#addams family fanfic

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Chapter fifteen is finally here! What do you think of the moodboard? Leave a like :) also a quick note, I won't tag anyone who doesn't like the series - I think that's only fair...

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fifteen ~ Yuletide Shenanigans

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall’s office was smaller than she’d expected, but no less grand. The heavy curtains that framed the window were a proud Gryffindor red, the walls were lined with a tidy display of shelves, and the table was organised and neat. (Y/N) had been sat in a chair beside the desk for almost fifteen minutes, waiting for her escort. She was beginning to get a little impatient.

She had taken to reading the spines on the shelf when the woman in question finally re-entered, followed by Albus Dumbledore himself.

It was the first time she had ever directly met the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and she would remember it well. He looked older up close, and shorter; perhaps the illusion of his height was simply due to the fact that she had only ever seen him standing on the elevated platform in the Great Hall, making speeches and what-not. His robes were dark blues paired with white, and his hands were crossed in front of him, a bone-coloured wand peaking from behind them. But his eyes were what struck her; sharp and keen despite his age, eyes that had seen so much of the world, and looked at her with a practiced gentleness that hid something deeper.

“Thank you for waiting, Miss Addams.” McGonagall said with a kind smile, and (Y/N) could finally pull her eyes away from the headmaster. “Headmaster Dumbledore has come to see that our travel goes smoothly.”

“Our?”

“It would be irresponsible,” Began the headmaster with a smile as (Y/N) grabbed her coat, “to allow you to travel to Hogsmeade unsupervised.” Dumbledore made his way towards the great fireplace, and brought out a small, black cauldron from its mantle.

“Now, grab your things, dear.” Said McGonagall with a gesture as she approached the unlit fire.

(Y/N) did as she was asked, taking her travel-sized case in one hand and the bat cage that contained a disgruntled young cat in the other, her long black coat draped over her arm. When she followed the woman, she’d expected her to head towards the door, but it seemed the professor had another exit in mind.

“You may be unfamiliar with Floo travel, I presume?” McGonagall asked as she took a handful of grey-green ash from the small cauldron in the headmaster’s hand. (Y/N) nodded and the deputy-headmistress gave her a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, just repeat after me.” She bid a short farewell to Dumbledore, took (Y/N)'s bat cage in hand, and then stepped into the blackened hearth, the top of her hat bending against the entrance. “The Hog’s Head Inn.” She articulated, and with a drop of ash and a flash of green smoke, (Y/N) was awed to see no sign of her Transfiguration teacher at all.

“Now you, Miss Addams.” Dumbledore encouraged and held out a hand for her to shake, then held out the cauldron. “Simply say where you’d like to go and throw the Floo powder at your feet.”

Stepping into the heath with her things in one hand and a fistful of green ash in the other, (Y/N) took a breath and followed the instructions. And in a flash of green smoke, she felt the floor disappear.

When the smoke cleared, the first thing she noticed was the warm light that filled the room. The second, and most welcome, was the scent of harsh sulphur being replaced with cigar smoke. There was only one person she knew that carried cigars with them at all times.

“Cucarachita!” Within seconds, (Y/N) was pulled into the enthusiastic embrace of her father, hugging her so tightly that she almost couldn’t breathe. “Oh, you have been missed.”

“I missed you too, Papa.” She replied, though her voice was muffled through the fabric of his blazer.

After nearly a whole ten seconds, her father finally pulled back to look at her, holding her at arms length to take her in. (Y/N) looked him over, too; his hair was combed back with his potent black cream, his moustache freshly trimmed, and he was wearing a new vest – brown, red, and black (of course) knitted wool, to keep him warm in the freezing Scottish winter. “(Y/N),” he said after a moment, with a gleam in his eye, “what are they feeding you? You’re taller already!”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and pushed him away, tugging on the hem of her turtle-kneck. “You’re exaggerating, Father.”

Gomez only laughed and patted her head (much to her disapproval), but was soon distracted by a hand snaking up his arm. “Don’t go keeping her all to yourself now, mon cher.” Her mother interrupted, now standing beside him and getting a good look at her eldest daughter.

“Oh, of course not, cara mia.” Her father replied as he took his wife’s elegant hand into his hold and began pressing kisses into her pale skin.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes – she’d only been there for a minute and already they were all over each other. “Father, please.” She groaned, seeing McGonagall standing to the side with wide eyes. “Can’t you keep your hands off each other for five minutes?”

“If history is any indication – no.” The drab voice of her little sister came from behind, almost startling her (she must have been practising her lurking).

The sisters shared a look, an agreement that they had much to discuss later – in private. “Wednesday,” (Y/N) nodded, receiving a nod back; they hadn’t the most affectionate relationship.

It seemed the greetings just kept coming; Pugsley slammed himself into her for a quick (but extremely tight) hug, Grandmama pinched her cheeks, Lurch smiled and groaned warmly, and even Thing seemed to have missed her with how he ran up to squeeze her shoulder (conveniently, while McGonagall wasn’t looking).

“Well, now that we’re all settled,” Said the deputy headmistress kindly as they all gathered on the couches in the guest sitting room, “I presume that (Y/N) will be spending the holiday here with you?”

“Of course, if she’d like to.” Morticia replied from her seat beside the older woman. “Though, she did mention how she wanted to stay at Hogwarts to keep her friend company.”

“Oh, I see,” McGonagall replied with a hint of confusion, “and who would that be--?”

“—Speaking of Hogwarts!” (Y/N) interrupted quickly, hoping she hadn’t sounded too obviously suspicious. “Wednesday was just telling me how much she wishes she could see it. Right, Wednesday?” She emphasised with a hard look and a subtle nudge.

Wednesday cleared her throat and put down the teacup from her lips, taking the hint. “Right, yes. I said that.” She nodded along, looking to the adults with as much sincerity as she could. “We’d all like to visit.”

“Oh! Can we?” Pugsley enthusiastically asked with a wide grin, sitting up straighter on the floor and staring excitedly at the woman.

“A superb idea!” Their father agreed, leaning forward as well. “What do you say, Professor?

“Yes,” Morticia smiled softly, “it would be so wonderful to see where our daughter stays. Would that be possible, Professor McGonagall?”

McGonagall seemed awfully put on the spot, placing her teacup back on the table to fold her hands in her lap. “Well, it’s perfectly reasonable, I suppose.” She began. “But I would have to discuss it with Headmaster Dumbledore first…”

“I thought you were the deputy headmistress.” Wednesday said slyly. “You need his permission to let us see (Y/N)’s new home?”

McGonagall pursed her lips, not easily fooled, it seemed. “He is the headmaster, Miss Addams. He must be notified on all things that go on in his school.”

“Well then, you can tell him all about it when we get there.” Said Granmama as she rose from her chair by the fire to grab her shawl. “Now, show us that disappearing trick, will you?” She demanded as she walked over to the empty hearth from which they entered. Crazy or not, Grandmama was good at getting her way.

With a composed sigh, McGonagall stood and accepted the insistence. “No need, Ms Addams, I will arrange for a carriage.” She relented, and swiftly left the room to find the owner.

Wednesday and (Y/N) exchanged small smirks as their family discussed among themselves, satisfied with the outcome. So far, everything was going according to plan.

From the moment they stepped out of the carriage, the whole Addams family had hardly stopped gasping, pointing, complimenting, and displaying all other signs of awe – even Wednesday could hardly stop looking at every exquisite feature of the castle. (Y/N) was much reminded of her first day, which already seemed so long ago; she too had been so entranced by Hogwart’s beauty, just the same. From the entrance courtyard covered in snow, all the way to the Headmaster’s office, and down again to the Great Hall, every Addams had enjoyed the tour greatly.

A few students lingered at the dining tables, playing games and talking and what-not, but had quickly been distracted by the entrance of the infamous Addams clan. (Y/N) could already smell the reek of growing gossip and rumours.

“This is Hagrid, Hogwart’s groundskeeper,” McGonagall introduced as they came to a halt at the staff table, where a giant of a man was sat talking with Flitwick, who looked all the more short beside him, “and Professor Flitwick, our Charms teacher.”

“Very nice to meet you,” her father smiled as he shook each of their hands, “Gomez Addams.”

“What a surprise,” Said Professor Flitwick as Morticia gave him her hand next, followed by Grandmama.

“An intriguing subject.” Her mother complimented sweetly. “Tell me, Professor, how is our daughter doing in your class?”

“Well, yes, very well.” He replied, nodding at (Y/N). “Always finishes her work, hands her homework in on time. And a fast learner – much potential.”

The approval warmed her cold heart.

“So, Mr Hagrid,” her father began, “groundskeeper, eh? Good job.”

The large man agreed and smiled, and (Y/N) thought it much a shame that they had never really met. “That it is, Mr Addams. An ‘ard job, but a goodun. Always summin’ to be done.”

Now that a sufficient amount of small talk had been had, Professor McGonagall drew attention back to their reason for coming. “Hagrid, I was hoping that you might give our guests a tour of the school.”

“Oh aye, o’course I would.” Hagrid agreed and made his way around the table, startled for a second to find himself only a foot taller than Lurch.

“Marvelous.” Said McGonagall. “I have much to be getting on with, it was very nice to meet you.” She shook their hands and bid them farewell, leaving them in the safe care of the groundskeeper.

“And ‘ere we ‘ave the library.” Hagrid announced as they entered the grand room, yet again stunning the family with its sheer enormity.

“Impressive.” Gomez nodded as he looked up at the tall ceiling, and greeted the librarian at her desk.

Grandmama shrugged. “I’ve seen bigger.”

“You have not.” Pugsley insisted, only to be shushed.

The group walked further in, talking with the groundskeeper pleasantly. When they had seen enough, they turned to leave for the long walk to the Gallery. It was then that the two sisters seized the opportunity to fall behind.

“This way.” (Y/N) whispered after their family left, guiding the younger girl further into the library. They hurried quietly, unsure of how long it would be before their family noticed their absence – or worse, they were caught by Pince.

Soon they came to the back of the library, where they stood before the dimly lit windows that hid more books from their reach. “What’s this?” Wednesday asked.

“The Restricted Section.” (Y/N) replied, walking along further until she found the locked entrance. “I heard Hermione talking about it, she said it’s kept locked at all times. But I figured, even if there’s magic to get in the way, it’s nothing you can’t get through. You’re the best lock-pick I know.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” Wednesday said as she took a few tools from her coat pocket and knelt down to the lock.

Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) turned to keep look-out from the shadow of a bookcase. “It wont happen again.”

Without a moment to spare, Wednesday inserted her tools into the keyhole and got to work, carefully picking away at the inside mechanics. With any regular lock, she would have had it open in less than a minute, but it seemed this one was proving stubborn.

“The stupid thing is cheating.” She grumbled as she inserted a third pin and tried to work them all at once.

(Y/N) glanced from around the corner, seeing no movement for some minutes now. “How so?”

“Every time I make some progress, it goes and reverses it again.” Wednesday explained through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) might have replied with something helpful, if she hadn’t spotted Pince pushing the return cart in their direction, stopping every so often to place some books away. “Hurry up, Pince is coming.” She stressed, hoping to Hell that the librarian had no need to travel so far, and that the rumours of her superhuman hearing were simply rumours.

“I’m trying.”

“Well try faster.”

“Would you like to take over? Because I’ll stop if you want.” Wednesday sassed, and (Y/N) bit her tongue before she made true on her word.

With every step closer Pince took, (Y/N) could feel her heart pacing faster – if she got caught, would she be expelled? Because she didn’t think she could handle the shame.

Pince was just two cases away when (Y/N) heard a quiet mechanical click and a sigh from her sister. “It’s open.”

“Great, now we have to go.” She replied, ignoring Wednesday’s protest as she yanked her up and pulled her around the side of the bookcase, narrowly escaping Pince’s sight.

“What are you doing? We could have gone in.” Wednesday whispered furiously as she was dragged against her will towards the library doors.

“Not without being seen – there’s no way Pince would’ve missed that. And we don’t even know if the door creaks!” (Y/N) argued as they finally made it to the hallway. “If we were caught, it would have all been over. I’m not risking it.”

A few paces away from the turn into the next hallway, Wednesday finally pulled her arm out of her sister’s grasp and hid her pins safely back inside her pocket. “Then when are we going back?”

(Y/N) shook her head and buttoned up her cardigan, then held a finger up to her lips as they passed through the Gallery Hall, extremely aware of the keen ears of the portraits and how they loved to gossip. “We aren’t. I’ll sneak in after curfew--”

“—I want to go in too!” Wednesday argued, only to be shushed as (Y/N) pointed towards the portraits again. She clearly hadn’t expected them to be alive.

“The only time I can sneak in is after curfew, and you’ll be staying at the inn.” (Y/N) explained, and hurried her along to find the others as quickly as they could before she could argue much more.

(Y/N) did wish that Wednesday could go with her; breaking and entering wasn’t half as much fun alone. And she felt a little guilty that there wasn’t any more she could do. But perhaps a peek at the Necromancy book would cheer her up. If not, she wouldn’t be hearing the end of this for a very long time.

The Hog’s Head was a fine establishment; from the crooked ashen pillars of the entrance to the narrow wooden hallways of the rooms. The Addamses spent their first afternoon together in the main lounge of the pub, sharing a creaky wooden table by a large window. It was a wonderful atmosphere. There were a few dozen people dotted about, eating and drinking and laughing – a few were playing card games and losing money, some smoking large pipes, and the odd couple making dodgy deals concealed by the shadows. There were few odd decorations for the season, wilting wreaths and dried up pine garlands with more needles on the floor than the branches. Drinks were refilled constantly, and the food was hearty (though (Y/N) was surprised to realise she much preferred the food at Hogwarts), and the conversation was endless. This was how they spent their Sunday, all the way through the day until late night.

(Y/N) was retelling the events of the Quidditch match, sparing no details missed in the letter she’d sent home after, and they listened with great interest and occasional laughs.

“...So I followed her all the way to the teachers’ stands, and she tells me that it’s Snape whose responsible for Harry’s broom trying to knock him off.” She explained, her fruitcake long forgotten in front of her. “So I took out my matches – because you know I always carry matches-” her family nodded and agreed with variations of ‘of course’ and ‘obviously’ “-and I tried to light his cloak on fire. But the stupid thing was damp, so Hermione gets out her wand and does this spell I’ve never even heard before, and it just goes up in flames – of course, I’d already warmed it up for her. Then there’s shrieks and stomping, and we run all the way down to the bottom in time for the end of the game.”

Her father let out a deep laugh, and beamed at his daughter. “Excellent story!”

Grandmama cackled along and held her mead up in a toasting gesture. “Good girl – always good to have a friend who’ll start fires with you.”

“We’re looking forward to meeting her,” her mother said. “Have you made any more friends?”

“Well, there’s Saoirse – she’s my roommate.”

“What about enemies?” Wednesday interrupted, swirling her drink around in her cup as she feigned disinterest. “Tell me you at least have one of those.”

Enemy may have been a strong word; there were certainly those she didn’t care for, but she hadn’t been fortunate enough to find someone really worth torturing. “There are plenty of unlikeable people to choose from,” (Y/N) said instead, “the potions professor, for a start – and that obnoxious Malfoy boy. But so far I haven’t found one worth the time.”

Grandmama seemed to pick her head up from her potent drink at whatever (Y/N) had said, something certainly had caught her interest. She wrapped her ratty black shawl around her and leaned across the table to shush Gomez, who had started speaking of his favourite nemesis from his own school years. “Malfoy?” She repeated, her croaky voice taking an edge to the name as a scowl came across her wrinkled features.

(Y/N) nodded in confusion, eager to know what her grandmother had to say on the matter – whatever had her mouth twisting. “What about him, Grandmama?”

To their surprise (but, frankly, not shock), the woman spat at the mention. “What about him? It was them Malfoys that wanted us outed!”

“What are you talking about?” Said Wednesday, just as interested as everyone else, but bored of waiting for her to get to the point already.

Grandmama sat back in her chair, the wood creaking quietly at the movement. “We Addamses were a part of the Sacred Twenty-nine, you know? The pure families, they called themselves. We were as worthy as any of them – more, even – but they were jealous. That’s what Mother always said. Jealous of our money and our power.” From her pocket, Grandmama pulled out a brown smoking pipe and a tin of smoking tabacco and herbs, which she stuffed in as she spoke, then let Thing light it for her when she was done. She took a few puffs before she returned to her story. “When the family started birthing Squibbs, it was them who wanted us out – the Malfoys and the Blacks. Called us ‘tainted’ and ‘impure’. They’re the reason we were outcasted. Said they couldn’t be associated with us. Said our families couldn’t mix. Said a lot of things, but it worked. Then it was the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

There was a pause when she was done, tobacco and mugwort wafting in the stale air as the family considered her words. It seemed to (Y/N) that there was still plenty that she had yet to reveal about their family’s past; still so much to learn.

It also seemed to her, that there was more to the Malfoys than money and misplaced pride.

For two beautifully sullen days, all thoughts of school and mysteries had vacated (Y/N)’s mind. There were no ghostly messages, no age-old notes, and no suspicious books at the bottom of her travel case. She shared a room with her siblings, ate with her family as they would back home, go for walks in the freezing snow and hail, and lurk around the town looking for things to do.

It was three in the afternoon, the sky was grey with winter clouds, and the children were playing in the street, throwing compact ice-balls at each other (and the occasional pedestrian who dared get caught in the cross-fire). There were no rules in an ice-ball fight, a winner was only established when all other players had to forfeit; injuries were guaranteed.

The two sisters had cruelly decided to work together against their little brother, leaving him vulnerable on both sides. As they often were when they worked as a team, the girls were formidable and relentless, meaning Pugsley’s only choice was to run and hide, dodging hand-pressed wedges of ice from every angle. It was a dog-eat-dog game; as soon as the runt was out of the picture, they would turn on each other.

They spotted Pugsley run between a crowd of shoppers as they were making more ammo, and quickly followed in his direction. Pugsley’s small boots made half-sized footprints in the snow, and they easily followed them to an alley. Wednesday peaked around the corner and saw that it lead to a ten-foot – the narrow backstreet behind two rows of houses where the bins were kept. “Go to the other side and block his path.” She mumbled and threw one end of her grey scarf around her shoulder. “I want him cornered.”

The girls shared a mischievous look, and (Y/N) nodded before running down the street to find the other end of the ten-foot. Eight houses later, she came to the opening and peeked around the side. She saw Wednesday at the other end, and they both started down each side, looking behind every item that Pugsley could use for cover, until (Y/N) spotted a footprint in the snow a few meters away. With a predatory stare, she creeped forward even more quietly, her footsteps barely crunching the snow, until she just saw the tail of a black coat behind a bin. Wednesday saw her stop, and came forward with her weapon raised, following the footprints until they were just a few steps from his hiding place. “Pugsley.” Wednesday called in a taunting voice. “We know you’re there.”

There was no sound from behind the bin, and if it weren’t for the coat and his tracks, (Y/N) might have doubted for a second if he was there. “You might as well come out now.” She said from the other side, wielding her own ice-ball. “Surrender while you can.”

“I’m not surrendering!” They heard, and (Y/N) could hardly help the evil smile that broke loose on her lips at the slight tremble of fear Pugsley tried to hide under his stubborn determination.

“You’re small and weak,” said Wednesday, “you’re not going to win. We overpower you in both numbers and size. This is your last chance to give up.”

There was a pause. For a moment, they thought he might actually surrender, but then (Y/N) saw movement from the side. “He’s sneaking past!” She warned, and the girls started to chase him back the way they’d followed him. Wednesday cursed as her ice-ball barely made it half the distance to her target – the kid was swift and full of energy, much to her chagrin – but he turned to look over his shoulder for a second, which slowed him a little. (Y/N) stopped quickly and threw the ice she was carrying as hard as she could in his direction; it flew with precision for a longer distance than she’d expected, but landed perfectly just as he turned around. Bullseye.

Pugsley fell back with a yell as the ice hit him right on his forehead, knocking him off balance just as Wednesday caught up and threw all the rest of her ammo at him while he blocked his face from more damage. “Stop! Stop! You got me!” The boy cried as his sister pelted more snow and ice at him.

When (Y/N) reached them, Wednesday had Pugsley pinned with a knee on his chest as she compressed another ice-ball. “Admit defeat.” She demanded and raised her weapon up.

Pugsley hesitated, a defiant stare on his face even as his sister kneed him harder in the chest.

“Say it.”

The boy sighed and sank his head back into the snowy ground, eyeing her ice-ball wearily. “Wednesday is superior and I am weak.” He groaned – she had him say it every time she beat him, and he hated it more and more each time.

“Good.” She said, then threw the ice at him anyway before she stood.

“Hey!” He yelled as it hit him in the cheek. “Cheat!”

Wednesday dusted herself off and shrugged carelessly. “You let your guard down.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” (Y/N) smirked as she leant a hand to her little brother, observing the new red marks on his face (she couldn’t help but feel a little proud at the bruise growing above his brow where she’d hit him). “Mother and Father want us back for dinner soon – we’ll still need time to clean up.”

"Why does she always make me say that?" Pugsley grumbled as he rubbed his sore cheek.

"Don't worry about it, Pugsley," (Y/N) assured, "one day you'll beat her, and it'll feel a whole lot better when you make her say it instead."

A second later, she felt a harsh hit on her shoulder, and pieces of ice and snow sprayed across her face. (Y/N) turned quickly to glare at her sister’s audacity, curling her fist in anger. “You are a cheat!” She scolded.

“And a winner.” Wednesday almost smiled, clearly proud of herself. “Now, what do you say?”

“I am not saying it.” She answered back, facing the girl fully and glaring daggers down at her (there was barely two inches between them, but (Y/N) was sure to always hold it above her). “Besides, only a coward shoots someone in the back.”

Wednesday squinted her eyes. “I’m not a coward – I shot you in the shoulder.”

“How about I shoot you in the face?”

A throat was cleared from beside them, and all three siblings turned at the intrusion.

Grandmama gave a croaky laugh at their antics. “I heard your squabbling from the inn.” She said with a half-grin, pointing the end of her walking stick at them. “You know, when I was your age, we used to shoot at each other with real weapons.” She sighed nostalgically. “Must get you some one day. Well – time to go in now, go on.” She encouraged with a poke at their legs, before she shuffled along after them, using her stick to be sure she wouldn’t slip on any ice.

The morning sun was peaking in through the inn’s dirty, frosted windows and between the edges of the old browning drapes, slowly waking its inhabitants from their slumber. (Y/N) ignored it for a while, turning in her lumpy bed and away from the pesky sunlight that interrupted her sleep. All was silent.

For a moment.

Just as she was about to drift back into unconsciousness, a sudden weight pushed down on the mattress and bounced her body about. “(Y/N)! Wake up!” Pugsley cried as he bounced on his knees, shaking her shoulder with both hands to be sure she couldn’t ignore him. “Wake up!”

“Go away.” She grumbled and kicked him from under the duvet, satisfied when he tumbled loudly to the cold, wooden floor. It didn’t seem to stop him for long, though, as he stood and shook her about once more.

“Get up!” He yelled, growing more frustrated as he then crossed the room to throw a pillow at Wednesday (it was wise to keep a safe distance from her).

Wednesday’s eyes shot open and glared at him immediately, already in a foul mood as she took the pillow and launched it at his face, making him wince as it struck his new bruise. “You insufferable little troll – shut up before I stuff that pillow down your throat.”

“It’s Christmas!” Pugsley cried, unaffected by his sister’s (very possible) threat. He ran to grab the robe from the end of his bed and quickly pushed his arms through the sleeves, then shoved on his slippers and made for the door.

(Y/N) sat up and rubbed her eyes, finally awake enough for the information to process. “Pugsley,” she called as he’d stepped into the hallway, “don’t wake Mother and Father, remember. Knock.”

A haunted look passed over the boy’s face for a half-second, before he quickly nodded and went on his way.

(Y/N) sat up and yawned, her breath fogging up in the chilly room. She could hardly believe how quickly time had passed already; but excitement bubbled in her gut nonetheless. Tugging on her own slippers and wrapping herself in her plum-coloured robe, she scooped Jinx up from where he had been sleeping in the warm space between the duvet and her pillows, and made her way to her sister.

Wednesday was laid back again, arms crossed over her chest in her usual corpse-like pose and braids tucked under her head. Her dark eyes opened as (Y/N) approached. Neither girl said anything for a moment, until eventually Wednesday rolled her eyes and began to get out of bed, just in time to hear Pugsley running down the stairs with Thing trailing behind.

There were no other guests staying at The Hog’s Head for the occasion, so the family had decided to rent out a sitting room. The inn’s owner had a uniquely decorated pine tree stood in the corner, covered in cracked baubles and ratty ribbons, and topped with the decapitated head of a porcelain doll with pink cheeks and a missing eye. The fire was lit too, but not roaring, making the room comfortable but not warm. A spider crawled along the wall towards the window, where it spun a web of its own design; (Y/N) briefly wondered how it had lived into the winter, but quickly decided that it was unimportant. It all looked wonderfully wrong.

“Good morning, girls.” Their mother greeted from a chair, making the other few present turn towards the entrance. She looked as put together as always, in her velvet black robe that trailed the floor, with a look of contentment on her grey and white dusted features. “Did you have sweet nightmares?”

Wednesday moved to the sofa by the tree, where Thing was patiently tapping a finger on the arm, waving at her as she sat. “I dreamt of nothing.” She stated with a hint of boredom, then turned to eye the boxes of gifts sat under the dying plant beside her. She took up conversation with the hand, focusing on his rapid movements and spelling.

Morticia looked to her eldest daughter for her answer, who placed the cat in her arms on the back of the chair by the fire and sat. “And you, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied, “I had very interesting nightmares.” In the excitement of the morning, she had almost forgotten about the strange dreams that had tortured her sleep. She dreamed of drowning in thousands of library books; of dark figures lurking in corners; of a haggard old crow that did nothing but stare; of storms and riddles and corpse voices that gave unintelligible instructions. For a few days, she had simply been a girl spending the winter holidays with her family, and with one haunting dream, she was once again reminded of a responsibility that she did not want.

“How lovely,” her mother replied, then was soon distracted by the entrance of her husband.

Donned in his black and red robe, Gomez Addams had the incredibly important duty of bringing the perfect morning coffee to his wife – a duty he took very seriously. Before affording distractions to anything else, he set the tray on the table beside her and poured the scalding drink from the teapot into a dainty teacup and handed it over. “There, Tish. Dangerously hot and lightly sweetened with cyanide, just how you like it.” He smiled as she took a sip, then sat beside her and kissed her knuckles. “Just how I like you.”

The three children screwed up their faces and shared a look of disgust, but said nothing. It was one thing that (Y/N) had not missed about her parents.

Grandmama was the last to enter, shuffling over to drop herself down onto the last remaining seat as Lurch brought over her usual morning tea. Soon, everyone was greeted and comfortable, and Pugsley was finally able to ask for his gifts.

Gomez laughed heartily and nodded. “Go ahead, my boy.” He said, and with that, the three siblings sat themselves on the floor and began to rummage for their names.

Pugsley was the first to find his name, and wasted no time in opening the box to find a grotesque shrunken head. He took it in his hands excitedly to examine it closer, poking at the string that bound together its lips and eyelids.

Wednesday unwrapped what looked at first to be a chemistry set, but upon close inspection found to be filled with various poisonous herbs and suspicious fluids. Though she didn’t show it as expressively as Pugsley, she was clearly very pleased with it.

(Y/N) tore at black and white paper and revealed a box, from which she pulled a half-decomposed, rotting hand on a flat wooden stand – the one from Borgin and Burke’s. “I’d almost forgotten about this.” She smiled at her father, who looked very proud of himself at her reaction. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Cucarachita.” He replied as he pulled a cigar and lighter from his pocket. “I’m sure you will find good use for it."

Much too quickly for their liking, the children finished unwrapping their gifts and sat on the floor admiring their many new possessions. Pugsley was playing with the shrunken head and a large taxidermy rat, (Y/N) was stabbing at the space between her fingers on the floor with her new gold-tipped throwing knife, and Wednesday was reading through the copy of Arachnomancy that (Y/N) had ‘borrowed’ from the library for her.

The family feasted in the pub downstairs, enjoying the busy environment of strangers eating and drinking for the special occasion, getting rowdy and arguing or playing unrecommendable games – it was much different from their usual traditions, but it was good. In fact, it wasn’t all that different from one of their larger family gatherings, with the shouting, the music, and the occasional object being thrown across the room.

And as they settled back into the sitting room for the evening, talking tiredly as Lurch finished up the last details of their family portrait, (Y/N) sat on the floor and leaned back into her mother’s legs, letting her long nails comb through her hair as she stared off into the dying fire.

For one more night, she had nothing to worry about.

Congratulations for making it to the end - don't forget to like! Tell me what you think!

If you want to be added to the tag list make sure you've liked at least most of the chapters and ask me to add you :) I hope I can rely on you to support all future parts!

If you're missing from the tag list please let me know!

Tag List:

• @boyaddams

• @too-attached-to-fiction

• @kpopgirlbtssvt

• @lady-of-lies

• @twsssmlmaa

• @asadbisexual1

• @sugakookiemonster

• @theyaremorethanjustfictional

• @cocopuffs1450

• @siriuslysirius1107

• @purpleflamebluesparkles

• @milfho

• @lilqi

• @zavijanje-na-mesecini

• @steves-sweetheart-blog

• @fanlovedlt

• @brthofafish

• @evilunicorns4minions

• @rottenstyx

• @dweeb-central

• @leafanonsforest

• @hellion-writes

• @rory-cakes

• @monstruositylad

• @ladyslytherin7

• @mima795

• @mikariell95

• @witch-of-all-things-soft

• @sugarrush-blush

• @undeniablyyou

• @kiraisastay

• @danyzta

• @lovelyy-moonlight

• @menkisser69420

• @soggumm

• @i-need-anything-holy

• @i-bitch-you-bitch

• @ayeayiee

• @ssaelles

• @mary-jinx

• @nightfiress

• @annna101

• @carmelchocola

• @gg-trini

• @synnroses

• @clph

• @i-love-books-and-the-bible

• @itszzmoon

• @funkyfreshblog

• @onlyheretosimp

• @ohh-to-be-rich-and-pretty

• @mally-ka

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Irony Poisoning Chapter 1

Before Enid could work up the courage to text Wednesday at the number Xavier had given her with an unnervingly knowing smile, she received a call from Morticia Addams.

"Can you hear me? I'm not quite current on this technology. Crystal balls are so much more personal, don't you think?"

Enid nodded several times before she remembered that this was neither a crystal ball, nor a video call. "Oh, yeah. For sure, Mrs. Addams... Um…"

"Morticia, please."

"Oh, okay, um, Morticia."

"Thing got your number from Wednesday's cellular telephone," she said, and Enid wondered if she could read minds too.

"That's cool."

"I hope you'll forgive my calling you so suddenly when we haven't even been formally introduced. Honestly, Wednesday has no respect for tradition. How are you supposed to ask for our blessing when we haven't even crossed foils or exchanged pitcher plants? I was hoping Nevermore would instill some sense of tradition in her, but she continues to insist that tradition is just a euphemism for peer pressure from dead people."

"That sounds like her," said Enid. "Um, is…"

"Wednesday is indisposed at the moment, I'm afraid," said Morticia. "She's been a bit under the weather since she came back from school. Not even an electroshock treatment from her Uncle could raise her spirits. I was hoping a visit from her friend might do the trick. Thing suggested it. He says our Wednesday has taken quite a shine to you."

"Thing exaggerates."

"Notoriously," said Morticia, "but he also dotes on Wednesday. He's quite concerned about her. We all are. She isn't acting quite like herself. She keeps watching films in color."

"Oh," Enid said sadly, thinking of Legally Blonde. She had really wanted to be the first to inflict it on Wednesday. Elle Woods and Vivian Kensington were practically canon.

"And listening to… cheerful music,"

"Oh," she said again.

"And wearing a snood."

"Oh."

"I understand if she's got the chills, but we have plenty of good old-fashioned hairshirts. You will come, won't you? Gomez has arranged everything. He can send you the tickets through his cellular telephone, apparently. Perhaps I should learn a bit more about them. Some of Wednesdays… selfies? They're quite flattering."

"I could teach you?" Enid offered, ever the people-pleaser.

"Then you'll come?"

"Of course," said Enid. "Thank you for inviting me."

Morticia lowered her voice to a whisper. "I feel I must warn you that Wednesday's more… acerbic personality traits tend to assert themselves when she's unwell."

"Oh, yeah, I was there when she got shot. Well, not exactly, but I was there right afterwards."

It suddenly occurred to Enid that Wednesday might not have told her parents she got shot. It seemed like the sort of thing one might hide from their parents, if they could get away with hiding anything from their parents. Of course, there had been parent-teacher conferences after the incident, and Wednesday's family even attended theirs, but Enid didn't know what was said at them. She knew the truth, the official Normie press release, and literally all of the gossip. She didn't know what the Addamses knew.

"Wednesday mentioned that," said Morticia, who could almost definitely read minds. "She said you saved her from the Hyde. We owe you a great debt of gratitude, Enid Sinclair."

"I think we both know Wednesday would have found a way to take care of herself."

"Of course," said Morticia, and even without the crystal ball or video call, Enid could tell she was smiling, "but she so rarely allows anyone else to take care of her. Not even her own family. She trusted you. For that, I am grateful."

Only the Addamses could leave Enid speechless.

[medicaldoctordana]

The Addams Family fanfic, my first. Cleopatra falls in love with Gomez and makes Morticia jealous.

Cleopatra loved to twirl around Morticia’s velvet sleeves but had a penchant for curling around men’s necks. The guests that Gomez frequently entertained were purposefully brought through the conservatory just to torture the poor creature. If she were lucky, they’d pause right in front of her to innocently gander at her beauty. It was then that she’d twirl herself over their shoulders and go in for the kill. She resented Morticia each time she was coaxed off her dinner’s frame.

[kraken17]

Wednesday: Enid, what is a MILF?

Enid: What?

Wednesday: I have heard several students refer to my mother as a MILF. I am not familiar with the term. What does it mean?

Enid: Uuuh…

Wednesday: You don't know?

Enid: Oh, I do. I'm just wondering if telling you would make me an accomplice to several murders.

[lorelaiblair]

about Morticia Addams

she is the perfect Addams

dark, gloomy, in love with all of the darker things in life.

she raises man eating plants and cuts the heads off of her dolls.

but she married into the family, she was originally a Frump.

she didn’t change who she was to become an Addams, she didn’t leave her family behind because they didn’t understand her or her love.

she wasn’t the black sheep of the family, no, the Frumps are strange and unusual too.

the Frumps are witches, the Frumps are dark and kooky.

the Frumps adore the Addamses and the Addamses adore the Frumps. Gomez and Morticia fit together like they were always meant to be. like the two families were always meant to be one.

this is though is the exact opposite for Enid and Wednesday.

Enid is a Sinclair.

the Sinclairs do not fit in with the Addamses or Frumps. they are hateful, they are cruel, they are biased, they are stuck in their ways.

Esther is bossy and mean, Murray is quiet and submissive.

these things do not fit in the Addams family. (not for the lack of trying, because the Addams truly tried to make peace for Enid’s sake. they eventually realized that the girl was much happier far away from the family that she was born into. they made sure to shower her with love. they made sure to show Enid that she would always have a supporting family in them)

Enid isn’t the black sheep of the sinclair family but instead the pink one.

Enid’s family never appreciated her because of her incapability to turn into a monster. Enid paints her claws vibrant colors, she straightens and dyes her hair, she adores k-pop.

she dances like nobody is watching, she sings her heart out, she cries over silly youtube videos and the one commercial about the deaf boy feeling the vibration of a waterfall.

Enid Sinclair is full of personality, full of feeling and love, she was never understood by her family. always seen as too loud, too sensitive, not a good enough werewolf.

Enid’s family threatened to send her to a conversion camp because she is so different from them.

she’s different from the Addamses too. she doesn’t find enjoyment in all of the things the Addamses do, she doesn’t wear black or want to dye her hair.

they don’t understand her emotions, they don’t understand her love for color.

but, god, do they absolutely love her.

she is the pink sheep of the Addams family too. they adore her, exactly the way that she is.

she is weird to them. she is strange and kooky.

they cannot get enough.

weird, strange, kooky, it is everything that makes an Addams.

they see her for her pastel clothing, her bright eyes, her loud dancing and strange idioms, they are changed by her for the better.

they take her light and let it bathe them, like dragons to the sun.

Enid is a breath of fresh air in their dusty home, there was nothing wrong with the dust but the fresh air is so nice to have.

they are all just as strange as Enid herself is, it is in different ways but they all love and respect that.

Enid is not a Frump, and she isn’t yet an official Addams, but she fits perfectly.

she has a family in them. she always will.

and one day, when she officially takes the name, it feels like she was never anything else.

Wednesday kisses her wrist and and calls her “miss Addams”, Enid swoons. Enid will never get tired of hearing that, especially from the lips of the woman she loves and the family that took her in so easily.

she’s where she was always meant to be.

the Addamses have a pastel werewolf, a piece of the puzzle that they didn’t know was missing, the piece that brings the whole masterpiece together.

[hadesrise]

can’t help falling in love.

summary ➳ no matter what tragedy strikes, you and jason can’t help falling in love with each other. based on “can’t help falling in love” by elvis presley.

pairings ➳ jason peter todd x addams!male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, angst, very suggestive in the beginning, foul language, death and resurrection, mentions of violence, brainwash, hurt/comfort, destined soulmates, possessiveness if you squint, blood

author’s note ➳ okay, i take back what i said. i probably won’t stop writing addams!reader anytime soon. by the way, i don’t have specific jason in mind so any universe can be imagined for all my jason fics.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

The chilly air makes goosebumps appear on Jason’s skin as he hugs himself to shield away from the cold. Dark shine of the moon bringing peace to the silence completely surrounding him, Jason admires the statues littered across the graveyard behind Addams manor in honor of your fallen ancestors. Despite darkness lurking behind every shadow and spirits wandering around tirelessly, this place held utter peace and comfort, warming Jason’s heart by embracing it tightly in their arms.

Each ancestors had extraordinary headstone that fits them best with their statue standing tall and proud, it truly shows how Addams honor their family members the right way. None of their headstones were simple or boring, each having unique traits that Jason was certain they used to have when they were alive. Each Addams have unique traits that differed from one another, but all of them are undeniably extraordinary. They aren’t like any other, much like how his lover’s not like any other.

Jason feels a coat being wrapped around him before two arms sneaks around his waist, shoulder weighing slightly from where you rest your chin on it. He fights back a smile.

“You could’ve called for me, mon chéri. My siblings wouldn’t have minded one less duelling partner.” You softly say, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

Jason instinctually leans back, snuggling to your neck. “Yeah, but you should spend more time with ‘em. Always with me, they’re gonna start thinking you’re forgetting your own siblings.”

“I assure you, they would not.” You start slowly swaying your bodies together to a non-existent music as Jason follows through with you. “They’re going to start thinking you’re forgetting them. Wednesday and Pugsley prefer you more than me, sweetheart, especially Wednesday.”

“Oh, really?” Jason smirks.

“Yes, really.” You nod with a sigh, though he could tell you weren’t annoyed at all. “She pushed me down the stairs last night after we’ve gotten back from our date.”

Jason throws his head back with a laugh, “Sorry babe. She might or might not have invited me to throw an axe at Pugsley and I turned it down.”

“No wonder she was beyond annoyed with me,” Amusement fills your tone as the corner of your lips twitch up to form a subtle smile. Jason looks at you over his shoulder and you immediately lean in for a lingering kiss, butterflies erupting in his stomach as his heart skip a beat. You then kiss his cheek and forehead before resting your chin back on his shoulder with eyes closed.

Jason sighs in content, admiring your captivating features that somehow reminds him of death. but your presence weren’t as cold as death, it’s warm and engulfing despite your touch rivaling that coldness of an ice. He leans closer for a moment, only to lift your arms that were around him so he could face you while still being embraced by you, burying his face on the crook of your neck.

“I really love you.” He sighs, arms secure around your back.

“I would do everything for you,” Your reply was instant, resting your head against his. He felt your arms squeeze him as if to emphasize, and he chuckled.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” The silly question slips from his lips, half-joking and half-serious, pulling his head back to look into your nearly lifeless eyes. He’s reminded of how it’s only alive because of him.

Your eyebrows raised slightly in mere question and amusement, but you take his hand and press a tender kiss on his palm.

“I adore you in every universe. I love you just as much as Icarus has loved the sun — even more than he’s loved the sun. I would shatter the ground and raise hell just to find you wherever you go. I would paint the sky with shooting stars to fulfill your wish. I would tear the world apart and watch the universe collapse if you are ever taken from me, for a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving. I would worship every ground you stand and walk on to an extent which I wish not to touch the ground you haven’t touched yet, for it hasn’t been blessed with your divine greatness. I would offer you my eyes if your vision fails, my voice if yours can no longer function, my heart if yours cease to beat, my hands if you can no longer hold the world in yours, my legs if yours fail to take you to places you’ve dreamed of. Only death shall keep me away from you, and even so, it would merely be enough to prevent me from either clawing the dirt apart and rising alive to hold you in my arms, or dragging you down with me to rest for all eternity together.”

By the end of your speech, Jason was already crying ocean of tears as his eyes twinkles in overwhelming happiness, extremely touched.

Both of you always make long and romantic declaration of your love for each other in most random times, and while his speech makes you smile from ear to ear and giddy like a high schooler, yours often never failed to reduce him into nothing but a sobbing and crying mess. He hates it, but could never bring himself to hate you for making him cry.

You smile gently at him and press very soft kisses on both of his eyelids before continuing, “Therefore, the answer is yes, my love. I would still love you if you were a worm.”

Jason chokes out a chuckle, sniffing. “Fuck you for always catching me off guard and making me cry.”

Your hands cup his red face as you coo, “Do not be ashamed for shedding your tears, Jason. Quite frankly, I find them very captivating.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “You like seeing me cry?”

“Ah, yes...” A flirtatious smirk appears on your lips, one arm pulling him close and the other hand sneaking up to gently clasp your fingers around his throat. “Indeed, I do. Especially in bed.”

Jason resists his urge to moan when you squeezed slightly, tilting his head back a little to give you more access. “Why in bed when you can make me cry right here and now?” He whispered, rather lusciously as you stare into his lustful eyes.

You lick your lips before smashing your lips on his hungrily and Jason quickly reciprocates, no longer feeling the chilliness of the graveyard air.

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Jason loves you more than words can express. He loves you oh so dearly that he would turn back to the God that his heart stopped believing after he came back to life just so he could recite prayers for an eternity with you. Jason never thought it was possible to love someone so much so that he’d be willing to both give up everything for you and give you everything you want.

But sometimes, love makes him afraid.

Afraid of losing you. Afraid of seeing you hurt. Afraid of knowing anyone and anything can take you away any moment. He hadn’t thought about what you feel everytime you see him injured, but when you walked into the living room all bloody, bruised and slashed, his heart stopped and the mug he was holding just slipped from his hand to shatter on the floor.

You laid down on the large expensive sofa with a slight wince as Jason ran off to find some medical kits available in the Addams manor, being helped by Thing to locate its whereabout, before running back in with the necessities. He almost got a heart attack when he saw you had your eyes closed, seemingly not breathing, looking paler than usual. Dropping the medical kits on the carpeted floor below the sofa, he quickly checks on your pulse and sighs in relief when he feels it, just then remembering that an Addams is very unlikely to show any physical signs of breathing unless letting out a sigh.

You open your eyes and admire his face twisted in worry and fear, moving up a hand to pat his head twice. “It’s not necessary to be overly concerned, my dear. Nothing to fear of, these are mere injuries that can easily be treated.” You wave it off with the same hand, somehow very calm and nonchalant despite how intense your injuries looked.

Sadness now replacing the look on his face, Jason wordlessly shakes his head and begins to treat the bruises and cuts on your face with careful and soothing hands. You stop him gently to remove your vigilante suit before letting him continue, comforting silence filling the almost grim atmosphere. Jason doesn’t realize you’re watching every bit of his expression, seeing the way his perfect eyebrows furrow and his lips frown slightly every time he moves from one injury to another. It feels like the injury’s getting worse the more he moved to the next, and it made his heart heavy.

Your gaze softens, knowing he was having second thoughts about speaking the things that bothered him.

It seems Jason has quickly gathered the strength to speak because before you can throw encouraging words, his quiet voice interrupts the comfortable silence. “I know you’re not afraid of dying or anything with your culture and all, but it makes me worry a lot.” You nod to let him know you’re listening. “I sound like a real hypocrite ‘cause I go out on mission then come back here like a fucking zombie more than I want to admit, so I don’t have the right to say anything like this, but you almost gave me a heart attack.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, silently encouraging him to speak his thoughts more as he cleans your wounds. You don’t miss the way Jason’s hand trembled.

“You’re not...” He trailed off, hesitant to continue as he bit his lip as if to contemplate whether or not to say it out loud. He followed through it, anyway. “You’re not gonna leave me, right?” Jason tries, looking up and meeting your eyes. His emerald irises were wavering in worry and hint of fear.

Your hand gently caress his face, Jason leaning on it immediately. “As I’ve said before, mon amour... Death is merely enough to prevent me from crawling back to you.” Ignoring your freshly bandaged wounds, you pulled Jason on your lap and tugged at the back of his neck to kiss his lips passionately and comfortingly. “Leaving you only means leaving my heart and soul behind, darling. We wouldn’t want me to feel incomplete, would we?”

Jason sighs in content against your lips, before carefully shifting on the big sofa so he could squish beside you and pull you to his chest, initiatively big-spooning you.

“ ‘m just really scared to lose you,” He whispered, burying his face on your hair and hugging you close, but not tight enough to hurt. It’s not like you’re capable of feeling pain, but you appreciated his kindness nonetheless.

You press a tender kiss on his chest, looking up at him and frowning softly. “I sincerely apologize for frightening you, my love. I’ll make an oath to be careful next time.”

Jason nods, basking in your warmth, your scent, your presence.

Gods, he loves you too much to let you go. He could never, would never. You belong to him just as much as he belongs to you and even death has no right to take that away. You were his, and only his — in life and death.

You feel Jason’s arms tighten around you, and resisted the smile spreading across your face. Death can never intimidate you as your culture revolves around it, but the thought of losing Jason was always triggering for you. It made you dive into insanity and quickly get rid of the problem at hand, as if you’ll suffocate if you’re not quick enough to eliminate the threat. Handling Joker physically, handling Bruce mentally, handling those irrelevant crime lords who nearly hurt Red Hood off the streets violently, all things of sort.

Fall down with me further, mon chéri.

Your mind shall be filled with me and only me, even if it’s utter fear of losing me.

A dreamy look flashed across your eyes before disappearing fast, burying your face in his chest and embracing him tighter. If you’re both too afraid for the other to die and lose them, then maybe dying together would not sound so bad at all.

You had read once on a book that falling in love is a curse, for you’ll drown in it before you even realize and fail to resurface once you fall too deep, unable to ever get out again.

However, if that is the case, you disagreed. Because it was never a curse, it’s only ever been a blessing.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

“Where the fuck is he!?” Jason yelled in rage, red clouding his vision as he threw the mug on a wall. Panic, anger, and worry filled his chest that made his frustration grow even more.

Bruce sighed, worry also plastering his face as he attempted to grasp your location with the computer. “He’s only been gone for an hour, Jason. Be patient.”

“Anything can fucking happen in an hour!” He growled back, glaring harshly before the worry and panic began to overthrow his anger, one hand slipping through his hair and tugging at it. “I— fuck, what am I gonna do? I shouldn’t have let him go alone, I should’ve went with him—”

Dick quickly approached his little brother when his breathing started to grow uneven. “Jay, hey... Breathe, calm yourself first. He’s going to be okay, he’s an untouchable badass.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Jason shakes his head, rubbing his face. “I wouldn’t know what to do without him— I can’t live without him, Dicky. I can’t.” His voice broke as he trembled, silence filling the air with everyone frowning in sadness and worry.

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Jason felt his heart thumping loudly against his chest when he saw you fighting enemies with only sustaining little injuries, relief flooding throughout his body. It’s like the world brightened up again, ironically.

You made eye contact in the middle of the fight, smirking at him. “Can’t get rid of me easily, love.”

A light-hearted chuckle erupts from Jason as he joins you along with the Batfam in fighting the League of Assassins, you and Jason moving in sync as if dancing through the violence. Both of you moved swiftly together, fitting each other perfectly like the pieces of puzzle, using each other occassionally as a leverage against them.

“This is like dancing in our graveyard,” Jason grinned under his Red Hood helmet, adrenaline rushing in his veins.

“Indeed, it does feel like it.” You responded with subtle enthusiasm, only noticeable by your lover. He laughs at your answer, enjoying the moment even when it was violent.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

He doesn’t know why he got distracted. He doesn’t know why he didn’t pay attention more to his surroundings. But before Jason knew it, Raj’s Al Ghul’s sword was nearly piercing into him.

Until your firm and cold hand pushed him away, everything feeling like a slow motion in Jason’s eyes as the sword pierced into your chest and through your back, directly striking the heart. Jason’s eyes widened, anguished call of your name slipping from his lips. Blood dripping from your mouth, you tightly held onto the sword before driving one of your sais on Raj’s Al Ghul’s throat, where a vital point is.

The League of Assassins member fell on the ground first, clutching his throat and choking on his own blood.

Amusement flickers in your eyes, even at the graveness of the situation. You looked back at Jason and smiled, grabbing the sword’s handle and pulling it off your chest despite Batman’s loud protests. Loud metallic clank echoes within the warehouse as you dropped the sword on the concrete, stepping forward once towards your lover, but your legs giving away made you almost tumble down.

Jason immediately catches you in his arms and lays you on his lap, tears stinging his eyes as his breath quickens, removing his helmet to throw it beside him. Heartbeat rapid and restless, heart dropped to his stomach, nausea forming in the pit of his stomach due to the sight of blood flowing outwards to your vigilante suit from the hole on your chest. He could feel a panic attack nearing, but couldn’t be bothered to care when the blood kept pouring out even when he applied pressure.

“No— no, no, no, no.” He chokes up, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, trembling hands continuously putting pressure on your chest. “Stay with me, please. Stay with me. I can’t—” He sobbed. “I can’t lose you.”

Your breathing was shallow yet no fear plastered your face. There’s your usual calmness, the nonchalance that Bruce used to be so unsettled when he first met you, your almost dead eyes still sparkling in love and adoration for Jason. You don’t seem to care about your injury nor the outstretched arms of the Grim Reaper.

Your bloodied lips stretches to form a weak smile, captivated by Jason’s beauty under the moonlight. “You’re still magnificent, mon cherí… A sight to behold… under the moonlight…”

“Baby, now’s not the time.” Jason whined pathetically, tears flowing endlessly from his eyes. Dread, fear, devastation settling in his chest. “Please, baby. Please. I don’t know— fuck, I can’t live without you.” He cried, uncaring that you two were surrounded by his family. “I don’t… I can’t, baby. I— I can’t lose you, please.”

Adrenaline rushing through your veins and motivated by your sheer love for him, you reached up to wipe his tears and grab his other hand to intertwine it with yours. Jason’s heart drops further down the abyss when you then used it to pull out his dagger — the one you gifted him — out of his holster. “You would not lose me, by other’s hands, my sweetheart… I made an oath, to only offer you my life and soul, with no one else to have the privilege of ending me.”

“No— please, baby, no.” Jason weakly shakes his head, sobbing.

You gripped his hand that held the dagger. “You ought to, cherí… It is an honour for me to die by your hands. Please, allow me… to love you, one last time.”

Jason whimpered your name, crying heavily as he leans down to rest his head on yours. You were so cruel, wanting to die by his hands, wanting him to live forever with his hands stained in your blood— but Jason knew that’s how extent your love was for him. He could never deny you, not when it was your greatest wish.

Croaks and sobs escaping him, Jason finally drives the dagger through your chest, right where the sword pierced you. It is only then you slumped against him, hands slowly dropping to your sides with mouth slightly turned up in a smile of peace and satisfaction.

The greatest proof that you love him. Carving yourself deep into his heart, so he could never be alone even when you’re physically gone.

Jason wailed in anguish and sorrow, hugging your now lifeless body close as he brokenly recites the speech you gave him in the graveyard.

You hurt him badly, loved him too cruelly, but it was still better than losing you forever. He would’ve driven the dagger into his own beating heart if only you allowed him.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jason lost the brightness he had in him. Emerald eyes lifeless that seemed as if you took his soul with him, still functioning yet lacking in human emotions as if he was a robotic being.

Sometimes, he breaks so suddenly.

Utters your name like a curse, sobbing and weeping in his room, scar so deep in his heart he scratches at his chest in attempt to get it out to stop the ache. His emotions were too unstable that left him unqualified to continue the vigilantism, which he agreed emotionlessly when pointed out by Bruce.

Sometimes, he’s shattered too much and far too gone in grief that he sleeps on your grave. Covers himself in blanket and nuzzles on your headstone, as if it would give him the warmth you always radiated despite being as cold as death. He could only sleep that way; the sleeping pills don’t help, but being close to your body does.

He holds his dagger close to him all the time. Stained in your dried blood that he never got the nerve to wash off, afraid that his mind would someday choose to forget your existence to block out the trauma.

He wears everything you used to wear. Uses your weapons, things, accessories. His favourite is your sunglasses. Having your possessions close always made him feel like you were embracing him.

No one ever attempted to get them away from him in fear of shattering his soul furthermore. His entire being seemingly dependent on everything that reminded of you, they didn’t want to trigger something inside of him any more than the scar in his heart did.

“Love truly is the greatest twisted curse in the world, Mr. Wayne.” Morticia mutters in sorrow as she looks out the window of the Addams’ manor, watching Jason curl up against your headstone with tears silently streaming down his face.

Bruce looks down in dejection, nodding his head.

His boy was beyond repair, and no one could do anything about it because you were gone.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Jason’s eyes were wide in shock and horror. Emotions swirled within his chest; anger, disgust, sadness, grief, disbelief, and joy battling one another that overwhelmed him all at once. His family stood with him in front of the monitor, their expressions just as horrified as him, the familiar situation causing dread to settle on the pit of Bruce’s stomach.

The monitor showed you, alive and well with the exception of your eyes seeming more dead and lifeless than before. Everything was the same from your emotionless face to your vigilante suit that you died in, but Jason could see right through you. This wasn’t you. This you wasn’t his.

Not when you were standing in the same room as the Joker who you’d immediately kill if you were put together.

Jason was even more certain you weren’t his when he sees you up close, your personality different from that sophisticated, nonchalant yet wonderful one you had before. You’re just… blank. A dead person living without humanity and following orders. You don’t follow orders, you hated being controlled.

The familiarity makes his chest clench and hurt. He’s been through this exact thing, he never thought you would experience it too.

“I don’t want to fight you, baby.” Jason whispered, voice cracking. His helmet hiding the heartbroken look on his face that you were standing in front of him with your sais pointed dangerously in his direction.

You scowled. He’s somehow familiar, your chest erupting in unknown emotions that Talia never taught you about. The urge to hold him close was tugging at the strings of your heart, but you stay glued to your spot. “I do not know you, fool.” You emotionlessly remark.

Hurt flashed across his face. There’s nothing he wanted more than to be held by you and hold you close, but how could he when you don’t recognise him? Did they brainwash you? Your memories lack, but they could come back, right?

“Red Hood,” Batman warningly calls his name when you lowered your stance.

Jason still didn’t pull out his guns.

“Baby, it’s me.” He whispered weakly. “Please, you said you’ll hold me again. You’ll crawl out of dirt to hold me or pull me under with you, remember?” Jason tried again, tears shimmering his eyes. His throat burned.

Your eyes narrowed, brows furrowing. You feel like you’ve told him that, but couldn’t remember. Something was banging on your head from the depths of your mind that made it throb. Gripping your sais, you desperately ignored the pain to focus on your task.

“Ignore it,” Talia’s voice entered your ears. “Kill him.”

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

“Fuck!” Jason yelps when you managed to slash him on his leg, dodging your next attack quickly. “Wait— please, listen to me!”

“Red Hood, watch out!” Red Robin shouts just as Jason narrowly avoids your sai flying towards his head.

He couldn’t find any other way to get you to listen. The way you attempted to tune him out makes him believe you were feeling something, but there’s nothing he could do when you keep coming at his throat. Desperation runs through his veins, heart still bleeding out for you even as you try to kill him. The coldness in your eyes was foreign that carved another scar in his heart, but he can’t hate you no matter what.

Jason’s heart jackhammered against his ribcage when you finally caught him by the throat and slammed him harshly on the floor, your murderous look that he always loved plastered over your face. He stops struggling after realising he could never hurt you again, and slowly hovers his hand over your wrist. Your grip on his throat was tight, but Jason couldn’t be bothered to panic.

He finally had you again at last. Why should he panic when the source of his life was so near to him?

“Have you gotten exhausted of fighting back?” You calmly tilted your head, curiosity in your eyes. Jason doesn’t miss the split seconds of conflicted look.

“I can’t,” He replies quietly. “I love you, baby. Never stopped.” His other hand raised to remove his helmet, ignoring Bruce’s protest, and your grip on his throat faltered as soon as you make eye contact with the emerald eyes that you adore too much.

“I don’t want to fight you, (Y/n). So kill me,” Jason mumbled with a soft voice. “Allow me to love you one last time and stab my heart with your sai. For a life without you is a life full of unquenchable thirst and eternal hunger unworthy of surviving.” He recited your own quote back to you with a tearful smile.

Closing his eyes, peace overtakes Jason for the first time in a long while since losing you as he waits for the abrupt pain of being pierced through the heart. However, all that came was softness attaching itself to his lips.

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

Jason snaps his eyes wide open in shock at your lips pressing against his, the death grip on his throat loosening just to hover affectionately over it. His body naturally reacts, moving on its own to reciprocate your kiss and relish in it, arms flying up to wrap around your neck.

You pulled away when he yearns for oxygen, a sob nearly escaping him again when he sees the love and warmth in your eyes. You smile gently at him, brightness returning to your previously dead eyes. “I’m deeply sorry, my love. I’m back.”

Jason tearfully chuckled and crushed you in a hug, heart rapidly beating against his chest. Relief wasn’t enough of a word to describe the happiness he felt. The feeling of being embraced tightly by you causing tears to stream down his face for the nth time, his longing and yearning finally being fulfilled. He missed this, he missed you, he missed his only home.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Neither you nor Jason had left the bedroom since returning, having locked yourselves up in his room that you shared to obtain privacy for yourselves. None of the Waynes were bothered too much as they understood how much Jason yearned for your presence, the only comfort he’s ever had in his life.

Jason’s been holding onto you for dear life with the fear of you vanishing out of nowhere, his face buried on the crook of your neck and hand resting on your chest directly above your heart to feel it beating through his palm. Your arms securely wrapped around him in reassurance makes him feel more safe and at peace than he ever did. He pulls away slightly to look up, seeing you already staring at him with fondness and comfort.

“Don’t leave me again, please.” He croaks like a lost child, voice cracking.

You kissed his forehead. “I’d return to you in a heartbeat, my Jason.”

Jason stares into your gentle eyes, snuggling closer to you and intwining his legs with yours to feel every part of you. “Can’t live without you, baby.” He whispered.

You smiled. Perhaps, it was time to tell him.

Even death can’t severe the emotional bond and love you have for each other, which leaves one option; together. Falling out of love was never in either of your vocabulary, anyway.

For I can’t help falling in love with you

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[theimpurelily]

“isn’t Cui Wenyan meant to do your chores? Are you going to give it to him? Can I come with you? I want to throw snowballs at him, my aim has become so good.” “Oh. Wait. Have you spent these days throwing snowballs at him?” “And Ming Fan,” Ning Yingying cheerfully admits, “and if Zhao De was here, him too! But I would add a rock in those.” Holy shit.  (from chapter 8)

I fucking love how unhinged NYY can be in @grubus Shen Yuan of No Relation

[caitlynskitten]

Wednesday: Is there anything better than pussy? Yes-

Divina: Nope.

Yoko: Absolutely not.

Enid: I have to agree.

Wednesday, slams her book: Fuck it. Forget it. You all suck.

[invertcolor]

Fanfic: Altogether Ooky (or, Into the Wednesday-Verse) https://archiveofourown.org/works/43699947/chapters/109887078 autor: https://www.tumblr.com/kraken17

[laylajeffany]

Enid's tarot spread during the full moon acts as the chapter summary. Will Enid be able to bury it all? Or will Wednesday's well-intended attempts at relieving angst only bring more? Please read with grace after my three month hiatus!

...and with this update, I hit the two million word mark of published Wednesday fanfiction. Shoutout to those of you who endure through my grotesque and sometimes egregious abuse of word economy principals.

[noturlondonboy]

Nails on the Chalkboard of My Heart

Wenclair Oneshot

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair

Summary: It’s a dark and stormy night… and Wednesday decides to paint Enid���s nails in an effort to help the werewolf calm down. Fluffy confessions and silly gay girl antics ensue.

A/N: I really did love writing this one, I love blorbos painting each other’s nails. They’re so stinking cute. Enjoy!

Warnings: that good ole lesbian make out sesh don’t ya know

It was storming outside when Wednesday returned back to the dorm to find a shivering Enid tucked away under the covers. The lightning and thunder had been going raucously for about an hour now, and the walls shook from the force of the wind. Wednesday almost smiled at the rain lashing the windows.

Setting her bag on her desk, Wednesday quickly changed into her hoodie and sweats while doing her best to ignore the whimpering coming from the other side of the room. Enid never did well during large thunderstorms. She had told her as such, even explaining that she was used to handling them just fine alone, as none of her family had ever bothered to comfort her. That tidbit has nagged restlessly at Wednesday, but she brushed it off and didn’t press questions.

Now, though, after 30 minutes of sitting silently in front of her typewriter with nothing to show for it, after 30 minutes of Enid crying softly under her thick blankets all alone, after 30 minutes of “my parents had better things to do than trying to get me to stop cowering” ringing through her head in Enid’s gentle diction, something in Wednesday’s chest gave a terrible ache. She ripped the useless paper from the machine in front of her and crumpled it with one hand before tossing it in the trash bin like it had personally offended her.

Thing appeared on her desk, somehow knowing he was about to be summoned. Wednesday nodded, turning to face him. “Enid’s noise canceling headphones broke last week after Xavier’s idiotic little stunt with the lunch trays. Grab my pair from under my bed and take them to her while I clean up,” she ordered quietly, already starting to tidy her desk back to how she liked it.

Morticia and Gomez had gifted them both a set of headphones once they had heard of Enid’s ADHD. They had already been preparing to do so after Wednesday’s official autism diagnosis, but hurried the purchase in order to supply them both before the new school year.

Thing gave a little one-fingered salute and scurried off to do what he was told, jolting at the lightning but giving no protest. The girl sighed and rolled her shoulders. The crick in her neck had grown especially agonizing over the last week, and while she normally enjoyed pain, this was more annoying than anything else.

There was muffled conversation from Enid, but her sounds of distress stopped while she presumably accepted the headphones and put them on. Wednesday closed her eyes, letting out a sigh from her nose. Maybe she could pretend to stall by reorganizing her entire bookshelf for the third time, when in reality all that was happening was a mental preparation for what she was about to do.

A strike of lightning pierced the night and rattled the walls, leaving the dorm room in momentary blackness. Enid lets out a shriek, her tears evident in the warble in her throat. But like a wraith, Wednesday is by her side the moment the lights come back on, unable to stop herself from holding back.

Another yelp from the Werewolf, who jumped and scrambled back on her bed. Wednesday reached forward quickly to cradle the girl’s face and pull her closer, her knees subsequently ending up on the colorful covers.

Enid freezes, tearful eyes wide, the black headphones askew on her head. They both hold their breaths, but Wednesday is the first to move, carefully taking her roommate’s hand to pull her back properly onto her own bed. Enid only obeys, expression dizzy as it darts between the point of contact and the lack of a scowl on the Latina’s face.

Once Enid is resettled, Wednesday busies herself with going through the drawers of her nightstand and desk. Her mind is running unfortunately much quicker than she likes, but her senses sharpen with each whimper from the puppy waiting for her just feet away.

Black and pink nail polish secured in her palm, she sits with her legs crossed in front of Enid and fixes the headphones back into place. The werewolf sat stockstill, only moving to flinch at the thunder.

“I’m going to turn some music on for you, and then I’m going to paint your nails, and we’re not going to talk- understood?” Wednesday says softly, pulling her rarely used phone from her pocket and opening up Spotify. Enid seems only capable of gaping, her wet cheeks glowing pink.

Wednesday presses play on a shared playlist of theirs (which mainly consisted of very limited Kpop, Cigarettes After Sex, Melanie Martinez, and classical cello arrangements) before setting her phone aside and putting her palm out. Enid stared at it for a moment before realizing what she wanted and giving her hand over.

They both jolted once their fingers met, but Wednesday just pulled Enid’s arm closer with a gentle reverence and uncapped one of the polishes to begin painting.

Enid watched her in silent awe, ears blessedly full of something other than the thunderstorm. Wednesday worked in careful precision, stroking one finger at a time to stimulate the claws that hid under the skin so she could coat the polish on. She did it in one full stroke, because she was an Addams and did everything perfectly, her dark eyes almost warm as she waited a moment for the paint to set before moving on to the next.

There was much to be said, of course, about the colors Wednesday had chosen. Pink and black, to symbolize the two of them, in a pattern of every-other.

A crash of thunder hit Nevermore, and Enid jumped at the vibrations as they rattled the wooden boards around them. Wednesday held her hands still, her thumb drawing slow circles into her wrists until she was calm again. When another loud bang had Enid’s claws slipping out involuntarily, the result of which was a red nick in Wednesday’s skin, the goth only pressed a kiss to Enid’s knuckles to steady her (and make her blush like a volcano?? C'mon Enid get it together) instead of lashing out like the werewolf had feared.

A bright flash set the world outside momentarily ablaze. Enid flinched and curled into herself, her hands pulling away from Wednesday to ball together close to her chest. When she came back around with the gentle melody of Apocalypse soothing her sensitive ears, Wednesday was hovering close, hands shaped like she would be cupping Enid’s cheeks if she just moved forward about two inches.

Enid watched her, blinking the tears away as her heart settled, and gave herself no time to think. She leaned forward and nestled her jaw into Wednesday Addams’ palms, the wonderful touch of skin on skin melting the fear away. Dark eyes bore into baby blues, and Wednesday idly wondered what her parents would say if they saw her like this, calm and warm and making a willing effort to provide comfort to someone such as Enid.

“You’re alright,” she whispered, even as she very well knew that Enid couldn’t hear her- though the girl’s eyes darted down to read her lips. “It can’t hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

And Enid watches as she always had, cheeks warm and marveling silently as Wednesday retracted, carefully cleaning any smudged polish before reapplying the color where it was needed. Once Enid’s nails were successfully painted, Wednesday held her fingers gingerly to blow on them until they were dry. Her breath was warm, and soothed the ache in her knuckles.

The two stared at each other, Enid taking the headphones off and setting them aside. The storm had thankfully dimmed to a drizzle. The pitter patter of the raindrops was soothing and much preferred over heavy thunder and lightning.

Wednesday felt her stomach roiling at the entire interaction. Who was she, Wednesday Addams, to be painting the nails of this strange girl? Who was she to calm and to help, when all her life, she had only been a dark thing of madness? Who was she… to Enid?

Wednesday was so caught up in her head that it took her a long moment to realize that Enid’s face had melted into a mask of awed serenity, and the expression was held only for Wednesday. The werewolf watched her so intensely that Wednesday could feel the cool water of her eyes, imagining what her fingers would do if pushed through impossibly soft golden hair.

“Thank you,” Enid suddenly breathed, her heart in her throat. Something was clawing away at her lungs, stealing her breath. Her very bones seemed to ring. “Thank you,” she said again, aching and aching for Wednesday to stay, to keep touching her, to touch her more.

Somehow, Wednesday saw that want, saw right through her as she always did and always would. She cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly very, very dry, the words burning on her tongue.

“Anything you wish of me, Enid, I will do. And if it is not what you desire, then I will leave you in peace, away from my darkness and pain that trails me as if a shadow forever imprinted. But you- I can’t…” She swallowed thickly. Enid’s eyes were wide, a blush rising on her freckled cheeks. Wednesday desperately wanted to touch them. “I believe that I have fallen victim to the Addams Family curse, to love fiercely and everlastingly. I can feel it swelling within me, a heart I didn’t know I had.”

Wednesday didn’t really know what she was doing, why she was saying this. But the words had started and her chest had screamed so desperately for what it truly wanted, what it had been waiting for all this time.

“I think… that you have entranced me, utterly entranced me in every way any wicked woman could think of.” Another swallow, tightening the hold their fingers had on each other. Enid’s face was a furnace, her lips parted and heart beating furiously.

How did she respond to this? How did she explain to Wednesday that she had discovered that her darker counterpart and undying crush was her mate only weeks ago, a revelation that had sent her into a tizzy so bad she had been bedridden for hours? She wasn’t sure she even remembered how to speak.

Wednesday’s pupils were blown wide, her eyes large and dark and swallowing Enid whole. She wanted to be laid to rest in those eyes. But Wednesday heard no response, and her mind faltered. She had been so sure in that moment that her wolf would return the affection, would recognize the confession for what it was. The plea in her voice, the promise to do and be anything Enid asked.

“If you- if you do not feel the same way, Enid, I would understand, and I would not blame you. Turn me away and I would trek to the edges of the Earth if that is where you want me. But if you wish for me to stay… I am devoted to you, to your happiness, your pleasure, your mind and soul. I am caught in your beastly claws and yours to do with what you will.” And she waited, her ribs throbbing as her heart pumped blood harshly through her. Wednesday Addams laid herself out for the first time in her miserable life, completely true and bare for someone else.

How had painting nails turned into this? What could have possibly possessed her today?

Enid, in turn, was still doing her best to wrap her poor little gay head around Wednesday’s words. This was too good to be true, it- it couldn’t possibly be real. And normally if she were called beastly by anyone else, she would claw their face off. But with Wednesday calling her that… Shit. It honest to gods turned her on.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again with absolutely no idea what to say. But… did she even really need words? Wednesday was stating this verbally because she knew it was the best way to get through to Enid. The darker girl had always shown her true feelings through actions, but to get through her thick werewolf skull, the words were easiest.

Enid thought she should return the favor. Tell Wednesday that she felt the same, show her she felt the same. That she would push herself to every possible limit for Wednesday, would do anything she ever asked, would rip her own heart out if it meant her mate would give her a rare smile.

And to show her, Enid knew there was only one option. They were in too deep- far too deep, to settle for anything less than razor sharp exactness.

Wednesday watched her with wide eyes, cheeks dark and lips parted almost grimly. There was no more room for waiting. Enid set aside the nail polish bottles, crawled forward to gently nudge her way between Wednesday's knees, and kissed her without a moment to waste.

Wednesday gasped and jolted away as her heart shrieked, lips burning furiously. She stared; Enid stared back. The werewolf looked ready to fling herself off of their balcony. But Wednesday fisted the soft blonde hair at the back of her head and pulled her forward with no small amount of desperation, reconnecting their mouths before she could let herself think.

There was another gasp, then a sigh, followed by a moan as Enid pushed into her closer until Wednesday was pressed on her back, braids messy and thrown over the bed. The wolf’s weight on her smaller body was warm and alluring, fading into the back of her mind as soft lips devoured her whole.

Gods, Wednesday had never seen so much color. It burst into fireworks over her eyelids as Enid kissed her and kissed her, a silver tongue dipping hotly into her mouth to flick over her canines and taste the cruel words Wednesday Addams preferred to so generously wield.

Enid’s heart burst in her chest as the girl beneath her responded ever so eagerly to her lips, tangling their legs together and using her cold, delicate hands to cup the werewolf’s cheeks and pull her closer, always closer, her perfect nails scratching softly at her skin just below the Hyde scars. A purr built up and tumbled out of her throat, startling Wednesday so much that she broke away, cheeks deliciously flushed and chest working hard to keep breathing.

Enid stopped too, unable to squash the mortified look on her face as the purr persisted, rumbling softly in the back of her throat. She knew if her wolf had its way, a golden tail would be wagging furiously. She would’ve died from embarrassment alone.

Wednesday’s mouth had gone slack, her obsidian eyes wide and a bit glazed as she stared so intently at Enid she might as well have been stripping her right then and there.

“I didn’t know that you could- that you would… make that noise,” she muttered, one hand moving to settle on Enid’s waist while the other stayed where it rested on her scarred cheek. Her fingertips were cold, yet left a blazing trail as they flittered like dark little mourning doves over fairer skin.

“Werewolves only purr for their mate,” Wednesday said slowly, cautiously, doing her damn best to gauge the expressions flashing over Enid’s face so quickly she could barely decipher half of them. Most depicted a horrified desire to forget the balcony and just head straight for a window. “Only- their mate.”

Enid could only stare at Wednesday, at her inky hair and adorable bangs, the freckles smattered over dark skin that was normally as pale as death but now shone red, the depthless eyes that threatened to drown her every morning when she awoke. Mate. Her mate, watching her closely as one would a spooked animal.

What was there to say? Wednesday stated the fact, because Enid truly had purred, was still purring, even as she scrambled for the words to save her sorry ass from the rejection of an Addams daughter. She was still hovering over said Addams, such a welcome shadow on her colorful bedspread.

“Am I your mate, Enid Sinclair?” Wednesday whispered, her lips barely moving as she used her hand to tug the blonde fully on top of her by her waist, the purr halted for only a second by a nervous whine. Her eyelashes fluttered, and a smirk- no, a grin- tipped the corners of her mouth up until perfect teeth almost showed through those taunting lips.

Taunting lips that Enid wanted to kiss again very, very much.

Wednesday repeated her question, her words almost slurred as she breathed them. There was something on her face, in the lines of her cheekbones and the dip of her chin, the curve of her jaw, that spoke of something dangerous. Insatiable. Enid couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

But as soon as she came up with it -hunger- she let out a low whimper and somehow pressed impossibly closer until her warmth was Wednesday's warmth, until her breath was Wednesday’s breath. “Yes,” she whispered, begged, might as well have screamed for what that one word did.

Wednesday Addams surged up to capture the wolf’s lips in her own and throw her off balance in order to straddle her waist, the words melting into their mouths.

Words they never really needed to say.

Not that Enid would even know how to speak in the first place, after Wednesday had her way with her.

[cherryleehernandez]

Being Xavier Thorpe’s Girlfriend hcs

(Disclaimer, I just recently saw what’s going on about the actor Percy. I do not support him, nor his choices. This is about the character and the character only)

Carrying extra hair ties

Fixinging his tie after he rushed to get ready bc he was late

Him inviting you to share his art studio so you have a place to create too

Making him raspberry tarts (bc they’re his favorite and I said so)

Forcing him to take breaks to eat

“Xavier.” you’d been calling him for a while but he was in his own world. With a grunt of annoyance you walked over to him, gently tracing his neck with your fingers. “Xavier, sweetheart?”

“Hmm, yes?” He answered, enjoying the feeling of your soft touch. As you pulled him away from his painting he realized how hungry he was. A growl came from his stomach with a scrunched face as it’s company.

“Are you willing to take a break an eat Hun? I made tarts.” You smiled at him, if he didn’t take a break for tarts then he’d never rest.

“Raspberry?” He asked

“What else?” You chuckled. He turned around to face you, placing a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Alright, alright, you got me. I’ll take a break, but only because I love you and you��re a good baker.”

Showing up at his house on Christmas because you didn’t want him to be alone

Adopting a black cat because you wanted a pet and he folded

Wearing his clothes because you find it comforting

Matching twine bracelets

Wearing matching all black outfits (this is a projection bc I wear all black most of the time)

Cuddling at lunch. Your friends don’t mind, they think it’s cute.

Taking turns setting up nice baths for each other

Reading together in the library

Wearing his favorite outfit of yours on his birthday just to make him smile more

[kraken17]

Enid: So, are you enjoying your birthday, Weds?

Wednesday: I confess to being in a state of unhealthy bliss, mia lupa.

Enid: How's your present working out for you?

Wednesday: This new shovel is wonderful. At this rate I will soon beat my exhumation record with this corpse.

Enid: Speaking of which, since we're in the middle of nowhere and not in the cemetery... How did you know there was a body buried here?

Wednesday: ...

Enid: Wednesday, how did you know there was a body buried here?

Wednesday: They spoke ill of you.

[beat]

Enid: ...

Enid: Okay, fair enough.

[lorelaiblair]

An excerpt from Enid’s text messages.

Enid: mom

mom

mother??

Esther: Enid?

Enid: hi mom!

what is my blood type?

Esther: A negative, why, are you alright?

Enid: yeah, i’m cool

wednesday just wanted to know

Esther: Enid, do not tell that witch your blood type.

Enid Sinclair?

Do not tell an Addams your blood type!

[hadesrise]

meet the addams.

previous part.

summary ➳ the bat family meets the addams family

pairings ➳ jason todd x addams!male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, strong language, pet names, hesitant bruce, weapons, typical addams family behavior ( homicide, dark humor, weird, etc ), jason and reader being a simp for each other, the addams being wholesome as always, implied reader’s atheism (i think the entire addams are atheist tbh), mention of torture

author’s note ➳ wow, hades updated !! shocking, i know. i'm sorry for the long hiatus and inactive, i wasn't okay and it was difficult for me to write when my mind was in such a messed up state. mental health can be a bitch, you know :D i'm trying to recover, and went back on writing again. hope this was a good comeback.

Letting his family meet you hadn’t crossed Jason’s mind at all until that very day when his annoying older brother caught him by the ice cream truck buying a dark chocolate and a mint chocolate flavored ice cream.

Dick was on officer duty patrol in undercover civilian clothes that afternoon, walking around the streets of Gotham in hopes of catching some shady business going around the city or just someone doing a simple act that goes against the law, being a good police officer that he is. Though, instead of seeing criminals like he assumed he would, his most rebellious little brother dressed in bad boy-ish clothes as usual buying ice creams caught his eyes.

He was supposed to walk right past since there really is no reason to approach Jason, but seeing him sit down next to a mysterious, old fashioned, well-dressed, expensive looking guy in all black with sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose and give the dark chocolate flavored ice cream to? Now, Dick certainly can’t walk past without knowing about you because he’s a little shit who just can’t help but stuck his nose into his brother’s business. That and, well, he also found you really cool. There’s not a thing in this world that can stop Dick Grayson from wanting to befriend someone who seems cooler than the Dark Knight himself.

So, in all his glory, Dick approached Jason with his usual charming smile dancing across his lips.

“Oh, god...” Jason groaned in annoyance as soon as he spotted the grinning male, rolling his eyes. Peace seems to never be an option whenever he takes you around the city for simple walks.

“Jason, are you uttering your all father’s name religiously or simply as an expression as of the moment?” Your elegant yet soothing, deep voice speaks out a sentence composed of well thought words and syllables, innocent curiosity behind the gentle tone.

Dick takes a mental note that your way of speaking sounded similar to the way humanity used to speak centuries ago, when everything was still old-fashioned and technologies hardly ever existed. It made him feel like you came from the past, as if he was witnessing the existence of a time traveler. Stopping in front of you two, he gives you a charming grin as soon as your eyes catches his. A hint of curiosity and wonder flashed within them behind the dark shades of your sunglasses before they were gone in an instant, replaced by a questioning look instead.

“May I help you?” You simply asked, but Dick doesn’t fail to notice the sudden drop in your previously soft tone and the piercing, calculated gaze holding wariness as well as subtle suspicion.

“Sorry, I’m Dick Grayson. I was curious about the person Jay’s hanging out with, I couldn’t help myself but approach.” He elaborates himself while trying his best to ensure he wasn’t a threat through body language, relaxing his figure. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out a little.”

Recognition flashed in your face, brows raising only barely to show subtle surprise, “Jason’s older brother. The name’s (Y/n) Addams. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” You smiled, and even something just as simple as that looked graceful in Dick’s eyes.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, you were enchanting to look at as everything you do or say was captivating. How Jason managed to pull you was beyond him.

“Nice to meet you too,” He says back with a soft smile.

Even though his little brother hasn’t introduced you yet to their family, at least you seemed to know about them. Hopefully, nothing unpleasant has been said, but Dick doubts Jason would hide his trauma from you, considering how he was leaning to your side now subconsciously, as if being away from you will bring back awful memories.

He was worried about his practically traumatized-for-life little brother living alone, but it appears he didn’t have to worry at all.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” Jason more of grumbled, annoyed that your date has been interrupted. Almost automatically, one of your hands move to settle itself on his thigh to give it a gentle and soothing rub to ease his growing annoyance, while the other held your dark chocolate ice cream that you had begun eating with clean manners. He relaxed in an instant after feeling your touch.

“I think you should introduce (Y/n) to our family, Jay.” Dick suggests with enthusiasm that didn’t match Jason’s, not really answering his question. “They would want to know who you’re going out with. We can all have a dinner together!” There was excitement shining in his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain nonchalant despite his body language practically screaming excited.

Your lover groans, “Why the hell do they have to know who I’m going out with?”

Amusement crosses your face as you smirked, licking off the small bits of ice cream that got on your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I’m certain my family will be more than happy to meet them.” Jason gives you a look, to which you responded with an innocent smile. “Oh, mon amour. What could go wrong? I have been looking forward to meet your family, but you’ve never considered to bring me there. It’s a little concerning how you seem too hesitant to let them meet me.” You pout, feigning sadness.

Your lover widens his eyes, panic appearing in them as he gripped your hand that was on his thigh after realizing what you were implying. “That’s not what it looks like, babe! I just don’t want you to meet them ‘cause they can be a bit unbearable. Bruce is the worst person you could ever meet,” He scrunched his nose. “It’s not you I don’t want them to meet, it’s them I don’t want you to meet. There’s a difference. You’re never the problem.”

You chuckled at his quick attempt of elaboration.

Jason feels his cheeks redden at how deeply elegant and amazing your laugh sounded; it never fails to make his heart go haywire even after all this time. You manage to effortlessly make him fall in love with you deeper and deeper every day without even meaning to.

“Worry not, darling. I was just teasing you. I’m far from upset.” Reassuring him, your hand gently cups his cheek to rub the skin comfortingly. “Let me meet them once you’ve gotten rid of your doubts completely, my Jason. It isn’t necessary to rush.” You then let go of his face to push some of his hair away from his forehead before leaning back to continue eating the ice cream.

Dick witnessed a starstruck smile spread across Jason’s lips in an instant, the way his expression was so soft when looking at you, how his emerald eyes that usually held pent-up rage towards the world sparks brightly in love and adoration.

Huh. He’s never seen his brother this happy and content.

Maybe you are Jason’s one true love.

“Dick,” Jason calls out after watching you eat your ice cream with a barely hidden happiness. You looked happy to meet one of his family even though you haven’t said anything, and he was willing to throw away his pride if it meant making you happy.

“Hm?” Dick hummed, smiling when Jason glanced at you and looked back at him.

“Tell the others.”

That was all he needed to let out the excitement he was holding in, beaming at you two. “Right away, little bird!” He doesn’t waste a time to pull his phone out of his pocket, “I’m going then. It was nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ll text you when!” He waved his hand and walked away, already dialling Bruce’s number.

Jason watched him go incredulously. “Did he just come here to convince me to introduce you?”

You chuckle under your breath, “Perhaps. Your brother has sorted out his priorities well.” However, a frown appears on your lips when you turned to Jason. “Do you genuinely feel comfortable letting my family meet them? We could always cancel, mon amour. There are many other fascinating activities we can bother ourselves with.”

Jason felt his heart swell at your gentle tone and concerned eyes, making him feel loved in many different ways. You don’t even realize that you’re slowly healing his troubled heart with simple things like this. He already knows you love him more than the Guillotine itself (which is a really big deal since nothing except him could ever beat your love for it) as you’ve always told him before, but the way you treat him, talk to him, and look at him just adds so much weight on your words. You don’t just tell him you love him — you show it in the most perfect, best, casual ways.

Intertwining his hand with yours, he brought it up to rest on his chest, hiding how overwhelmed he was with the love for you. “Like what, sweetheart?” Faint amusement laced his tone as he already knew the answer.

“Like slicing or shooting criminals, of course.” You winked before bringing your intertwined hands to press a kiss on his knuckles.

Jason laughs, and you admired the way he threw his head back to let the sound escape. “Knew you would say that!” He wheezed, before calming down to kiss your knuckles just like you did to his. “But it’s really fine, (Y/n). I want to introduce you and your family to mine.” His expression then turns apologetic, “ ‘m sorry if it seemed like I was keeping you in the shadows.”

You shake your head and leaned in to capture his lips in a peck, a gesture to let him know you didn’t mind. “If you were keeping me in the shadows, we wouldn’t be having a date out in the open where any of your family can see me. Don’t be apologetic, chéri. I’m nowhere near upset.”

Letting a smile break out, Jason leans in to kiss you more longer this time before pulling away.

Just like that, you both sat on the bench and ate ice creams in comfortable silence, holding each other’s hand.

Dick, Tim, Damian, Barbara, Cassandra and Stephanie all stood in front of the Wayne Manor with barely contained excitement, waiting for the infamous Addams family and Jason to show up.

Dick was mainly looking forward for his family to see the side of Jason no one had ever seen before, Tim was occasionally standing on his tiptoes to see if any car was nearing, and Damian was keeping himself still but his body practically trembled with excitement due to being a fan of your vigilante persona for a long time. Barbara had a smile on her face with a hint of nervousness, while Cassandra and Stephanie talked to each other to calm their nerves.

Even without research, the Addams family was quite the celebrity family in Gotham because of their richness that seemed to tie with Bruce Wayne, but moreover, they were rather infamous for being “weird” and gothic as those experts for minding businesses that aren’t their own paparazzi claimed. The Wayne family didn’t really need to dive into the deepest parts of internet in their computer; one newspaper — with the front cover of five people with gothic outfits standing in front of the big ass almost-castle-house — dedicated entirely to the weird family already helped.

Only thing they needed to research about was you, and surprisingly, it wasn’t hard to find information about your vigilantism — which is how all of them realized not only was Jason dating the person Damian idolizes more than his own father, but also the one who brutally tortured and straight-up dumped Joker into Arkham Asylum. Needless to say, it kinda made sense to them that Jason’s dating you, though Bruce wasn’t pleased.

The gates being opened to a black limousine caught their attention, making Cass and Steph break their conversation to watch the car drive closer before eventually stopping in front of them. A butler, who took them by surprise due to his seemingly inhuman looks similar to the Frankenstein monster, got out to open the door.

A man wearing a black suit with white stripes was the first to come out of the limousine as he smiles cheerfully at them, helping his wife to step out. Cassandra’s jaw dropped at the beautiful woman with black, long and silky hair who gives them an enchanting, almost hypnotizing smile.

Next to step out were a boy wearing black and white striped shirt and a girl who had her hair braided on two sides. The boy gave them an all too adorable friendly smile, but his sister only held a blank face as she observed each of the Wayne members. Finally, Jason got out together with you, all of them noticing your intertwined hands.

Your lover raised his brows, “Why are you all here?”

“Well, Bruce said we didn’t have to, but we wanted to welcome you here.” Dick shrugged, nodding at you. “Good to see you again, (Y/n).”

“Likewise, Dick.” You smile. “Greetings, ladies, gentlemen. The name’s (Y/n). This are my parents Gomez and Morticia,” Your parents greet them with a nod and friendly smile. “And my siblings Wednesday and Pugsley.” Pugsley waves his hand, enthusiastic to meet Jason’s family, while Wednesday crosses her arms above her chest and simply nods without a word.

Dick was grinning at your siblings because of their adorableness, not even the slightest bit bothered by Wednesday’s lack of emotion. Cassandra and Tim were gawking at Gomez and Morticia, how they seem so perfect and gorgeous, not only each on their own but together as well. Stephanie and Barbara beamed at you while Damian observed Wednesday and Pugsley, but there wasn’t any hint of malice or bad intention in his eyes — just curiosity. The Addams family sure are good looking individuals.

“Uh — hi,” Tim was the first to speak out of the Wayne’s, awkwardly waving his hand because of the fact he felt as if the Addams were ethereal beings due to their beauty. “You... You all look beautiful. I’m surprised.”

Wednesday’s brows raised as you tilted your head slightly to the side, looking confused. Morticia and Gomez exchanges a glance from not knowing what to say, while Pugsley smiled nicely at Tim despite the truth of being called beautiful feels like an insult. Yours and your family’s reaction immediately worried the Wayne children; none of you seemed pleased or happy with the compliment Tim gave, in fact, you kind of looked offended.

Seeing his siblings getting worried that they might’ve done something wrong, Jason clears his throat to catch everyone’s attention and successfully did so. “What he means is you all look deadly and loathsome. He wasn’t trying to offend you in any way, he just isn’t used to our ways of compliment.” He elaborated with a genuine look, and his siblings looked taken aback that he seemed really calm and gentle with you and your family. Jason have always had anger issues; his rage was explosive everywhere he goes and the main victims of it were criminals, but sometimes it was directed entirely at Bruce because of their unpleasant history.

He was never known as a calm person even in the family. Always seemed on edge, like a walking bomb that’s ticking every second, unknown by people how to stop it from exploding so suddenly. However, as Jason stands with you holding your hand tightly, his entire demeanor was almost completely different from what his family was used to. He was as calm as a wind that caresses the Mother Nature so softly in fear of disturbing her and as gentle as anyone who holds a little kitten in their hands — there was no ticking time bomb, just a soft man caring and pouring his heart and love out to his awesome lover. Jason looked comfortable around you and your family, extremely to the point that he hadn’t noticed practically calling himself an Addams. It made his siblings’ hearts swell with happiness.

“Oh,” Morticia sighed in relief, and even just that felt and looked so heavenly. “We’re sorry, my dear. We weren’t aware of that. I was afraid you found us tolerable.”

Tim chuckles, not really knowing what to say. He was visibly confused, though from what he was able to pick up on, negative comments seems to be taken as positive ones in your family. While most of them were confused just like Tim, Damian quickly understood how compliments worked within the Addams and smirked fondly.

Dick finally gathers his thoughts to clear his throat, “Well, let’s go in now, shall we?”

As your family nodded in sync, you turn to Jason while fixing your collar with the empty hand. “Love, do I look menacing? I have to look presentable when meeting your father. I despise looking good.” You stated, checking your outfit and trying to fix where you found unpresentable.

It’s rare to see you fidgeting and uneasy, making Jason smile. He knew you lose your composure only when it comes to him and it made him feel so loved, appreciated, and important. “You always look menacing, babe. Could scare off any children that passes by.” He compliments, bringing up your intertwined hands and kissing the back of yours.

The corner of your lips twitched up, squeezing his hand back as amusement and adoration shows themselves on your expression. “That’s very lovely. This is why I loathe you.”

The flirting between you and Jason was so natural that even Damian wasn’t affected by it — he’s mostly disgusted and cringed out when people flirt in front of him, but for some reason, Jason flirting with you didn’t bother him at all. Perhaps, because it isn’t a modern type of flirting where couples show disgusting amount of PDA or say things halfheartedly just to make their partner feel good, but rather, it’s one that uses old-fashioned yet romantic language which truthfully comes from the heart. You and Jason flirt with respect for each other, where neither of you objectify nor sexualize the other.

There was a clear unspoken understanding between you, which was shown in just this little flirtatious moment. The way you show your love for each other might be old-fashioned and out of ordinary in this modern day, but it’s honestly more romantic than any of the modernized ones.

“You two always flirt,” Wednesday spoke as she swiftly turned around to meet yours and Jason’s eyes. “It would’ve been more perfect if you were holding a human heart and giving it to each other.”

Barbara, Cassandra, and Stephanie all widened their eyes at her opinion — is she telling you to kill someone, take their heart out, and give it to each other to show your love? That wouldn’t be a romance anymore; it’ll be a dark romance.

However, you only shrugged your shoulders while Jason chuckled in amusement, as if that comment was as normal as seeing trees and nature everywhere. Neither of you were even concerned with what Wednesday said. “There’s precisely a possibility of that occurring, though it’s not yet now.” You responded calmly, as expressionless as Wednesday but slight amusement littered your tone.

The others tensed at your statement with the exception of Damian, who only smirked in pride, as they all remember the news of Joker getting dumped into Arkham Asylum by a vigilante that isn’t Batman. Like mentioned before, Joker was in a really bad shape when he was quite literally thrown into the Asylum, very visible signs of torture coating his body everywhere.

When Bruce visited, it was worse than how the media portrayed it to be. Tongue cut off, fingers broken and two missing, heavily concussed, several cuts along his face and body, and bruises covering most of his body parts. Worst of it all was that Joker didn’t seem like himself anymore; he does laugh — never had been a time when Joker didn’t laugh — but it wasn’t his typical laughter. All the mockery, self-confidence and cockiness weren’t there. Instead, fear and paranoia filled the laughter Bruce was so used to hearing. It was so uncharacteristic and very unlikely of Joker.

He’s finally put behind bars for good, but how the fuck can a vigilante absolutely destroy the Joker? He was indestructible yet you managed to break him so bad that his insanity got flooded with immense fear rather than the urge to kill everyone and everybody for no reason.

And as they stand in front of you now, none of them can even imagine how such a gentleman like you could’ve broke him completely. You seem so respectful, sweet, gentleman, and lovely that it’s almost impossible to believe you were the one who did it. But everyone should always expect the unexpected, right?

“Dick,” Jason’s voice snaps the oldest boy out of his own thoughts as he nods his head towards the door. “Let’s go in.”

The Grayson only hummed, turning around to open the door and gesture inside with his other hand, bowing a little to show respect. Morticia and Gomez smiled pleasantly and brightly, touched by his manners as they enter. Wednesday followed next with a usual expressionless face, and Pugsley said “thank you” first before entering, then Jason pulled you along with him at last. The door closed behind Damian who was the last to enter.

“Welcome,” Bruce immediately greeted as soon as all of your eyes met his, and your parents doesn’t hesitate to smile respectfully and kindly at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.” Gomez steps forward with his hand extended to shake Bruce’s hand before gesturing to his wife standing beside him. “She’s my wife Morticia and these are my children. Perhaps, you already know about (Y/n)?”

Bruce’s unreadable gaze shift from your father to you, attempting to figure out your characteristics by just looking. However, despite the nervousness you’re feeling, you didn’t fail to compose yourself and appeal confident with the usual emotionless expression on your face. Your gaze sparkling darkly under the light made him feel uneasy somehow, as if you knew all of his dirty little secrets and his entire characteristics as well as personality and attitude without analyzing that much.

Truth be told, you heard Bruce’s attitude from Jason when he opened himself up to you. Your Beloved was extremely traumatized by what happened with Joker that it affected the way he saw the world; it should’ve been that way too with Bruce because he’s Jason’s adoptive father — yet what really happened was the complete opposite.

Bruce may not have had an ill intent of dismissing or ignoring what happened to Jason, but to continue living like Joker didn’t kill his second son made him unlikable on your list. You’re a very respectful person as Gomez and Morticia didn’t raise you to be an awful entity, and you would never want to go against your lover’s adoptive father — although, that does not mean you accept his morals.

Hiding the unsettled feeling building up in his stomach, Bruce attempts to smile at you and shake your hand. “So you’re (Y/n). I’ve only ever heard once about you.”

Only the corner of your lips twitched, a barely formed smile appearing as you shake his hand, eyes still piercing through him like a dagger. “And I’ve heard a lot of... things about you, Mr. Wayne.” The calculative tone in your voice set an alarm within Bruce’s head and he would’ve pulled his hand away from your grasp if it wasn’t for his conscious mind forcing himself to calm down. “Be not afraid — You’ll see no judgement here.” You gave him a pointed look.

Jason quickly goes behind you and wraps an arm around your waist, the soft look on him being noticed by everyone present in the room. “Babe, let’s have dinner first. You’ll absolutely love Alfred’s cooking. They’re hella tasty.” He compliments, winking at Alfred who stood at the side. Alfred smiled with gratitude.

Bruce notices the way a small bit of light shine on your dead-like eyes as soon as you looked at Jason. “Well then, may we?” You shift your soft gaze from Jason to Bruce as you tilt your head slightly to the side.

From then on, the peaceful dinner began with mainly your parents and Bruce sharing thoughts about their own children while the others watch with a smile as Damian starts a conversation with you, the one he idolizes the most. It’s surprising to see Damian being really talkative — for the first time ever, he was being an actual child, asking you questions after questions with his eyes sparkling in joy. Not wanting to ruin this seemingly precious moment for Damian, everyone just decided to listen and chime in only once in a while when they feel like it. You were extremely patient with Damian the entire time he was bombarding you with questions, answering all of them without getting annoyed.

Jason felt relieved to witness the dinner going smoothly.

Truth be told, he was secretly worried about it turning into a disaster due to your vigilantism — Jason knew how Bruce felt about you after realizing you were the unnamed vigilante that nearly killed the Joker, and he thought Bruce would bring it up right away soon as dinner started. Luckily, he didn’t. It made Jason sigh in relief and relax on his seat, smiling as he watched you talk with his siblings.

However, perhaps it was too soon.

“(Y/n), how long have you been a vigilante?”

Jason immediately froze at Bruce’s question. The chit-chatting within the dining hall quickly falls into silence as everyone, too, froze — except the Addams family, who were still eating calmly and quietly, unbothered.

You first swallowed the food you were chewing before wiping your mouth elegantly with a napkin and not even hesitating to meet Bruce’s piercing eyes. “Since I was a child, Mr. Wayne.” You answered simply.

Bruce leans on the table, taking it slow. “Why did you become one?”

You felt Jason squeezing your hand under the table, as if to say you don’t have to answer everything. Though, you still did. “One of our ancestors was a vigilante, although he was hanged alongside his wife’s burning body when a rumour spread that she was a witch. He’s quite the legend within our family, you see.” Dick, Stephanie and Barbara’s jaws dropped. “I could say I was inspired by him. Although the sole purpose of my vigilantism is to bring justice to those who were rejected, neglected, and ignored by our unpleasantly ridiculous, worthless justice system.”

Feeling nervousness radiate off of Jason from how he squeezed your hand even more strongly, you gently hold and knead his hand to give him relaxation. After he stopped squeezing and slightly calmed down, you readjusted his hand so your and his fingers would intertwine with each other. You could feel him staring, but you never avoided eye contact with Bruce.

“To bring justice...” The Billionaire trails off meaningfully, as if it was something he wasn’t expecting to hear from you. “Was that your way of bringing justice?” The sharpness in his tone clearly gave everyone an idea of what he’s talking about.

However, despite the tension thickening and Bruce’s eyes narrowing in judgment, you kept your composure with an expressionless face, nerves surprisingly as calm as water flows. There wasn’t anything you were feeling at the moment, just the patience you need to deal with Jason’s shallow-minded father.

“I’m most definitely certain yours and my understanding of justice varies.” You immediately responded without missing a beat. Bruce’s eyes pierced through you, but your (e/c) eyes were much worse. It was reading him thoroughly, looking into his soul, his mind, feeling as if you knew everything.

“Though, I must admit for everyone’s knowledge, just so no one is left unaware — I tortured Joker not to seek justice for my lover, but to feed my vengeance and urge to revenge.” Your dark eyes glinted in amusement under the lights as the confession slips from your mouth with no restraints, like you’re just talking about nonchalant things. That’s not the only thing that made a cold shiver run down everyone’s spine; it was also the way your supposedly expressionless face completely shifted for the first time only to form a dark, prideful, egotistical look, accompanied by a smirk which obviously stated you weren’t regretful.

Now, there’s no way Bruce would take it lightly.

Sensing the events had turned out more worrisome, Jason tries to tug on your intertwined hands. “(Y/n), sweetheart, we should—”

Your cold gaze avert towards him, and it softened only a bit. “Apologies for interrupting you, my love, but leaving our dinner without finishing them would be disrespect to the person who cooked them for us.” You placed a gentle kiss on the back of Jason’s hand to assure him. “Worry not so much. Your father and I are only getting to know one another.”

As soon as your cold and piercing eyes returned to him, Bruce immediately feels an unsettling feeling in his gut as his heartbeat quickens. He could see it’s easy for you to deal with him or this kind of confrontation — the dangerous thing he noticed about you is that you never lose composure and patience regardless if the situation at hand benefits you or not. The only time you’ve probably ever lost your collectedness was with Joker, whom you actually had every right to get absolutely livid at. You love Jason more than words could ever tell, Bruce can easily see that, but your actions not lining up with his morals made it difficult for him to accept you willingly.

While the Addams simply minded their own business by continuing to eat, the others couldn’t find it in themselves to act like there was no tension rising in the air. They knew this confrontation was coming, but witnessing it unfold before their own eyes isn’t easy. Most of them had to swallow the lump that formed in their throat, with Damian being the only one who isn’t nervous in the slightest.

“Mr. Wayne, I have a deep understanding of your morals and the regulations you’ve set in this home... how none of your family is allowed to kill criminals.” You stated with a smile that was barely visible, though respectful nonetheless. However, it instantly vanishes. “But I must remind you one thing — just because you believe your morals are correct does not make it righteous in any way.”

That certainly struck a core in Bruce.

“We, humans, are incapable of finding the correct morals that all of humanity would agree on. You may believe your morals are absolute and there could be a wonderful soul who has developed the same belief as you, but it would never be everyone.” Your hand gracefully gestures to the people in the dining room to emphasize your point before it comes to rest on the table as you intertwine it with your other hand. “You see, humans are not humans without distinctive differences, and pushing your own standards on others likely causes more harm than it should help put them in control.”

The way you’ve said every word with such grace and elegance was nothing but fascinating as everyone found themselves suddenly voiceless. Your every gesture and movement showed an exquisite manner no other human beings were blessed with, alongside your use of sophisticated language that silently told your high level of intelligence. Other than that, Bruce was speechless from how much your words contained truth and wisdom only a philosopher has. He had never seen nor met someone so wise as you.

Perhaps, that’s why you’re so intimidating — every bit of your intelligence and attitude is your very own power no one else could ever have.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce clears his throat to find his voice and meets your eyes. “Are you implying I should accept how different yours and my morals are?”

“Precisely,” You answered without hesitation, sipping the wine Jason had poured for you when the dinner started. “My morality is concerned with the victims, not the perpetrators nor myself. Your morality is concerned with your inability to control your murderous urges when committed.” Bruce inhales sharply, making your eyes glint since he proved you right.

Gomez and Morticia smile to themselves as they felt proud of how you’re always able to point out things others usually don’t or can’t. Despite your brutal honesty, there is clearly respect within the way you speak to Bruce, which is why neither of them stopped you from defending and proving yourself. Helping you was not in their options; they knew you can handle yourself perfectly fine with the number of times you’ve put people in their place physically or verbally.

“(Y/n), baby... It’s okay,” Jason quietly attempts to stop you, knowing those words were intentionally spoken to strike a nerve in his non-biological father.

He knew how your blood boiled when you found out Bruce didn’t kill the Joker because of his ridiculous morality. He can still remember the way your eyes always darkened at even the slightest mention of Batman or Bruce Wayne. It took two years for you to overcome your wrath on the billionaire before you went after the Joker.

Before you could respond to your lover, Bruce caught your attention again with a simple question — “Why did you do it?”

You look back at him, seeing him staring at you and waiting for an answer. The corner of your lips lifted. “Well, wouldn’t we do anything for love?” Bruce's brows raised at the warm look on your face, not knowing your face was capable of making such expression. “No one hurts my soul and live freely without heavy consequences.” You shrugged, looking heavily smug.

Wednesday scoffed, “You should’ve just put a curse on him. It would have saved you all the trouble and exhaustion.” She looked at you as if what you did was the most incorrect thing in the world.

“No, should’ve electrocuted him!” Said Pugsley with a grin. “It didn’t make me insane when Wednesday did it to me, but it could break his mind.” Everyone’s face shifted into a look of shock at the sudden revelation.

“Now now, children.” Morticia interrupts, “What (Y/n) does to his enemies should be decided by him and him only. You don’t decide for (Y/n).”

“Well, Joker hurt Jason and he’s our brother. Nobody hurts my brothers and lives.” Wednesday responded immediately with empty eyes seeking vengeance, stabbing the steak with a fork and making Dick, Tim and Stephanie flinch.

You threw a knife at her with a single flick of your wrist, just narrowly missing her face, stabbing the wall behind her. She doesn’t flinch and instead gives you a look, which you ignore and reach for another knife to cut your steak with. “Manners, Wednesday. If you wish to stab something, search for someone that would be worthy of it, not a supper.”

“You missed on purpose,” Wednesday complains, annoyed.

You sarcastically smile, “Perhaps, I wouldn’t intentionally miss again if you’re respectful towards a supper.”

She glared, “Miss again and I’ll dump you in a paint full of pastels.”

You just rolled your eyes at her tactics while Jason bursts into laughter, knowing how much you and your family hate pastels. To the Addams, pastels and joyful people are the most insufferable matters in the world. There’s nothing you all hate more than that.

His father and brothers couldn’t believe what happened in front of them. None of the Addams, even Jason, cared that you just threw a knife at Wednesday. In fact, your parents were far from concerned as they only watched with warm smiles on their faces, because truthfully that was just you and Wednesday bickering. It’s nothing serious although others might disagree.

“Apologies for our children, Mr. Wayne.” Morticia says casually after Wednesday had returned to eating her dinner, making Bruce turn to look at her. “They’ve always bickered even when they were just a child. (Y/n) and Wednesday in particular, they liked to attempt burning each other alive ever since hearing the story of one of our ancestors who got burned at the Salem Witch Trials. Children love those stories, you know.” She places a hand on her chest, right above her heart, smiling at her children.

“Wait, hold on— You tried to burn each other alive?” Dick was the one who questioned what everyone couldn’t find their voices to ask about, too shocked and horrified that attempting to kill each other seems so natural and normal within the Addams family.

“Yes, for the record.” You answer without looking up. “Being burned alive is classified as the most painful, agonizing way to die, which is why it had been the perfect punishment for those who were accused of witchcraft in 1692 and 1693. My sister and I were intrigued to see whether this was a fact or just merely false information, so we would always attempt to burn each other in hopes of discovering the truth.”

“Funny thing is, they never did.” Jason cackles as Wednesday shot him an unamused look. “(Y/n) still wishes he could die being burned alive, though.”

The corner of your lips merely twitched in a soft smile as you kissed the back of Jason’s hand affectionately, eyes closed. “Have I ever mentioned I want you to do the honor?” You say with such a loving and adoring tone that Jason felt his heart swell, knowing this is somewhat a proposal that only an Addams would understand.

It was a traditional Addams way of showing they love the person rather than wrapping it up in just three words that rarely comes from the bottom of one’s heart. You would die for him, and only he could bring your ultimate demise, no one else. You were offering him your heart and soul, as well as life, permitting him to hold and treasure it for the rest of your lives. It was an implication that you would dedicate your life to him with nothing in return — you will do everything for him. It’s easy to kill — you’ve nearly done it with the Joker — but it’s not easy to live and die for him, but you will and you would.

Feeling overwhelmed with all the love you endlessly give and show, Jason couldn’t help but hide behind his empty hand in an attempt to hold his tears in, always being emotional whenever he gets the love he doesn’t think he deserves. But he does. You’ve never failed to show him he deserves everything you offer. God, how did he even end up with you? You’re so good to him, so loving and giving, Jason didn’t even expect you’ll be like this back when you two were just strangers building friendship. Jason can’t let you go anymore, and he would never even if you asked him to. He loves you just as much as you love him, although yours seem bigger than his.

The Wayne family witnessed Jason, the usually insufferable Todd who thrives off of violence, cry at the mere love and affection his lover gave. Jason was crying because you reminded him of how significant he was to your life. The big bad wolf, the ruthless Red Hood, the boy who had an immense thirst for vengeance, the boy whose blood is filled with utmost rage towards the world, was crying at the simple showcase of love.

And that’s how Bruce — no, his entire family — knew they failed to love him enough.

But they don’t have to make it up to him anymore. They can’t, because you’re already showering him with love and adoration and appreciation and everything he deserves. You did everything what they were supposed to do — what Bruce was supposed to do.

“Oh, mon amour...” You let go of his hand to gently hold his face with both hands, kissing away the tears that overflowed from his eyes. Jason stayed still, relishing how good you are, how soft you treated him as he gripped your gentle hands. Once you’re done kissing his tears away, he buried his face into your chest while wrapping his arms around you, embracing tightly. You kiss the top of his head, caging him in your arms as you gently run your fingers through his hair.

Jason closes his eyes within your embrace, inhaling your calming scent mixed with a cooling hint of cologne. It’s funny how you’ve always associated yourself with death and darkness, yet for Jason, your mere presence is a light at the end of the tunnel that makes him alive every day. “Thank you, (Y/n)...” He murmurs into your chest, barely audible, but heard by you nonetheless.

You gently scratch his scalp, not caring about your meals and attention solely focused on your lover. “For what exactly, chéri? I have not done anything for you to give me such gratitude, at least not that I remember. I have only been attempting to drown you in my love and affection, haven’t I? Are they worthy of your gratitude?”

He chuckled, “You know damn well they are.”

You tilt your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “Even so, do you truly believe it’s significant for me more than just your presence?” Jason slowly looks up at you, his mesmerizing eyes meeting yours, before shaking his head quietly. A satisfied look crosses your face at that, “There you go. It isn’t difficult to figure out now, is it?” Jason shakes his head, burying his face into your chest once again.

As you continue to comfort Jason, Damian stares at the sight with a weird look. “Todd is extremely quiet when he’s around (Y/n). It’s... weird.”

Dick nudged him, “Hey, let him be. Jay’s probably just very comfortable with him.”

“It’s still weird, though.” Tim insists.

Barbara and Stephanie watched with smiles while you kiss Jason’s forehead, too willing to accept you despite finding your family quite strange. People have different traditions and cultures anyway; they figured yours are just too extraordinary and unusual that don’t fit society’s standards. Being different doesn’t matter when it’s clear that you love Jason too much, in your own special way.

Cassandra glances at Bruce, who seemed to be in deep thought. “I don’t think you have any other choice but to accept him.” Her voice snaps him out of his thoughts, “Look at them. They’re very much in love. More than in love, I’d say. It looks like they were meant to be with each other. Like destiny’s the one who wrote them together.”

Bruce looked at the two of you, who obviously saw nothing but each other in your little world.

“Besides, he basically called bullshit on your morals. And you know all too well he’s beyond right.” Cassandra smirks, “I hope your pride doesn’t get in the way of welcoming a new member, dad.”

Bruce sighed.

Well, it’s inevitable that you’ll be a member one way or another. Cassandra was right about that, and although he didn’t want to admit it, Bruce knew he accepted you the moment you stood up against him. It’s not always there’s someone who is brave enough to speak up against the Bruce Wayne.

Though, he may have to teach you not to strangle literally every single person who mess with Jason.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[lisaslosingstreak]

Wednesday’s Writing Hour

A Losing Streak Headcanon

This is dedicated to all the Wenclair FanFic writers and illustrators, who don’t do it for the money or the fame, we do it because we love it.

So in canon we assume Wednesday forces herself to write for an hour a day, yes? How about that it isn’t that way - instead she LIMITS herself to an hour.

When she was seven she started writing and it soon became an overriding obsession. She wrote for several hours a day, some day from sunrise to sunset. She wrote a books worth of text every week, not of high quality but she just had to get it out of her head, she has so many ideas she had to get down on paper. It eventually affected her mentally, and even more socially. She didn’t need to talk about inane subjects with her class friends, and she became withdrawn and quiet cos time spent at school was time spent not writing which was incredibly difficult for her, it hurt.

Eventually her mother and Grandmama had to cast a spell over her which meant Wends could only write for an hour a day. At first this upset Wends so much but after a few weeks she found the quality of her writing skyrocketed. Everything she typed was of the highest quality., with zero mistakes and she had the ability to write with no prep notes or plans.

Her father bought for her the finest vintage typewriter and had made a set of special monogrammed boxes (that we see in canon) to hold her finished work neatly. Each book she wrote had its own box, several of which were at the Addams house but she brought 3 to Nevermore to store new works in. Each box is a finished work typed directly and perfectly done, ready to go to a publishers, no editing or proof reading needed.

This is why Wednesday NEVER misses her writing hour. It has become an hour of unadulterated pleasure for her, those sixty minutes her only chance to get the fully formed storylines in her head down on paper. It’s HER time to decompress, to take her brain out of gear and just create something wonderful.

Years later, Enid and Wends are married and they have a huge house. One room is dedicated to all these finely crafted wooden boxes with WA engraved in then. Several hundred of them which she drip feeds into publishers under a variety of fake names. Each one carefully retuned to its special custom made mahogany cabinet like an old library.

There is one special shelf with a locked glass door. These are smaller boxes which look mostly the same but which also have faint pink tinged inlays in them, and monogrammed EA instead.

On their wedding day Grandmama changes the spell, and allows Wednesday an extra half hour of writing a day, whispering to her that “you know what this is for, use it wisely”

That extra time is for her to write about Enid. She sometimes stays up late to use this extra time, sometimes wakes up early and kisses Enid before typing for those 30 minutes. Each time is used to write something for Enid, whose existence changed the way Wends thought. She had so many love confessions, poems and revelations she wanted to share with her wife and those thirty minutes were used for that. And each time afterwards Enid would find a slim box on their bed, or maybe in Enid’s little office, or in their plush drawing room. Each time a little note attached would say “with all my love, WA”. It would be the highlight of Enid’s day to read this little dedications of love, and she would treasure each one and file it away with the others.

Eventually they have a daughter Ophelia and at the age of four Ophelia pushes her way into Wednesdays writing room. Wends is torn cos she loves her crazy little daughter so much, her blonde hair all in disarray and carrying a little black covered notepad and a little case full of coloured pencils. But she HAS to write, yes?

Enid watches from the door and her heart melts with pride as Wednesday, with great difficulty, forces herself to stop typing and bends down to pick Ophelia up and place her on her knee.

“What’s the matter little terror of mine?” she asks softly, trying to mask to pain she has caused herself by stopping writing.

“Mamma, can I come and sit with you and write a story myself?”

“There’s isn’t any spare room at my desk darling I’m afraid”

“We could sit on the floor mamma!”

And so it happened, a few minutes later that Wends was laid on a blanket on her front next to her daughter in her office, with a notepad and pencil, and wrote a short story with her.

The next day a new shelf was made in the library, with a row of small delicate cream boxes on it, all skilfully engraved OA, each with little bits of paper filled with messily scrawled writing on them, and more importantly little drawings to go with the little stories.

Because, as Ophelia insisted, what better way to make a story come alive than illustrate it?