on shorts with their ocs and stuff #but it perfectly describes how they were as young adults when they first started dating #his type is women who are freaks #he's like if gomez addams was pastel instead of goth #i have not watched the addams family but that seems right

[libraryofgage]

Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #addams family #stranger things #i just love the addams family so much #one of my favorite aus to make actually #the way they love is so pure and unapologetically genuine #even if it's different from the norm of love and courtship #that makes it even more romantic #my writing

[poisonlove]

Proposal | va

"Sorry, can you repeat that?" I ask incredulously to the brunette in front of me.

Wednesday rolls her eyes at my request and merely stares at me with her usual apathetic gaze. We were sort of friends... well, I'm not entirely sure, given that a couple of times she told me she could barely stand me and refrained from taking my life due to my bright and optimistic attitude. Nevertheless, I enjoyed spending time with her.

"You know I hate repeating things," she says, maintaining a neutral tone, "but... I asked if you can pretend to be my girlfriend in front of my parents," she repeats, batting her lashes. "So, I didn't mishear," I murmur under my breath, and the long-braided girl rolls her eyes at my comment.

Wednesday and I are completely different: she's black, I'm white; night and day; yin and yang. My reaction is entirely justified! How can two people so different be together? Despite these internal questions, a part of me has been waiting for this proposal for a long time. Even though the gothic girl wasn't programmed for relationships, my heart couldn't help but beat faster for her over time. Wednesday remains unsettling, and her tastes are truly unique, but despite everything, talking to her is pleasant, and I adore the way she treats me.

In the end, the little brat cares about me.

"So?" she asks impatiently, and I blink, diverting my attention from my thoughts. "Why? Why do you want to pretend in front of your parents?" I inquire with curiosity, and Wednesday crosses her arms over her chest, looking at me seriously.

Wednesday sighs, lowering her head towards the floor, averting her gaze from mine. "You know I hate the human race, right?" she rhetorically asks, and I nod, attentively watching the gothic girl. "I don't want my family to know that I still feel this hatred. I want them to believe that I have social interactions," she says, almost with shyness in her whisper. "And besides, they already know you," she adds absentmindedly.

Analyzing her words, I smile widely with mischief. "You want your parents to believe that you're like them... Do you care about their opinion!" I say with emotion, approaching Wednesday more. I wrap my arms around her waist, catching the brunette off guard, and hug her tightly against my chest. "Y/n," she warns, her voice lowering dangerously. Seeing that I don't let go of her, Wednesday sighs heavily before tentatively reciprocating the hug, making me triumphantly smile.

"See? You've taken steps forward! You can endure hugs," I say, smiling widely.

Wednesday loosens herself from my arms and sighs heavily. "I can tolerate touching you for a few minutes before my homicidal instinct acts on its own," she says absentmindedly, tightening her grip.

Okay, her arms were around my neck, and I wasn't exactly sure if Wednesday was being serious. I loosen my hold on her body and step back, observing her brown eyes completely unreadable. "Alright," I say smiling slightly and Wednesday lifts the corners of her lips simulating a smile.

"Perfect," she declares, immediately wiping the smile from her face. The gothic girl walks towards her desk and sits in front of her typewriter, leaving me stunned. "Is that all?" I ask incredulously and Wednesday turns her head towards me looking at me seriously. "Yes. Now go, I need to write. See you tomorrow morning at the entrance, don't be late," she says with a neutral tone returning to her writing.

The sound of her fingers pounding on the keyboard fills the room, and I'm left staring at Wednesday Addams. "Stop looking at me, it's irritating," she says, sighing loudly. "Go away," she repeats and I smile unconsciously at her words. In the particular language of the Addams, stop looking at me seems to translate to if you look at me, I get distracted and can't continue writing and i have to talk to you

Exiting Ophelia Hall, I run into Enid returning from her date. "Everything okay with Ajax?" I ask with curiosity and the blonde laughs happily, nodding.

"And you? Has Wednesday already grown tired of you?" she says smiling and I nod my head, my enthusiasm slipping away.

"You know she likes you... she's just slow in these things," Enid encourages me and I smile with sadness. "Yeah..." I say doubtfully and sigh loudly. "I'm going to my dorm, goodnight," I say to Enid, who looks at me with sadness before walking towards her room.

(...)

"Good morning," I say with enthusiasm as I see Wednesday Addams waiting for me at the entrance of Nevermore Academy. The gothic girl looks at me impatiently.

"You're late," Wednesday says, looking at me seriously, arms crossed. "Sorry... Yoko didn't wake me up," I justify, and the brunette shoots me a glare. I unconsciously smile, seeing the tension in Wednesday's shoulders, her coffee-colored eyes brimming with irritation. "The usual silly vampire," she mutters softly, and I glance at the brunette, suppressing a knowing smile at her jealous outburst.

"Y/n!" I turn towards the voice and see the mentioned girl running towards me, holding my hoodie. "Yoko," I smile at the vampire, immediately feeling a piercing gaze behind my back. "You forgot your hoodie; thanks for lending it to me," she says, smiling widely and revealing her fangs.

"Thanks," I take the hoodie, and with the corner of my eye, I see Wednesday continuing to stare at us with irritation.

I walk back towards Wednesday, and she scrutinizes me with her eyes, shining with jealousy. "Did you lend her your hoodie?" she unconsciously asks, and I nod without any issue. "Good," Wednesday rolls her eyes and walks out of the iron gate, leaving me stunned and standing alone.

Every time Wednesday saw me with Yoko, she became impatient and stared at us with irritation, unable to avoid feeling uncomfortable. I knew Wednesday's jealousy was entirely different from romance; the gothic girl had confessed that I'm her only friend, not counting Enid, and Wednesday doesn't like sharing her things.

"Hey!" I chase after Wednesday, and the girl continues to walk with her classic elegant yet serious pace. "Wait," I shout at the gothic girl, and she stops, sighing loudly. "Move," she says irritably, and I roll my eyes at her childish behavior.

The Addams family's car appears before our eyes, sending a shiver down my spine. "So, shall we go in?" Wednesday Addams says, opening the car door and inviting me to get inside the vintage car. Lurch watches us from the central mirror, and his eyes make me uneasy.

Wednesday's hand delicately takes mine, and my eyes shift downwards. My heart races against my chest. The gothic girl's skin is pale and cold to the touch, but it's a pleasant sensation. Wednesday holds my hand in a peculiar way, loosely against mine, with a stiff wrist, as if she doesn't know how to hold hands.

Lurch looks away from the mirror and starts the car. "What are you doing?" I whisper as soon as the partition rises between us, and Wednesday quickly lets go of my hand. "We need to start the plan; play along," she apologizes with an authoritative and cold tone, surprising me.

"Well..." I say hesitantly, looking out of the car window. The landscape outside is shrouded in an eerie atmosphere, with a dense, dark-leafed forest standing against a twilight sky. The air is thick with mystery, and the road winding through the forest seems to lead to unknown places.

The car stops, and I, with a puzzled look, glance around. "We've arrived," announces Wednesday, quickly getting out of the car, and I follow suit.

The Addams' house stands imposingly before us, a Gothic mansion wrapped in an aura of dark elegance. Sharp spires pierce the sky, while intertwined vines give it an even more sinister appearance. The windows are adorned with heavy curtains and stained glass that seems to hide dark secrets within.

A sense of unease envelops the surrounding atmosphere, but at the same time, there's something fascinating in the decadent majesty of the Addams' abode. With uncertain steps, I approach the main door, ready to immerse myself in the enigmatic world of this unique family.

Wednesday rings the doorbell.

The gothic girl firmly grabs my hand again. "Calm down and act like a real girlfriend, or I'll kill you," she whispers in a low voice, her gaze fixed on the imposing door of the Addams' house.

The tension in the air is palpable, and when the door opens slowly, Mr. Addams, a man of imposing figure and mysterious air, appears behind it. His mischievous smile widens upon seeing his daughter Wednesday hand in hand with me.

"Stormcloud!" Gomez opens his arms, expecting a hug from his daughter. However, Wednesday looks at him with confusion, remaining fixed in place, not responding to the expected embrace.

"Darling! Our terror is home!" Gomez Addams exclaims with a playful smile, revealing the family's peculiar sense of humor.

At that moment, the house door opens elegantly, revealing the dark and fascinating figure of Morticia Addams. Her presence is shrouded in an aura of mystery and grace, with her long black hair and the form-fitting dress that emphasizes her sinister elegance.

"Welcome, my treasures," Morticia murmurs, her calm and measured voice adding a touch of seduction to the atmosphere. Her gaze, penetrating and magnetic, traverses the foyer as she observes the two of us with interest. A smile spreads across her lips upon seeing our intertwined hands.

"Our little one brought home a guest," announces Mr. Addams, and Morticia smiles slightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, y/n," she says, addressing me with a slight bow.

I met the Addams family at Nevermore, and it was the first time I saw their house.

"The pleasure is mine," I say with a smile on my lips. A guttural sound echoes behind us, and when I turn, I see Lurch walking strangely towards us, holding my hoodie.

Without saying anything, Wednesday takes the hoodie and wraps it around her waist. "Don't say anything," she whispers, tightening her grip on my hand, and I nervously smile. Lurch takes off his hat and mutters something incomprehensible before entering the house. "Thanks," I say, smiling widely and leaning towards Wednesday.

I had to play the role of a girlfriend, right? So, I had to thank her appropriately. I unconsciously smile as my lips touch her pale cheek. Sensing a strange movement near her, Wednesday turns towards me, looking at me seriously. Instead of a simple thank-you, my lips collide abruptly with hers. I immediately sigh at the contact with her soft lips.

Wednesday stiffens at the touch but shows no sign of rejection. The gothic girl extends her hand, intertwining her fingers around my neck, pulling me closer, our lips firmly attached.

I break the kiss and look at the family with embarrassment, Gomez smiling widely. My heart was pounding wildly, and shivers ran down my body, the ghost of the kiss still present on my lips. The kiss was fantastic, I must admit, and her lips were delightfully cold and plump, exactly as I had imagined them in my dreams.

Wednesday clenches her jaw and breaks the contact between our hands, entering the house. I was about to follow her when a hand gently grabs my arm. Mr. Addams looked at me, smiling but with a strange glint in his eyes. "You know how our family is, right?" he asks in a low voice. "Yes..." I say hesitantly, feeling a strange anxiety creeping in.

"If you dare to harm our little one, I swear I'll cut you into such small pieces that it will be impossible to find you," he threatens menacingly.

I nervously swallow saliva.

"Darling, don't scare our guest," Morticia intervenes with a small smile on her lips. "But the threat is real," she says before turning and walking towards the staircase, her husband following her with admiration.

"Well, I'm screwed," I say nervously, my eyes looking around with confusion, not exactly sure where the heck I should go.

Wednesday's Room

My eyes curiously scanned Wednesday's room: black curtains, a small guillotine, scattered weapons, and a canopy bed. I had the pleasure of meeting her little brother, Pugsley. The Addams boy had embraced Wednesday, begging her to play with him—games like burying him alive, shooting him with a crossbow, or tying him up somewhere.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, a strange silence enveloping us.

"Do you want to talk about the kiss?" I asked timidly, and Wednesday's shoulders tensed as she sat on the canopy bed. Her eyes looked at me with confusion, and with a slight nod of her head, she gestured for me to sit beside her.

I walked over with embarrassment and sat beside her.

"It was an accident," I confessed, feeling fear gradually grow in my body. Wednesday raised her head and looked at me attentively, her cold fingers touching mine.

"Okay," she said simply, her eyes looking at me in a strange way. "But we absolutely have to do it again, now," she said quickly, her eyes watching me closely. "I need to understand something," she added later, her eyes truly expressing curiosity.

I blinked in surprise and leaned towards her, shivering with excitement. Wednesday looked at me attentively and raised her chin, seeing how I was getting dangerously close to her face. I closed my eyes and bridged the gap between our lips, smiling at the moment of the long-awaited kiss. Wednesday melted at the contact and leaned further, her hands gripping my shirt with the urgency to eliminate every inch of distance between our lips. Wednesday sighed against my lips and tilted her head. With my tongue, I tapped her lower lip, shivering with pleasure as I felt the goth opening her mouth, letting me in.

Wednesday's hands tightened on my shirt, and then she pushed me away from her. I blinked incredulously, my eyes seeing her lips swollen from the kiss.

"What did you do to me? I like it," she said with confusion, pure panic in her eyes. "Nothing... maybe... you like me?" I asked rhetorically, and Wednesday turned her head abruptly in my direction.

"I don't feel anything beyond horror, disgust, and annoyance," she apologized, her tone completely irritated and cold. "I don't know, Wed..." I said tiredly as I looked at the goth. "I feel like insects are crawling on my stomach," she added, and I sighed at her words.

I quickly took her chin and kissed her abruptly, Wednesday sighing at the contact. "Do you like it when I kiss you?" I asked with curiosity, my heart beating recklessly. "Yes..." she affirmed coldly.

Wednesday leaned in, and our lips joined again. "And I want to do it again, your lips are delicious... and I want more," she confessed calmly, my cheeks blushing at her words.

"Do you like being with me? Does it bother you if I'm around you?" I asked with curiosity.

"Sometimes," she murmured weakly, her eyes looking at mine with concern.

"If I touch you..." I started, my hand resting on her arm, her muscles tensing at the contact. My fingers slid down her forearm, and Wednesday gradually relaxed, sighing as my fingers intertwined with hers.

"Does it bother you?" I concluded, and Wednesday shook her head.

"Do you like contact in general? Like, if Enid hugs you?" Wednesday raised an eyebrow with confusion and shivered at the thought, her lips curling in disgust.

"No," she confessed and tightened her grip on my hand.

"If I hug Yoko... does it bother you?" I asked, my eyes looking at the goth hopefully.

Wednesday Addams looked at me irritably and nodded.

"So, you're jealous," I said, smiling widely, and Wednesday looked at me with confusion.

"No, jealousy is for relationships," she confessed, and I sighed with frustration.

"All right... I've done the analysis... if you don't want to accept it, it's your problem," I got up from the mattress and walked towards the entrance of her room.

"Y/n," I turned at the sound of her monotonous voice and looked at her expectantly. "Can we keep kissing?" she asked innocently, her eyes looking at me with curiosity. A part of me wanted to refuse because I knew it would be my downfall, and I would suffer a lot, but my heart ardently desired contact with the goth.

"Okay," I said, smiling bitterly, and Wednesday nodded satisfactorily. "Can we do it... slowly? It's hard to assimilate," she continued, and I looked at her with surprise and confusion. "Slowly? Does that mean..." I started incredulously, a smile plastered on my lips.

"I want to discover my feelings with you," she confessed, and her eyes sparkled in a strange way, a dark desire mixing with her brown irises. "You're mine," she concluded, and my heart skipped a beat.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #miércoles addams #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednsday addams #proposal #addams family #the addams family #curious

[house-of-lovin]

grouch

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: Wednesday barely found you tolerable. But, now as you were standing there, all dishevelled, sickly. She couldn't help but find you a bit endearing.

Warnings: you're a bit of a grouch when you're sick. swearing.

Note: just a regular sick fic

Word Count: 4.8k+

This is what death feels like.

You were aching, sweat dripping down your overly warm body; unsure if you were too cold or too hot for a blanket. There was a bug going around the school and it seems you were the latest patient of the virus. You figured you must’ve caught it from Enid when she got it earlier this week.

You should've told Enid to stay away from you with a ten-foot pole.

A groan leaves your lips when you remember the botany assignment you are meant to submit soon was left to be finished on your desk when you got too exhausted from working.

Mentally counting to three before heaving yourself up from your comfortable position and stepping on the hardwood floor; even with socks on you felt a shiver run up your spine.

Being sick sucks.

Just when you manage to sit down at your desk, a loud knock resounding through the room halts any further movements.

You drop your head in frustration, now having to lug yourself up once again to answer the door; internally cursing the person on the other side.

With slow strides and a rough yank to the door handle, you answer grumpily, “What?”

Wednesday Addams was one on the other side of the door, sporting that impassive stare that always manages to irk you. A slight uprise of her brow was the only crack in her deadpan expression as she ran her gaze up and down your figure; feeling slightly insecure under her watchful leer.

Sighing, you lean your weight against the door when she doesn’t answer. “What do you want, Addams?”

“What is wrong with you?” Was her response.

“I’m sick, can’t ‘cha tell?’ You remarked sarcastically, eyes blinking slowly.

“Now, hurry up and tell me what you want so I can be sick in peace..” You roll your eyes impatiently.

“Enid – your cousin, needs your past exam from 2nd-year potions to study for her own. She ask I come get it from you.” Wednesday replies with ease.

You are Enid’s cousin – older by two years. Although your paths don’t cross often, you were around enough because of your connection to Enid. At first, she thought you were going to be exactly like her roommate; all rainbows and sunshine, must run in the family, right?

Instead, you were snippy and quick-witted, never letting Wednesday get the last word. You acted indifferent to her threats, often throwing one back; it was infuriating not being feared.

Wednesday wanted to jab a knife through your jugular but alas, you are off limits. Enid would never forgive her. So she had to learn how to ‘get along’ with you – if that was even possible.

“Damn it. I knew she’d forget to grab it.” Shaking your head in annoyance before pushing your weight off the door to walk further into your room. Wednesday follows suit, letting the door close shut behind her as she surveys her surroundings.

This was her first time inside. Wednesday recalls tales from Enid about your cleanliness and need for order around you, but as she looks around it was anything but.

Clothes were thrown haphazardly on the floor and on the top of the armchair near your bed. She even excuses the overflowing trashcan of tissues and the mess on the floor that followed. Then the goth notes the scattered papers and opened books on your desk.

“Were you studying?” She asks; lips pulled into a tight line as she awaits your answer.

“Huh? Oh yeah… Got a botany assignment due in a couple of days. This semester is kicking my ass and this flu surely isn’t helping.” You chuckle hoarsely; distractedly looking for that exam she came here for.

“You are practically on death’s door.” Wednesday remarks, observing your weak slouching figure.

You are heaving with any sort of effort, moving in slow shuffles instead of your purposeful strides. Your voice got rougher and hoarser the more you talked; the congestion surely wasn’t helping. Even your eyes blinked much slower as if you were unable to focus on what’s in front of you. Wednesday wasn’t sure if she should step closer, afraid you’d suddenly faint on her.

“Gee… Thanks, Addams. You sure know what to say to charm a gal.” You roll your eyes with an exasperated sigh. No luck in the cabinet you just checked. “Where is that damn thing?”

Wednesday’s cheeks tinge red at your response. That was not what she meant to say. “I just mean… you are visibly ill. You should be resting.”

“I would love to do that too. But this scary-looking girl just had to knock on my door asking for something.” Glancing at her with a side-eye; teasing despite your dissolving energy – waving the paper you valiantly searched for.

How foolish of you to waste energy on a pointless taunt.

With an eye roll, Wednesday takes the paper from your extended hand. 

“Now, if you don’t mind.” You gesture to the door with a sarcastic smile, “I’d like to rot in peace.”

Wednesday makes no indication of leaving. On any given day you would have put up a fight, but no, not today. Not when you, woefully, were on death’s door and had an assignment calling your name.

With reluctance, you ignore the unmoving girl and sit down at your desk to continue your work and trusted Wednesday can find her own way out of your room. But before you can sit on the chair, a rough tug on your forearm has you pushed to your bed instead.

“Whoa… too fast.” You stumble, the quick movement making you feel queasy. 

“Lay down,” Wednesday says when she pushes you to sit on the bed.

“Dude, what the hell?” You sneer in an agitated tone, attempting to stand but she merely steps closer – holding a hand out, preventing you from doing so.

“Addams, I need to do my assignment.” Huffing as you stare into the warning glint in her dark orbs. She crosses her arms, unfazed.

“What you need to be doing is resting. Lay down, I will not be repeating myself again.”

A staredown ensues between you and the Addams. Wednesday unsure if you were truly foolish enough to try and disobey her. But eventually, you look away and sigh but not without complaint. 

“Who made you King of the World?” You muttered bitterly as you pulled the covers over your body, getting comfortable in the warm bed.

“Quit acting like a petulant child. You are literally shaking right now.” Wednesday scolds; her tone was harsh but her touches were anything but as she tucks you into bed, making you sure you were agreeable.

She moved around the room to gather any supplies you might need close and placed a cool wet towel on your warm forehead. Any hints of diffidence on Wednesday’s side about being in your space are gone as she nurses you. And, as you lay there, tucked under a pile of blankets, Wednesday finds herself about to tuck an astray strand of hair, but her touch halts. Too soft.

Wednesday scolds herself for thinking of acting on such an urge.

“Since when’d you care about me, Addams?”

“Never. But Enid cares about you, and I care about her – so by extension, I am obligated to help her loved ones.” She responds in a quick, even tone as if she rehearsed it before.

Humming, “Obligated huh?” She nods blankly.

“You make it an obligation to tuck people’s hair back too? You know when you’re out and about helping her loved ones.” Wednesday’s hand stalls in the air, not even realizing she subconsciously tucked your hair back anyway; her efforts of restraint were futile.

The goth stands quickly; pulling away as if she was burned by something hot. Ignoring your words, she replies, “Get some rest. If I find out that you got up to do some work, I will deliver you to death’s door myself.”

“How are you gonna manage that?” You question with a challenging tone, she merely raises a brow at the defiance. “Thing will check in hourly and report back on your status.”

She walks towards the door and opens it, “I am serious, Y/N.” Warning you once again, knowing of your stubborn tendencies and a strong aversion to being told what to do.

“I hear ya’, I hear ya’” You wave off with a nonchalant tone.

Wednesday inhales a slow grounding breath to stop herself from going back over to you; unsure if she wanted to strangle you or…or do something else! To shut you up! Instead, she grips the exam paper she came to your room for and shut the door behind her; walking away.

– – 

“Wednesday! How was it?” Enid asked excitedly, turning so fast in her spot when she opened the door – Wednesday would be shocked if she didn’t have whiplash at the moment. Thing sat next to the werewolf, tapping his finger on the bed repeatedly, signalling the girl to sit down.

“She is dreadfully ill.” Wednesday deadpanned, handing the paper to a grimacing Enid.

“Yikes, Y/N has never been pretty when sick. God, she’s also like, ten times more sarcastic and whiny too.” Enid furrows her brows as she recounts all the times you’ve been sick when growing up together.

Wednesday wanted to disagree. You were not…dreadful to look at. Actually, you looked quite decent standing there wearing your pyjamas. Wednesday felt… privileged …to see you in such a vulnerable state.

The bags under your dead stare and pale clammy skin were not... unattractive to someone like an Addams.

Even as you were fighting her about going back to study, you were kind of…adorable for thinking you can fight Wednesday back in your state – not even in your healthiest form could you win against her. As you lay there buried under the bed covers, you looked so fragile; it was quite alluring – Wednesday shuts that thought away. Instead, she keeps her mouth shut and lets Enid ramble about the times you’ve been a horrible patient.

In the meantime, Wednesday orders Thing to check on you every hour to make sure you truly were resting like you said you would.

– – 

The next time Wednesday visited, it was only a few hours later. Thing was the one who opened the door this time, she stepped in seeing you sat up in bed with your books scattered on your lap, pen in hand – you were wearing glasses, she notes. Wednesday doesn’t know why her heart is palpitating at the sight of you in spectacles, they are a common utility for humans. But on you, it looked… slightly better.

“What are you doing?” She questions with furrowed brows once she got a grip.

“Addams!” You greet, “Doing my assignment, but in bed. So technically, not breaking your rules.” Beaming in mischief, you shrugged your shoulders.

“This is not what I meant and you know it.” Wednesday stomps closer, placing her bag of supplies for you – mostly from Enid, she would like to note – on your bed. "I distinctly remember saying what would happen if you were to leave this bed."

You sigh in defeat, “Look Addams, this is the most I’m willing to compromise. I wasn’t even sure you were serious about sending Thing in here to check on me until I got whacked for leaving for the bathroom.”

Wednesday smirks at the mental image.

“I’m not really sure why you care so much – it’s actually kinda freaking me out. But, I really need to finish this. So if you wanna deliver me to death's door yourself, you're gonna have to wait until this is finished.” You finish off with a huff, pointing to the books in your lap with pouting lips and Wednesday feels remnants of spiders crawling in her stomach.

“Fine…” She concedes very reluctantly, “But you are going to stay here as you do it.” 

Taking a seat on your bed, she says. “As am I.”

You study her wearily with a probing gaze, unsure why she was being so nice to you right now. Even her threats had lost a bit of their edge. It was unsettling but not unwelcome.

“Fine with me.” You say after a couple of seconds, breaking your surveying of Wednesday.

The goth nods, taking her supplies out of her bag, an assortment of snacks, drinks and a book she managed to slip in were among some of the other items. She would never outwardly say that it was one of her favourite books and that she would somewhat like to know what you thought of the plot – but just so she can tell you how her analysis of the book is better.

“Woah! Chocolate popcorn.” Roughly grabbing the packaged snack, staring at it with childlike glee. “This is, like, my favourite. They don’t sell these around here.”

Wednesday knows.

“How’d you get these?” You look up and Wednesday detests how she feels a physical stutter in her chest when you do; all wide-eyed, grinning – you look foolish being so galvanized over a menial item.

“Unimportant… and those are for after you get better, not during. Eating these now will only prolong your condition.” You pout disappointedly but obey nevertheless, putting the snack back down.

She sees your careful glances at the medicine in her hands. “Please don’t make me drink pills.”

You were in clear fear, shaking your head. Wednesday frowns at your genuine dislike for the medicine.

“What is wrong with it? Would you have preferred the liquid version?” She looks down confused at the items in her hand.

“I… can’t swallow pills.” You admit, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

Wednesday blinks, “Oh. Well… No worries, I have the liquid version in my room.” She dismisses but you audibly huff, crossing your arms in the process, confusing the Addams.

“I don’t like medicine okay? I don't take it, never have.” You admit with a puff and Wednesday takes a moment to gather her thoughts.

“That is a childish reason.”

“No, it’s not! Lots of people don't like to take medicine when they’re sick.” You defend.

“Most of those people might not be as sick as you.” She reasons but you shrug unperturbed, slipping on your headphones. “You would prolong your illness simply because you don’t like medicine?” Still ignoring the goth’s clinched jaw and flared nostrils.

Realizing that you were going continue your childlike behaviour, Wednesday sighs, standing up to survey your room for the second time today – this time with more attention to detail.

Like the gaming controller thrown absentmindedly on your desk, the wilting plant on your bedside table, or the sweater thrown on the back of your chair. Wednesday walked further into the opposite corner of the room. A make-shift nook of carpet, blankets and pillows was on the floor – barricaded by two large bookshelves. Inside is spacious enough to be comfortable and move around; it had an inviting atmosphere and Wednesday finds herself walking closer to it.

She steps inside the reading sanctuary; the carpet was crumpled, blankets unmade, obvious signs of its frequent use. A hanging light bulb illuminated the small corner. Wednesday runs a tentative finger through the spine of some books, before landing on a cozy familiar – H.P. Lovecraft, she didn't expect you to be a fan. She pulls it out from the rest, and takes a seat on the carpet, keeping a watchful eye on you.

For a while, you two just existed in silence. Only remnants of dull pen scratching against paper, coughing and the timely flip of a page are the only sounds to be heard in the room – it was calming. You were unsure how much time had passed by the time you decided you had done enough work for the night – the familiar aching of a migraine creeping at the back of your skull.

You scanned the room, forgetting the Addams girl was still with you, having fallen trance in your own world – she was sitting in your reading corner. Her body is hidden behind the large bookshelf but you can see a glimpse of her knees tucked close to her chest as her chin rests on top, flipping through the pages as you continue to observe her. She looked kinda cute.

Wednesday was often reading during the times you were around her – unless she was hurling threats at you. Enid said she preferred it over talking to other people. What is often an evasion tactic when out in public, is instead enjoyed as she curls up reading one of your favourite books. Almost looking relaxed, you note.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

You snorted, closing your books, and throwing them to the side on the floor. Wednesday looks over disapprovingly at the thud. “I’m finished for the night, so you don’t have to worry about me sneaking off to do some work. I tap out.” You cross your arms in an ‘X’ motioning to emphasize.

“Good…” Wednesday answers, returning to her book.

You blink, unsure of what to do, “Um… what now?”

She thinks for a second before standing up, “It is time for medicine.” You groan, wincing in pain from the effort.

“Anything but that please.” You pout, hiding under the covers, hoping she spared you of this torture.

“I can tell your migraine is returning. You were wincing in pain for 15 minutes before you decided to stop studying.” That makes you halt, not realizing she was watching you so intensely.

“Don’t care.” You mumbled from under the covers. “Y/N…I know you’re in pain. Now.” She huffs impatiently, sitting on the edge of your bed.

Your usual fight and resistant attitude was dwindling with every passing moment, you’d really love to tell Wednesday to kick it but you’re half scared and half exhausted. With a defeated exhale, you pull off the covers and sit up; taking the medicine packet from her open palm. When your fingertips touched, Wednesday had to tightly curl her fingers closed when she dropped them back to her side.

You begrudgingly swallow the pill.

With an exasperated gulp, you ask, “Satisfied?”

Even while she was helping you, you were acting like a whiny brat. Just like Enid’s warnings, she recalls.

“Has anyone told you that you become increasingly whinier when you are ill?” Wednesday says matter-of-factly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really bossy when you want something?” You retort with an upraise of a brow.

“Yes, actually. A few times.” Wednesday answers honestly. And you’re not even surprised, just laughing and shaking your head.

Tossing the medicine packets and other junk off your bed, you scoot off to the side patting the open spot. Wednesday looks at you blankly. “Come on, do I have to spell it out for ya? Sit beside me, Addams.”

The goth doesn’t respond, just getting up and sitting beside you; thighs and shoulders so close that Wednesday can feel the warmth radiating off your skin. Or maybe she’s just hyperaware of you and your movements.

You lean closer into her space, not quite touching, “Figure if you can ‘nurse’ me back to health, you can also sit through a couple of movies with me?” You asked in such a hopeful tone that Wednesday would never dare say no.

So, Wednesday nods, silently and you were excited – Thing who had taken a nap sprang to grab the remote and pass it to you – before then taking his leave for the evening.

– –

You two get through a couple of movies, some Wednesday liked more than she was willing to admit. You nudge her shoulder, “Told you How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days isn’t that bad, you just have to give it a chance.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes not wanting to admit defeat. “It was…interesting, they had both lied and humiliated each other for professional gain. It was cruel…I think it was tolerable.”

Knowing that was the best you were going to get from the goth, you beam back at her. You supposed you never thought of one of your favourite movies in that way before, but Wednesday is not without interesting opinions. 

You two decide to start another movie, this time Wednesday’s choice. Halfway through the movie, you found yourself burning up uncomfortably; no position was comfortable for you, you think all your fidgeting is annoying Wednesday. It wasn’t until the familiar churn in your stomach was felt that you made a break for the bathroom; legs all stumbling from being tangled in the covers.

You gagged and vomited out all of your dinner; only stopping when your stomach begged for reprieve. You closed the lid of the toilet, flushing it as your shoulders dropped. Suddenly you feel a hand rub comforting circles on your back and another holding your hair up. The touches were so comforting to your overheating body that you let out a groan at her cool skin.

“I would like to say that came out of nowhere, but you were moving around so much it was only a matter of time.”

You just groaned again, letting your head drop to the toilet cover; stomach still feeling weak and queasy. 

Wednesday sighs, her chest uncomfortably clenching at the sight of your weak figure – it was pathetic. “Why did you not just say you felt sick?”

“I thought I was fine.” You grumbled back.

Wednesday rolled her eyes knowing that’s most likely a lie judging by how much you were moving around 30 minutes into the movie. She knew you were trying to hold back whatever queasiness you were feeling.

“Do you think you can stand?” You nod.

Wednesday helps you up, about to lead you back to bed when you push her helping hand away. “Need to brush my teeth.”

“I think bad breath is the least of your concerns. You can barely stand, Y/N.” She tries to usher you back to bed, but you refuse.

“I may be sick, but I am not gross.” You push her back with what little strength you have left, shutting the door in her face; she hears the faucet running.

All Wednesday could do was scoff and cross her arms over her chest as she waits for you. Of course, she would wait for you. You have been whiny, bratty, and grouchy but even still, Wednesday finds it annoying how she still can’t bring it in herself to leave.

The Addams girl would like to blame the churn in her stomach for the same illness that you have but she knows it would be untrue. Wednesday always feels this way around you; ever since she grew to accept that you would be around. Sometimes with Enid at lunch, sometimes in the library, sometimes at her dorm. 

She always, without a doubt, feels the remnants of creepy crawlies all over her body, hair raising, senses more aware; even if she wasn’t talking to you directly or even if you were on the other side of the room. 

Those would be the times Wednesday elects to keep herself busy to avoid talking to you, whenever you two fight it always ends up with one of you storming off. So, sometimes she chooses to bask in the one-sided silence; whether it be a book or her typewriter.

Enid and Thing think it’s pathetic, hence why they tried to send her to pick up an ‘exam’ from you, hoping Wednesday can finally have a… pleasant interaction with you. But now that was all quickly backfiring for the Addams girl as she thinks of ways to torture you after you get better – to even the playing field.

She gets swept up in fantasies of her glossary of torture methods, mentally crossing out the ones she knew would not suit you. But as the bathroom door opens and you stand on the other side with a guilty frown, Wednesday finds all her murderous urges dwindling away.

She stands straighter at your expression, uncrossing her arms.

“I’m sorry.”  Was all you said, looking up at her with glistened eyes. Wednesday’s stare unknowingly softens. 

“I didn’t mean to do that. I become a real grouch when I don’t feel well.” You rub your palm into your eyes, wiping away the tears. Being sick also makes you emotional, she notes.

Wednesday steps forward, bringing a cautious hand to your wrist, bringing your hands down. “I know. I have been trying to tell you that.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Just let me take care of you.” She all but fretted. Finally, you give in and nod; allowing your arm to go limp as Wednesday leads you back to bed, tucking you in.

Just like before, she moves about with familiarity. This time setting a bucket on your bedside – just in case. “If I knew how terrible this sickness would get, I would have made you the Addams special tea.”

“What’s in it?”

“Just the normal medicinal herbs and a drop of liquid from a vile.”

“What’s… in the vile?”

“Its origins are unknown. My mother says it is from an ancestor who took samples of a deadly virus in the old days, though no one is quite sure. All we know is that it works.”

Your nose crinkles at the thought, having heard of the macabre tales of the Addams family and their eccentric ways. “As thoughtful as that is… I don't think I'm there yet.”

Wednesday shrugs, stepping back. “You’re all set. You should sleep, it's quite late.” She looks at you bundled up in bed once again, this time looking worse than before and she feels short-lived feelings of pity. There was a brief moment of silence as no one says anything, unsure of what to do next.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Wednesday tries to spin around to leave, but you’re grabbing her wrist this time. “Or you can stay…It’d be unfortunate for you to get into trouble for missing curfew just cause you were taking care of me.”

Wednesday raises a brow, asking ‘are you sure?’ choosing to ignore the way her heart dropped to her stomach at your question.

You tighten your hold on her wrist, “I would… like it if you stayed.” You stammered out.

Wednesday nods, removing her boots and sweater then she starts to undo her braids and it makes your brain short-circuit a bit – never having seen her without them. When she gets in beside you she scoots closer than intended – shoulders almost touching. She moves down allowing herself to get down in a comfortable position on your pillows; it smells like you and Wednesday detests that she finds the scent to be so comforting.

You, on the other hand, weren’t really sure where you got that sudden inclination to ask her to stay, but as you look down at her adjusting form in your bed, bundled up under your covers, you knew you made the right choice.

When Wednesday doesn’t feel you moving to lie down, she looks up at you. “Y/N, you need to sleep.”

“The TV is helping me sleep.” You mumble.

“It is making your migraine worse.” Wednesday props herself up on her elbow so you two are face to face. “What is the reason this time?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, playing with the loose thread of the covers to avoid her gaze. “I get night terrors when I’m really sick. Sometimes I just wake up screaming ‘cause I’m so terrified. So I try not to sleep until my fever breaks.”

Wednesday is silent at your revelation. “Would you…like to hold me? While you fall asleep.”

Your eyes widen, not answering. 

As the silence grows Wednesday starts to feel insecure about her question. Then your face softens, “Are you sure?”

“I would not have asked if I was not comfortable.” Your heart skips at her words.

Then Wednesday is turning her back to you, glancing behind her curtain of raven hair as a reassurance that she was serious about her inquiry. Your body is moving closer to her before you can even let yourself think about it, carefully wrapping your arm around her waist. It should be illegal how comforting this feels, at how unearthly it feels to have Wednesday this close.

“You can move closer, I am not fragile,” Wednesday whispers into the quiet night air. She grabs your arm, bringing it closer to her chest as you fall flushed against her; your front to her back.

“Tell anyone about this and I will bury you six feet under alive.” Wednesday threats with firmness.

You chuckle, “I would never tell anyone about this, it’s embarrassing for me.”

“Good. The same for me, as well.”

“Good.” You agreed.

“Great.” She agrees.

There is silence for a while.

“Are…are you…comfortable?” Wednesday breaks the stillness that grew in the room.

“Yes…I am.” You muttered softly; Wednesday fights her body’s reaction to shiver as you whisper the words so close to her ear. Instead, she curls herself into you, hoping her movements disguised the shudder.

“Good. Go to sleep.”

You chuckle, “Goodnight, Wednesday.”

– –

The next day, neither of you mentions how you wake up with Wednesday’s face nuzzled against your neck; hand under your shirt; practically on top of you. You also don’t say anything when she kept coming back every night to ‘help you’ with your night terrors until your fever broke and then a couple more days after that until Enid was practically begging her to come home.

–

:)

#wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday imagine

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[2.2k] summer nights, muggle gadgets and lovesick boy who just wants to see his girl again.

based off: “i want you...here...right now” + this request 

.

“How’s summer with the Addams family?” 

You rolled your eyes, even if the action was done out of fondness. “You watched one muggle show and now you’re obsessed.” 

“Your family are a bunch of loonies, sweetheart, sorry to break it to you.”

Once upon a time, summer was a time to longed for. When the winter days were short, cold and miserable and when spring didn’t seem to hit the spark of sunshine and warm days you needed, it was summer where you found happiness and contentment. It was summer where those long days were spent basking in whatever sun the English weather gave you, fingers sticky with the juice of the ice lollies you’d fight your brothers for and hiding in secret nooks of the house when Walburga would stand by the staircase, red faced and angry at the trails of mud staining the expensive carpets. 

But when you enrolled in Hogwarts, you realised that summer held much more than warm weather and grass-stained knees. 

Because Hogwarts was a taste of freedom, a taste of the world beyond the walls of the Black household where everything was simple, quiet and nice. It was so fucking nice and it was easy to get drunk off the independence, to get lost in it before you realised it was quickly being ripped away from you. 

Because that’s what summer had become. It had gone from being your salvation to your prison in mere years, and now summer was a time you despised. 

Summer dragged you away from your friends. Summer threw you under the roof of your overbearing parents. Summer jammed a wedge between you and your brothers as you played the games and politics that came with living in the Black household. 

Summer kept you away from James—the dirty little secret you had been keeping for the world because you were young and selfish and you loved having him to yourself, even when you weren’t really supposed to have him. 

“I can’t disagree with that,” you muttered out, a huff of amusement leaving your lips as you remembered the dinner from the night before. In all honesty, you were surprised the house was still in one piece after the fights and arguments that broke out last night. Then again, it wouldn’t surprise you to find out that wards had been put in place to keep the place standing for as long as Black blood lived under the roof. 

“No one’s giving you too much grief, are they?” 

That was the thing about James Potter, you just weren’t sure he was actually real. Growing up with the Black surname, you had been surrounded by pureblooded wizards and witches from the moment you were born. You had dined with them, you had conversed with them and danced with them over the years. You knew what pureblooded children were brought up to be, what they were brought up to think like. 

And yet, James was the living anomaly of the next generation of purebloods. 

Though he was loud and arrogant and a little too up himself for his own good, he was kind and smart and managed to make you feel like the most important person in the world, regardless of who you were. James Potter cared like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and had to act on their behalf. He cared like nobody else you had ever met, and you didn’t know if that made your heart swoon or your head spin because it was just never something you had ever seen in your life. 

Men like James Potter were one in a million and you had somehow managed to catch the eye of the formidable wizard.

It had been his idea to use the muggle telephones. Just weeks before you had to break for the summer holidays, he had dragged you into a broom closet with a bright smile on his face, almost rolling back on the heels of his feet. He explained everything, from the device to how it worked to how he had convinced Lily to retrieve the items so it wouldn’t be traced back to either of you. 

He scribbled down his number and shoved it into your pocket, kissing you quickly goodbye before he raced off to quidditch practice, leaving you flustered and bamboozled of the man James Potter just kept proving himself to be. 

Because he knew what your family was like. And he knew that you hated going home for the summer. And he knew that with your family watching your every move and magic being a hopeless endeavour because of the Ministry rules for underaged witches and wizards using magic that using muggle telephones might just be the only option you have left to talk to each other. 

And he had taken that step, because he wanted you just as much as you wanted him and it made your heart swell. 

“Nothing new,” you told him, fingers wrapped around the cord of the phone as you laid back on your bed, window open as the summer heat engulfed your room. 

“I don’t like leaving you alone there.” 

“I have Sirius and Reg,” you told him, but a part of you wanted to say you didn’t like him leaving you too. 

“Sirius fucks off to the muggle world and Regulus doesn’t have a backbone yet.” 

“James,” you scolded softly, though you knew he was right. You loved your brothers, loved them in the unconditional way siblings loved each other. But it was an ‘every man for themself’ situation whenever you three returned home for holidays. 

Sirius would run off, not ashamed to dish out the same horrid words back to your parents when they yelled and belittled him. He would sneak off into muggle London, spends days there and would come back with treats as a form of apology for leaving you alone. 

Regulus was a little different. He still held your parents in high regard, he still wanted to make them proud. He tried to be the son they wanted, tried to live up to the expectations they held for a pureblood son from one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He would never intervene when either you or Sirius were getting scolded. 

It meant a lot of the time you were left on your own during the holidays. It meant that you spent days craving to have the warmth and familiarity of the family and friends you made in Hogwarts. You were left craving the life of freedom and independence you had there. 

“I’m just being honest, sweetheart. You know I mean good. I just wish I could have you here, ya know? With me.” 

You smiled softly at the idea, a warm feeling settling contentedly in the bottom of your stomach. “Yeah, me too, Jaime.” 

“It would be fun, don’t ya think? I could take you riding out back near the lake Mum always yells at me to stay away from. We could take a picnic, maybe steal a bottle of fire whiskey…could even watch the sunset from there.” 

“Sunset, huh?” you mused, entertaining the conversation even if it stung a little, the jealousy of a reality you wish was your own. “And what about when it gets dark, Mr Potter? You gonna protect me from the monsters?” 

“Maybe I have other plans when the sun goes down.” 

And despite yourself, you feel your cheeks flushing at the insinuation. “Like?” 

“You’re really making it difficult to be a gentleman over the phone, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna talk to a gentleman,” you retorted, biting back the grin that was threatening to break out on your face. 

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re killing me.” 

“I miss you, Jaime,” you sighed, hand resting on your stomach whilst the other clutched the phone. 

“Not been taking care of yourself?” 

“It’s not the same.” 

You listened to the boy let out soft curses on the other side of the phone, followed by the sound of shuffling sheets and a soft thud that you could have sworn was followed by an ‘ow’.

“It doesn’t feel as good, James,” you continued as you let out a long sigh. “I miss your hands…the way you touch me…the way your mouth feels on me…the way your dick—” 

“Fuck, baby, please. I want you…here…right now.”

“‘s not possible,” you murmured in response, shuffling a little to sit up against your headboard, your thighs clenched together. It was fun teasing him, getting him all worked up and bothered. But it sucked when you were left sitting there, memories of just how good he could make you feel left playing on repeat in your head.

“Maybe it is,” James countered, something quite like desire and hope lacing his words. “What if you floo’d here?” 

You paused. “James, my parents—”

“—will never know,” he finished for you. “Your mum will be doing her own head in with that dinner she’s planning, and I know Sirius is away somewhere in London for the next few days. Regulus won’t even know you’ve left. You could stay here for a few days, get a break from everyone…stay with me for a bit.”

You pondered his words. “And your parents?” 

“Mum loves you,” he snorted. “And Dad would probably adopt you in the drop of a hat.”

“I knew Monty had a soft spot for me,” you retorted, a small smile growing on your face as something quite like anticipation sent a thrill down your spine. Before you could convince yourself otherwise, you were grabbing a backpack and half-hazardly shoving what you needed for the sudden trip into the bag.

“You’re a weakness for all Potter men, baby. It’s all a part of your charm.”

The buzz in your veins felt like the nights you’d sneak out of your room, James’ invisibility cloak covering you as you snuck through the corridors of the school after curfew to go meet him by the Whomping Willow. The nights where you would sneak around just to spend a few hours with him, and even the nights where you would join your brother and his friends in their marauders shenanigans.

You peeked your head out the door, glancing down the hallways and straining your ears to hear if anybody was wandering the house this late at night. Less than thirty seconds later, you were bustling down the staircase and making your way towards the fireplace before any of the house-elves saw you. 

“Potter Manor!”

The world swirled around you in blues and greens and reds and pinks, pulling and tugging at your limbs in every direction and making your head spin before you felt solid ground beneath your feet. You blinked, a little disoriented and the grip on your bag ironclad as you took a moment to breathe.

But before you could even step out of the fireplace, a pair of arms were wrapped around you and tugging you into a large, warm chest and something inside your heart finally settled for the first time in weeks since the holidays had started. 

“I fucking missed you so much,” James’ muffled voice muttered against the top of your head, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head and pressing it against his chest where you could hear his heart thundering away. His other hand was already reaching for your bag, taking it out of your grasp so you could wrap both arms around him. 

“You’re warm,” you murmured, enjoying the sound of your boy’s soft chuckles as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“That’s all you gotta say?” 

“Gotta keep you humble where I can, Potter.”

The boy pulled back, enough for you to look up at him and see the grin split across his face before he leaned down, kissing you senseless like you weren’t standing in the middle of his living room where either of his parents could find you. When he pulled away, he looked down at the dazed look on your face and his smile only widened. 

“C’mon,” he murmured and nodded his head towards the staircase. “Need to hide you away before Mum hogs you to herself.” 

“Maybe I came here for her,” you retorted, enjoying the feeling of James taking his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly as though to reassure himself you were really there.

“Don’t go breaking my heart now, baby, I’ve just planned the perfect weekend for us,” James mused playfully, glancing over his shoulder to flash you a wink before he pulled you into his room, locking his door behind him and dropping your bag on the floor.

“Hey—”

“Yell at me later,” he murmured as his arm wrapped around your waist, practically tugging your body onto the bed until you fell on his chest with a soft oomph.

“I forgot how needy you were,” you joked lightly, shuffling until you were comfortably tucked against his side. 

“Just want my girl,” he grumbled, tilting your head up so he could lean down to peck your lips. “Is that such a crime?” 

“Maybe to my brothers,” you countered and watched him roll his eyes.

“Please don’t bring up your brothers when I’m trying to seduce you, sweetheart,” James groaned, his arm around your body tightening.

You snickered. “I think you are wearing too many clothes to be seducing me, Potter.”

He raised his brows. “Is that a preference?”

“I would say more of a demand.” 

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” 

.

#james potter #marauders #harry potter #hp #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fic #james potter one shot #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders oneshot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter oneshot #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot

[herlondonboy]

7:3

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x platonic!reader / Enid Sinclair x platonic reader / Larissa Weems x platonic!reader

Summary: 7 reasons to go, 3 reasons to stay

Warnings: suicide, suicidal thoughts, vent fic I guess, so uh, like bcos I need validation 🫶 pure, unfiltered, angst. (Part two here) (Tagging: @lxtins @allisonsblog @wednesday-l0ver @capryuk @smolgayhooman @elduster because they said they’d read it x)

Word Count: 1.1k

Seven reasons to go, three reasons to stay. It honestly seems like such an easy answer, but if you add a zero onto the end of both numbers it becomes harder. Seventy reasons to go, thirty reasons to stay. You sat atop of this hill, resting your back against the oak tree. Weighing the reasons in your head made the pit in your stomach grow, but it needs to be soon.

1. You have no family.

In a fit of blind rage at eight, you set your house ablaze. The fire started in your parents bedroom where you, your mother and father and your little brother were. Larissa Weems, a family friend, was quick to aid you. She brought you to Nevermore and raised you like her own. It was abnormal for normie families to have Outcast children, but that just meant the Outcast gene laid dormant for a few generations. You didn’t speak to anyone for seven years after the incident.

Though Larissa was the closest thing you had to a family, she wasn’t your family and the kids at school liked to remind you of that.

2. The overwhelming anger.

Your nostrils flared as you watched the boy, whose name you never bothered to learn, called you an orphan for the umpteenth time that day. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm until you felt blood rolling down. Pain makes you human, Larissa had said to you. Why wasn’t it working? A wolf pushed you and you struck him with flame covered fist. Your hand was burned onto his face and he hand to live in humiliation with that scar for the rest of his life.

The kids around you immediately dissipated and ran away from you. Then your roommate asked to switch dorms

3. People would finally care.

They don’t care until it’s too late. You knew this now, throwing the noose end of the rope over the highest branch that you could reach. You couldn’t even cry. Why would cry? Crying for the people that never even batted an eyelash at you. For he people that saw your pain and laughed in your face, dancing on what was left of your happiness, hoping to ruin it all for you. You can imagine the people that pushed you to this crying in each other’s arms as your body was lowered into the ground. Who do they think they are?

4. You hurt everyone you touched.

Larissa had pulled you into a hug when you came to her office sobbing. You were hesitant to accept it, but you did in the end. You remember her scream and push you away. It haunted your nightmares every. Single. Night. You looked down at your hands and your eyes widened at the melted fabric on your palms. She told you that it was all right and that she was just shocked, but you didn’t believe her.

You began using weird techniques you’d read about in books from the library; sitting in the kitchen’s walk in freezer for as long as you could, taking ice baths, letting your anger out in a controlled environment.

5. The dreams.

Waking up drenched in sweat and covered in a crisp duvet was not your forte. In fact, waking up wasn’t your forte. Your family coming back from the dead to berate you, blame you. They wanted to kill you back. Your brother showing you what could’ve been, what would’ve been, what should’ve been him. A dashing you man, your mother had said before casting her eyes over you in disgust. You wanted to apologise, but that didn’t deserve it. They should have to beg you for forgiveness. The world should have to beg you for your forgiveness. And it would have if you really wanted it to. You had the power to burn the world to ash.

6. You’d stop being a burden.

Larissa Weems already had a whole school of children to deal with. And, though she didn’t say it, you knew having you in her office for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was bothering her. You didn’t want to admit it, but you grew to like her presence, so instead of staying cooped up in your room, you stayed cooped up in her office. You’d get short, curt answers when asking something and you took that as a hint.

7. Eternal peace.

You’d be free from all your suffering. You’d be dead, you’d be gone. There’s no analogy for this reason. It’s just a fact. You wanted to be gone, that’s all.

But now the reasons to stay.

1. Your Larissa.

She really was your family. The reason you were still alive right now, but it was proving not to be enough. You just hoped that she didn’t blame herself for this. She had saved you and protected you for as long as she could, but now it was down to you. You had to make a decision and it led to you tightening the rope around the trunk of the tree.

2. The people that liked your company.

You had met Enid Sinclair in your fourth year of solitude since you’d come to Nevermore. She walk talkative and it was nice for the both of you. She liked having someone that listened to her ranting and you liked listening to someone talk to you without belittling your feelings. Then you met Wednesday on your 16th birthday, three years later. She was Enid’s roommate and you were scared that Wednesday was going to take her away from you. But that’s not what happened. Soon in days where you waited for Enid in her dormitory, you found yourself enjoying the silence between you. It wasn’t that Enid’s rambling was annoying, but silence was nice every once in a while. Lastly, you met Eugene. He reminded you of your little brother, predominantly the good parts of him. He was a perfect mix of Wednesday and Enid. You loved hearing about his bees and how his mom’s were doing. You adored reading books with him in the library. He helped you get over your fear of yourself.

3. Life.

Sure, you hated life. But there were fun times like when you were five, on your father’s shoulders as he ran through the forest by Nevermore. Or on your fifteen birthday when Enid and Larissa threw you a surprise party in your dorm where’re the three of you danced the night away. Not to mention when you made Eugene laugh. A smile graced your face the whole day after hearing him cackle at a note you gifted to him. Even if it go you kicked out from the library.

It was moments like that that you craved.

But you didn’t get much more because here you were, standing on a stool as you put your head through the noose. Just as you strained to kick the stool away, you heard a scream.

“No!” They said, but it was too late.

Wednesday was too late.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday tim burton #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #enid sinclair x reader #Enid x reader #Enid x you #Enid x y/n #enid sinclair x you #enid sinclair x y/n #enid sinclair #Larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wednesday addams angst #angst #also im very sorry #elijah writes

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hiiii! I loved ur Hermes kid!

Could I ask for a male son of Dionysus x either Leo or nico?

Sorry if I got ya wrong and don’t feel pressured or anything!

Have a lovely day!

When there isn't a lot of info in an ask I kinda have to make the reader a personality so that it isn't too bland too read so sorry to y'all that aren't like this <3

Redecoration---Nico di Angelo x Son of Dionysus

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico had been glaring at the roof of skulls for a solid ten minutes, sort of hoping the hatred in his eyes would just poof them out of existence, when someone finally showed up. 

Apparently after an incident in the Aphrodite cabin, people weren’t allowed to just grab a bucket of paint and some new furniture to fuck around and find out, which was why Nico had been sent someone to help him fix the mess that was the Hades cabin.

Apart from the hundred skulls hot glue gunned to the rood, the beds were wooden coffins, the lamps were ancient looking chandeliers, and all of the walls were a dark ugly gray, like there was a serious mold problem. Now that he thought about it, the color might actually be a mold problem. 

“Never fear, goth! For I am here!” 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Nico took a deep breath and turned around, obsidian eyes already narrowed with dislike as he took in the taller boy trotting over. He was holding a crate in his arms, filled with color swatches and chunks of fabrics, magazines sticking out of the top. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who needs redecorating, right?” The boy asked, already letting himself into the dim cabin that smelt of rich dark chocolate for some reason. “Yeah… no offense but we have to fix this, even if you're the wrong person.” 

Nico felt a sudden need to defend the atrocious carpet and bat shaped door knocker from this boy, who was wearing a maroon shirt picturing a glass of wine. “I was eight.” 

“No shame here, everyone makes bad decisions.”

There didn’t seem to be any point arguing with this boy, who had already dumped the box of supplies on one of the coffin bed lids, and was staring around at the dark cabin, hands on his hips. 

Nico just followed him inside, shoving his hands into the slightly ripped pockets of his aviator jacket. He peered into the cardboard box, which was promptly tipped out onto the ground. He watched with a frown as the son of Mr D sat on the carpet and began rifling through the empty notebooks and cut up magazines. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, scrapbooking? We can’t just start painting the walls yellow yet, you have to plan this stuff out, goth.” He said, as if it was obvious. Then he smirked. “You don’t like arts and crafts?”

Nico’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t let this mildly infuriating boy with surprisingly cool bracelets upstage him. “I love arts and crafts.”

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and pulled out a leather bound book containing a few stickers and a strip of torn paper where a page had been pulled out. “Are you just gonna stand there in the corner and be grumpy?... That wasn’t sarcasm, you can if you want, I was just checking.”

Nico wasn’t an asshole, of course he was going to help. Still, he had to glare at the boy for that comment. Then he sat down and opened one of the magazines, which was featuring a life sized Barbie Dream House bed frame, fluffy pillows included. He flicked the page over with a grimace.

“So, what kinda vibe are we going for?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming you're sick of Dracula,” he said, waving his arms at the general doom and gloom around them. “So what aesthetic are we replacing it with?”

Nico didn’t want to admit he hadn’t planned this far into the venture, he’d really just been hoping he could repaint the walls, or maybe burn the whole thing down and start over. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Okay, well… I’m assuming you wanna keep it edgy, but seriously? A roof of skulls? You’re not a caveman. Maybe we should go with an Addams family style.” He shivered. “With less spiderwebs and disembodied hands. “ 

Ah, another gap in his modern education. “What’s an Addams family?” 

All Nico got in return was a gaping mouth and wide eyes. “How do you not- okay, I’m making you watch the entire timeline later, but for now we need to pick a color scheme.” 

Nico opened his mouth.

“Not black.”

Nico closed his mouth.

“Obviously there’ll be lots of black, but you need another color to fit with it, something dark and scary but colorful.” He pulled out a binder of color swatches, and flipped it open, skimming the pages of baby blues and lavenders. “Maybe dark green, or...”

“Red.” Nico said, peering over at the pages of ruby and scarlet. He pointed to the dark one, which had a little title below, ‘Blood red’. It was a little on brand, but it was better than ‘Crimson Tide’. 

“Oooh, nice. If we keep the walls black, and pull up the black carpet, there’ll be floorboards underneath.” He started to ramble, ripping a color swatch out of the binder and gluing it into the leather bound book. He glanced around at the musty cabin. 

“We can get a red rug for the middle of the cabin, and definitely new beds, but if we get Drew to refurbish the chandeliers they’ll look great. Oh, and the coffin bed frames could be a bookshelf if we get the mattress out and ask Nyssa to put some shelves in. Do you read? Because otherwise it’s sort of pointless. But so are the skulls on the roof, so…”

“You’re good at this.” 

It took Nico a moment to realize what he’d just blurted, and when he did the warmth was already in his cheeks. He’d only been a little caught up in watching the son of Dionysus’s eyes sparkle as he talked, pointing to different parts of the cabin, and somehow ruined it. “I mean, you just sound like you’ve, you know, done this a lot.”

The glimmer in their eye didn’t fade, they only grinned harder. “I have. A lot. It’s fun!”

“I suppose so,” Nico said, his lips twitching, and opened another magazine. He skipped a page on clawfoot bathtubs [There was already a white one with gold trim in the bathroom]. There was a large heart shaped mirror, He ignored that too, and found a simple bedframe, painted black. He held it out gingerly. “What about this one?”

“Yes! Good job.” He said, snipping it out of the magazine quickly, and sticking it next to a picture of a glass chandelier. “If you’ve got a simple bed, we could find a zebra print blanket, they always look good with black and red, as long as you don’t have, like, leopard print.”

“I thought you’d like leopard print?”

“And I thought you’d like skulls on your roof and coffin shaped beds,” he teased, with a smug little smile. Nico rolled his eyes, and picked out a strip of dark red fabric, passing it over.

He shook some glitter from his hands, there seemed to be piles of it in the box. “It’s a little over the top, but it’s not as bad as Jason’s cabin. It’s just rock. Everywhere. And a giant statue of his father.”

“Maybe he can be my next client,” he hummed, wiping glue from his fingers onto the molding carpet beneath them. A few shards of rounded glass were taped to the pages of the scrapbook, shining in the light of the dusty stained chandeliers. 

Nico wanted to object. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want the boy in front of him with glitter on his cheekbones and scissors in his hands to be cutting out pictures and teasing someone else. Instead he looked away, feeling something in his chest surge, something like fear. Fear of what, he didn’t know, but he cleared his throat and moved on.

“Don’t you have a sister too?”

The fear surged back forwards and Nico whipped around, his tone sharp. “What?”

“The roman one, I swear I saw her the other day, when Reyna visited to plan something or other.” he said casually, not seeing the pale tinge to Nico’s face. “With the overalls and the bulldog?”

“That’s Frank,” Nico said, his shoulder sinking with relief. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was Hazel, she had those light up sketchers, with the little wheels on the bottom.” He said, somehow with a moon shaped sticker on his nose as he stuck little cut out paper skulls around the four page collage. 

“Frank’s the bulldog, he can turn into animals.” Nico had a strange urge to reach out and press the sticker on his nose, so instead he held his hands tightly in his lap. 

“Well, is there something Hazel’d like in the cabin when she visits? Does she read?” 

Nico sighed, and reached back for the magazine he discarded. He shook it open, cut outs of fluffy teddies falling into his lap. He found the page with the heart shaped bathroom mirror and ripped it out carefully. He could take a few hearts in his cabin if Hazel would like them. “This one.”

“Oh, that one's cute, Nyssa could totally make it.”

“I can ask Leo, he owes me a favor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I haven't killed him yet.” 

                                  »»————-　★　————-««

Nico pressed down the front of his shirt. It was a black Camp Halfblood shirt, which he’d gotten from Piper after the Aphrodite cabin had started making shirts in other colors. Apparently there were only so many outfits you could wear with orange. 

Black goes with everything though, so it wasn’t a problem for him. 

He made his bed [closed the lid of the coffin] and dragged the last of the furniture not nailed to the ground out onto the little deck all of the cabins had. His decking only had a few pairs of shoes and a pot of dead roses he’d never bothered to keep alive. Maybe he’d have another go. 

Drew had taken the chandeliers already, to polish them and whatnot, so he only had to wait for his assigned son of Dionysus to show up, and they could start hunting for zebra print blankets and ripping skulls off the ceiling. What fun. 

When he still hadn’t shown up, Nico finished pulling all of the previously made bedding from the coffins and dumping it to the side so that Leo could turn it to a bookshelf [He could read, he just had dyslexia thank you very much], and then set off to the Dionysus cabin. It was easy to find, the only male god on the female side, with trelice’s of ivy decorating the whitewashed walls and a grumpy looking leopard snoozing on the purple swinging chair out the front of the small cabin.

He didn’t really want to knock, but he was sure someone would report him for standing around too menacingly if he just waited. He was saved from indecision when the door opened, revealing a tall sandy haired boy.

“You’re the goth, aren’t you?” Pollux sniffed, his nose red. “We can’t help today, but Butch is free, he can do some heavy lifting, and I’m sure Drew’ll criticize your style if you ask nicely enough.” 

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“I mean,” Pollux started, rubbing his eyes, and Nico only then realized he was still wearing his pajamas. They had an elongated cartoon owl sticking out of a doorway on it. “Skulls on the ceiling is a bit much, and everyone think you’re a vamp-”

“I meant with you guys, not my style,” Nico interrupted, his eyes narrowed.”

“Someone, decided to go visit Lou Ellen even though we all know she has a cold, and now I have it-” Pollux was cut off once again, his mockingly loud voice reaching the people inside. 

“I’m sorry I was concerned for my friend, she wanted soup!”

“She always wants soup!” Pollulx yelled back, and Nico moved past the older child of Dionysus, slipping off his shoes and letting himself into the cabin. 

There was nasally muttering behind him and the door slid shut. Nico peered around, and saw a bundle of fluffy blankets on a couch, only a sneezing head poking out the top. “Why did you get sick?”

“I mean it wasn’t really on purpose,” he mumbled back, wiping his nose with a tissue and sinking back into his cocoon. “I can’t help today, but-”

“I don’t care,” Nico started, and plopped down on the white couch, avoiding a deep red stain that could be alcohol or blood. He couldn’t tell. He also didn’t know how to say he’d rather sleep in the coffin again then have to spend the day with someone else. 

He sniffed, falling sideways a little on the couch and squinting at the square tv, which was showing some old cartoon about cavemen. “Mkay, well you should probably go if you don’t wanna get sick.”

Nico thought for a moment, trying not to focus on how much he wanted to scoop up the bundle of blankets in his arms far too skinny for that sort of stuff. “Why don’t we watch ‘an Adam family’?

He got watery wide eyes in return and a toothy grin, “wait really?”

“No. If I was making a joke it’d be funnier than that.”

“Okay, let’s watch it,” he said, hopping off the couch and moving to a box of DVDs with a lot of energy for someone so sick. “And it’s the Addams family, goth. You have to learn the basics of this culture if you’re gonna have coffin bookshelves.”

He fiddled around with the tv and then a grainy black and white intro came on, tinny music over the top. Nico watched as he danced to the theme tune in his blanket burrito, all the way back to the couch, where he landed, coughing and winded. Nico raised an eyebrow. “I could’ve done that, you’re sick.”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he mumbled, tucking the fluffy socks on his feet up onto the white couch and wiggling with excitement. Nico watched him for a moment, and then turned back to the TV, feeling his lips twitch into a grin.

Duh duh duh duh, click click. Duh duh duh duh, click click.

Their creepy and they're kooky-

                                      »»————-　★　————-««

“Neeks, this mirror is so cute!”

“You’re welcome,” Nico muttered, rubbing his nose and rolling over, pulling the zebra print doona cover further over his head. 

He heard Hazel’s wheelie shoes click along the floorboards and she gilded out of the bathroom. When he peered out, her hair was in bunchies and she was pulling a purple hoodie over her head. “It’s so much nicer in here now, but how did you get sick redecorating?”

“Uhm..There was a lot of dust. I might be allergic?” 

The door slammed open, the clear chandelier hanging from the roof shaking as Nyssa trudged in, her work boots leaving mud on the fluffy blood red rug. She was holding the glitter covered scrapbook in her gloved hands. 

“So, I know I’m supposed to make everything in this, but what am I supposed to do with the polaroid of you kissing Mr D ‘s kid?”

                       »»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo x reader #nico di angelo x you #nico di angelo x son of dionysus #hazel levesque #Pollux pjo #Hades #Hades cabin #death siblings

[juicyflawless25]

Tell Me How It's Looking, Babe (Nsfw)

Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count; 5,559

Warnings; explicit sexual content (includes a shapeshifted appendage)

Notes; I feel like this fic is a hot mess, but I wanted to share it with you all anyway. Loosely inspired by the song Partition by Beyonce. Somehow my brain took me off in a weird direction. Also, for the purpose of this fic, it is implied that both Larissa and reader are shapeshifters. I felt it was time for Larissa to be on the receiving end of things. Cross posted on a03, link in the title.

It was a rare occasion that would arise when Larissa and yourself were able to get out and enjoy yourselves away from Nevermore. Most of the time it was you grading homework, putting lesson plans together, and helping Larissa with whatever she needed. As for the principal, she worked into the wee morning hours and crawled into bed just before the sun came up. There was always something for her to do. Meetings, event plans, student situations, and emails forever waiting to be read and replied to. The list was neverending. 

That was why when a week-long break presented itself, you took the chance to set up a fancy little to do with your beloved wife. You knew she needed something to get her mind off the Addams family, Wednesday being the biggest culprit of the problems. She had stressed herself into madness over what had been happening and it broke your heart. Instead of letting her wallow in the stress, you were going to be the best wife a woman could be.

It had taken quite a bit of convincing to get Larissa to agree to go out. You had begged, pleaded, and gotten down on your knees. She had eventually relented, however, because she knew you weren’t going to give up until you got what you wanted. You had squealed and hugged her tight, kissing her all over her face when she had agreed. That alone had brought a smile to her face, the look there telling you she both regretted and was happy she had decided on a yes.

You had given Larissa the instructions of what to wear a week before your engagement. You had told her “Think red carpet. Think catwalk goddess!” Her eyebrows had knitted together at that, wondering where you could be taking her. “It’s a secret!” You had said to her inquiries, winking at her and walking away with a shit-eating grin on your face. 

The week had passed by quickly, due to situations arising at Nevermore. You had made Larissa promise she wouldn’t try to forego your night together, giving her the biggest doe eyes you could muster in retaliation. She could never resist that look, no matter how much she wanted to.

The two of you had gotten dressed in your finest in separate places, having brought up the idea to surprise each other with what you were wearing. You had offered the idea because you had something in mind that you knew Larissa hadn’t been expecting. What you weren’t expecting, however, was the way your wife had decided to doll herself up.

As you stood by the limo you had rented, wanting to give her the treatment of a Queen, your mouth dropped audibly as you watched Larissa gracefully strut down the steps of Nevermore.

“Holy shit.” You breathed, trying to gain some sort of composure before she got closer. 

Larissa’s eyes watched you intently as she descended the stairs, practically gliding down them like she was gingerly placed on a cloud. The way she looked you over, taking in the tight white suit you were wearing, told you that you had made the right choice. You had foregone a white collared shirt underneath the suit jacket, opting to leave your chest only moderately covered by the lapels. You could tell that seemed to be Larissa’s favorite part as her eyes lingered there and her tongue came out to lightly lick at her lips. Her wandering eyes traveled downward, taking in the way your suit pant hugged tightly to your curvacious hips and ass. The heels that you chose to wear with it only made Lairssa’s heartbeat flutter even more. 

As she approached you, your eyes still captivated by her and your mouth still hanging open, Larissa smiled like a tiger stalking its prey. “You look stunning, darling.” She complimented, eyes raking over your body a few times more. 

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink at her compliment and the way her eyes looked so hungrily at you. “I-I could say the same.” You started, finally taking a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. “Jesus Christ, Larissa. You have my mouth watering just looking at you.”

It was her turn to blush a deeper shade of pink, ducking her head before looking at you through her eyelashes. “All for you, love.” She said, throwing you a wink that made your knees buckle and your legs weak.

Now up close, you could see the subtle makeup Larissa had applied, taking on a different look than usual. It suited her, the way the softness of it highlighted her features subtly. Her lips were adorned with a nude color, something much more tame than her usual red. Her hair cascaded to the side of her shoulder, curls twisting in perfectness while the rest of it framed the side of her face beautifully. The dress she was wearing? You had never seen her wear something with such a flow, but the way it both hugged her body and wafted around her made you wish you were the fabric.

The soft pink she had chosen for the dress made it look like she was wrapped in beautiful morning sunlight. It brought out the blue in her eyes and the soft roundness of her face. And the length of the dress brought out the statuesque build you knew intimately and adored. She was stunning in all of her glory. So stunning that you could feel the confidence exuding from her. Larissa was perfect, no matter which way you looked at it.

The more you stared at her, the more your mouth became dry. You had a sneaking suspicion that the moisture was moving to a different location on your body. But that would have to wait for a while. There was a reason you were all dressed up, after all. 

Remembering that there was a limo waiting behind you, you moved to stand beside Larissa, placing a hand gently on her lower back. With the other hand, you reached to open the door swiftly for your wife. 

“After you, gorgeous.” You said, making a show of sweeping your arm toward the inside of the vehicle while the other pushed softly on Larissa’s back to guide her.

Without hesitation, the principal moved with grace to place herself inside the limo, scooting over to make room for you as she patted the spot next to her. There was a loving smile on her lips, but something suggestive danced behind her expressive blues. She involuntarily licked at her lips as you climbed in behind her, her eyes roving over your body in the most bawdy of manners.

“Like something you see?” You questioned, putting on an air of confidence that was undermined only minorly by the pink tone of your cheeks. 

With a smirk that could put Aphrodite herself to shame, Larissa gazed straight into your eyes her voice dropped an octave in her answer. “Yes, I do.” Well, there was no mistaking that, was there?

You shivered visibly before closing the limo door behind you. You stared back at Larissa, situating yourself as close to her as possible. The two of you were a hair's breadth away from each other’s faces, legs and hips touching as you felt the electricity spark around you. You were moments away from just kissing the hell out of your wife, but a clear of the throat from the front stopped your movements.

Both yours and Lairssa’s eyes broke away to practically glare at the driver. Were you slightly mad at him for breaking a moment? Yes. You knew it was irrational though. After all, he was only doing his job.

“Are we ready to go, ladies?” He questioned, a small, kind smile on his face.

You had to swallow down all of the erotic emotions you were feeling before answering him. It wasn’t helping that Larissa had placed her hand possessively on your thigh, though the look on her face made it seem like it was casual. You knew better than that. 

“Yes, sir!” You finally responded, perhaps a moment too long for it to be comfortable. 

The driver gave a nod before rolling the partition up, making a breath release from your lungs as he did so. 

You turned your attention back to Larissa, feeling her hot stare on you before you even turned your head. There was so much emotion dancing in her eyes and you could tell all of them were adoringly directed at you. God, the way she looked at you always further melted you into a bigger puddle. The two of you were so connected that all she had to do was give you a look and you knew exactly what she was saying. Right now she was giving you the impression that she wanted to eat you up right then and there. That thought alone had your heart racing.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You blanked for a moment, your mind still trying to wrap itself around how brilliant and sexy Larissa looked. She waited patiently for you to answer, watching as the wheels turned slowly in your head to catch up. 

“Right! Well!” You started, excitement painting your facial features. “I know how much you love fashion and how deep into it you are. How you keep up with everyone is beyond me!” You cut your rant off immediately, not wanting to go too deep down a rabbit hole. You were explaining, not pondering. “I arranged for us to go watch a fashion show!” A wide grin leaped across your face, sticking there as you waited for your wife’s reaction. 

The most brilliant of smiles lit up the principal’s face, her eyes shining even brighter. You could tell before she even spoke that this was a pleasant surprise. “Y/N! Darling!” She began, hands coming up to cup your cheeks heartily. It seemed she was at a loss of words though as her mouth hung open and she stared at you, hands not moving from your face. 

You smiled as brilliantly back as you could, considering her palms were squeezing your cheeks almost painfully. But you didn’t care! All you cared about was that you had just made your wife a happy, happy woman! 

“Oh my god, no one has ever done this for me before! And it’s been years since I’ve been able to do something like this!” She shook you lightly, blue eyes sparkling with wonder and adoration.

With a chuckle, you placed your hands on her hips and made little circles with your thumb on each side in a soothing manner. “I wanted to do something spectacular for you because you deserve it! You deserve a break and to be given a night of something fabulous!” Your words were slightly mush-mouthed while Larissa’s hands were on your cheeks, but she understood every word.

“You are the best wife a woman could ever ask for!” Larissa exclaimed, bringing her head forward to place her forehead against yours. She rubbed your nose lightly with hers for a moment before she chuckled at the pout on your face. “I know you want a kiss, darling, but I don’t want to ruin my lipstick…yet.” With that, Larissa winked and let go of your face, moving to sit back in the seat.

Her arm looped around yours as she sat a little closer to you, giggling gently at the aroused look on your face. Her wink alone had told you that something quite lovely would be happening later. But only after Larissa made it to the fashion show. 

The pulse between your legs begged for a little something, but you only squeezed your thighs together tightly to hold it back. You weren’t about to ruin anything of your wife’s before she gave you permission to. Besides, the whole reason for this evening was to make it to the location for her to enjoy. What kind of wife would you be if you messed things up before even getting there?

Larissa did notice the way you squeezed your legs together, her heat rising to her chest and making her heartbeat thrum faster. The way you looked tonight made her want to undress you with her eyes and then her hands, savoring every moment of it. Of course, she was quite enjoying how you looked in your dapper lesbian style, clearly trying to show off for her. And she knew it was all for her. Every part of your outfit was something she had discussed with you before when daydreaming about going somewhere fancy. Larissa had explained it all in great detail and she was only slightly shocked to find that you had remembered it all.

You could see the way your wife’s cerulean irises were looking over you and you had to hold back several whimpers when those looks turned smoldering. You even watched as she bit her lip a few times and you wished you could read her mind, just to see what was going on in her head. Of course, you had a feeling it wouldn’t help the ever-growing need for her if you could.

It seemed like hours before you arrived at your location, what with the way the two of you had been holding yourselves back the entire ride there. You could hear babbling outside of the car window as you gazed out to look and see the crowd meandering about, waiting to be chauffeured in. Behind you, Larissa buzzed with excitement. So much so that you could tell she was almost ready to push you out of the way just so she could get out and see everything more clearly.

You let out a small laugh just before the chauffeur opened the door for the both of you, that same gentle smile on her face as he bowed. “Welcome, ladies. I do hope you enjoy the event.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes.

Larissa clapped her hands together behind you and rushed forward past you, all while grabbing your hand and pulling you with her. “Come, darling! There must be lots to see!” The joy she was feeling was positively radiating off of her. That in itself made your heart swell with pride and a big grin stretch your lips.

You followed along with Larissa arm in arm, her holding onto you tightly. At the same time, she walked with her head held high and a sway to her hips that just screamed confidence. As you had wanted to happen, the thoughts of Nevermore and Wednesday were long gone as you made your way into the facility, Larissa teeming with exhilaration. It seemed your planned night was well on its way to being a success. 

A few hours later, the two of you emerged from the fashion show with a giddiness about you. The show had been fascinating to watch, but your eyes had been trained on Larissa most of the time. Fashion was interesting, artistic, wonderful, and quite lovely, but none of it compared to your wife. She was the most beautiful and interesting thing in the room, easily. 

You had nodded along to her comments, chiming in with your own whenever she seemed interested in them. But your highest excitement came from watching her every time a new outfit appeared on the stage, the light dancing in her eyes brighter and brighter with every passing moment. Jesus, you loved this woman with your entire being.

As the two of you rode in the limo back to Nevermore, you continued to listen to Larissa chirp animatedly about the entire show, practically recounting each second of it. You watched her with heart eyes, just smiling at her and loving the way her hands moved so animatedly as she spoke.

After a moment, Larissa slowed her talking down and blushed deeply, realizing she had been talking your ear off incessantly. “I’m so sorry, darling. I can stop.” She murmured, trying to hide her eyes and her blush from you.

“No! No, no!” You nearly shouted, wincing slightly at the sound of your voice. You calmed yourself down and grabbed Larissa’s hands, holding them gently in your own. “Please don’t ever apologize for being so unabashedly you!” You began, one hand coming up to cup her cheek so you could turn her eyes towards you. “I adore the way you talk about the things you love, babe. And I would listen to you forever. I swear!”

When you were sure she wasn’t going to look away from you, your hand on her chin moved to cross an X over your heart to emphasize your promise. You could see little tears starting to form in her eyes, but the smile on her face told you that they were happy tears.

“You’re the most wonderful wife I could have ever asked for.” Larissa whispered, leaning closer to you so she could lean her forehead against yours. It was your turn to blush now.

“I just want to make sure you know you’re loved, Riss.” You started, leaning in for a quick kiss before continuing. “I want you to be confident in the fact that I love every piece of you. And you deserve the world! So I’m trying hard to give as much of it to you as I’m capable of.”

Larissa’s bottom lip wobbled slightly as she listened to your words, love bubbling up in her chest in a heavy wave. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had done to deserve someone like you, but she was determined to make sure that she continued to prove herself worthy of your love. Though she knew if she were to voice these words, you’d tell her that there was no one more deserving than her. You’d had that conversation before.

Unable to help herself, the principal lunged forward to crash your lips together, her hands coming up to grip the lapels of your coat. A soft, surprised squeak escaped your mouth at the action, but you wasted zero time in returning the kiss with full force. 

Larissa pressed her chest against yours, breaths mingling as the kiss turned more heated and teeth clashed. A small moan fell from Larissa’s lips and you swallowed the sound, savoring it and memorizing it. 

When the two of you parted a moment later, you were both taking deep breaths, chests heaving with the exertion of it. Larissa’s gaze on you was all-consuming and the blue of her eyes had almost disappeared because of how blown her pupils were. Suddenly, you could feel the heat from earlier crashing back into your body, making it throb in all the right ways. 

“Do you think the driver can see us?” Larissa whispered seductively, tinged with a slight bit of apprehension. 

Your eyes cut away from your wife to stare at the closed partition, wondering if the other side of that glass was made so the driver couldn’t see a thing of the passengers. The way your body was humming with sexual energy made you want to throw caution to the wind, but you weren’t about to do so if Larissa was uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure.” You responded, hands still gripping Larissa’s waist for dear life. 

There was a long pause from Larissa as you watched her gather her thoughts, hands still tightly holding your lapels as she mulled over the possible consequences. You could see the exact moment she had decided what she wanted because the look in her eyes turned scorching hot and needy. 

“Fuck it.” She cursed before crawling onto your lap, legs placed on either side of yours. Still towering over you, she leaned down to place a row of kisses up your jaw, stopping just before she reached your ear. “I’ve wanted to ravish you all evening, love.” Larissa teased as she pressed herself against you tightly.

Your hands came up to grip her ass, shivering visibly at her words. Larissa moaned at the feeling of you groping her hard, fingers squeezing hard enough to put fingerprints on her skin even through the dress. She ground her hips down on you and a moan echoed around the cabin of the limo.

“All I’ve wanted was to either be the dress or be under the dress.” You confessed, kissing at any part of her skin you could get your lips.

Larissa gave a low chuckle, pressing her chest to your face as her fingers came to scratch at the back of your neck and up towards your hair. She scratched at your scalp and tore a groan from your throat at the action, muffled only because you had pressed your face between her breasts and breathed her scent in.

“Although now I desperately wish this fabric was gone so I could reach more of you…and see you.” You leaned back to look up into her eyes, your hands wandering up her back only to scratch back down with your nails just as she had done with your head. 

“Don’t worry, my love, you’ll be seeing a full view of me when we return home. But for now…” Larissa let the silence linger for a moment before she gave you a filthy smile, eyes matching the tone. “I want you inside of me.”

You moaned loudly at that, wanting nothing more. “Such a dirty girl.” You responded, hands already grabbing at the bottom part of the dress to hike it up Larissa’s long, luxurious legs. Meanwhile, she reached down to unzip your pants, hands reaching in to tug at the appendage you had managed to grow just seconds before. Perks of shapeshifters, you both supposed. 

When her fingers wrapped around the shaft, already greatly straining from arousal, your head fell back at the way her skin felt against it. “Fuck.” You moaned, momentarily forgetting your actions of getting her dress out of the fucking way. 

Larissa rolled her hips, hand moving up and down with the motion, making you see stars behind your eyelids for a moment. You shuddered hard before remembering your task, hands trying not to rip her gorgeous dress in the haste of getting it to move. Your fingers finally found the bottom of the dress and you quickly reached up to attempt to move her panties out of the way. However, you found no fabric to take purchase of and your eyes flew open to look up lustily at your wife.

“I had a sneaking suspicion that forgoing panties would be of utmost importance tonight.” Larissa provided, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth to give the words an even more filthy undertone. 

Unable to help yourself any longer, your fingers swiped through Larissa’s slit, finding that she was just as aroused as you. When you pulled your fingers back, they glistened with her arousal. The cock between your legs throbbed as your mind swirled with need, your heart pounding in your ears as you brought your fingers to your mouth.

Before you could put them in your mouth to taste her, however, Larissa grabbed your wrist and brought your hand to her mouth instead. She looked deep into your eyes as she took your fingers into her mouth, tongue twisting and swirling around the digits as she tasted herself. You watched her as your mouth dropped open, taking in the sight before you.

“Oh, fuck me.” You breathed out, licking at your lips and wishing so badly that her taste was on your tongue. 

Your wife removed your fingers from her mouth with a pop, a sly grin pressing at her lips. “Later, darling. But first, I need this.” She tugged on your shaft as she said the word, letting you know exactly what she wanted.

You were in no way going to argue with her. Instead, you moved to slide your pants down your legs a bit, appendage really standing to attention as the fabric moved out of its way. Larissa removed her hand as you situated yourself, letting you take control of the moment as she watched you with hooded eyes. 

Though you couldn’t see anything due to Larissa’s dress being so long, you could feel the heat emanating from her core. Your hand disappeared under her dress to stroke your cock for a moment, preparing yourself for what was about to transpire. You positioned yourself against her entrance as your other hand moved under the dress as well, your middle finger finding her clit almost instantly. 

As you continued to gently rub circles on Larissa’s clit, moans filling your ears as she tried not to move too much just yet, you gazed up to look into her eyes. “Let me know when you’re ready, baby.” You offered gently, leaning forward just a little to kiss her chest. 

It seemed that Larissa was in no mood to be teased, however, when she took control and shifted her hips downwards to initiate the first bit of penetration. She felt the head of your shaft slip inside of her surprisingly easily, the both of you keening at the sensations it created. For a moment, she halted her movements, wanting to make sure she was ready to take all of you. You gave her all of the time she needed, taking time to appreciate the wetness you could feel enveloping you below. The throb coming from Larissa’s clit against your finger seemed to be in perfect time with your heart, further proving the two of you were entirely in sync. 

You couldn’t contain the erotic noises that fell from your lips as Larissa finally moved to take all of you inside of her, hips slowly swaying back and forth to ease the slight pain that came with it. She had her eyes closed and her head tilted back just a bit, hands placed on your shoulders to steady herself.

“Y-you can move now.” She instructed, letting you know all was well. Larissa could feel your eyes on her, watching with such rapt attention that she felt the heat in her face spread to her ears. “Please, darling.” She begged in a hushed tone.

For a moment, your eyes darted to the partition, having almost forgotten that there was someone else in the vehicle. Your eyes switched back and forth between Larissa and the glass, hoping against all hope that the driver was oblivious to what was going on because there was no stopping now. 

Directing all attention to your wife, sitting so prettily on top of you, you leaned up to kiss under her chin before jutting your hips upward to sheath yourself further inside her warmth. Larissa shuddered and moaned, wrapping her arms all the way around your shoulders, leaning forward to give you the space you needed to fuck her properly. 

You took the initiative and began to slowly fuck your wife, burying your face in her cleavage as the ecstasy took over. The way she felt as she slid up and down on your shaft, further coating you in her arousal and making things even easier for the both of you, had you in a state of nirvana. There was hardly anything better than the way it felt being buried deep inside her like that. Except for her love, of course. That always trumped everything.

The pace was slow at first, not wanting to hurt the woman above you. But Larissa wasn’t having it as she began to meet your hips thrust for thrust. “Harder.” Was her only demand as she began to pick up her own pace, her mouth coming to bite and lick at your neck in hopes of spurring you on. 

Larissa always knew what to do to make you even more ravenous for her, nearly turning you into an animal as she sucked on your pulse point roughly. Your hips moved of their own accord then, fucking yourself deeper and harder into your wife’s needy cunt. 

The sounds filling the vehicle were salacious and nearly pornographic. The two of you had practically forgotten where you were as you continued pleasuring each other, you moaning explicit longing into Larissa’s ear as she moaned into yours. Every time your name came off her tongue, you had to hold yourself from coming undone right then and there. Her voice in the throes of passion was nothing short of glorious, making you feel as if heaven really was a place on Earth. 

Your wife was slamming herself down onto your shapeshifted cock, her entrance so slick with her own arousal that a squelching sound could be heard quite clearly. That only turned you on more, if you were honest.

“You feel so fucking good.” You moaned, fingers weaving their way into Larissa’s hair to pull on it tightly. It was the end of the night, you could mess it up now and there was no stopping you as you dragged her head backward and bit at her neck, leaving bruises and marks behind. You would probably get into trouble for that later, but right now you couldn’t care any less. 

“I’m so close.” Larissa warned, her hips moving quite erratically as an indication. 

“Oh god, I can feel that.” You answered back, her walls tightening around your shaft in a nearly vice grip. The two of you moaned into each other's mouths as you connected for a passionate kiss, tongues exploring and licking at each other needily. 

You broke the kiss for a moment, but only to whisper what you knew Larissa was waiting to hear. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you lose yourself on my cock.” You bit her earlobe afterward, getting the highest thrill from the way Larissa sobbed her need. 

Holding onto her tightly, you made sure to pound away at Larissa’s entrance just like she loved, knowing very well that she would be holding on much longer. And you were right because mere seconds later, she tilted her head back as if possessed and let out a long and high-pitched keen that you were certain the driver heard. The lewd noises coming from your wife as she came undone made you lose your own self-control, cumming with her as you buried yourself as deep as possible inside of her. Her walls gripped and sucked at your cock, making sure to leave you breathless and shivering as your body locked up in pleasure. 

All that could be heard for a few moments, as Larissa placed her head against your shoulder, was the sound of heavy breathing coming from the both of you. You were still holding onto her, body lightly convulsing from the white, hot heat that had just spread throughout your limbs. 

Your newly made appendage disappeared a minute later, making Larissa groan from the loss of contact and the feeling of emptiness. She began to place gentle kisses on your neck, really admiring the marks she left behind during your lovemaking. 

You were just about to open your mouth to say something when the partition ever so slightly, just enough for you to hear the driver’s voice. “Pardon, but we’ve arrived back to Nevermore.” He didn’t make direct eye contact and you could faintly see his cheeks were tinged pink. That told you everything you needed to know.

The partition rolled back up and you looked up at Larissa, who had decided to hide her face in your neck. “I can kill him so no one will ever know.” You offered, giving Larissa a bashful smile as a laugh made her body jiggle against yours. 

“I’m tempted to tell you to go through with that.” She replied, wishing momentarily that a hole would swallow her up.

“I’ll pay him well, he won’t say a word.” You rubbed her back to reassure her, kissing wherever you could reach as she still sat atop your lap. “As much as I would love to stay this way, babe, I should probably put my pants back on properly so we can get out of this limo.” 

At your suggestion, Larissa gave a small chuckle and moved away from your lap. You missed her there already. Quickly, you brought your pants back around your waist and fastened the button before the belt. When you were sure you looked a little more presentable, you looked towards Larissa who had shifted herself back into perfection.

“Showoff.” You teased, grinning at her playfully.

“Shut up and let’s get inside.” Larissa retorted, pushing you towards the door. 

With a laugh, you opened it and climbed out, holding it open for Larissa as you gave her a hand to ease herself out of the limo without messing up her dress. A wave of arousal washed through you once more as you looked her over for the millionth time this evening, counting yourself to be the luckiest person alive. 

Larissa could sense the look you were giving her without even looking at your face, but she turned her eyes toward you just to prove herself correct. She shook her head as you closed the door behind them, knowing full well that you weren’t done for the night.

“Perhaps let’s not get caught this time, hmm?” She offered in the most principal tone she could muster. 

You grinned before grabbing her waist and guiding her towards Nevermore’s stairs. “We’ll see.”

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems smut

[yourheartandmind]

Crossed Lines

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: Dark themes

Wednesday Addams has committed many unspeakable crimes. She's performed many unspeakable acts. Some, simply for the sake of doing so.

But, even she had a limit. A line she swore to never cross. A concrete boundary to what she was and wasn't willing to do.

Because for all her bravado and all her threats, Wednesday Addams refused to become a monster. To prove the people around her right. To give in to her family's darkness.

Call it stubbornness. Call it hopeless.

She knew she wasn't good by any definition - she would never be like Enid, could never be like her, not even close- but Wednesday always wanted to believe that she wasn't entirely bad either. That somewhere, hidden in the very depths of her being, she too had a soul worth saving. A soul capable of redemption.

Yet, as she took in your crumpled form on her bed, dark, crimson blood seeping through the layers of your tattered Evermore uniform - a color she had seen thousands of times before, but never seeming so nauseating as it did that moment - even she was surprised by the dark thoughts that crossed her mind.

The lines she was suddenly willing to cross.

You were mumbling something under your breath, a slur of pleads and cries that blended with dull ringing in Wednesday's ears.

The paleness of your skin was jarring. The lifelessness in your eyes haunting. And staining the sheets beneath you, caking the surface of everything you had touched, your blood was inescapable - the sheer amount of it painting the room.

Someone had touched you.

The thought lit something inside Wednesday.

Everything began overtaking her senses: the scent of sweat and rust from dried blood; the messy incoherent cries of pain that filled the room; the sight of you. Like that.

"Wednesday?"

Someone was calling out to her. They seemed close. Yet not quite there.

Someone had touched you.

"Wednesday?"

A second attempt to reach her was registered, now laced with a hint of concern.

The person seemed further now, though.

Someone had touched...you

Wednesday's mind began to swallow her, taking her to the darkest corners of her subconscious. To a place where all her inhibitions were washed away - stripped away - until all that was left was a desire to hurt.

Someone had touched you. Someone had hurt you.

"What happened?"

Her voice was cold. Distant. More than even she thought possible.

It didn't sound like her anymore.

The blur of a figure turned to her, Wednesday guessed that it was Enid, "Let's not doing anything careless now, okay?" They, Enid, whoever, tried to caution.

"What happened?"

The question wasn't going to be asked twice. And for their sake, Wednesday hoped Enid caught on to that.

"I-"

"Enid."

If bloodlust could be heard, not just seen, it would've been heard then - dripping with malice from every syllable of Wednesday's voice.

Enid looked over to her roommate, always having believed the Addams cruel but reasonable; now seeing, that any semblance of rationality had long disappeared.

She sighed and answered. Cautiously. Uneasily.

Wednesday left without so much as a thanks.

Watching the girl go, Enid felt her heart drop with fear. Not for herself, but rather the people who had hurt you.

///

Wednesday knew she had lost it - that what she was going to do was reckless and dangerous beyond belief.

Yet she couldn't find it in her to care.

Even as she stood over the faces of the men on the ground, bounded and tied expertly by her ropes, fear evident in their eyes. Even as they began to shake with tears and beg and plead her for their release, promising to not tell anyone. Even as she began to realized that there was no coming back from what she was about to do.

She had never wanted to become a monster like this.

But when people - the same hypocrites who've bullied and ostracized Evermore students as liars and killers - hurt the one she loved and got to walk back into their lives like nothing happened, Wednesday Addams no longer cared about her childish wants.

All she knew was was the anger and hurt she felt and the consuming need to make those responsible pay.

Afterall, someone had hurt you.

She'll make sure they hurt more.

And she'll be sure to enjoy every second of it, too.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n

[lisalosingstreak]

It Wasn’t Meant To Be Like This

Ch1 The Adventures Of Cedar Addams

“I’m afraid it’s not great news Mrs Addams, even with the simulated sperm we formulated from your wife’s DNA you will not be able to have a baby of your own.”

Enid dropped her head low and started to shake, a sure fire indication the worst kind of tears were about to make themselves known - tears of despair.

Wednesday pulled her wife closely and hugged her, the same type of desperate hug they had shared that first night in the woods, broken and blood stained with their classmates watching. This time it wasn’t a hug of relief, an embrace of a victory won and a heart given in service, this was lamenting a future they wanted but now could never have. Not even one of Grandmama Addams’ most elaborate potions could save this heartbreaking situation.

Wednesday couldn’t have kids after the stab wound from Crackstone they found had damaged her womb, and Enid, they subsequently learnt during the following conversation with the doctor, had a congenital disease which meant her reproductive system just didn’t work how it should do.

Wednesday didn’t think the tears would ever stop, and even joined in as they sat in their car outside after the consultation, repeating the embrace in a vain attempt to recover the bubbly positivity she once endured from Enid Sinclair, but now depended on with Enid Addams to keep her sane.

All was lost. All their hopes and dreams to have their own family, their own Wolfpack.

The drive home back to their mountain lodge - more of a sprawling luxury estate - was done in silence, with just a brief stop for Enid’s favourite Taco-Bell which failed to lift Enid’s mood, which in turn darkened Wednesday’s mind even further.

She just didn’t know what to do for Enid.

The drive back home along the five mile private gravel drive they had made thousands of times, so when the small creature leapt out of the rocky undergrowth into the path of their Range Rover Wednesday almost didn’t react in time.

Shuddering to a halt caused a huge cloud of dust to rise up, which took a few seconds to disperse.

“Did we hit it?” asked Enid shakily.

“I don’t think so querida - are you harmed?” Wednesday asked, holding Enid’s elbow tentatively.

“No I’m ok, thank you dearest.” Enid replied, still staring out if the windscreen to try and see the creature again.

“There it is Enid - to the right.”

Enid’s eyes followed Wednesday's pointed finger to the side of the road where they could see the creature trying to hide behind a rock, but it’s oddly hairy back legs were easily visible.

As usual Enid was the first Addams to react, her concern evident in her haste to get out of the car and approach the animal. Wednesday watched as her wife picked the creature up and held it for a few seconds before turning around and bringing it to the drivers door as Wednesday wound the window down.

Wednesday was always more careful as she didn’t have Enid’s razor sharp claws or incredible strength when it came to wild animals. Her wolf was always her protector.

“Willa look! The Moon gods have blessed us today!!”

Wednesday could see clearly what Enid was holding - a small, shaking, scared, half shifted female werewolf, who could not have been more than five or six years old

“But Enid, how has she shifted - sorry half shifted - it’s daylight?”

Enid beamed a large smile as she stroked the wolf’s head to keep it calm, which she seemed to do almost instantly. Enid had that effect on all forms of life - human, animal or anywhere in between.

“She is a daywolf, a very rare form of werewolf who can change at any time, but are generally very poorly treated and often cast out into the wild when young as most werewolf families can’t handle their unpredictable behaviour.”

“Oh no Enid - does that mean……”

“Yes,” Enid interrupted, “she’s a lone wolf, just like little old me.”

Fresh tears rolled down Enid’s cheeks, and the little daywolf reached out and pawed at Enid’s cheeks, it’s baby soft fur soaking up the moisture before Wednesday had a chance to wipe her wife’s tears herself.

She looked into Enid’s eyes, sparkling blue and bright as the sun, and knew right there that Enid was now a mum. And so in turn she was one too.

Her heart broke with happiness, not that it showed on her face. She had a reputation to keep after all.

“What shall we call her?” asked Wednesday.

Enid smiled an even broader grin as she stared back into her tiny wife’s obsidian black irises.

“I don’t care, it’s doesn’t matter to me.” Enid stroked the little girls hair to calm her, already lost in her love for the scared wolf in her arms.

“How about Cedar? She ran out from a cedar tree at the side of the road. Seems apt.”

“Mmmm that’s perfect Willa. Come on Cedar, time to go home.”

The little daywolf growled contentedly and licked Enid’s face quickly before she had chance to react, making Enid giggle like a schoolgirl.

As they pulled up to the front of their house Enid jumped out and rushed inside with Cedar, mumbling about a bath and some raw meat for the new arrival.

Wednesday paused as she turned around to survey the vast valley in which their house was situated, the front looking out over the whole impressive vista. She imagined the colourfully dressed figure of Mother Nature leading Cedar to find their land and then their home. It had only been a few minutes and Wednesday knew that this gift was truly direct from the earth spirit herself.

She whispered quietly into the wind, bowing her head in reverence of all that was around her.

“Thank you.”

She allowed a tear of joy to run down her cold cheek. then followed Enid inside, pushing the door shut on their home as happy squeals and laughs sounded from their bathroom. Clearly their daughter was receiving her first ever bath.

Wednesday didn't even try to stop the dimples from appearing on her cheeks as she smiled.

“What a truly dreadful day” she muttered as she found herself skipping towards the bathroom, like a lovesick idiot.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

#wenclair #wednesday x enid #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday #wednesday is soft for enid #enid is a lesbian #wlw love

[libraryofgage]

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 ;)

-------

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.

--------

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.

-------

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

[princessofmarvel]

Cara Mia

Summary | You and Marc are invited to a Halloween party by Layla, and before you can get out the door, Jake just has to have a moment with you in your costume. 

 Pairing | Marc Spector x fem!reader/Jake Lockley x fem!reader, And A mention of Steven Grant x fem!reader lol. 

Genre | Fluff! 

 Word Count | 753

Warnings! | Allusions To Smut!, Marc Spector, Inaccurate DID, Some Google Translate Spanish , And, Not Really Proofread! Lol . 

Author's Note! | I rewatched the Addams family and I could just not stop thinking of this! Lmao, If you are not familiar "Cara Mia" Is A Term Of Endearment That Gonez Addams Uses For Morticia Addams! And As Always I Also Have Severe OCD So If There Are Random Cap’s Where There Normally Would Not Be, I’m So Sorry, And That Is Why! But, I Think That I Did Pretty Well This Time! Lol .

  You and Marc had been invited to a Halloween party by Layla.  He begged you to not go. He would rather order take out and watch Halloween movies with you on the couch all night instead of going to a party, because at a party, he would more than likely have to socialize. But, you wanted to go, and for you, he would do anything. 

He looked at himself in the mirror and thought that he looked absolutely ridiculous. He had been growing and keeping up this pencil stache for about 2 weeks now. Jake seemed to think that they looked good with it, Marc and Steven, not so much. 

He put on the suit and walked out of the bathroom to get the cigar. But, he was quickly stopped in his tracks when he saw you looking in the mirror dressed as one Morticia Addams. 

"Marc! What do you think?" You said giving him a quick little spin in your costume. You were very pleased with how it all turned out. Especially with how he looked. 

The words were taken out of Marc's mouth, he was in pure awe of you. The way the dress hugged you in all the right places. The way you had styled your hair. Once Marc had figured out the words to say, the body had been taken over before he could even say them. 

"Cara Mia indeed." Jake said, walking up to you with his arms out and ready to hold you from behind. He was frilled when you told Marc that you wanted to go as Gomez And Morticia Addams for this Halloween Party and had immediately offered to take over the body on that day since it fell on one of Marc's days . Much to his dismay though, Marc refused, claiming that The Invitation was for him and Steven and not Jake. 

“Jake, Sweetheart, you know that it’s Marcs night.” You said to him while smiling. One of yours and Jake's favorite things to do together was to watch “The Addams Family''.  It started with having to pick a movie one night to watch together while you ate your dinner.  Jake had been the one to suggest it.  It turned into watching the movies so many times that you could quote them, to having the 1960s show on while you did random things during the day such as cleaning. The two of you just bonded over it. 

“Mi Amor, Do you truly expect me to stay away, and let Marc have you all to himself when you are dressed like this?” He asked while he was staring at you through the mirror. He could feel Marc trying to take over the body again, but Jake was just not gonna let that happen right now.  He couldn’t help himself. 

“I will give the body back in a moment, cariño. I just need a moment with you in this dress, I mean, I think that poor little Steven might have fainted.” He said, causing you to turn around in a panic. 

“What do you mean? Is he alright?” You asked with worry written all over your face. 

“He’s fine, Querida. Just in awe of how absolutely beautiful you are.” He said leaning in to kiss you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Every time Jake kissed you he always took your breath away. He always kissed you with so much passion that it almost hurt when it ended. 

“I will give the body back to Marc, but only if you promise to put this outfit back on for me, okay?” He said while putting a hand on your face to graze his thumb over your cheekbone while you nodded. 

The next thing you know, Marc is back and moving his hands to your waist. “I ought to find a way to kill Jake for taking me away from you when you look like this.” He said, Causing you to laugh. “You look absolutely stunning.” 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Marc.” You said while adjusting his tie. “Are you sure that you don’t want to keep the stache?” 

“Oh, you like it that much?” He said, smiling and pulling you closer. 

“Maybe.” You told him in a sing-song voice. “It suits you.” 

“Well, I’ll keep it long enough for you to have your fun with it, Cara Mia.” And with that, you knew you were going to be dragged out of that Halloween party as soon as possible and in for a long night. 

#steven grant imagine #steven grant #marc spector #marc spector imagine #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marvel #steven grant imagines #steven grant fluff #mcu #moon knight #moon knight smut #oscar isaac #moon knight series #moon knight marvel #moon knight mcu #jake lockley #jake lockley imagine #jake lockely smut #jake lockely fluff #jake lockely x reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector x you

[ninebluehearts]

Mr and Mrs. Moon Knight

Requested by: @lovingblueheart23 ☺💕

("Telling someone we're with our husband near the boys to see their reaction 😆 Like calling them husband")

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Marc: You're walking around downtown with Marc, just enjoying the warm weather and doing some shopping for your new apartment. As you're checking out at one of the stores, you notice how the cashier is flirting with Marc. Right in front of you.

So, you reach over and grab one of the t-shirts Marc was was buying and held it up. "Excuse me, I forgot, but my husband wanted to know if this came in a different color? Preferably red." You ground out, trying to sound as nice as possible.

Marc reached over and grabbed your hand, gently squeezing it. "Babe, I told you, that color is fine." He said with a grin, shaking his head as he looked back at the cashier. "Sorry, my wife can be a bit forgetful sometimes."

Steven: It had been a lazy day at the flat. You and Steven had spent the day curled up on the couch, watching reruns of old movies/shows, like Dracula or The Addams Family show. Neither one of you wanted to get up to cook, so you both agreed on ordering pizza.

"Babe, what kind of toppings do you want?" You asked Steven, holding the phone away from you.

"Whatever you want is fine, love. Just make sure you get breadsticks."

So you nodded and told the guy you wanted to do a pepperoni and black olive pizza. And when he asked if you wanted anything else, you just grinned and said. "Oh yeah, my husband would some bread sticks, please." And when you looked over, Steven was just staring at you, obviously not knowing what to do with himself.

After you hung up, he reached over and gently took your hand, rubbing the back with his thumb. "Love? I-I think you may have made a mistake. You told him that I was your husband." He seemed even more confused when you started laughing.

"Oh, my bad. I guess we're gonna have to get married now." You said with a wink, leaning over to kiss his blushing cheeks.

Jake: You were sitting at a bar waiting for the drinks you ordered for yourself and Jake, when you felt an unfamiliar hand on your shoulder. You turned around to find a tall, kinda handsome man standing right behind you.

"Hey, baby. The name's Chad. And yours?" He asked, flicking his dark brown hair to the side.

"Um-" but before you could respond, you felt a familiar hand on your lower back, pulling you closer.

"Can I help you?" Jake asked the man, a slight growl in his tone.

Chad crossed his arms, letting out a small scoff. "Who's this?" He asked, all kinds of audacity in his voice.

"Well Chad, this is my husband Jake." The hand on your lower back tensed for a moment, then moved over to your hip, gently gripping it.

"Sí, so you better leave mi esposa alone, amigo." Jake said as he leaned down and kissed your head, pulling you towards the door with a giant grin on his face. "Don't worry mi amor, your esposo will take you somewhere else for drinks."

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight imagine #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #moonknight headcanons #moonknight hc #request

[twisted-lover-boys]

Henlooo!!can I request Wednesday like s/o with the dorm leaders?male or gn,up to you(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Thank you and have a nice day!

Dorm Leaders With A Wednesday Addams Boyfriend

{not proof-read}

Addams family!!!! Man it has been forever since I watched them so I’ll do my best!

This took me forever my god—

==================================

🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

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Riddle knew his boyfriend was considered weird what with their dark color palette, dark interests, and seeming lack of emotion but he never really thought about it when he fell in love with you

Speaking of, your weirder interests included cryptic stories of monsters and myths, watching murder mysteries, and gothic tales of ghosts and atrocities. Riddle does not enjoy your interests and would rather not dive deep in with you but he’s not one to judge others on their interests

However, your more calmer interests include music. Riddle very much loves listening to you especially since you enjoy playing with your cello, fencing as you were very good at it and Riddle enjoys watching you on his free time, and writing although your stories were on the dark side.

Riddle knows his boyfriend isn’t very good with physical affection and always asks or give little hints which you usually pick up on very fast but he never goes over short hugs and hand holding. Your ways of affection usually some in ways of personalized gifts and quality time, which Riddle absolutely enjoys

Riddle gets very defensive when someone insults you or tries to call you weird. He knows you don’t care but he’d be remiss if he let you take those insults lying down

He knows that no matter how protective he is of you, he can never match your scary reputation which easily makes others retract their words on the dorm leader

No matter how weird other may think you are or how scary you can be, Riddle loves you very dearly and could never imagine a better boyfriend than you

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Leona doesn’t know how he always gets involved with weird people, his boyfriend being the biggest one but he’d be a damn liar if he said I didn’t fall head first for you

Honestly, he can’t understand your love of horror stories and gothic tales of murder but he doesn’t mind your interest in cryptics as he’s heard his fair share of cryptics in his home land

Your less-weirder interests include classical music, especially your cello which Leona wouldn’t mind listening to, fencing and he loves watching you kick butt, and writing just please don’t ask him to spell check he will fall asleep

Leona knows you’re not good with physical affection which he doesn’t mind but he always asks before he touches you. Your ways of affection were simple, such as handmade gifts and just spending quality time together which he is more than happy with

Leona isn’t one to let you take insults lying down, especially when it’s some student stepping out of line. Although you say you don’t care, he does and refuses to let you be slandered

However, he knows you can be just as protective him when it comes to someone trying to challenge him. He knows just how scary you can be so he’s not trying to jump in and stop you. Rather, he’s laughing from afar

No matter how weird you may seem or how troublesome Leona says you can be, he really does love you and wouldn’t trade that for anything

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Azul has always been around people that many considered weird and his boyfriend was no different…but he never really cared. Who’s to say what’s weird and what isn’t?

Your love of cryptics and horror really send chills up Azul’s spine and your gothic tales cause him to shiver in both the wrong and right ways. Of course, he’s not one to judge. They’re your interests and you can dive as deep as you want into them…just don’t bring him along

In contrast, your love of music and your mastery of the cello is something he can relate to as he is a classical musician as well he plays the piano shut up and your love of writing, although the tales are very grim. Your skills in fencing really stick out amongst your other interests but he’d be a liar is he said you weren’t good

You’re both touch starved messes one of you more than the other so touching is very hard for either of you but, when it happens, you don’t let go. However, your form of affection usually comes in the forms of gifts and quality time, which is still able to make Azul’s heart stop

Azul is already blackmailing anyone who tries to call you weird or call you out in general. Even though you’ve said that you don’t care what people think, he does and he refuses to let someone bad mouth his boyfriend

However, he knows how protective you can be over him. Your stoic, scary demeanor is enough to make someone stop their trash talk and, honestly, that makes him happy

Azul is one love sick octopus for you and, no matter what anyone says or thinks, you’ll always be a sweet and caring boyfriend to him

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Kalim never really cared if people though his boyfriend was weird or scary because he doesn’t see them like that. You’re his loving boyfriend so why would others thoughts get in the way of that?

Kalim can’t really enjoy your love of cryptics, horror, and gothic tales and he feels bad. Even though you tell him that it’s okay that he doesn’t like them, that he doesn’t have to force himself to like your interests because you’re his boyfriend, but he can’t help it

However, he enjoys your musical talent, especially with the cello, he enjoys watching you write even if he doesn’t like the tale itself, and enjoys watching you fence

He knows you’re not good with physical affection and he tends to forget when he always goes for your hands or for hugs and you unknowingly flinch, but he’s more than content with your handmade gifts and the sheer amount of quality time you spend together

Kalim doesn’t really like it when people try to insult you by calling you awful names. You’ve told him that you don’t care about what they say but he does and he doesn’t want you to hear those things

Kalim knows that you can be scarily protective of him whenever someone tries to be mean to him. He may not recognize when someone is trying to be rude but you certainly can

Kalim is a love sick fool for his boyfriend and, honestly, you don’t mind and neither does he

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Vil doesn’t really care if his boyfriend is weird or not since he’s always surrounded by people he considers weird himself so why would he call his boyfriend that?

Your love of horror and cryptic tales is not one he is fond of but, surprisingly, he doesn’t mind your love of gothic tales or aesthetics. In fact, your wardrobe is tailored to such an aesthetic, all thanks to Vil

Your other interests are also ones he doesn’t mind. Your love of music and your mastery of the cello, your love of writing, and your skills in fencing. He loves listening to you play and loves watching you fence as he finds it entertaining

Both you and Vil are not very good with physical affection, opting for thoughtful or handmade gifts and quality time to show your love for each other and you know what? It works

Vil will never, ever, EVER let anyone bad mouth you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t care about what people say he refuses to let alone bring down you, your image, or your reputation

On the opposite side, you make sure no one bad mouths. Again, he may not care about what people say but you’re not about to let anyone get away with it

Anyone would be a fool to think that Vil doesn’t love you because he absolutely does and he wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything

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Idia was absolutely scared of his boyfriend when he first met him but now he’s just numb to his stoic and scary demeanor

Honestly, Idia would probably share your likes of cryptics and gothic tales solely because there’s a possibility he consumes anime like that. However, he doesn’t share the same energy you have for horror but he will watch it with you if he wants to

Idia may not like the same music as you but he considers your classical cello playing nice background music. He kind of lets you to your own thing with writing and likes watching you fence through the security cams

You’re both not great with physical affection but neither of you minds. Since you both like to show your affection through gifts and quality time, you both couldn’t be more content

Idia is more than ready to defend your name if someone tries to say negative things about you. He is ready to throw hands…just not in public. Man is only strong behind a screen or in a position of power—

However, you’re ready to spill blood if anyone tries to say anything negative about Idia to your face. Honestly, it both scares and flatters the dorm head

Idia genuinely doesn’t care what others think. You’re his boyfriend and that’s that, nothing more nothing less

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Malleus doesn’t really understand why people think his boyfriend is weird but it’s probably because someone could compare him to a love sick dog

Malleus shares some of your interests but for very different reasons. Cryptics, horror, and gothic tales he find interesting because of their history and appeal while you like them because of how dark they are

On the opposite side, you both play classical music together, you on cello and Malleus on violin, sharing short stories that you wrote, and watching you fence which Malleus finds amusing

Physical affection between you two is non existent because Malleus doesn’t really know where to start because he’s touch starved while you’re just generally uncomfortable with it. However, gift giving and quality time is perfect for you

Malleus knows you don’t need his protection but he would never let you take an insult laying down, no matter how many times you say you don’t care what people say about you

You know that Malleus doesn’t need your protection but you’d never let anyone get away with an insult to your boyfriend, no matter how many times he says their comments are insignificant to him

You’re both a scary power couple that is so madly in love it’s like watching a romcom in real life—

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲🌹🦁🐙🦂👑💀🐲

==================================

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x male reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x male reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x male reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x male reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x male reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x male reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x male reader

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.20

Summary: Grief comes in many different forms and stages. You're stuck on anger, and Wednesday accompanies you to the funeral. But she says something wrong, with the best of intentions, and you end up doing something that will change your family dynamic for the worse.

Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: grief, child abuse, self neglect (not eating, recklessness, not taking care of self, excessive drinking), extreme anger, flashbacks (mentions of car accident, injuries, illusions to criminal activity), swearing, violence, smoking Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @captainbeat @smromanoff

Everyone says grief comes in five stages; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. But you disagree. It’s not five stages, it’s one. Only one stage that washes over you like a wave and holds you under until you’re drowning. You’re drowning and watching everyone on the surface live their lives as if you aren’t just right underneath them, choking on the salty sea water as you scream for help.

It’s only one stage; agony.

The house was bigger than you remembered when you got home far too early in the morning. The barristers were cleaner, the kitchen was far more pristine, and it was quiet. It was far too quiet, and your hands started to go clammy at the revelation. There wasn’t even any comfort in the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. Tick-tocks burned themselves into your brain until it was stabbing into your head like a knife.

You started humming a tuneless song. It eased the pain slightly.

"Don't hum, dear," your mother said as she took her gloves off and handed them to your maid and previous nanny, Mabel. "It's childish."

Your humming died off and the silence came back.

"Mabel will show you to your room,” your father said, resting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. For a moment, things almost seemed okay. “We will mourn tomorrow, then start the preparations.”

And just like that everything came crashing down once again. Paired perfectly with the migraine that still refused to settle.

“Oh, Y/N,” your father called out before you managed to get more than three steps up.

You turned around slowly, each joint still aching from the fall earlier in the night. Was it that same night? It felt so long ago. Nothing felt like you had been on a carnival date earlier in the night, that you had been having fun with Wednesday and the gang less than eight hours ago. Or was it longer than that? Did it even matter anymore?

“Your principal wanted you to have your phone back,” he continued when you stayed silent. He smiled softly down at the phone in his hands before looking up and handing it back. “Your conversations are a bit concerning,” he said when your fingers brushed his to take it back. “I installed a program to track your activity.” You blinked once. “For your well-being.”

For my well-being. Right. Of course.

“You have a few unread messages,” your father called after you as you turned to walk back up the stairs. “You should let them know everything is alright.”

Be angry, a voice in the back of your head growled when Mabel continued to guide you through the now-unfamiliar corridors. It was a familiar voice, one that hadn’t reared its head in months, but you couldn’t quite place it. He went through your phone, so you need to get angry. No. No, you wouldn’t get angry. Why not? Your jaw clenched painfully. Nicky wouldn’t have gotten angry.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in the doorway of the room - your room - and looked sideways at Mabel. She looked older, more worn. Maybe it was just from working for your parents for so long. How was her son? Had he graduated college yet? He had wanted to be an engineer, if you remembered right. Why did she look so sad?

“I am truly sorry,” she said softly. “I cannot imagine your grief.”

No. No, she couldn’t imagine your grief. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to see him not even a week earlier, alive, and not knowing it would be the last time you saw him. She couldn’t fucking imagine what it was like and no one could fucking imagine what it was like.

The migraine throbbed again and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and ease it.

“The headaches will stop in time,” she said. Your eyes flew open. “They always have.”

“What?”

Mabel tilted her head and a crinkle formed between her eyes.

“Your headaches,” she said, her finger lifting to tap lightly against your left temple. “They always got worse when Nicky stopped suppressing.”

“Suppressing?”

Her sorrowful smile slipped into a frown.

"Yes," she said softly, "don't you remember?"

No.

"Well, I suppose that would defeat the point," she chuckled lightly. "He could suppress memories," she explained softly, gently, agonisingly. "He always chose the bad ones, of course." 

No. 

"I myself got a slight headache when he passed."

No.

"It's how I knew he was truly gone."

No!

"Y/N?"

You shoved past Mabel, forcing her back into the hall. The stairs passed under you four at a time until you were on the ground floor.

"Darling?-"

"-Where are you going?-"

"-It's 4 in the morning-"

"-Get back in the house."

Your parents' calls fell on deaf ears as you threw the front door open and stormed outside. Your feet picked up speed as you walked down the endless driveway. The moment they hit the pavement you broke out into a jog, then a sprint. Your shoes hit the pavement of the road in a steady rhythm.

"You really wanna know?" Nicky asked after taking another one of your chess pieces.

"You promised you would tell me," you said with a frown.

"How about I make it your graduation present," he teased. "Give you something to look forward to."

"Deal," you said with a smile. He knocked your king off the board.

The excessively large houses blurred as you ran down the street. Motion lights turned on and guard dogs barked when you passed by.

"That was the year they left us to fend for ourselves for the week," Nicky laughed with Yoko.

"I don't remember that," you said with a slight frown.

"You were, uh, too young," Nicky said with a smile and a pat on your back. "Not worth remembering anyway."

The houses thinned and were quickly replaced with trees. Your feet stumbled as pavement turned into dirt. Icy air froze your tired lungs, leaving a sensation of needles in your chest.

You pushed your feet faster.

"Nicky, I'm tired," you whined after tripping over your own feet again.

"Just a few more hours," he said. His shirt had finally dried and looked stiff. “Then we’ll be back at Nevermore.”

"You said that a few hours ago," you complained. "My skin is itchy."

"We'll wash it off later," he said. He wasn't even looking at you.

"Are they gonna find us?" You asked as you did a little jog to catch up to him and hold his hand.

"No," he said without hesitation. The dried blood was starting to flake off his forehead. The cut on his nose looked angry.

"Is this gonna give me bad dreams?" You asked in a small voice. He stopped in his tracks and picked you up, letting you crawl onto his back.

"Of course not," he said softly. "You won't even remember it."

The forest flew by. Each twig and branch that whipped across your face made you feel more and more alive. It was a feeling, and you needed a feeling. Anything, everything, whatever you could get.

Everything hurt. Oh god, it hurt so bad and you couldn’t scream.

“Hang on, kid, we’ve gotta get the door.”

“Where’s Nicky?” You asked. Your tongue felt heavy, like lead.

“Gotta get you first,” a man’s voice said. “Stay still.”

“Nicky?” You slurred; the words tasted of copper.

Your eyes fell to the top of the car that was now underneath you. It was covered in something shiny. Something red.

Your lungs couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t take the cold, couldn’t take the exertion, the stress, none of it. And it felt. You could feel them. The more you ran, the more it hurt and soon you could focus on the pain in your side instead of the pain in your head.

Memory suppression.

There was no thought about stopping, your feet just slowed their movements until you collapsed to your knees on the cold, damp forest floor. You felt the end of a stick dig into your hand, splitting the skin. The blood was warm; it was comforting. Each gasping breath felt like you were inhaling shards of glass, each one more painful than the last.

And it felt.

“I feel angry,” you said as you sat at the top of the wall and watched Nicky continue to climb.

“You always feel angry,” he grunted. He was stuck. As usual.

“I don’t know why,” you sighed. “I can’t think of anything that would make me angry.”

“It’ll go away,” he said as his face finally pulled up and you could look him in the eyes. “Good kids don’t stay angry.”

“Am I a good kid?” You asked softly. He smiled.

“The best.”

You let out the most feral, unhinged, excruciating scream you could possibly produce. It hurt your throat and left it feeling raw.

But it felt.

The sun had started to rise before you could get up from your position on the ground. Your knees were stiff and soaked to the bone and the stick in your hand had broken off. It would leave a splinter that would need to be dug out. There was a lingering ache in your throat and lungs and that migraine still wouldn’t go away. And when you started walking mindlessly back to the house, you could feel blisters on your feet and heels; a few of them even popped.

But at least it felt.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?-”

“-We were about to call the police-”

“-You look like a stray dog-”

“-We just cleaned the entry-”

“-Where do you think you’re going?”

You couldn’t recall getting home. But you continued walking through the house as your parents called after you, practically dragging yourself up the stairs until you made it into your room. The door fell shut and the lock clicked into place and all you could do was fall back to your knees.

The cold wooden floor didn’t feel so bad. At least it felt.

—---

You wished you were numb again.

The day of mourning came and went, each second testing your patience and wearing you thin. You hadn’t slept, hadn’t showered, hadn’t even gotten up from your spot on the floor. You could hear your phone vibrating on the wood, almost loud enough to wake the dead. Maybe it would wake Nicky, you thought before finally checking it to make it stop.

Not even noon and you had 17 missed calls, 72 texts, and a plethora of messages from the vast array of other social media outlets. A large number were from Yoko, then Ajax, the rest of the group, and your family back home. Two or three calls from Momma Weems and your family. But your eyes started to sting when you saw the name for two messages.

Nicky.

You clicked on them immediately, desperately hoping to see what he had said. Something in the back of your head was screaming at you not to open them, not to get your hopes up. Your eyes trailed over the messages, reading them once, twice, three times before it finally clicked.

It wasn’t Nicky.

You had given Wednesday his phone.

You hadn’t ever changed the name.

Nicky: Thing wishes to know if you’ve made it back safe.

Nicky: I wish to know as well.

Fuck. Now you were making Wednesday feel things too? Why would she even care anyway.  It wasn’t like she loved you anyway, wasn’t like she even really cared. You knew she didn’t do love, she had said it to her mother time and time again. Why would she care if you were safe.

Didn’t she know Nicky was the one who needed the attention?

You growled at nothing in particular before throwing your phone across the room, hearing the screen shatter when it hit the wall. The sound made you flinch and you instantly felt that guilty feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. It vibrated again.

You didn’t check it.

—---

“You need to eat something before you go,” Mabel urged you once again as you finished buttoning up your shirt.

“‘m not hungry,” you mumbled. Your fingers faltered on the buttons; it wasn’t fitting like it was supposed to.

“You haven’t eaten in five days,” she said in a far softer voice. It was humiliating.

“Too busy planning,” you said, finally deciding to give up and instead throwing a jacket over the crooked, too-big shirt. “I’ll eat when I’m dead.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

You moved past Mabel and went down the stairs to meet up with your parents. It was the day to finalise plans; something that you knew was going to cause argument after argument. There had already been too many screaming matches the past few days, none of which ever came to a definitive conclusion.

Maybe today would be different.

“That jacket is unprofessional,” your mother said with a slight frown.

“The shirt doesn’t fit,” you said without looking up at her. Your fingers toyed with the shattered phone in your pocket.

“We will have it tailored,” your mother sighed, “again.”

“We will discuss it later,” your father said as he ushered everyone to the car. “We need to get going so we won’t be late.”

You sat in the back with the both of them while Jenkins started the drive to the funeral home. With a thunk, your head hit the window and you looked out at the houses passing by. The harness was pulled painfully tight and your wings were already stiff, but you didn’t care. At least it felt, right?

The phone in your pocket vibrated, and you pulled it out slowly to look at the two new messages.

Yoko: You don’t have to answer me, but answer Wednesday. She’s losing her mind

Ash: just saw your pop in town. told me about nicky. im so sorry

You exhaled through your nose and slid the phone back into your pocket without answering. There was no time to answer anyone anyway, you had planning to do. Although you shouldn’t be, he was still the source of the migraine that refused to go away.

Memory suppression. Just the thought made you sick and your mouth feel like you had swallowed cotton. How could he do that? How could he just hide your memories from you? Your own memories. He had no fucking right, those were your memories, not his.

“We’re here.”

You pulled your head back from the window and blinked a few times, doing your best to hide the anger. As you uncurled your fists, you could feel your nails pulling out of the skin; you had left four perfect crescent shaped cuts on your palms. Thankfully your pants were black, and you wiped the slightest bit of blood off on the legs.

The next thing you remember is sitting in one of the chairs across from the funeral director. You couldn’t recall getting out of the car, or introducing yourself. Hopefully you had done well or you would get an earful once you left.

“Today you will select the casket and can order the headstone,” the funeral director said as he slid over a bunch of paper.

“Casket?” You asked, turning your head to look at your parents. “We never agreed on burial.”

“Your mother and I have made the executive decision,” your father said with a smile.

“Then make a different one,” you said with a slightly raised voice.

“I’ll give you three a moment,” the funeral director said with a professional smile. Everyone stayed silent as he grabbed a few things and left, shutting the door behind him.

“Do not question our decisions in front of strangers,” your father said, his polite smile falling immediately.

“He didn’t want to be buried,” you said. Your chest felt tight, like it was caught in vice grips.

“He shall be buried with the other Smiths,” your mother said while you chuckled humourlessly. You pushed your chair back and stood up, walking to the other side of the table and pacing.

“He said he didn’t want to be buried,” you argued; the migraine was back. “Said it creeped him out and he would rather be cremated.”

“We never heard him say such a thing,” your mother said with a sigh.

“Maybe because you were never there,” you scoffed before freezing in your tracks.

Instantly the atmosphere in the room changed from uneasiness to aggression. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck and arms stand up and your breath caught in your throat as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I beg your pardon?”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry-”

“-We were never there?” Your father asked, louder this time. 

You could hear the chair scrape against the floor and you turned your body to face him. He looked furious and the migraine came back stronger than before. Almost like someone was pushing glass into each individual fold of your brain. You could feel your palms getting sweaty.

Fight back, the voice in your head said. He abandoned us. Fight. Back.

“You weren’t there,” you said with a shaky voice. Be confident. “You left us and didn’t come back.”

“Did you ever stop to ask yourself why we would even consider doing such a thing?” Your father asked.

“Let’s focus on the burial,” your mother cut in, “we can talk about this later.”

“It’s because you produced two freak kids,” you said, your voice stronger, more confident. Your father walked around the table to come closer. Keep fighting. “Could you imagine if that got out?” He looked furious. “If anyone discovered that the high and mighty Smith family had two Outcast kids that they hid away-”

-your head jerked to the right as the slap echoed in the otherwise silent room. Keep it together, you thought as your lower lip started to quiver. You held back the stinging in your eyes as you stood up taller and turned back around to face him. It was times like this where you wished you were smaller so you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You will never say such a thing again,” he said as he jabbed a finger into your chest. “Do I make myself clear?”

Hit him back.

“Crystal,” you whispered through clenched teeth.

“He will be buried,” your father said with another jab. “That’s final.”

You could feel the persistent stinging of your cheek as you all sat down and the funeral director came back in. He didn’t comment. You didn’t prompt him to.

—---

Mabel had worked for the Smith family for 23 years, she knew when to hold her tongue. But when you all came back from the funeral home and she saw the new blooming bruise on your cheek, she felt a mix of anger and pity. She wouldn’t pretend you were the best at holding your tongue; you never had been. But your father also allowed you to push his buttons until he snapped.

She didn’t have to ask to know that was exactly what happened.

The days leading up to the funeral reminded her an awful lot of when you were younger, with the obvious differences. You were still reckless, almost even careless. Accidentally breaking things, roaming around the house without direction, doing anything and everything your heart desired without seeking permission or forgiveness.

There were times when she would be cleaning and would hear the sound of the grand piano lingering in the air, and she would sneak around the corner to watch you. Back ramrod straight, slender fingers poised perfectly over the keys, face completely neutral as you read the music on the stand. It was beautiful to hear you play again, and the occasional jazz tune that would sound when you were certain your mother wasn’t around was all the more enjoyable because of the slightest smile on your face.

Other times Mabel would catch you leaving the house without warning, not coming back until late in the night with dazed eyes and dried tear tracks on your cheeks. Those were the nights she would gently take you by the shoulders and guide you back up to your room. You did nothing to assist her as she cleaned you up and dressed you in something comfortable so she could put you to bed.

She did her best to ignore each and every new bruise or scratch or scar.

It was impossible to get you to eat. You dropped weight faster than she could keep track of, and no matter how many meals she left in your room, they always went untouched. She tried to keep small snacks like protein bars in your room in the hopes that you would eat them, but she had no way to tell if you did or not.

On evenings where guests would come over and you would be “encouraged” to socialise, she took note of the amount of drinks you would have each evening. It was always far too many, and she and Jenkins would end up carrying you back up to your bed before everyone had left for the night. You would always accept your scolding with a grimace and two Tylenol the next morning and go about your day.

You would pick fights with your parents. Never over anything important, always little things and they were starting to pick up on that as well. At first they had fought back, getting into screaming matches with you and sending you off to your room. But then you tried to start fights over the silverware, or the way your shoes fit, or even how bright the lights were in the room. It didn’t take long for your parents to stop arguing back and just ignore you.

Mabel noticed that almost made you more angry.

Other times, your parents would nit pick at you as well. Over your hair, or the style of clothing you wore. If you had worn the same shirt twice or tracked mud into the house. Your speech quickly became more "professional" and you selected your words carefully in an effort to retaliate. It was far less outwardly destructive, but Mabel could still see the damage it inflicted reflect in your eyes.

But through all of your anger and self destruction and attempts to grab anyone’s attention, you always treated her and Jenkins with the utmost kindness and respect. That was what reminded her of when you were young. It was in the gentle “thank yous” or the soft smiles when she would hand you something. The questions about her son, or about Jenkins’ wife and cats, or any of the neighbours.

She knew you were a good kid. She knew, and Jenkins knew, and that was probably what hurt them the most through it all. You were a good kid with no one to truly lean on and no one to help guide you through this loss. And they knew it was just going to build and build and build inside you until it exploded.

The day before the funeral was the day you would see Nicky for the last time, and Mabel could see the fear and anger in your eyes. She and Jenkins had fully prepared themselves for your mental state when you got back, but even they couldn’t have prepared themselves fully.

You came into the house dazed, not hearing a single thing your parents were saying. But then it was like a switch had been flipped and you clenched your jaw before making a snide remark back to your mother. It didn’t take long to turn into a screaming match, and Mabel and Jenkins watched in horror as you balled up your fist and swung at your father.

The fear in his own eyes was evident even though your fist connected with the brick wall beside him; whether on purpose or not, you had missed him completely. Tears fell from your eyes and you screamed again as your father pulled you into a hug. Mabel watched helplessly as you tried to push him away before finally giving in and crying into his shoulder.

You held onto him like your life depended on it as your blood dripped down the pristine, white walls of the house.

“Your tie is crooked,” Mabel told you on the morning of the funeral. You had been struggling to get ready for over an hour, and no amount of makeup could hide the bags under your eyes or the lingering bruise on your cheek.

“So are these fucking buttons,” you mumbled as you ripped your dress shirt open to start over. She could feel you getting angry again. It was probably from the lack of sleep.

Or lack of food.

Or lack of help in general.

“Stay still,” Mabel huffed, setting the laundry basket down on your bed and standing in front of you.

You sighed, but remained still as she got to work on your shirt. It had been tailored only a few days before and still seemed a bit big again; it broke her heart. But she did her best to ignore it and focused on buttoning up your shirt properly. Your violent treatment had loosened two or three buttons, but she certainly wasn’t going to bring that up to you.

“How have your school ties survived this long if you can’t do them yourself?” She asked, her eyes darting up to meet yours. She almost thought you smiled.

“Wednesday always fixes them for me,” you said. You didn’t look down, but that was alright, she was focused on your tie anyway.

“You like this girl?” She asked softly. If your parents heard, they would have started screaming.

“A lot,” you answered just as softly. “I think I love her.”

“That’s a big emotion for you,” she said not unkindly.

“I hope I don’t fuck it up,” you whispered.

“You won’t,” she said with a smile as she patted your tie down. “You’re all set.”

You turned to look up at the mirror, eyes squinting and your jaw clenching before you relaxed. Mabel kept her smile to herself; she didn’t want to unintentionally encourage you to fight the reflection. You stood up straight and pressed your tie flat once again before slipping the suit jacket on.

“Thank you, Mabel,” you said softly, and you quickly leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Your lips were chapped, but it was expected.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” she said with a smile. You smiled back once, halfheartedly, before walking out of the room.

She really hoped your anger wouldn’t explode at the funeral.

—---

The whole car ride made Wednesday feel sick to her stomach. It had been a short flight down to D.C. and now she, Thing, Yoko, and Weems were finishing the trip with the short drive to the funeral. The rest of the gang had opted to stay at Nevermore for the time being; they didn't want to overwhelm you. The funeral was supposed to be outside, or so your mother had said, but it looked like rain. Usually perfect for such an occasion.

Just not this one.

She checked the phone again, hoping you had finally answered. It was a foolish hope, she knew that much, but it still resided in her chest. No one had heard anything from you since you had left the harvest festival, not even Yoko or your family. She shouldn’t have expected you to answer her of all people.

But she hoped you would have.

“We shall give her space,” Weems said once she pulled the car through the gates to the cemetery. It was connected to the reception hall, where everyone would go after the service.

It reminded Wednesday an awful lot of the cemetery back home.

“Except you, Addams,” Yoko said, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

“Why me?” She asked.

“You give her peace,” Weems answered.

Well, that was comforting; surprising, Wednesday knew. To know that everyone else could see her effect on you; had they seen your effect on her? They probably had. Enid certainly had, and that was more than enough torture. But if they said she gave you peace, then who was she to argue.

Once the car was parked, everyone got out. Thing climbed onto her shoulder as she unfolded the umbrella. She waited patiently as Weems and Yoko got out as well, each holding their own umbrellas, before they started the short walk to the grave.

It seemed the rain had ruined the original funeral plans, seeing how no one was sitting anymore and the chairs were in the process of being removed. Wednesday and the small group stood off to the side and waited. They hadn’t exactly been invited, but who was going to stop them? Especially at a funeral.

You were one of the lead pallbearers, the one on the front left. Wednesday felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight of you; dark eyes, clothes hanging off your smaller frame, your wings invisible beneath your suit jacket. But the worst part was you didn’t seem sad. No, you looked angry.

After lowering the casket back to the ground, you hesitated, your fingers running across the wood before you walked to stand near your parents. They tried to offer you an umbrella but you ignored them. You simply stood in the rain, looking down at Nicky’s casket as an old, unsteady man started talking.

Wednesday simply watched you the whole time. Watched the difference in your posture, your back straight and head up. She took note of the way you clasped your hands in front of you even though she could see the scabbed over skin pulled taut across your knuckles. She watched the muscles in your jaw tighten and relax, over and over and over as you blinked too many times to keep the tears at bay.

You were upset, rightfully so, but Wednesday couldn’t have found you more beautiful. Not because you were suffering, not because you were struggling, but because you were. You were handling everything so well, at least on the outside, and she couldn’t help but admire the way the rain fell down your face, caressing the skin in comfort.

Your family, you included, looked impeccable standing there together. Wednesday could only imagine how powerful all of you would have looked if the four of you had been together; you, Nicky, and your parents. Standing there in perfectly tailored suits, manicured to perfection, neutral expressions on your faces. Is that how you would have looked if you had stayed with them? Would she have had the same pull toward you?

She waited until the funeral itself was over before making her way to your side. Everyone else - including Thing - had gone inside to escape the rain and start the reception, but you didn’t move a muscle. Her shoulder brushed against your arm when she got close enough, and for a moment your shoulders fell and your jaw unclenched.

“I’m tired, Wends,” you said in such a quiet voice that Wednesday almost couldn’t hear you over the rain. “And I feel alone.”

Time to use the comfort teachings everyone had been helping her with for the past two weeks. They had drilled it into her head time and time again, through all hours of the day and night until she could recite it properly. It was robotic sounding, she knew that much, but it was a start. She hoped it would work.

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Wednesday said. You stiffened beside her. “But you are not alone.”

“Did Yoko teach you that?” You asked, immediately catching on. She should have known better.

“I-,” don’t lie, “-yes,” she admitted. “I’m not particularly adept at comfort.”

“I don’t want comfort,” you said, turning to look at her. The rain had finally started washing off the makeup from your face and she thought she could see something on your cheek. “I don’t want pity. I want you to be real with me.”

“Real?” Wednesday inquired with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Wednesday, real,” you huffed. “Be real with me and tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now that you had put her on the spot, she wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She was thinking of the now-obvious bruise on your cheek and where it had possibly come from. She was thinking of the bags under your eyes if you had been getting enough sleep, which clearly you hadn’t.

Part of her was thinking of her own parents, as unusual as it would be. How they had fallen in love at a funeral and had confessed their undying devotion to each other. Funerals had always been a romantic event for the Addams family, and she was aware this was for your brother, but she couldn’t deny she knew what her parents had meant every time they reminisced.

Oh. That’s what she was thinking.

“I am thinking…,” she paused, blinking at you twice, three times and looking away. You wanted real. She looked back up at you to meet your probing gaze. “I love you.”

Your brows knit together as you looked away from her for a moment.

“What?” You asked quietly.

“You asked what I was thinking,” Wednesday clarified slowly. “I was simply thinking that I-”

“-Don’t say it again,” you interrupted.

And right there, right then, Wednesday felt her cold dead heart break in her chest.

“You did not just say that,” you said with a huff. “Did you really just confess?”

“Yes,” Wednesday said indignantly. “It’s what I was thinking at the moment.”

“We’re at my brother’s funeral, Wednesday,” you said, far louder this time. “Do you really think this is the time?”

“You asked,” she said again. “Why would you ask if you didn’t want to know?”

“I can’t,” you said as you held your hands up and started backing up. “I just- I can’t do this right now.”

Wednesday let her umbrella fall as she watched you walk off toward the reception hall with hands on your head, covering your ears. She could feel the rain slowly seeping through her coat, but all she could really focus on was you. Only you, and how her father had been right.

Love was agony.

—---

You were going to be sick. You could feel it in your chest, your lungs, your stomach. Your mouth wouldn’t stop salivating and you were going to be sick. How could she say that? How could she tell you that now? Your palms were sweaty when you dragged them down your face, ignoring the makeup that you wiped off with it.

It should have been exciting to hear Wednesday say such a thing. She was capable of love, a genuine love, and had even felt so strongly as to verbally tell you as such. And it had been ruined because they had killed Nicky and now you couldn’t even enjoy the single fucking good thing in your life.

You felt sick.

Your parents were standing in the middle of the room, talking and laughing with some lawyer or congressman or senator or whoever the fuck else could put up with them long enough to talk. It was like they weren’t even upset, they weren’t even devastated that their son, their first born, was currently being buried six feet under. Didn’t they care?

You felt sick.

Weems, Yoko, and Thing were off to the side, talking with each other. They looked up, almost as if sensing your staring, and gave you sad smiles. They pity you, the voice in your head spat in disgust. You frowned at the thought and turned around, looking for someone, anyone to talk to. Hell, at that point you would’ve taken the old man off to the side that was giving you a look that made you rather uncomfortable.

Your eyes fell on a couple standing next to the fireplace, talking quietly with each other. Something about them seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place from where. But you stopped caring when you saw the subtle cloud of smoke fall from the taller one’s lips and you quickly made your way over.

“Mind if I steal a hit?” You asked when you got nearby. The taller one smiled sadly.

“Sure,” they said as they handed the vape over.

You grabbed it and brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply. It scalded your throat and stung your lungs as you held it in for far too long before slowly exhaling. You watched the smoke as it evaporated into the air, leaving nothing but a sickeningly sweet smell in its place.

“That’s disgusting,” you mumbled as you handed it back to them. The shorter one still hadn’t looked up from the hole they were staring into the ground.

“It’s marshmallow,” they chuckled.

“Like I said,” you said, “disgusting.”

“You’re Nicky’s sister,” they said with a half smile, avoiding your gaze by looking out at the crowd again.

“You’re a couple of strangers,” you said.

“I’m Casey,” they chuckled lightly, “and this is Devon.”

Devon finally looked up and eyed you up and down before looking back to the crowd with the slightest hint of a sneer. If you hadn’t spent so much time with Wednesday, you would’ve missed it. What could they possibly be sneering at you for? It was your brother’s funeral. You felt the muscles in your jaw tighten.

“He talked about you a lot,” Casey said softly.

“How would you know?” You asked way more harshly than necessary. Part of you didn’t care. Okay, none of you cared. “He hasn’t exactly done much talking recently.”

“The three of us were… close,” they said with a distracted nod.

“He was in a coma for four years,” you scoffed, “how close could you be.” You reached over and took the vape from their hand and brought it to your mouth for another hit.

“We were his partners.”

You choked on the smoke, leaving your throat raw and scratchy. Your head spun to look at Casey and Devon, eying them to see any sort of discrepancies in their body language. If Wednesday had taught you one thing, it was how to tell if someone was lying. Avoiding eye contact, licking their lips, anything.

There wasn’t a single sign.

He hadn’t told you he was dating anyone. Why hadn’t he told you? Surely he would have, you two told each other everything. He was your big brother, for fuck sake, he would have told you. Right?

Right?

“We loved him too,” Casey said softly; they still weren’t looking at you.

He lied. He fucking lied.

You looked out at the crowd and took another hit of the vape. Then another. And another. And a fourth one for good measure. It felt like your lungs were going to burn themselves to embers, but you didn’t care. At least it felt. After a fifth hit, you slipped it back into Casey’s hand and continued looking out at the crowd.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice now hoarse and deeper than usual.

“We’ll get through it,” they said. “He’ll get his justice.”

They know he deserves justice too, the voice in the back of your head said. You couldn’t argue with it. But what else could you say? It was too much and you had too many questions. Where had they met? How long had they known Nicky? How long had it been going on?

You felt sick.

You didn’t bother saying anything else to them before walking off, walking through a haze until you ended up with the group your parents were talking to. A few of them tried talking to you, giving their most insincere condolences before going back to their conversations.

It was disgusting. Watching them laugh and talk as if you weren’t standing at a funeral reception. As if you hadn’t been standing at Nicky’s literal graveside less than an hour ago. Heartless, the voice said, they killed him and are using it as an excuse to socialise. 

“I can’t recall what caused his condition,” one of the men said when there was a lull in the conversation.

“A car wreck,” your father said with a few mindless nods of his head.

“That’s tragic,” a woman said. “Drunk driver?”

“An Outcast, actually,” your father answered.

Wait.

“What did you say?” You asked, drawing everyone’s attention.

You felt something tug on your pants, and your eyes darted down for just long enough to see Thing. He was wearing a little black bowtie around one of his fingers. But you weren’t focusing on him; you were too busy thinking about what your father had said.

“I said an Outcast caused the wreck that killed my son,” your father continued. His back straightened as he kept eye contact with you.

“Abominations, the lot of them,” a man huffed before taking another drink of the wine in his glass.

Thing pulled at your pants leg again. You kicked him away, listened to the subtle sound of him scuttling across the floor. Thankfully no one else had noticed him.

“An Outcast didn’t kill him,” you bit back. “You two were the ones that pulled his life support.”

The group around you fell silent, now beyond interested in the conversation. Any chance to get a good helping of gossip, of course. That was how all socialites worked, especially when another socialite was involved. In this case it was your parents; they were going to be the talk of the town for a year.

“No son of mine should have to exist as a vegetable simply because we couldn’t be merciful,” your mother said. “Especially because of some sinful abomination.”

“Stop calling them abominations,” you growled through clenched teeth.

Your fingers were starting to ache as they curled into fists at your side. Your pulse was rushing in your ear and for a moment, you felt your chest was going to explode. That your heart would beat faster and faster, harder and harder until it finally broke free.

You took a single step closer.

“If it were up to me, I’d have them all euthanised,” your father said as he smiled at you with his “show everyone we’re perfect” smile. You took another step forward until you were almost directly in front of him. “The world would be a much better place.”

The sounds of the world muffled in your ears, and all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing. Erratic, shallow, rushed. Something dripped down your neck and your jaw felt like it was going to crack under the pressure. That migraine came roaring back as you stared into your father’s eyes.

Do it.

Your fist connected with his nose before you could even comprehend what was happening. The people around you gasped and stepped back as your father fell to the ground. One of his hands attempted to stop the flow of blood while he held the other out in front of him.

But you saw red.

You knelt down on top of him, only one thing on your mind as you grabbed his shirt collar. He almost looked remorseful for a moment. But only for a moment. Again. You tightened your grip on his collar as you swung again. And again. And again.

Harder.

You could hear Nicky in the back of your head, screaming and pounding against the inside of your skull. Telling you to stop, begging you to let your father go. Each time Nicky pounded against your skull, you threw another punch. And another. Something wet slid down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop.

Something wrapped around your waist and yanked you back. Hard. The wind flew out of your lungs and you instantly grabbed onto the arms around you. You tried to pull them off but your hands were slick and you couldn’t get a good hold. You were stuck.

“Y/N, stop,” the voice said into your ear. Weems?

“Say it again,” you shouted at your father who was frozen on the ground, bruised eyes focused on you. “Say it again, you fucking coward.”

“Breathe,” another voice said before someone stepped in front of you. Yoko?

“You're defending the group that killed your brother,” your mother said as she knelt down to look at your father’s injuries. He was wheezing and covered in blood. "You should do this to them instead."

You tried to lunge forward again, and the arms around your waist almost gave out. You threw a leg out, hoping to kick him while he was down. Just one more. But the arms around your waist tightened again, and Yoko grabbed your flailing feet until you were being carried out of the room.

“Don’t you fucking touch them,” you shouted as you continued attempting to fight and Weems and Yoko struggled to carry you. “I’ll fucking kill you next time.”

You felt sick.

The cold air and rain hit you like a brick wall when you were finally outside. The arms and hands holding you back let go and you fell onto the ground as you stared at the now-closed doors of the reception hall. Your frantic breathing was the only thing you could hear.

“Breathe.”

Another face came into view, and almost instantly your breath caught in your throat. Wednesday’s eyes were wide and focused on your face. They were bloodshot; why were they bloodshot? Her hands were poised to touch you, to check you for injuries, but the moment you felt her hand on your arm you flinched.

You saw red. Only red. You wanted to hurt something. Someone. You didn’t give a fuck who it was, you just wanted to make someone else hurt the way you were hurting. To swing at whoever was closest.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you said as you crawled back across the ground. Wednesday immediately let go.

I don’t want to hurt you, you thought as you pushed yourself up to your feet until you could start stumbling away. Shaky fingers unbuttoned your jacket and ripped the buttons off your shirt until you could reach the harness. They were calling after you; you didn’t know what they were saying. The harness hit the ground and the moment your wings unfurled, you jumped into the air.

You had nearly hurt Wednesday.

You felt sick.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday imagine #everyone but her au

[kingpreciouswrld]

Cara Mia...

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Wednesday's older sister attends Nevermore and falls for a certain principle. The infamous Addams' Love at first Sight.

A/N: This is a mix of two requests that I got. I don't think I did either of them justice but this is what I could come up with. Not as much Larissa in this but I tried so please be nice ;-;

Since the beginning of life you have been told of the infamous spiel of ‘love at first sight’ that occurs within the life of an Addams.

You’ve seen it with your parents, you’ve seen it happen to your Uncle Fester, hell you’ve seen it happen to Thing. Within your 18 years of life, not once have you experienced this phenomenon. And you don’t plan on experiencing it.

It was a gloriously gloomy Tuesday when your parents had determined that you also had to attend this…Nevermore Academy. They told you that as the eldest Addams child, you should set an example to your younger siblings, especially Wednesday during this ‘troubling’ time of hers. You didn’t have a choice really yet you didn’t really fight the decision.

You didn’t share your sister’s visions. You got a werewolf gene. However, you were able to tame it and thus your family let you go to a normal school. You didn’t care for it. You were sick of normies and sick of their existence. You were also able to help Wednesday get revenge on those jocks who bullied Pugsley. This decision of yours was probably the reason why you didn’t fight your parents on going to Nevermore Academy. If it wasn’t for Wednesday’s piranhas, you would’ve turned and let those jocks have it.

The whole family came to show their support for you and Wednesday going to Nevermore. You sat in the back next to Wednesday, trying not to gag as your parents were gushing over each other. Your mother hummed at your reaction before peeling herself away from your father, “You will understand when you find your person.” 

You opted to look out the window as your mother and father talked to your sister. “Your mother attended Nevermore, and she learned to control her visions, didn’t you mon cher?”

“Oh yes, that’s where your father and I met. With the help of my roommate, your father and I shared that special moment. It truly was love at first sight.”

You rolled your eyes and you're sure Wednesday would’ve rolled her eyes as well.

Your mother went on, “A little crow told me that Larissa is now the headmistress, oh she’s just the best. You’ll meet her very soon and see for yourselves. I’m sure she’ll take very good care of you two.”

Humming in response, you watched as the school came into sight. It wasn’t as big as you thought it was and no one was outside to greet you. It seemed like a good school already.

—

Heading into the school, your mother and father looked around in awe as they started to reminisce. Lurch and Thing stayed in the car as you and Wednesday took after your parents.

Morticia had led you all to the headmistress’ office and knocked gently.

“Come in.”

Your head tingled at the sound of that voice.

With your mother leading the way, you all filed into the office and as you laid eyes on her time felt like it stopped.

She was ethereal.

Nothing in this world, in this dimension, could compare to the woman in front of you. Her snow white hair that was perfectly coiffed to the right. Her plump red ruby lips that contrasted against her alabaster skin. Her deep blue ocean eyes that stared right into your soul. Her whole being called out to you and you could tell she felt it too.

Is this what your parents were talking about? What was this feeling?

“Y/n, did you hear me? Are you alright?”

You subtly shook your head, snapping yourself out of…whatever you were in, “Sorry, what was that?”

“Darling, Principal Weems was talking to you,” your mother said.

Larissa Weems’ smile softened as she watched you turn your attention back to her, “I was saying, dear, that I put you in the same hall as your mother and your sister. Ophelia Hall. Is that alright with you?”

You nodded dumbly, you’d do anything she’d say in a heartbeat. What was this feeling?

“Yes, yes that’s alright Principal Weems.”

“Please, I was friends with your parents, in private you may call me Larissa.”

“O-Of course, Larissa…”

Larissa smiled softly and nodded once before standing.

And oh boy when she stood, that feeling you first felt came back in full force. This woman was an amazon goddess. A beautiful stallion. Although you were tall yourself, she still beat you in height, especially in her beautiful heels.

Wednesday seemed to sense something off about you as she pushed you to stand straighter.

“Well then, if you will follow me, I will show you to your dorms.”

— — — — — — —

You luckily didn’t have to share a dorm as you were only put in Ophelia Hall because of your mother and they didn’t have anymore roommates to bunk up with people. You were happy, or, as happy as an Addams could be, since you weren’t really a people person anyway. 

Watching from a window, you looked on as your parents said their goodbyes to your sister. They were more worried about her than you and so you stayed behind, not needing to be sent off by them.

You heard a pair of heels click their way towards your window and you felt that spike in your heart shoot through the roof.

Larissa on the other hand wanted to know more about you, you intrigued her more than your father had when they were kids. She immediately felt this tug on her heart when she first saw you. At first she thought that it was anxiousness at seeing Gomez and Morticia again but this…this seemed different.

It felt as if her heart came alive in your presence. She had a strong urge to be in your presence, to hold you, comfort you, and protect you. Larissa never felt like this before and she wanted to know why this feeling only came about when you were within her sights.

The white haired woman gently laid a hand on your shoulder, "Not one for goodbyes I assume?"

"They only care about Wednesday being here. As the eldest Addams, I'm just here as support. There's no need for them to say their goodbyes to me."

Larissa frowned slightly, she didn't like the fact that you thought you weren't important here. On the contrary, you were or well, you are becoming important to her. "Nonsense. I'm sure they care about their eldest coming back to their Alma Mater. You'll see."

Maybe.

— — — — — 

As the months went by you and Larissa had gotten closer. Yes you were a student and teacher duo but no one batted an eye when it came to the two of you. You were only 18 so you were just barely able to attend this school anyway.

But you loved the time you spent with the headmistress. She'd ask for your help with checking in on students and although many students thought you were absolutely weird, you did as you were told to do. Your relation to Wednesday made 'making friends' a bit hard but you liked it that way.

You only needed Larissa. At least, it felt like that to you.

It came time to plan for the Rave'N and Larissa asked if you'd like to help. You said yes immediately.

You didn't pick out the all-white theme as Larissa did that (you really liked the color black too much), but you did help set up decorations and you went out to buy Wednesday's dress. Of course you stuck with Wednesday's color palette and got her a lacy black dress that surprisingly had a collar. It was perfect for your sister.

All that was left to do was attend the actual dance.

As a student at Nevermore, you did have your share of friends. You also had a share of admirers (much to the dislike of Weems) yet the only person you wanted to go with was somewhat out of your reach.

There was still the fact that you were a student and she was the principal. Your heart wanted to jump out of that boundary but your mind was holding you back. There were many times where your heart wanted to cross those lines, and you were sure Larissa felt the same. You were certain.

Yet there was always that nagging little voice in the back of your head.

Wednesday could tell that something was going on with you. As much as she spent time with Thing or Enid, you never hung out with your friends unless you were forced to. And so she went about investigating.

On occasion she would follow you to Weems' office and would eavesdrop on your conversations. At times she would hear laughter, yet it didn't belong to Weems.

You didn't laugh…did you? Were you actually happy?

It was clear as day that you were smitten with the principal and Wednesday could see your internal struggle. As a little sister, the least she could do was show some support. So, the night of the dance, she walked over to you and slapped you in the face.

It took you by surprise, you were just enjoying a yet-ini and you were ready to throw down with Wednesday but Thing stopped you by gripping your shoulder.

"Stop overthinking it. Ask her to dance. She's looking over here right now and I'd appreciate it if you stop the insipid googly eyes as it's reminding me of mother and father."

With that, Wednesday simply walked away.

You were left stunned. Was it really that obvious? Should you go for it? But what if–

Wednesday had shot you another look and you gave her a definite nod back. She looked pleased and went back to talking with Enid.

You did pass Larissa as you walked in the doors. She looked as magnificent as ever. You watched in awe as she gushed over her students and saw how happy she was that everyone was enjoying themselves. The passion she had for her job and the protectiveness she had for her students made your heart lurch in your chest. She was truly too good for this world, maybe too good for you, but you bet your ass that you wouldn’t show her how much she meant to you.

Mentally shaking yourself off, you turned towards the doors before you noticed that she wasn’t there anymore. Maybe this was a sign. Yeah. Maybe you—

“May I have this dance y/n?”

You turned to find Larissa right behind you with a hand waiting for you. Gladly taking her hand, she pulled you close by the waist and began guiding you in a waltz, “Cara mia…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so sorry I stopped it right there but I got too tired to finish it :/ We'll see if I have the energy and motivation for a part 2 xD but hope you guys enjoyed!

#larissa weems fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems fluff #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader