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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 8 months

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Baby Addams.

Pairing: MaleWednesday x reader.

Warning: Mention of kidnapping, Mention of forced marriage, pregnancy, Yandere Male Wednesday. Gomez and Morticia from 1991. (poor transition Spanish and Italian) If you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me nicely thank you.

Summary: You were Wednesday's wife, with a baby on the way. (sorry summary sucks)

A/n: This is inspired by the story Yandere male Wednesday , by @teresalace I asked her permission so yea. Check out the story.

Three years, since you met Wednesday, Three years, since he took you away from everything you knew, Three years since you were married into the Addams family, and finally Wednesday had got what he wanted like he always did. You were pregnant, carrying a new addition to your husband's family. Gomez and Morticia were overjoyed about the news.

It was a dim, gloomy morning, and the massive black blanket lay on your growing stomach "Mi alma, wake up." a monotone voice whispered in your ear as you slowly opened your eyes, his plump lips kissed your shoulder, tracing down your arm to your wedding ring, sweet nothing whisper in Italian in Wednesday's normal deadpan voice "My parents are coming." he said getting out of the king bed.

You sighed and sat up as best as you can with a six-month baby bump, the room was dark in aesthetic and semi-normal, with hints of white and a little red amongst the black. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the large custom guillotine that hung above the bed, which luckily was unable to move, You had to convince and seduce Wednesday for that to happen.

Getting up from bed was somewhat difficult, but you managed to waddle to your shared walking closet, black and bright, warm colors were separated down the middle of the metal bar. You quickly showered and threw on a blue maternity dress, earrings to match, and a necklace. The walk downstairs was a little hard even when Wednesday helped, your home was gothic victorian style like your in-laws but less big. Swords, old timely guns, and torture devices littered the walls as while as mirrors, the rugs were dead animals. The furniture was you guessed black and white with red, and some armor and statues stood around the living room.

You both headed to the kitchen, It was a modern kitchen that your husband allowed you to decorate the only rule? It had to be in his aesthetic which you took. Wednesday leads you to the kitchen island and helped you onto the dark wooden counter stool "Good morning Wednesday" you smiled at him tiredly ready to break the silence "Yes, it is quite a bad morning today." he hummed and sat a glass of water down in front of you and began to make you breakfast. Despite being tricked into this marriage he was a good husband dare you say the best, Yes his..well him, he never made you feel unloved and was surprisingly romantic. The apple didn't fall that far from the tree, though he wasn't over-expressive with his displays of affection. A loud shriek rang out making you jump "I hate that doorbell." you whispered as took a bit of your breakfast that he put down. "I will get it, Mi Alma" he walked out of the kitchen to the front door, Wednesday inhaled, and opened the door. His dad held a brown box and his mother smiled at him "Our boy." She cooed, opening her arms in a grand gesture "Mother, Father. It is a displeasure to see you." Wednesday acknowledged looking boredly between his parents then sharply turned and walked back to the kitchen, Gomez and Morticia headed to the living room the door eerily closing behind them.

You swallowed the last bit of food when Wednesday walked in "Come." he offered his arm, you locked your arm his and hopped off the stool.

"There's the woman who stole our son's black, dead heart and hunts his every tortured thought!" Gomez exclaimed loudly as you walked into the living room, earning a threatening "Father." from Wednesday which Gomez ignored. "Hello dear." Morticia gracefully walked to you, almost appearing to be floating "How far along now?" She asked smiling at you "Six mouths." You smiled back "We wanted to give you this." She looked back at Gomez who held up the box "Shell we look through it together?" She asked pulling you away from Wednesday and to the floor where Gomez sat the box. Morticia opened it and took out stuff one by one "Here's Wednesday Teddy when he was just a little boy." She cooed and passed you a black teddy with stitches, the head ripped off "Cute.." you grimace, sitting it beside you. She pulled out kid-sized knives and swords "Oh this was his favorite toy!" She pulls out a toy guillotine, big enough to chop off a finger or a Barbie's head. 'So the obsession started during childhood. great.' you stared at it hopelessly.

"Son." Gomez touched Wednesday's shoulder both of them watching their wives interact with each other one with joy and the other hiding her disdain poorly. Gomez only got a side-eye look from his son, letting his father know he was listening, eyes back onto you "Let's talk." Gomez pat Wednesday's back and walked across the living to the hallway. Wednesday huffed and walked out.

"What do you so desperately need to talk about?" Wednesday stared his father down, wanting to be back within your essence "Son..are you sure she's the one for you? She doesn't scream...Addams material." "Are you saying you disapprove of her?" "Not exactly-" "Because if you are," Wednesday took a step closer to the older Addams "You will never see me or my children. She is my every soul, she cut open my heart and made me bleed for her. I would walk through heaven and back to please her. I would kill for her," his eyes narrowed "Even if it means you." a pregnant silence fell upon the two. If it was a cartoon you would be able to see a row of dots typing above their heads. Gomez grinned and shook his son back and foe "You have truly found your own Morticia!" he laughed, swung his arm around the tensed Wednesday and walked back into the room.

You yawned as laid back into the bed, your in-laws stayed until the dark of the night arrived. Though weird they were a joy to be around, the love they shared, you had wished for since you were little you had got it from a man who rarely showed emotion but love doesn't have to be over the top, love could be quiet yet meaningful and coming from someone like your husband. It was more special.

"Are you ready Mi alma?" Wednesday asked, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting on your head, you tried nodded as the lights of the room were turned off by themselves, in the stillness of the dark and at the edge of sleep you whispered a "Te amo." Wednesday allows his lips to curl upward just a bit in the safety of the night "Ti amo"

Transition

Mi alma.

My soul.

Te amo.

I love you.

Ti amo.

I love you in Italian.

#the addams family #Genderbend wednesday #Male Wednesday #gomez addams #wednesday #morticia adams #pugsley addams #Male x reader #yandere wednesday addams

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wol-fica · 1 year

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-𝐖𝐨𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐞?-

pairings - wenclair x neglected!raven!daughter

summary - you were born into a family of freaks, and that was the norm for you. but slowly, your interest in your family diminished due to lack of attention towards you. how will you cope?

warnings - talk of medicine

an - credit to @theafterofnevermore and @alexkolax for giving me such wonderful ideas !

—————

Have you ever been in a room that is completely dark?

Not like turning off your bedroom lights or a side lamp, more like when the room is covered in pitch black paint and not a light source in sight; That kind of darkness.

You loved the dark, it was a comfortable space for you. When it got to nighttime outside in the summer, you would unlock your window with your pocket knife and draw onto the roof above your bedroom.

You could lay there for hours if you had the chance, just staring at the stars with no sounds but the gentle breeze that blew through your hair.

But unfortunately you were not home; now that the school year started at Nevermore, you and your brother have been away from your large family mansion for almost 4 months now, meaning your nightly stargazing would be on postponement until the semester ended.

Another unfortunate escapade is that you had to be at school, at all. Your preference of social interaction was little to nothing, and you already despised the school curriculum system and the class options they had were not very interesting to you.

Your likes are more toned to dissections in Biology and blowing up things in Chemistry, but that was mostly it. There were a few good books you were required to read in English, but even those could be irritating and boring at times.

So you opted for the next best thing, skipping class to invest your time into a certain village-old book. Goody Addams, your however-many-great grandmother, had an old spell book that your mother acquired when she went to school here at Nevermore.

Usually, the vintage opus was tucked away in the library at your family mansion, but you sneakily slipped it into your backpack on the way out of the house when you were leaving for your first day of school, and now it was hidden under your pillow in your dorm room; conveniently your roommate was expelled which left you with no worries of anyone or anything potentially finding the book.

As of the moment, your nose was buried in between the dusty pages, your black eyes trailing over each word with interest and precision. The ink was fading on the old parchment, but conveniently you had the talent to basically decipher anything that would be considered not legible, so the directions and spells were pointedly easy to read.

The content was addicting, to say the least, Goody had written some very interesting things that had your mind hooked on the possibilities this novel entailed. Your brother, Luka, would pick on you for days about how you were so infatuated with a grimey old book, in which you would threaten him with your switchblade until he left you alone.

Your mom would always say you reminded her of Wednesday when she was younger; your mother.

Now you were not a very emotional person, but when anyone compared you with your mother, you would always wince in discomfort. Wednesday Addams used to be an egotistical and practically rude person who only cared about herself and only herself. She had let innocent people die and even let her close friends get hurt just because she didn’t want to let them into her personal circle, and that seemed so utterly selfish to you.

And you despised selfish people.

A quote, from your grand-uncle(grunkle) Fester, has stuck with you since you were young. He used to say that “when one person decides to only think for themselves, they only deserve to die with themselves.” Quite inspiring if anyone asked you.

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped up, turning towards the sound of your brother's voice from your closed door. Light had spewed into your room from the large circular window of Ophelia Hall’s door room, the halfway colored glass creating a beautiful rainbow on the old wooden floor.

You groaned softly and rolled your eyes, closing the book on a tab and stuffing it beneath your pillow before you stood up and made your way to the door. Once you opened it, you were met with a backpack to the face.

“Where. Were. You?!” Luka said, pronouncing each word as he struck you with his bookbag.

You grabbed the orange carrier with his last swing, wrapping its straps around his arms and forcing him to stumble past you into your room.

“Busy.” You replied, going back towards your bed to sit at the desk next to it.

“With what?” He asked, straightening himself out as he brushed imaginary dust off, “You’ve been absent all day and Weems sent me to come find you before she gives you another detention.”

“Tell her I’ve been studying and learning the fine arts of spell casting.” You replied, dipping your quill in some ink before beginning to write some notes on the chapter you finished from Goody’s book.

“You know I can’t do that, Mama will find out you stole it and she will literally end you.”

Luca was the only other person who knew that you took Goody’s book, being that you tell eachother everything and his supposed “ twin-tuition” would help him figure it out anyways. He wasn’t pleased with what you did, but he knew he couldn’t make you put it back, so he kept your secret as long as you kept his.

“Hence why you will keep your mouth shut.” You said, turning to give him a glare, “Unless you want me to sew it closed.”

He chuckled, throwing his bag onto the floor before flopping onto your bed. He spread his arms and legs out to look like an ugly, overgrown starfish, before reaching under your pillow to pull out the book.

“You would never harm your favorite queer now would you?” Luka cheesed, flipping through the tattered pages whilst squinting aggressively, “I’ll never understand how you can read this crap.”

“It’s not crap, those are powerful spells from 1600 AD. Far before even the Bronze Age.” You snarled, giving your brother a look.

“Grandma Goody had terrible handwriting.” He noted before dropping the book with a hiss, “It burned me!”

“Don’t insult ghosts, they are already dead so they have nothing to lose by stinging you.”

Luka rolled his eyes, setting the book back under your pillow. He stood up, leaned down to grab his bag and swing it around his arm, before turning to you.

“Come to dinner, okay?” He suggested, waiting for a response so he could go to his next class, “You need to eat.”

You nodded absentmindedly, still writing down little quips and notes. Luka smiled and gave your arm a small punch then turned to exit out of your room to give you your privacy back, but before he closed the door, he leaned back in.

“If you get any more of those voices in your head, tell me!” And then he was gone.

You sighed, shaking your head at his comment. He was right after all, you were experiencing some odd instances of random whispers in your ear even though no one around you spoke a word. Your parents were concerned, but you didn’t want their annoying input so you told them that the voices stopped and the medication they put you on had worked just so they would get off your back about it.

Unfortunately, the antidepressants had NOT worked and you were still hearing things left and right, 24/7 of every day. They weren’t loud enough to drown your hearing, but they were indefinitely annoying enough to keep you awake at night and postpone your eating habits.

Your mother would be upset with these events, she would probably get frustrated and yell at you for not saying anything, and then try to get you to talk about your “powers.”

“Stupid quill.” You muttered, throwing the feather away after the tip decided to break on you.

You stood abruptly, pausing to stretch your arms before grabbing your backpack and making your way out of your room to head to the café for dinner.

As you walked down the stairwell and the hallway towards your destination, a sudden feeling of drowsiness came over you. Not wanting to disappoint Luka, you pushed it down and pressed onward, giving glares to anyone who spared you a glance.

You soon made it to the entrance of the café and you easily spotted your brother with your friends, but before you could head their way, a large body collided with your own.

The world seemed to stop, a large bell sounding in your ear as your head flew backwards. Cold hands grabbed at your throat and scalp, dragging you back and down into the black abyss.

The one instance where the darkness scared you.

You felt like you were drowning, like your head was being held underwater as you feebly tried to escape, but with no prevail. The voices that usually whisper to you were now screaming in your ear, pushing out any coherent thoughts as you went into shock.

Your body hit soft grass, a dull thud echoing into the night from your fall. Slowly you sat up, looking around in apprehension of where you were and what could possibly be happening to you.

The world was foggy and gray, dead trees scattering the landscape behind its thick blanket. A large manor stood before you, its paint chipped and beige while the red brick showed through. The black-iron gate was dented and old, covered in wild vines that produced deadly spikes sharp enough to kill a man; usually that would attract your interest, but since you were clearly hallucinating, it didn’t cross your mind.

“Y/N.”

Your head whipped around to be met with a large white dress. Slowly, your eyes went up, trailing up the ruffled expanse until your eyes locked with exceedingly familiar ones.

“Goody?”

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the new series (hopefully) is in motion baby!

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @captainbeat @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @notheoneforlove

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 1 year

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Like Love

Wednesday x Kitsune!reader

You finally got the chance to take the Addams Manor grand tour. Each place you were taken to fascinate you. There were always some sort of surprise to find in every nook and cranny. Wednesday, in turn, was fascinated by you and your wonder. This house she lived in all her life found new life in your eyes.

As you two made your way down the grand staircase, a saber was suddenly coming at you, tip first. Your fox ears flare up in surprise as you dodged the flying blade. When you follow the trajectory of the missile, you find Gomez poised on the chandelier with another blade in hand.

"En garde, zorro!"

With a spin, you pull the saber from the stair and block the elder Addams's attack. Now the fight was on and you were glad you were a part of the fencing club. Your footwork was near perfect. It was difficult for Gomez to destabilize you and he loved it.

"Amazing! Your stance is impeccable," he praised as he swung at your feet. You jumped and dodged it with ease. When he goes for another strike, you shoot upward and flip over the man, landing at the foot of the stairs. Gomez turns and cheers.

"Brava! Bravo!" He takes a stance and races to join you and continue the bout. "Venga, zorro!"

Wednesday is joined by her mother while watching the battle. She made the excuse that it was under the pretense of criticizing your form but Morticia knows better.

"My woeful child. You seem to have found quite the catch." Her eyes sparkle with mirth. Wednesday's matching eyes sparkled with disdain.

"This isn't like you and Father. I don't have feelings for them... To that disgusting extent." Watchful eyes continue to follow each strike and parry as they spoke.

"Au contraire, my darling." There's a moment of pause before Morticia shrugs and continues. For Gomez to be that enthralled in a skirmish was a treat. "I see the way you look at them. And how they look in return." Her hand comes up and soothes away some of her daughter's flyaway hairs. "Why is it so awful to embrace that feeling?"

"Because it's a weakness."

"And yet, here they are. In our lovely home. Hardly ever an arm's length away from you."

Wednesday's stone face tightens. She hated the idea of becoming her parents. The fact that there's a possibility for love in this relationship made her nauseous. Those damned bats in her stomach just won't stop fluttering when she is around you.

But then there are moments like now where she'll watch you and see the smirk on your face as you fight her father. It was like you were fighting for his approval, which was moot. Her whole family adores you. In these moments, though, her heart calms. A rare veil of peace covers her and puts her at ease. At least until her mother speaks again.

"You have nothing to fear, you know." Wednesday gives Morticia a sideways glance at that. "Love is different for all. You don't have to be as passionate as your father and I. You're your own person, my daughter. Your love will be different."

When Wednesday looks back at you and her father, your blades are locked between your bodies. Neither one of you are giving into the other's push. In an effort to break the stalemate, Gomez pushes the swords to the side and swings them around. However, the momentum sent both blades into the air and straight into the high ceiling.

Both combatants watch dejectedly as the sabers wobble in place. When they look at each other again, Gomez grins wide and takes your hand and shakes it before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Fantastic show, my child!" You huff a thanks, the sudden hug stealing the air from your lungs. "A wonderful addition to our familia."

You blush and let out an embarrassed chuckle. "Thanks, Mr. Addams." He just slams a hand onto your back.

"Please! Just Gomez. Or Papa. Whichever!"

The Addams women decide then to go down and save you from Gomez's affection. As soon as Morticia is in sight, he immediately is at her side, kissing up her arm.

"Don't think I didn't hear your French, Cara Mia." A few kisses. "You know what it does to me." More kisses. "It spurred me to finish our duel as quickly as possible." Even more kisses.

You stood amused as you watched the interaction. It left you wondering how Wednesday ended up how she was with parents like these. Said girl was rolling her eyes at her parents.

"They'll be like this for a while." She turns and grabs your hand. "Come, mi amor. We still have the cemetery to see." You follow her, but not without a smile on your face at what she called you.

When you reach the cemetery, you marveled at the size of it. Your eyes were constantly loving to look at each gravestone and mausoleum.

"This place is amazing, Wednesday." She had been watching you wander around, a small smile on her lips. "Even the spirits here are happy. Well, for the most part, heh." That caught her attention.

"You can see the spirits?"

With a smile, you trot back over to Wednesday. "Kind of. They're kind of just balls of energy. Oh, lemme see if I can show you."

You turn to face the rest of the cemetery, tails flaring out as you manifest your powers. Wednesday watches as wisps of your foxfire bob around your tails. Soon enough, small orbs of light start to appear near the gravestones. Dark eyes flick around to see the names on the gravestones. Uncles, aunt's, distant Addamses. Some of them were grouped together, as if they were conversing. Some moved across the field. It was fascinating to see life after death.

"Whew." You slouched slightly from the energy you just released. "Oh hey. That was a wider area than I've done before." You mentally pat yourself on the back and make your way back to Wednesday.

"There's more around, but that's as far as I can manage."

"Incredible." The glow of the orbs makes her eyes sparkle and it draws you in. You're sure that you just fell a little bit more for the girl beside you.

She takes your hand and you walk amongst the orbs as she tells you about each ancestor. Eventually, you two make it to the pet cemetery and the goth leads you to her beloved Nero.

"Is he still here?"

You smile at the question and hold your hand out towards the grave. Wednesday watches as a small orb appears and slowly morphs itself into a scorpion. Her eyes widen slightly as she turns to see your face in concentration. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she crouches and holds her hand out, allowing the small creature to crawl onto it and scurry along her arm.

"It's been too long, my lovely Nero. I see you are as loyal as ever."

She lets the ghostly pet down and turns to you when you allow the image to fade.

"Thank you for this chance, mia volpe. It means a lot to me." You just smile and shrug.

"Anything for you, Wednesday. I..." There's a pause. You turn away in embarrassment. The feelings you have for Wednesday were strong. You know the extent of it, the word for it. It bubbles in your heart, threatening to overflow.

But you also know Wednesday and her aversion to the feeling. You didn't want to assume anything when she called you 'her love' earlier. It was already established that things would go at her pace. You didn't want to overstep.

Wednesday also knows your feelings. She sees it in your actions. Not many people would duel her father for as long as you did or let her revisit a dear friend. You were patient with her, even when she was unsure of something. Calling you 'her love' was a slip of the tongue but it didn't change the fact that it was true.

"You what?" She pried, as if she didn't know the words already.

"Nah, it's nothing." You waved your hand. "Don't worry about it." She steps towards you and takes your hand, making you look at her.

"You... What?" She insisted. A soft sigh escapes your lips and suddenly you're nervous. Is she really going to make you say it? Did... Did she want you to say it? You decide to throw caution into the wind as you take her other hand with a steely resolve.

"I... I love you, Wednesday. I adore you. You stole my heart right from my chest and I don't care because it's you." She steps closer to you. "I know you don't want to be like your parents. I know that kind of affection makes your skin crawl, but I'll do everything in my power to show my love for you. Just say it, and I'm yours to command."

Cold hands caress your cheeks and you let yourself sink into the feeling. You feel a soft, chaste kiss on your lips. Lips you never want to part with.

"There's no need for commands. I can simply ask you and you'll do it." You let out a soft laugh at that. It was true after all.

"This feeling is something I've only witnessed before. It's a very different love than I'm used to. Seeing how my parents are made me terrified to see if a simple switch could just ignite that in me outside of my control." Her eyes wander around your face, taking in the look of pure adoration you had for her.

"But with you, it isn't like that. There is no surge of passion that overtakes me. No unbearable need to kiss you. I spend my time beside you because I want to." She takes a moment to breathe. This display of emotion was a lot for her.

"Yes, when we're apart I wish to be near you, but it's not debilitating. I can still be my own person." Her eyes find yours again and the look you give her doesn't change. "I was scared of losing that, of being trapped as a pair. With you, I am both us and me." She takes another breath. Your hands come up to rest on her cheeks and it soothes her.

"I... I love you as well, Y/N. You are irreplaceable in my life. You found a way to breathe life into my dead heart." She stares into your eyes. "Mi amor, mi vida. I am yours for as long as we shall be."

"And I'm yours for as long as time itself, my love."

In the midst of the family cemetery, among the spirits of loved ones long since passed, you share a kiss with your girlfriend, your lover. A promise of forever sealed in that embrace.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

@screechcat @trishatheotaku @halleest @ashlynnmalfoy @a-trash-person @rainbow-love4ever @ognenniyvolk @spadesinfodump @maria-403 @simonsbluee @awolfcsworld @wizardofstories @alexandra-001 @leafanonsforest @daddy-jareau @anxietylemonice @tundra1029

#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday (netflix)#i realize i forgot my tag list for 'shall we dance' oops

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grvstnaya-svka · 11 months

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Wenclair headcanons

Wednesday and Enid sitting next to each other at Nevermore Graduation holding hands nearly the entire time. (Weems is alive and healthy and so very proud of all her students)

Esther Sinclair still upset but this time bc her daughter Must find a mate that isn’t Wednesday Addams and really oughta get to making her some grand-pups

Wednesday shoving it in Esther’s face as much as she can that she’s not only making her daughter happy but validates her . And keeps kissing Enid on the cheek just to spite Esther. We all know she LIVES to piss that woman off.

Wednesday getting down on knee to ask Enid to move in with her in the Addams family home. She already asked Morticia and Gomez and they are both thrilled to have her live with them.

Enid is ecstatic. (“Omg we are going to have so much fun!”)

Their first night back in New Jersey they have a massive family dinner and family game night. Uncle Fester likes to play fun little pranks on Enid but she catches on and spooks him as payback. They keep making each other laugh and Wednesday has never been so in love.

Wednesday and Enids first time happens after crashing a funeral. (Enid has noticed that Wednesday and her mother often casually flip through the obituaries during breakfast…) The whole family packed their bags like it was fuckin Beach Day and all went out to sit in the background of some rando’s burial service, but even Enid had to admit she had a lovely time. *

At one point during Wednesday and enids late night festivities, Enid gets excited and her claws come out and she apologizes but Wednesday looks her dead in the eyes and says “don’t you dare retract those! Keep them out. The whole time.” (They also wear their snoods, seeing as it is a special occasion).*

Thing and Enid are as thick as thieves. Weekly mani/pedis, pranking the rest of the family, etc. just causing trouble. Y’know ✨Besties ✨

Enid making sure pugsley is ok after each one of Wednesdays torture sessions.

On Enid’s birthday they have a big party (amongst the family) and Wednesday buys her a special collar and a dress. She also digs up her favorite great aunt Calpurnia’s ring to give to Enid.

She and Enid waltz the night away. Wednesday had taught her the previous year when she came to visit and they shared their first kiss. Gomez and Morticia are waltzing along side them. Until Uncle fester joins the fun and does the mamushka dance with Gomez. Enid is both entertained and stressed the whole dance.

After they finish dancing, they all give Enid her gifts. Wednesday proposes to Enid, who joyfully says yes. Wiping enids tears away, Wednesday dips Enid just like her father does with Morticia, and they share a long kiss as the family cheers.

#netflix wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #enid addams #enid Addams-Sinclair #the snoods stay on during sex

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 10 months

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Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, modern-ish, where Lucerys deals with one problem after another)

Lucerys knows he had made a mistake, choosing to be mates with Alyn. Everyone in his family, even Alyn's full brother Addam, asked him to choose someone else, anyone else. And Lucerys was adamant, choosing Alyn. To be fair to him, he wasn't really in a good emotional state to decide what was best for himself.

His grand mother, Rhaenys was murdered. When his step-father and mother tried to find out who murdered her, they too, were found dead, with Aegon III witnessing it all, and was in a state of shock. The money that was meant to be their mother's, along with her company, was instead given to their uncle, Aegon II, because apparently, their grandfather changed the will as he was about to die. They tried to contest it, but it was soon clear that the judge was bribed, leaving them without the inheritance. Then Vaemond, their grand uncle decided to take over their grandfather's business, and they were powerless to stop it.

Jace did multiple jobs, mostly physical labor, but was then found heavily wounded, his back bleeding so horrendously, and he was never able to walk again. Corlys' sickness got worse, eventually putting him in a coma, and the medicine prices skyrocketed, and Lucerys, Lucerys had to bear it all. He needed to find multiple jobs to feed everyone, he barely slept, and still had to worry about his youngest brothers.

Rhaena and Baela were eventually taken in by one of his mother's kin, much to Lucerys' happiness and jealousy. Eventually, Joffrey was taken in by them, too, lightening up the weight on Lucerys' shoulders. He wouldn't dare ask for more, lest they might revoke his siblings' chances of a better life. When Baela and Rhaena tried to give him money, he told them to keep it, just in case something were to happen to them and Joffrey. They do still send some of their allowances, and though it was never going to be enough, Lucerys was still thankful.

Eventually, Viserys II was also taken in by one of Daemon's friends in Pentos, and though Lucerys refused to give him up, the man eventually wore him down, pointing out that he would be able to give Viserys II a better life than Lucerys could. When asked if he could also adopt Aegon III, the man refused, saying he can only take in one, and he wanted "the less crazy one".

Despite the responsibility decreasing, at least financially, it didn't mean everything would be ok. The machines and medicine keeping Corlys alive needed restocking and maintenance, and he and Jace needed someone to watch over them while he was working, lest something does happen to them while he was gone. Aegon III had to be sent to a special school, and would sometimes throw fits, would get panic attacks and anxiety attacks, and Lucerys would be called by the school. There was also the fear in his heart. The people who killed his family was still out there, and if they do want to kill them, too, it would be incredibly easy, and it scares him. His life from the end of his eighteenth birthday to that of his mid-twenties, was a constant cycle of fear, abuse from his job, constant tiredness and stress and irritation, and, at times, wishing to end his suffering by dying, and feeling guilty for ever thinking of abandoning them.

Then, out of the blue, the Hull brothers, Addam and Alyn, came into his life. They told him they were Corlys' sons, a DNA test proved it to be true. They told him they wanted to help what was left of their family, as their mother died weeks prior. And Lucerys felt like this was they were the light at the end of the dark tunnel. They helped him with the payments for Corlys, even helping out Jace and Aegon III, he was finally able to breath after so long.

Then Cregan, an old friend of Jace showed up, and it became incredibly obvious he was there for Jace, a solid rock for him to lean on, and Lucerys felt relief that his brother has someone like him. Then he felt a pinch of jealousy, wanting something like that. And so, he tried finding one, and it led to Alyn.

He and Alyn we're almost always together, with Addam taking care of Corlys and on his boat. Alyn was there to comfort him when he cries, make crude jokes that made him laugh, and made him feel like he was floating after years of feeling like he was drowning.

When he asked if Alyn wanted to be mates with him, he agreed. It caused problems with Jace, who Lucerys felt was still treating him like a child, with Baela and Rhaena, who were introduced to them earlier, despite them not knowing him fully, even Addam questioned if this was truly the man he wanted.

And Lucerys got sick of it. He got sick of the questions, got sick of being treated like a kid when he was the one that made sure everyone survived, got so tired of everyone undermining him. Wasn't he the one that helped the family? Didn't he sacrifice enough? What more do these people want from him?

So he and Alyn eloped. Lucerys didn't feel guilty anymore. He only took a bit of money, and left a note promising he'd give more in the future. Addam and Cregan took care of everyone left in their home, and Aegon III was slowly getting better. He deserves to be happy, too.

And happy he was, for a few months, he and Alyn lived blissfully, despite living in a small apartment, they were happy. Then Alyn got hooked into gambling, and Lucerys found out the money that was meant to be sent to Jace and Corlys and Aegon III were being used to gamble instead. Arguments ensued, fights, Lucerys found out Alyn brought other people home, and eventually, Alyn left Lucerys crying.

He hadn't heard from him in weeks, and Lucerys didn't want to go back and face everyone else after he was proven to be wrong. He knows they would comfort him, knows Addam would curse at his brother and Jace would just hug him and treat him well, but he didn't want to go. He had a bit of pride left in him.

So he didn't tell his family, and he's sure Alyn wouldn't tell Addam anything. He made sure to send the money himself, and called Cregan to make sure it reached them. He had a relatively calmer life.

Then the debtors showed up. Apparently, Alyn owed too much and ran, leaving Lucerys with a huge pile of debt that kept increasing. Lucerys felt like he was being dragged by the current of the ocean again.

The amount kept rising, and he was back to working multiple jobs just to pay what he could. Eventually, one of the debtors suggested he work in the red district, and though Lucerys was incredibly resistant to it, he eventually accepted, because the pay was higher than most of his jobs combined. His only condition was that he would only need to dance. No bedroom services. The debtor snickered and just mockingly agreed.

Lucerys started working there at night. Thankfully, he was a dancer before everything happened, and his body still remembered what his mind couldn't. With the help of Alys, the owner and one of the oldest dancers, he was able to gain enough to pay for the debt.

And that was his new schedule. In the morning, he works a bit more, sleeps for five hours, before getting ready to dance. It was already proving to be fruitful, he got a pay raise and everything. What he liked about it the most, however, was how when he was on the stage, he can ignore everything. He would just need to focus on the music. The tips were increasing, too, which he liked. He even got to send a bit more to the others.

And his life finally stabilized, if he can ignore the weekly debtors entering his home. Then one night, he saw them. His uncle Aegon II and Aemond. He chose to ignore them, to just dance and leave early for the night. But before he could even reach the dressing room, he was called to give a private dance in their vip rooms.

He knew he would see them, and he had to swallow his already bruised up pride to face them. Aegon's face lit up and laughed, clearly recognizing him. Aemond just started at him, hands in fists. Lucerys headed to the pole, but Aegon stopped him, insisting that he do a lapdance for his poor brother Aemond. Aegon even promised to pay him triple if he could get Saint Aemond hard, and that was all the initiative Lucerys needed. He gave his one rule, Aemond wasn't allowed to touch him at all.

It took less than a few seconds, he didn't even technically start. He just sat on his lap and grinded on him once, before feeling little Aemond hardening up. It wasn't just a semi, either. It was a full on hard on. Aegon was like a drunken hyena, and Aemond just looked embarrassed, so despite already ensuring he has the triple pay, Lucerys gave him his lapdance, desperately hoping Aemond doesn't actually explode before he was done.

As soon as Aegon handed him the cash, he left. He had hoped that would be the only time he would see them, but they seem to decide he was their favorite, because they just kept returning every single time he was on stage. Aegon kept paying for Aemond's lapdance, even paying ten times as much, and soon Lucerys just saw it as taking back their mother's inheritance (ignoring the fact he had to pay most of it to his debtors). Aegon kept adding stranger tasks, telling him to pour champagne all over himself, made Lucerys just sit on Aemond's lap all naked, made Lucerys take Aemond's shirt of and wear it instead.

Eventually Aegon got bored and stopped coming, and Lucerys thought that would be the end of it, but Aemond just kept returning. Soon, Aemond just told him he wanted Lucerys to sleep with him, offering to pay him any amount. That made Lucerys pause. He could ask him to pay the entire debt. He could be free from that amount at least. So he tested the waters, doubling the remaining debt. He was shocked when Aemond agreed without hesitation.

So Lucerys slept with him. It was...enjoyable for both of them. The money sent to him was even three times what they initially agreed on. He paid Alyn's debts, and when he heard Corlys was waking up, he rushed home to find him and Addam talking.

He was embraced by all, Aegon III was especially happy to see him return, though it took a lot for him to say anything to Lucerys the first few days since his return. He told them what happened, his life with Alyn, his life without him, opting out on his night job and the debt he just managed to pay, and they, in turn told him about what was going on with them.

Jace managed to find a better job, Cregan managed to get his company back from his uncle, and Aegon III was able to speak a few words unprompted. Addam never heard from Alyn after their break up, and it scares him, but he's sure Alyn would show up sooner or later, and when he does, Addam promises to beat him up for what he did.

Lucerys finally felt like things would get better for them. Then Aemond came to their door with a ring in one hand and a divorce paper signed by Alyn, and his life became a roller coaster once more.

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

Fun fact: This idea came when I was reading a manga titled "Kozure Omega to Boukun Yakuza", I was going to make Aemond the debt collector and give Lucerys a kid, but I changed it😅 I don't know, as I was writing, stuff changed and the outcome is now much different. Enjoy for now!

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #alpha aemond #omega lucerys #lucerys just can't take a break (because of me😅)#alyn and addam #cregan and jace

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thevelaryons · 3 months

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His bones would rest at Raventree Hall for eight years, but in 138 AC his brother, Alyn, would have them returned to Driftmark and entombed in Hull, the town of his birth. On his tomb is engraved a single word: LOYAL. Its ornate letters are supported by carvings of a seahorse and a mouse.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

Although it took many years for Addam’s remains to be returned back to his family, it’s great that Alyn ensured Addam’s final resting place was ultimately at Hull. A traditional burial at sea, like what Corlys received, would’ve been okay too but I think it’s more important that he is buried at Hull, where he was born, and where his mother is from.

The mouse carved on Addam’s tomb is such a great detail as it is his mother’s symbol. While Addam obviously wanted the validation from his (grand)father/the Velaryon side of the family, after living as a bastard for so long, it’s clear that Marilda, who raised him, was still an important figure he wouldn’t let go of just to be closer to his father.

The Red Sowing presented Addam an opportunity to gain recognition as his father’s son. Though it’s noteworthy that he had his mother with him when he chose to go to Dragonstone to claim Seasmoke (none of the other dragonseeds are said to have brought along a parent):

Among these new dragonriders was Addam of Hull—a brave and noble youth who was brought by his mother, Marilda of Hull, to try for a dragon.

— The World of Ice & Fire, Aegon II

It’s often the case that when a character has contrasting identities, there is a need to seek some kind of balance between them. For Addam, this identity struggle presents itself through his highborn father’s family who were essentially absent for most of his life but now offer him a means to be one of them vs his lowborn mother who raised him. That the finality of his story is the combined seahorse/mouse sigil on his tomb feels significant.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #addam velaryon #addam of hull #marilda of hull #addam & marilda #meta

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mask131 · 2 years

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The evolution of Morticia Addams (1)

And where else to begin our journey about the evolution of Morticia but with the original drawings and cartoons of Charles Addams?

Morticia Addams was the unnamed character of the mother in the bizarre, creepy and derelict family Charles Addams had created. Her appearance is now extremely famous: tall, thin, wearing a tight black dress with tendrils-like cuts at the edges, a pale skin for raven-black hair... But something most adaptations ended up forgetting is that in Charles Addams original cartoon, Morticia is not truly “sexy”. Mind you, when he was first conceiving the character he thought several “glamorous” versions of her (notably with well-done hair, and dresses with very revealing lowcuts - a version more akin to a flamenco dancer) ; but his first “drafts” of Morticia also proposed an alternate, “frumpier” version, with unkept hair, bags under the eyes, a more hunched disposition... Ultimately Charles Addams settled between the two and created the iconic Morticia look: she is a beauty, but a withered and morbid beauty. She is not just slim: she is so thin she seems unnatural. She isn’t just fair-skinned, she is pale like a corpse. The “tendrils” on her dress were meant to evoke something torn-out, worn-out, not something deliberatly cut. She lacked any kind of expression, her eyes were often half-closed : she was a person who was sucked out of life and color. She was in the image of her grand house: something that could have been a superb and splendid beauty, but is now becoming a grim and sinister ruin. She was a literal “femme fatale” : beautiful with her superb figure, but without any voluptuousness, fascinating with her elegant makeup, but lifeless in her expressions. A dead beauty.

In fact, as many pointed out, Morticia’s design was at odd with the usual way Charles Addams drew mothers or wifes. All of his mothers and spouses tended to be small, heavyset, big-nosed, ugly or plain matron-like women, with nothing of the style, elegance or sleekness of Morticia. Before creating her he had already used this kind of silhouette and face for other dangerous beauties - notably some Gorgon/Medusa drawings, and there are elements left of it in the “tendril-like” or “snake-like” aspect of Morticia’s hair. Charles Addams also confessed that a big inspiration for the character was the famous actress Gloria Swanson.

Morticia is probably one of the “oldest” of the family members, due to appearing on her own long before the rest of the family was imagined by Charles Addams. Before Gomez or the kids, she was there in Charles Addams’ drawings, already the beautiful but disturbing and dark lady of a grand, dusty, old house - with by her side a tall, grim, creepy butler (the future Lurch). This all leads to presume that the house and the butler originally belonged to her, before Gomez arrived in the picture - plus, given her worn-out glamour, stern and haughty behavior, coupled with her owning a butler and living alone in a grand manor, it all leads to the idea that Morticia belonged originally to the wealthy, the aristocrats, the elite.

Stern, yes. Stern and aloof : this is how Morticia originally was in Charles Addams drawings. In fact, in them she was much more unpleasant that later adaptations made her out to be. She was a cold figure without any emotion or expression. All she seemed, at best, was bored. She could allow herself some physical affection - but mostly with her husband, and it only extends to them being close together on a couch. While Gomez is seen spending a lot of time with the children, playing with them and teaching all of sorts of things, Morticia only exists as a cold and distant mother. When she is seen with the kids, it is either to remind them of their duties (she summons them for their meals, she tells them when it is time to stop playing or go to sleep, she reminds them of the conditions for them to keep their pets) ; or to punish them (at best she scoffs off Wednesday complaining to her about her brother poisoning her drink, with a dismisive “Well just poison him back!” ; at worst she is seen locked up the children into a big chest in the attic - something assimilated to the equivalent of a spanking in the Addams family). She truly isn’t much of a “motherly” character, even though she is apprently a sweet and devoted wife (who notably greatly misses her husband whenever he leaves the house for long).

Most of the time she is mostly seen in the role of the “lady of house” and as the “housekeeper”. She is often with Lurch the butler, giving him orders or overseeing him. She welcomes the various guests at the house and makes sure they feel at home. She greets the door-to-door salesmen, she places the Christmas decorations on the tree, and she is the one that watches over when a repairman comes into the house. Overall, it seems she is the one who makes sure everything works and who has all the “house-tasks”, while her husband is away - she probably is a housewife. She is the “social” and “managing” member of the household, always on the phone, and always organizing various appointments - though in her own words, she is always too busy on Friday the 13th.

Beyond all the above, she is often seen knitting in various occasions. She also seems to have a good relationship with the grandmother character: she is seen having a chat with her about what name she’ll give her future baby ; they both play cards together ; they hang out together in the kitchen to cook... But Morticia herself is never actually seen doing any kind of “menial tasks”. She never cooks for example, while the grandmother and the butler do. She also seems to have a great passion for gardens (even though she is never seen gardening herself) : in one very famous drawing of her, she writes a passionate letter to her husband about the magnificent state of the garden and praises greatly the nightshades, death camasses, henbanes, dwarf’s hairs, slugs, belladonas and snake eggs that multiply in it. Morticia also seems in these drawings to have a certain link with animals, as she is seen taking care of bats in a birdcage (well... batcage) and she also participates with the children in feeding the vultures with meat leftovers (they have a special feeding station placed in a tree by the house).

As I said, originally Morticia did not have a name, like every other member of the family ; but when it came time for him to put identities on these characters (for the upcoming television series), Charles Addams decided to name the mother “Morticia”, after the job of “mortician” (he was looking in the Yellow Pages, opened it randomly at the category “Morticians” and said bingo!). Here is the full description he gave of the character :

“The real head of the family and the critical and moving force behind it. Low-voiced, incisive and subtle, smiles are rare. This ruined beauty has a romantic side too, and is given to low-keyed rhapsodies about her garden of deadly nightshade, henbane and dwarf’s hair. Generally indulgent of the often sinister activities of the children, but feels that Uncle Fester has to be held in check. Her costume is always the same : the form-fitting black gown, tattered or cut to ribbons at the elbows and feet. Occasionally, she will wear a shawl. Her voice is never raised, but has great range. Contemptuous and original and with a fierce family loyalty. She never uses a cliché except to be funny. She is a thoughtful hostess in her way and, if a guest needs anything, he is advised to scream for it. The children are instructed to observe the amenities and always kick Daddy good night.”

In additional interviews, he also described Morticia’s look as “an ideal, a kind of good looks, with eyes slightly up center and dark, snakelike hair.”

#morticia #morticia addams #addams family #the addams family #charles addams

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night-wilf · 1 year

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Writing prompt 91:

Addams family style Wayne family.

Bruce and Selina are outstanding parents, though not married. Just very good friends who are willing to help raise children together.

Selina's undead little kitty who sometimes leaves his head on the couch sleeping. His name is Champagne.

Bruce's pooch Ace a solumn great dane who lives in the grave yard most of the time. He is seen as a grim reaper by those who don't understand their family.

Dick is very eccentric and somehow able to light up bulbs by holding them, able to live through virtually everything. He can be found as the Christmas tree every year.

Jason is morbid but supportive. Thought dead and now with a love of stripped shirts. He is also living dead so he can lose his hand sometimes.

Barbra and Stephanie used to babysit the young Jason before he disappeared, choosing to stick around. Aiding in caring for the home with Bruce's grief taking up his time.

Their bad past becoming resolved as they become part of the family.

Cass is the dark younger sister who was adopted by Selina, found by her precious Champagne one night. She finds her place among the family members, old habits and all. Her murderous tendencies perfect for cooking in the kitchen.

Her love for deep sea creatures funded so she can study and properly care for an octopus.

Tim is largely in the shadows, unseen by many. His hands the only part of his body you are likely to witness. He is wickedly smart and not someone you cross.

Damian is similar to Cass with his interests. His father's warm embrace something he likes as he earns a proper family. His biological mother someone who took advantage of Bruce in the past.

Duke joins at some point idk (didn't get to him in the thought process)

Martha and Thomas haunt the mansion, watching their family grow and be happy as they do. Refered to as 'grandmama' and 'grandpapa' by the grand children.

Alfred is his normal self.

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elejahfanfic · 7 months

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A Halloween Special

_starring

𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝕰𝖓𝖉

with

Fanfiction_

crossover

"Who is that?" Enid asked Wednesday as a woman in a very intricate lace Versace dress walked in the Addams family garden tea party, followed by a man in the most extravagantly pristine Armani suit.

"Aunt Vivienne and that guy - someone father knows. An Original vampire from New Orleans." Wednesday replied in her uninterested manner.

"The aunt Vivienne, the forensic pathologist that solved the Ripper Case?" Enid looked at the woman full of admiration.

Wednesday nodded slightly, her facial expression exhibiting annoyance.

The truth was that she equally admired her aunt. And wanted to be as sharp as her. Now that her aunt got a job as the senior forensic pathology in the Burlington Morgue, she apllied for internship.

"Girls - I would appreciate if you could take the twins and show them the rare black bat flower in the winter garden." Morticia gestured in the direction of Lucy and Jacob, the neighbours, who sat in the garden gazebo bored out of their minds.

Wednesday exhaled, rolling her eyes. Before she could retort to her mother, Enid pulled her away, and she followed her friend reluctantly towards the gazebo.

Not far from the gazebo, Elijah talked to Gomez, but his eyes kept swaying in the direction of Vivienne.

"We can carry the discussion of the Witch's Grimoire later in my study. Now, I think that I will introduce you to my sister-in-law." Gomez said as it was obvious that the Original vampire slipped into a daydream.

"I do apologize. I didn't mean to be rude. Sister-in-law you said."

"Yes. Vivienne Van Kirk. My wife had recently found out that her father had a daughter, who was adopted as a baby." Gomez replied.

Elijah nodded, swallowing hard. The woman was clearly a doppelgänger, as she was a spitting image of his ex-lover Katherine Pierce.

Just before entering the Mansion, Vivienne shot a look at Elijah.

Intrigued to find more about her, he followed his host into the grand house.

#elijah mikaelson #alternative universe #fanfiction #the originals #the addams family #wednesday #oc: vivienne #vivienne van kirk #halloween special #crossover fanfiction #a short story

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fluxy001 · 1 year

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Third follow up to my Assassin’s Creed Wenclair AU

—————————————————————————

No but seriously tho. Replaying Unity lately furthered my desire for an Assassin!Wednesday x Templar!Enid AU.

A twist on the Romeo and Juliet trope.

Wednesday is the slightly rebellious, newly initiated Assassin during the American Revolution, her mother and father are two Master Assassins in the American Brotherhood.

Enid is the awkward, reluctant Templar-in-training, daughter to two Master Templars. The only reason she joined the Templars is to finally gain the approval of her mother and even then she doesn’t get it because she can’t pass the initiation test.

With the Americans winning the war against the British and the new American government coming into effect, the Templars are quick to install their own agents into the government to influence politics and who better to install than the wealthy and influential Sinclairs.

So with this news, the American Brotherhood decides to act. Grand Master Assassin Weems orders Master Assassins Morticia and Gomez Addams to lead a group to the Sinclair estate and take out the family. Not just the parents but the initiated children as well (I say children as they’re their kids but in reality they’re all 18 and over) so to avoid any of their children taking over as head of the Sinclair family.

Gomez and Morticia take the American Brotherhood’s best Assassins with them but they also take their daughter, Wednesday, for her first official mission after being promoted out of training to the rank of Novice. Whilst Gomez and Morticia deal with Esther and Murray Sinclair, the rest are assigned different Sinclair children to target.

They strike at night, effortlessly taking out the Sinclairs as they sleep (Esther is woken up by Gomez killing her husband but before she can react, Morticia is striking the back of her head with her hidden blade). The rest of the Assassins, Wednesday included, tear through the house, taking out the Sinclair children as well as any household staff that show any loyalty to the family.

Wednesday is done and is about to leave and head to the meeting point when she hears struggled heaving from behind her. She turns around to see Enid, dressed in her bright pink nightie as she struggles to lift a mace that is clearly too big for someone of her size.

Wednesday can’t help but be amused at the sight, even if she doesn’t show it. Eventually, Enid gives up and drops the mace to the ground. She asks what’s happening.

(‘The Sinclairs have been swiftly executed in their sleep,’ Wednesday answers bluntly, ‘their deaths were, regrettably, rather painless.’)

Although Wednesday can’t help but be slightly surprised at Enid’s look of defeat at the news, watching as the blonde slumps against the doorframe.

(‘You look rather upset with this news for a member of the house staff,’ Wednesday mused, ‘I can’t imagine your line of work is hard to come by.’)

Enid is confused at first, staring at Wednesday

(‘I’m not house staff!’ Enid almost yells indignantly, ‘I’m Enid. Enid Sinclair.’)

Wednesday immediately stiffens. There was no report of an Enid Sinclair in their briefing. It was just Esther, Murray and their sons. There was nothing about a daughter, nothing about a female cousin living with the family.

(‘You lie,’ Wednesday accuses, ‘Enid Sinclair doesn’t exist. Who are you?!’)

At first, Enid doesn’t respond. She just laughs.

(‘Yeah. That’s not surprising,’ Enid chuckled humourlessly, ‘of course she made out I didn’t exist.’)

(‘She?’ Wednesday frowned)

(‘My mother. I’m the disappointment of the family,’ Enid shrugged, ‘the Templar daughter who can’t even pass the initiation.’)

Wednesday just stared at Enid. She offered no sense of comfort (if that was possible. She had just participated in the slaughter of this girls family.)

(‘So my mother’s dead?’ Enid asked, looking up at Wednesday, ‘and my dad?’)

(‘Your whole family,’ Wednesday added in way of answering, ‘my mother would’ve been the one to murder yours. I killed your two youngest brothers.’)

To Wednesday’s surprise, Enid didn’t look angry or upset. She just snorted.

(‘I hope she was awake when it happened,’ she muttered, but Wednesday heard her, ‘why, if I may ask?’)

(‘Your parents were chosen to assist George Washington, although he is not aware of their status,’ Wednesday found herself answering the girl truthfully, ‘we could not allow such influential members of the Order to infiltrate the new government.’)

(‘And my brothers?’)

(‘We could not allow their to be an heir to the Sinclair estate.’)

At this, Enid accepted her fate. She stepped before Wednesday and got down on her knees, brushing her hair away from the nape of her neck, she exposed the back of her neck to Wednesday.

(‘Do what you have to.’)

And what did Wednesday have to do? She was ordered to kill the Sinclair sons to avoid a line of succession, but here Enid was, an unknown daughter. The line of succession would now fall to her, therefor she would have to kill her.

But she also wasn’t a Templar. The girl had admitted it herself.

Here she was, weak and defenceless. The girl couldn’t even lift up a mace and here she was, exposing her neck to Wednesday so she could get the kill. She was allowing herself to be killed and for once, Wednesday was not filled with joy at the prospect of killing. She had enjoyed the feeling of life leaving the Sinclair’s bodies when she struck them in their sleep, but the idea of killing Enid did the opposite. It made her feel nauseous, and not in a good way.

So she did what she had to.

(‘Where does your mother and father keep their money?’)

—————————————————————————

And that was how Enid found herself being smuggled by Wednesday into a small apartment above a butchers shop in the nearby town, a case full of thrown in clothes and a pouch full of her dead father’s stolen money.

(‘What is this place?’ Enid asked, gagging at the smell of butchered meat coming through the floorboards.)

(‘A safe place,’ Wednesday answered, quickly peaking out of the window to see if they had been followed, ‘owned by us in the event that our Brotherhood is compromised.’)

(‘Won’t you need it?’ Enid panicked, ‘won’t the others come here from my home?’)

(‘No. We have another much closer to your home. It was how we kept watch over your family’s actions,’ Wednesday revealed, ‘that is where we’re meeting and I must go there soon. They will wonder why I am not there and where I’ve been.’)

(‘What will you tell them?’)

(‘That a member of the house staff saw me kill your brother and fled the house. I had no choice but to track her down and eliminate her to ensure our secrecy,’ Wednesday explained, ‘I then had to dispose of her body, as I could not risk being seen dragging her back to your house as the fire would’ve already been noticed.’)

(‘Fire?’)

(‘Yes. Your house would’ve been burnt down upon us leaving. It would make it look like your family died in an accident in their sleep, eliminating any leads to us.’)

Enid nodded. It seemed like a reasonable plan… but wait-

(‘Wait. What about me?’ Enid frowned, ‘what do I do now?’)

(‘You stay here for the night. Get some rest. In the morning, I will visit you to bring some supplies and help you find someplace else to live,’ Wednesday planned, ‘then you will forget about me. You will start a new life, with a new name. You will get yourself a job and forget that you were ever a Sinclair. You will not look for me. You will not look for us.’)

(‘But why?’ Enid had to know, ‘why are you doing this? Why not just kill me?’)

It was a good question.

(‘Because it would’ve been wrong,’ Wednesday finally answered, ‘you are not a Templar. You are a girl born into an unloving family. Your parents and your brothers chose to be Templars but you didn’t. I could tell because you made no attempt to kill me, even after you gave up your weapon. So it would’ve been wrong for me to kill you. We protect the innocent and that’s what I am doing.’)

(‘Thank you,’ Enid cried. She went to throw her arms around the Assassin, but she quickly stepped back, ‘not a hugger. Got it.’)

Wednesday nodded and made her way to the door. She had been gone far too long.

(‘Wait!’ Enid’s voice stopped her. Wednesday turned to face, ‘you never told me your name.’)

(‘And you don’t need me to,’ Wednesday replied, ‘I told you, you’ll see me in the morning and then you’ll forget I ever existed. Goodnight, Enid.’)

—————————————————————————

And that was supposed to be it. Wednesday returned in the morning with a bag of supplies for Enid. She even handed over one of her own daggers.

(‘For protection,’ she had explained.)

And then that was it. Enid left the house, profusely thanking Wednesday as the Assassin shut the door on her. She watched as the blonde walked down the street, occasionally looking back up at the window until it was no longer in view.

And she was gone.

Until years later.

Wednesday had been promoted. Years of experience in the Brotherhood had earned her the same rank of her parents.

She was now Master Assassin Wednesday Addams.

Grand Master Weems had assigned her a new mission. A more permanent one. With the expansion of the American States, the Brotherhood wanted a second HQ further inland. So Wednesday had been assigned with going to a small town called Jericho just outside of New England (I know the town is supposed to be in New England near Massachusetts but given that that’s close to where the American Brotherhood is in the games, I’ve opted to move Jericho to outside New England, ND).

Establishing a new HQ had been easy. An asylum abandoned due to the war sat just outside of Jericho, deep in the forest. Close enough to the town but far enough that it would be difficult to stumble across. With the rookie Assassin’s she had been sent with, much to her chagrin, the Jericho Brotherhood was up and running within a few weeks. The building was quickly refurbished. Wednesday was rather proud of her Assassins, not that she’d say it though.

And one day she found herself in need of going into town. Several of her Assassins were out on missions and with nothing major going on, there was nothing that’s Master Assassin was needed for, so Wednesday opted for going into town for the day. She was in need of some new reading material, plus they were running out of parchment.

The town was rather quaint. Inhabited by mostly farmers but it had become modernised over the years, or so Wednesday had heard. In recent years, the town had expanded to add a bank, a library, a town hall. She had even heard rumours that the town could be added to the expanding train line soon, which would make journeying back to the main Brotherhood a lot easier.

She had been leaving the bank when she saw a flash of blonde hair at the end of the street. She froze, watching as the blonde head disappeared behind the corner.

It couldn’t be.

Obviously Wednesday knew Enid Sinclair wasn’t the only blonde woman in the world, but a head of hair that bright? She had only ever seen a blonde with hair that bright and that was Enid.

But obviously Enid wasn’t in Jericho. Obviously not.

So Wednesday pushed the thoughts of the blonde girl out of her head. It had been years since she had seen the girl. Years since she had saved her life. For a while, she had wondered how she had been doing. She wondered if the girl had succeeded in making a life for herself. But over time, thoughts of the girl had stopped as more important matters came up.

She had grabbed most of what she needed from town when she asked a gentle old man if he knew of anywhere she could buy some books. As it turned out, Jericho had got a new book store a few years back. Pointing her in the right direction, Wednesday took off. The book store was easy enough to find, and Wednesday stepped inside, relishing in the smell of dusty old books.

She was about to set off into the shelves when a voice stopped her. A voice she hadn’t heard in years because of course she was right. Wednesday would recognise that hair anywhere-

(‘Hi.)

The blonde had aged beautifully. Her hair was longer, but put into a tidy bun at the back of her head. She was wearing a thick maroon jumper on top of what was clearly a casual black dress. She was staring at Wednesday with joy, and the Assassin couldn’t find it in herself to find it irritating.

(‘Hello, Enid.’)

The blonde just took the sight of her saviour in, admiring how much different she looked.

(‘I’m sorry,’ she spluttered, ‘I don’t really know what to say. You… you look great.’)

(‘Thank you,’ Wednesday nodded, ‘I must say you do too. I’m glad to see you’re still alive.’)

(‘Yeah. Town hopped for a while,’ Enid replied, ‘I wanted to get as far away from home as I could so I wouldn’t be found. Then I found Jericho a few years ago. How long have you been here?’)

(‘A few months.’)

(‘And are you still in the whole…’ Enid made a strange gesture of flexing her wrist, ‘…business?’)

(‘If by this,’ Wednesday copied the gesture, ‘you mean doing what I did that night, then yes.’)

(‘Cool,um… are you looking for something? You’re not here to kill me, right?’ Enid joked.)

(‘Unless you followed in your family’s footsteps and joined the Templar Order after I went through the trouble of saving your life, then no,’ Wednesday replied, deadpan, ‘I was hoping you would have a copy of ‘L’An 2440, rêve s’il en fut jamais’ by Louis-Sébastien Mercier. I colleague of mine relocated to France recently and recommended the work to me.)

(‘Uh, we actually do have that but it’s not in English.’)

(‘That’s fine. I speak French.’)

Enid nodded and stepped out from behind the counter as she went to grab the book. She blushed as she stepped past Wednesday and the Assassin couldn’t help but admire the blonde’s figure as she walked away.

She quickly scolded herself. Attachments like this weren’t allowed. The only reason her parents were allowed was because they were already together and had reformed the American Brotherhood alongside Weems themselves. Other than that, Assassin’s could not partake in personal relationships. Alliances, fine. Friendships, fine. Romance, however was off the table.

Enid quickly returned, gently carrying a small leather bound book. She placed it in front of Wednesday.

(‘Is this the one?’)

(Wednesday inspected the book, gently running her hand over the leather cover, ‘this is it.’)

Enid quickly got behind the counter again and pulled out a larger book. A receipt book. Grabbing a pencil, Enid stated the cost and Wednesday handed over the money.

(‘Okay. So that’s L’An 2440 at one dollar for-‘)

(‘Wednesday,’ Wednesday cut in, ‘Wednesday Addams.’)

Enid looked up from her book in shock. After all these years, she finally had a name to put to the face of the woman who had saved her.

(‘Wednesday,’ Enid gasped, ‘that’s…’)

(‘That’s what?’)

(‘That’s a beautiful name,’ Enid softly finished.)

Beautiful? She thought her name was beautiful?! If anyone were to use that word to describe Wednesday, they’d find themselves with her blade at their throat. Wednesday did not do beautiful. She preferred terms like horrific or disturbing.

But as Enid said it was beautiful, Wednesday found that that urge to use her blade did not emerge.

In that moment, Wednesday knew the Brotherhood’s rule on attachments would not apply to her for how could it, when she knew deep down she had been attached to Enid from the moment she set eyes on her all those years ago.

And Wednesday was okay with that.

#Wednesday #wednesday addams au #wednesday addams #wenclair #enid sinclair #enid loves wednesday #wednesday is soft for enid #wednesday netflix #wednesday x enid #assassins creed au #au #wenclair au #assassin!wednesday #templar!enid #fanfiction #fanfiction ideas

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sharpen-your-hatchet · 1 year

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Old Wounds - Wenclair Fanfic, chapter 24

Description: Now aged 22, Wednesday Addams is an up-and-coming author. Her time at Nevermore is well behind her, and she is alone, and that suits her just fine...But when a 'new' neighbour shows up in her apartment building, she'll truly be tested on whether her "bad habit" of caring truly has been broken. (Hint: It hasn't.)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams / Enid Sinclair

Rating: Mature (Fic is fully SFW up to Chapter 20)

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Click Here To Read This Chapter On AO3 or keep reading below!

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Following their latest tryst, Wednesday and Enid indulge in their privacy for a considerable amount of time. The day is still young enough that they have no need to rush back downstairs… and despite it’s unique appearance, Wednesday’s dark and dreary bedroom is quite the perfect backdrop for them simply enjoy each others company away from the prying eyes, ears, and other limbs of whomever lurks in this grand family home.

Which, considering the entrance they made earlier in the day is quite the blessing.

For Enid in particular, it allows her time to lay in a gleeful daze. She murmurs gentle affirmations about her experience those precious few minutes ago, and makes self-sustained small talk as she curls up by Wednesday’s side. It is hard to ignore how Enid is glowing. Truly she is on cloud nine – but despite this, she is still wary; still cautious. Ensuring Wednesday’s comfort is second nature to her at this point, and so Enid knows when and where to bring the energy down.

Right now is certainly one of those times – as their bodies and brains settle following their impulsivity. Wednesday is quietly thankful for Enid’s empathy. It is a trait Wednesday often considers a flaw in many people; a trait that makes them susceptible to manipulation...but Enid wears it with a piercing level of sincerity that it’s almost disarming. In fact, Enid sometimes uses it in her work to flip the narrative on others and make them the one being manipulated, all in pursuit of the latest gossip for article. It’s rather devious. Wednesday is quite fond of it, actually.

And of course, in this particular moment, Enid’s empathy brings both calmness and understanding. Perhaps it is not such a bad trait after all...

Wednesday watches Enid with a fond yet pensive gaze.

And Wednesday, naturally, does take this extended moment of restful seclusion to evaluate their latest sexual engagement. Now all is said and done, she mutely takes enjoyment from the intimacy, but knows herself better than to dare try and strive for more… In any case, she has enough to think on when she considers the touches, the sounds; the rush of endorphins Enid’s closeness brings.

Wednesday has never been one for drugs (unless they are of the poison variety, or being used for an appropriate kidnapping, of course), but she would wager the nature of oxytocin - that is, the brain’s love chemical – causes addictive rushes in much the same way. She feels crazy at times, but in a way that is much, much different from how she initially expected her loss of sanity to go.

Considering how she had wished for a dark psychosis to take hold of her, it is strange now to think upon how much she prefers this; how she prefers the love drunk inner chaos that Enid causes.

There is something she tries to not think too much on, however: there’s still a low grumble of need that sits in Wednesday’s lower stomach. It’s hungry and hard to ignore, like the quiet flame of a candle that refuses to snuff out… but Wednesday being Wednesday – she ignores it anyway. It’s rather inconvenient and she has no time for it just yet. Maybe one day, but not now.

Frankly, She’s still a way off addressing her own needs… but it’ll happen. Eventually.

Wednesday continues to muse; Enid continues to talks.

Enid returns to find Wednesday staring thoughtfully at a large painting of her mother and father. With a gentle nudge of her elbow, Enid offers Wednesday an amused grin at the portrait before them.

They lay together for a while longer. However, Enid eventually excuses herself to freshen up in the bathroom, which turns into an agreement to head downstairs. Conveniently enough, as she opens Wednesday’s bedroom door, she is met by their bags neatly waiting outside for them – presumably placed there by Lurch at some point or another.

Enid chucks them into the room with little effort. Wednesday then collects them and places them somewhere they’re less likely to be a trip hazard. Wednesday also neatens up the bedsheets, to ensure the room is as pristine as when they initially entered. She then exits the room, letting the door shut behind her with a satisfying ‘clunk’.

“Wondering how we’d look in our own painting, eh?” Enid jokes.

“Not at all,” Wednesday replies dryly. “Whilst I might show a preference for historic tradition, I find paintings like this to be frivolous and excessive.”

“Right? We could just take a selfie together!” Enid says with a light smirk. She pulls out her phone and wiggles it teasingly in front of Wednesday’s face.

Wednesday’s expression remains stoic. She is silent for a second.

“…Absolutely not.”

Enid rolls her eyes playfully, returning the device to her pocket.

“I’ll convince you one day,” She hums with a smile, as she quietly slides her hand into Wednesday’s own and gives it a light squeeze. “Are we ready, then?”

Wednesday looks down the staircase.

“Indeed. Let’s go discover what nefarious activities my mother has planned for us.”

Wednesday and Enid make their way downstairs. They seek out Morticia who has remained in the kitchen since their initial meeting. Thing is there too, and he casually greets Wednesday and Enid with a wave of a finger. He appears to be assisting Morticia by stirring a pot of something – A soup or strew, presumably, though considering the multi-use purpose of the Addams’ family kitchen, it could be anything – but he seems inexplicably coy for a hand who is usually so outspoken.

Enid and Wednesday exchange glances; a silent acknowledgement to each other that they now know for certain Thing must’ve been a part of Morticia’s earlier plans… but even with that in mind, Enid is far too excited to be upset and quickly scuttles over to him to have a catch-up. Wednesday is consequently left alone to the practised, disarming gaze of her mother.

“Have you and Enid settled into your room?” Morticia asks. Her voice is honeyed, a mischievous inflection leaving no room for second-guessing the true question that lurks behind her words.

Wednesday offers her signature glare.

“Yes, however Enid was intrigued and horrified by my collection of literature procured from the evidence of murder investigations,” She lies. “I am surprised you did not think to tidy them away. I had to spend 30 minutes hiding the ones with bloodstains so she would not faint.”

The falsehood rolls off her tongue naturally. On all accounts it sounds realistic too – from timekeeping, personalities; even Wednesday’s very real and beloved collection of murder books. Most people would fall for it easily... but Wednesday’s mother is not just anyone. Truthfully, Wednesday knows she won’t fall for it, but she also cannot see a world where she’d be anything but secretive concerning more intimate details of her life. Even with her mother who she trusts more than anything. Wednesday would frankly rather eat glass.

(Which suddenly gives her a great idea for a trap to set up for Pugsley.)

Morticia eyes Wednesday. She is clearly unconvinced, holding Wednesday’s challenging gaze for just a moment with a slight smirk and quirk of her eyebrow. She elicits a quiet, amused hum before she glances away to Enid and Thing across the kitchen.

“We’ll have to discuss these things later, my little raven. We must make haste with our activities for the day.”

Wednesday has zero qualms about this change in topic. Though she and Enid are both in the dark about these fun and exciting plans of her mothers’ – she is starting to think she might actually prefer the torture of painting each other’s nails than being subject to her Mother’s omniscient gazes… so long as the polish is black, and actually made from snake venom. She would be so lucky.

In any case, it would seem Wednesday’s concern about these planned activities are perhaps unfounded. Morticia directs them into her greenhouse, revealing a table overflowing with a number of dark coloured flowers, thorns, nettles, and ivies, etc. Morticia stands at the head of the table, hands clasped together. She explains that winter has been cruel to the grounds of the house and the family graveyard is looking terribly bare, which – naturally – is inexcusable for a family such as their own. As such, she would love to redecorate with a bundles crafted from the array of plant life before them. Morticia adds that it is wonderful group activity to partake in whilst they make idle chatter about the nature of life and death. Mostly death, of course.

So, flower arranging. She wants them to do flower arranging.

Enid seems pleasantly surprised to be offered such a calm and normal task, though she does stare a bit warily at the various nettles and ivies, concerned by their poisonous potential. That being said, she otherwise seems happy to start crafting after a little bit of guidance from Morticia. Wednesday, on the other hand, is hesitant… It’s not as bad as she expected, but her mother’s green thumb didn’t quite pass through the gene-pool, and Wednesday would frankly rather dig graves than decorate them. She’d even hazard a go at laying in an empty grave whilst it got filled in.

But alas she concedes, for the sake of Enid and her Mother’s happiness. They are both fortunate to be two of the few people in this world she actually cares for.

And so, Wednesday collects a number of thorned vines, and begins weaving them into circular shapes – similar to a wreath. It’s simple enough, and the weaving comes naturally to her. It is much like tying her braids, and though she cares little about the task at hand, she finds it similarly easy to let herself get entranced by the repetitive motion. Over. Under. Over. Under. Again and again, until she reaches the end and passes it over to Enid for her to decorate. They become quite the machine, seamlessly crafting amongst the idle chatter that Enid upkeeps with Morticia. Wednesday will not dignify calling this activity “fun” but she doesn’t feel like stabbing pins into her eyeballs...so, that’s something. Plus, Enid is enjoying herself, which is never a bad thing.

Every so often, Wednesday pauses to asses her work, and catches her mother watching them with a fond, prideful gaze. Though Wednesday says nothing, she can predict the conversation that is slowly forming behind her mother’s watchful eyes. She knows it’ll happen as soon as an opportunity presents itself.

And present itself it does. Unfortunately.

“Enid, darling, perhaps you should take a nap?” Morticia suggests. She puts down the bouquet she’s holding, giving Enid a practised sympathetic look. “We’ve made an exemplary level of progress, and in any case, it would give Wednesday and I time to have a personal catch-up.”

They have been crafting for a few hours when it happens. Enid begins to yawn. Just once at first – It’s a small, sharp yawn of someone who has been focusing on a task for a few hours without

realising. A gentle whip of fatigue that is quickly shaken off out of dedication to a person’s own enjoyment… but then she yawns again. A longer, deep yawn that brings tears to the corner of Enid’s eyes. She blinks them back, only to yawn once more seconds later. It continues downhill from there. It would seem the activities of the day seem to have caught up with her, and Enid’s energy seems to all but disappear within a matter of fifteen minutes. She continues talking, smiling, offering Wednesday cute little glances, but it’s glaringly obvious that her internal battery is running out of juice.

Enid bears a guilty expression for a moment, and she looks to Wednesday for support. Wednesday stares back blankly. She is stuck for an answer. If Enid leaves then she knows the kind of conversation she is awaiting, but if she convinces Enid to stay then there will be an inevitable pang of guilt that will needle its way into her stomach and gnaw at her like a parasite.

Feelings. How inconvenient they are at times like this.

Enid yawns again.

Wednesday feels her resolve soften. She knows what she has to do.

“Go rest, Enid,” She says quietly; quickly, before she can think to change her mind.

Enid offers an appreciative smile.

“I’ll make it up to you,” She whispers in reply, before standing from her chair. She takes a step closer to Wednesday and in lieu of a parting kiss, brushes her hand over Wednesday’s gently. Enid then looks over to Morticia and with another short yawn, she asks “What else are we doing today? I’ll make sure to set an alarm on my phone.”

Morticia waves her hand in the air dismissively, “Oh Enid, do not worry yourself,” She says airily. “Just rest, and we’ll continue our festivities when you return.”

Enid nods, and flashes a smile at both Morticia and Wednesday before excusing herself. Thing, who had been hanging around whilst they worked, hitches a ride on her shoulder – seemingly keen to leave the vicinity. He’s not the only one.

Wednesday now finds herself alone with her Mother. In person. For the first time in goodness knows how long.

Morticia looks at Wednesday with an indulgent, satisfied smile. She picks up the flowers again and gives them a sniff. She sighs happily.

“These flowers remind me of funerals, you know? Your father, despite not being a gardener, helped me plant a whole field of them just so I could see them everyday; just so he could watch my enjoyment. Incredibly romantic, is it not?” Morticia’s voice is dreamy, whimsical. She brushes her hand through the petals, and pulls one from the bunch, twirling it in her fingers. “I see a lot of your father in you, Wednesday.”

“It’s almost like I’m a genetic composition of you and him. Shocking.” Wednesday deadpans in reply.

She wishes she could refute her mother’s comparison. Despite her displeasure at being unceremoniously trapped in this conversation, she would never dare to find disgust in being directly compared to her Mother or Father – not in their presence, certainly. She did so as a teenager, and remembers the pain it caused with regret. Wednesday is happy to cause emotional damage to other people; people who don’t deserve to find kinship with Wednesday in the first place...but to her parents? No. She will accept the comparison time and time again, regardless of the situation.

Wednesday’s response elicits an amused hum from Morticia. She stands and waltzes to the seat that Enid had recently vacated. As she sits, she picks up and assesses one of the flower wreaths that came from Enid and Wednesday’s teamwork. She smiles.

“I see myself and your father in both you and Enid, actually. You’re more than just lovers, you’re partners, teammates, always quietly working together against the world’s expectations of you.”

Wednesday blinks, not expecting the emotional pang that hits her at her mother’s recognition. She forgets at times that her mother’s words hold meaning above everyone else’s… but the flicker of emotion is gone quick, buried before Wednesday can dwell on it too much. Mother or not, Wednesday will never be one for emotional displays.

“What is the purpose of this conversation?” She asks.

Morticia chuckles.

“Do all conversations need a purpose, little viper?”

Wednesday stares at Morticia blankly.

“I am simply expressing that I believe you and Enid to be a perfect match. Our phone calls had convinced me as much, but after seeing you two in person? Well… there’s no denying it.”

Wednesday softens slightly, but she can’t help offer a final bit of snark.

“The phone calls were ideal. It is always preferable when you can simply hang-up on a conversation.”

“Wednesday, you have not hung-up on me once.” Morticia bites back with a mischievous curl of her lips.

Wednesday pauses. She stares daggers into the table for a second as she realises – well shit – she hasn’t ever hung up on her mother. Frankly she would not dare. Wednesday has historically slammed the phone down on major book publishers, scriptwriters, even a Hollywood director or two without so much as a second thought – but may the non-existent Gods forbid she ever even attempt to end a call with her mother unprompted.

However, Wednesday will neglect to comment on the calls she has simply not picked up. Those are outliers.

In any case, Wednesday does not have a witty reply. She’s caught in a box of respecting her mother too much for her regular passive aggressiveness, but not prepared enough to offer any thing resembling emotional intimacy. So Wednesday silently grumbles and stares at the table.

“You find it hard to talk to me, don’t you? Especially in person?” Morticia queries. She reaches out, tracing her hand over the silhouette of Wednesday’s shoulder without quite touching her. “I understand, you have always been this way. I hope you find it easier with Enid.”

Wednesday glances towards her mother. She nods slightly.

“I do.”

A warm fills Morticia’s expression.

“Good. You deserve someone who makes emotion feel safe.

Wednesday pulls in a tight breath. Again, she feels herself soften against her mother’s fond words. Unfortunately she is still struggling to find an anchor to offer much more to the conversation, even with knowing it was going to happen; even when it’s her mother of all people.

Wednesday drags her eyes away from the table. She manages to settle them on her mother’s face, and does her best to offer an expression that does not resemble a glare… but, ultimately, she still says nothing.

Morticia’s hand snakes up from hovering above Wednesday’s shoulder, to floating to the side of her face, faux-cupping Wednesday’s cheek. There’s a pride sitting in Morticia’s eyes; a joy that can only be expressed by a mother seeing her child thrive.

“I am so, so happy for you Wednesday.”

Wednesday feels the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. It’s miniscule – practically blink and you’ll miss it, but it’s there all the same, if only for a second. It’s enough for her mother to catch though; enough for her to see what Wednesday wishes she could express.

“-And who knows,” Morticia adds after a moment. “Maybe one day you two will get married.”

Wednesday freezes.

Oh.

#Wenclair #Wednesday x Enid #Enid x Wednesday #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Wednesday Netflix #fanfic #Ao3 #Hello hi #small authors note in the tags that my laptop is going in for repair #so uh next chapter might be a hot minute sorry :')

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bonetrussle · 1 year

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Wednesday Addams possessed countless awful childhood memories spanning the many rooms of the Addams Family mansion.

One that she was particularly fond of was the fairly mundane Drawing Room.

They were tender memories, filled with the agonizing screams of various family members during extended reunions, wrestling with Aristotle’s tentacles the day he outgrew his tank, and playing with new Medieval torture equipment their parents got them for their birthdays. She won her first joust against her father at age three in the Drawing Room. It was also the place where she first realized how fun poltergeists could be at age five, and she spent a grand time plotting her first murder attempt against one of her father's many investment partners at two weeks old.

But those were just that. Childhood memories. By the time Wednesday found herself going through the tortuous cycle of puberty (for even she had not been immune to the dramedies of teenage horror) the Drawing Room became a distant place; creating an empty space as wide as the colossal void she pushed between herself and her mother. She began to isolate herself in her own room frequently, consumed by a thirst to exceed her dreadful literary heroes. Like many things that were familiar to Wednesday in her childhood, the room soon became as unfamiliar to her as a stranger living within the same space.

Things changed. People changed. Even the appearances of certain places changed as time passed, either through her parents' vanity projects throughout the years. Like changing the Drawing Room’s family loveseat into an elegant chaise lounge after Pugsley melted the former's dusty covers with a spectacularly potent acid. Or shifting the color of the fireplace to a more pleasant black from its old brick-red foundation. Or even the addition of an antique globe the size of Cousin Walt's generous gut, replacing one of Morticia's potted carnivorous plants to make everything look a little more scholarly. They were nothing but surface-level evolutions. Nearly useless in the grand scheme of things, unless it was to make the room look better by adding a little more black.

In some cases, however, places changed in a more relevant manner. Something life-changing and instantly memorable that brought Wednesday closer to the Drawing Room as she grew older. Like her first make-out session with Enid Sinclair, where, in a fit of passionate fury, she pressed her new girlfriend against the bookshelf between the 'Armaments' and 'Animals' section, kissing the girl as if her very life depended on it. Wednesday remembered how the very thought of ending their kiss could have killed her, as much as Enid stealing her breath away had nearly asphyxiated her. The memory of which still made her dizzy and weak in the knees.

But Enid Sinclair was just like that, she supposed. Powerful enough to change many things in Wednesday’s life. Shaking the very foundations Wednesday cemented around her heart, even after learning to despise change. Enid gave places different meanings, adding more to Wednesday’s precious memories which -- dare she say -- she now cherished with her entire being...

#wenclair #my fics #complete fic

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kit-walk3r · 10 months

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Scream: An American Horror Story Retelling: Part 2

Violet Harmon and her family move into a new house where she meets edgy new neighbour Tate and learns of the horrors currently terrorising the town.

Warnings: mentions of murder & slight gore and a minor feature of self harm (it’s Violet and Tate afterall)

Notes: wow, such a great response for part 1! Thank you so much guys 💓

Masterlist

2 months later

The Harmon family pulled into the driveway of a grand, Victorian house. It was beautiful and unique, with stained glass windows and old fashioned brick. Ben Harmon loved it. “It’s amazing!” he kept proclaiming, obvious that he adored it.

Violet, his daughter, was not so enamoured by it. “Great, so we’re the Addams Family now,” she muttered, earning a look of disapproval from Vivien, her mother. Violet hadn’t been so onboard about leaving Boston. In fact, she’d put up quite the fuss about leaving. She wanted to stay. She had her own group of friends in Boston (albeit it only being two) but that was two more than she was going to have in California. Violet had always struggled to fit in and make friends, she’d always been the outcast. Now she had to adapt to being the outcast in a whole new environment. It was going to suck.

“Cheer up,” Ben nudged Violet’s shoulder playfully. “This house is great. You’re going to love it.”

“Yeah, right,” Violet rolled her eyes before picking up a box of her things and heading into the house.

Vivien sighed. “What are we going to do with her?” She asked Ben sadly. “Maybe leaving Boston was a bad idea.”

“Babe, we’ve not even moved it yet,” Ben put a comforting arm around his wife’s shoulder. “Just give her some time. She’ll settle down eventually. It’ll all be okay, you’ll see.”

Vivien listened to what Ben had to say, before shrugging his arm off and heading into the house without a word, leaving a now disappointed Ben behind.

The Harmons continued to move their things into the house, with the help of a few removal men and the realtor who sold them the house, Marcy. It was a surprise to see her there, but the help was appreciated, even if the only thing she did was move a couple of boxes and gush about the history of the decor of the house.

“You do know about this town, right?” Marcy asked as the last few things were being brought in.

Vivien looked confused. “What about it?”

For a moment Marcy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was obvious she was hiding something when she quickly put on a false smile and headed for the door. “Oh, it’s nothing! Maybe have a quick look on Google later, there’s all sorts of interesting things,” she opened the door and was quickly hurrying down the driveaway. “I’ll call by later!” She was in her car and out the gates before Vivien or Ben even had the chance to respond.

Vivien and Ben looked at each other, both sharing the same bewildered expression. “I’ll look it up later,” Ben shrugged before picking up a box labelled BEN’S OFFICE. “It can’t be anything too important.”

- - -

The Harmon’s had been in their new house for a couple of weeks now. Ben and Vivien were settling in okay (even though their marriage was still a little rocky), but Violet was struggling, as predicted. She’d started at Westfield High School, and it hadn’t exactly gone well. Her first day was terrible, and the following weren’t so great either. She was the outcast, just like she knew she would be. There was no changing that.

Violet was wandering around the house one afternoon when she overheard a conversation coming from her dad’s office. He must have been seeing a patient.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Violet overheard a boyish voice ask. Intrigued, she moved closer so that she was outside the ajar door and peeked through the gap.

Sat cross legged in a chair, just in view, was a boy probably around her age. He was facing her, and Violet could just about make out his floppy blonde hair and grunge style clothes. She stared at him.

“No,” she heard her dad say. “I think you’re creative, and I think you’ve got a lot of pain you’re not dealing with.”

The boy continued talking, but Violet wasn’t listening. She was entranced by him. He had a presence that captured her attention and wouldn’t let it go.

“The world is a filthy place,” the boy said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. The sadness in the way he spoke brought Violet’s attention back. “It’s a filthy goddamn horror show. There’s so much pain, you know? There’s so much.” Violet agreed. She’d felt that pain.

The boy’s eyes glanced towards the door and caught Violet staring, as if he knew she was there all along. They locked eyes for a moment, just a moment, before she turned around and quickly headed back to her new room.

Violet was thinking about the boy. His vibe just felt so… familiar. The words he was saying echoed thoughts she had had for years. The world was a filthy place. It was a horror show. She’d experienced that first hand. Hell, she’d been experiencing that in just the few weeks she had been here.

“Knock knock,” Violet looked up to see the blonde boy from her dad’s therapy session standing in her open doorway.

Violet didn’t know what to say. “Hi,” she finally came out with.

The boy came in, uninvited, and took a seat on the floor, cross-legged. “I saw you watching me in my session with Dr Harmon,” he said, staring at her.

Violet flushed slightly in embarrassment at being caught. “My house,” she shrugged casually. “I can do what I want.”

He nodded, accepting it. “I’m Tate,” he introduced.

“Violet,” she responded. A silence followed. “I haven’t seen you around school. You go to Westfield?”

Tate nodded. “But I’m currently suspended.”

“Really?” Violet grinned like it was the coolest thing ever. “How come?”

“‘Concerning behaviour’,” Tate rolled his eyes. “Got caught smoking and skipped school one too many times. I was already on a thin line. The principal doesn’t like me very much.”

“Why?” Violet asked.

“No clue, he’s just an asshole. Had it out for me since day one,” Tate shrugged as if there was nothing more to the story. Perhaps there was, perhaps there wasn’t.

“He’s a dick,” Violet agreed. “Almost suspended me on my first day.”

Tate leaned forward, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Got in a fight with some girl for smoking. She tried to get me to eat the cigarette butt. So I hit her,” Violet recalled the story of her awful first day.

“My kind of girl,” Tate grinned.

Violet couldn’t help but smile back.

“So, why are you seeing my dad?” She asked.

Tate’s grin faltered. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” he said darkly. “You’re smarter than that.”

Violet shot Tate a look of apology but didn’t say anything.

Tate sighed. “I’ve just got a lot of shit going on at home,” he rolled up his sleeve to reveal a pattern of many faint scars decorating the skin of his wrist. “Partly this.”

Violet looked at them before looking down at her own clothed wrist. She remembered what she heard her dad say. You’ve got a lot of pain you’re not dealing with. Sounded familiar. She took a seat on the floor opposite Tate and rolled up the sleeve of her cardigan to show Tate her own. “Twins.”

Tate and Violet sat and compared scars. Tate had one from his dad leaving, Violet had one from having to move away from Boston. Tate had one from getting into a serious fight at school, Violet had one from her own terrible first day at Westfield.

They talked for a while, listened to some music. Violet felt like Tate was easy to connect to. They shared similar thoughts, similar experiences. She told Tate about her dad’s affair and her mom’s miscarriage, and in return he told her about his own mom’s extramarital affairs and father’s sudden departure. Tate struggled to fit in at school too. He didn’t really have any friends and would keep to himself. He said he was fine with that, that it didn’t bother him and he preferred it that way, but Violet wondered if there was an underlying sense of loneliness there, just like she sometimes felt.

“I hate it here,” Violet whined. “I hate everyone. All their bougie designer bullshit. East coast was much cooler.” She ranted, continuing to complain about how much she didn’t want to be here.

“Well, you moved to town at a crazy time,” Tate said, trying to change Violet’s mind.

“Yeah?” Violet’s voice was laced with a hint of disbelief. She couldn’t imagine anything interesting happening here. Not that would intrigue her, anyway.

“Uh huh,” Tate nodded. “There’s been a string of murders these past couple of months. Three of them.”

“Seriously?” Violet’s disbelief at anything interesting happening here was replaced with intrigue. The darkness had always attracted her, and her interest was sparked.

“Did you not hear? I thought your mom would have done a background check on this place or something,” Tate joked, yet serious. Violet had told Tate about how her mom could be a little paranoid and overbearing and she did wonder how her mom never picked up on this. She knew that if her mom knew about three murders she definitely would not have moved here.

“What happened?” Violet asked. She now wanted to know all the facts.

“Two months ago a woman was found dead in her house. Beaten to death with some trophy,” Tate explained. Violet’s eyes widened.

“And the others?” She asked.

“Two college girls found dead on the beach. Stabbed.”

“Are they connected?” Violet wondered.

“No one knows,” Tate shrugged. “I mean, probably. Too much of a coincidence, right?”

“So there’s a serial killer here,” Violet said. Definitely more interesting than she could have ever imagined.

Tate started to respond but was cut off.

“What are you doing in here?” Ben demanded.

Tate shot around to see Ben standing in the doorway of Violet’s room, staring directly at him with a look of anger and distrust.

“We’re just listening to music, dad,” Violet explained. Tate said nothing.

“You need to leave, Tate. I’m sorry,” Ben sure didn’t sound sorry. “You shouldn’t be in here. I think you know that. Please.”

Violet protested as Tate dejectedly walked out of the room.

- - -

After Tate’s unfair departure thanks to Ben, Violet decided to look up the murders Tate had told her about. It was all true.

Alicia Spencer, found dead in her house two months ago after having her head bashed in with a baseball trophy.

Serena Belinda and Bonnie Lipton, found dead on the beach last month with twelve stab wounds each.

Violet was shocked as she read through articles about the murders. She wasn’t expecting the brutality of them. These people weren’t just murdered, they were butchered. Bodies harmed beyond recognition. It was horrific. And yet, Violet didn’t feel scared. She didn’t feel any panic or concern over living in a place where three women had been murdered. She didn’t feel anything towards it.

- - -

Despite her father’s warning, Tate came over the next day.

Violet was hanging out in her bedroom, listening to music when she heard a tapping at her window. When she checked she saw Tate standing outside, a handful of pebbles in his hand that he had obviously been throwing at her window. He waved at her, motioning for her to come down and meet him, and so Violet did, without hesitation.

She met Tate outside and the two of them sat outside, just out of view of the house so that Ben couldn’t spot them together, but also with enough hiding space for Tate in case Ben did make an appearance.

Violet lit up a cigarette and started smoking, occasionally passing it over to Tate. They sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company.

“So, I looked up those murders,” Violet said. “Pretty fucked up.”

Tate nodded in agreement. “Pretty fucked up.”

They were silent again as they continued to pass the cigarette between each other.

“The first one was my cousin’s mom,” Tate announced suddenly.

Violet’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I wasn’t related to her, thank god,” Tate chuckled slightly. “She was a golddigger, just like my mom.”

Violet didn’t know what to say.

“People think Kyle did it, though,” Tate continued to tell stories. He was telling her these things randomly, unprompted, and Violet wondered why. It was as if he was telling her all this to intrigue her, to reel her in. Telling her these dark stories that he knew would interest her. They’d only known each other two days but she’d already displayed her love for the darkness.

“Your cousin? Seriously? How come?” Violet asked.

“Some neighbours saw them arguing the night she died,” Tate shrugged. “Apparently that's enough of a motive to murder someone.”

“Jesus, I fight with my parents all the time, that doesn’t mean I’d bash their faces in,” Violet rolled her eyes. “People are stupid.”

“Agreed,” Tate stubbed out the cigarette.

“Bet this place isn’t as boring as you thought, right?” He smirked.

No Ghostface in this chapter, but we had our introduction to the Harmons + Tate and some context as to what has happened in the time jump, including two more murders. I didn’t just want to make random names up for the other two people killed so I looked up minor characters to use. Serena Belinda is Emma Roberts’ character in Cult and Bonnie Lipton is the girl who gets kidnapped by Twisty in Freak Show.

Taglist: @jellyluvr @howtobesasha @dewberryobssesed @luv4evan @kaismanwich @violetharmonstwin @daylas-life @mariefics @spill-the-t

Want to join my taglist? Just reply here!

#american horror story #ahs #scream #tate langdon #evan peters #Violet Harmon #Tate Langdon fic #kyle spencer #Zoe benson #ahs fic #american horror story murder house #ahs murder house #kit walker #jimmy darling #james patrick march #kai anderson

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finitefall · 1 year

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What do you think of the scene where Caraxes screams and breaks the windows of the Jonquil tower when Daemon watches Nettles leave? A lot of people say that's the ultimate proof that Daemon was in love with Nettles, but that doesn't prove anything either. Yes, Caraxes is reacting to Daemon's emotions as he watches Nettles leave, except we don't know exactly what Daemon had in mind at the time. I see Nettles leaving as a breaking point for Daemon from all the other shit he's been through since the start of the war. But people act like that possibility is impossible, always saying he's looking at Nettles, so he's only thinking about her, which is... based on nothing? Anyway, I'm curious to hear your opinion on this pass?

Hi nonnie. I'll go back in time a little bit: we know Daemon and Nettles are in Maidenpool and Rhaenyra in King's Landing, and we know people around Rhaenyra are talking about how Ser Addam Velaryon and Nettles were planning to betray her, with only Lord Corlys and Grand Maester Gerardys to speak in their defense. Septon Eustace wrote about Rhaenyra's state of mind back then:

Her Grace had been betrayed so often, by so many, that she was quick to believe the worst of any man. Treachery no longer had the power to surprise her. She had come to expect it, even from those she loved the most.

Yet, she still had doubts and asked Mysaria, as she obviously trusted her and the informations she could have as mistress of whisperers (in all but name). But Mysaria told her the same version Mushroom would want us to believe about the relationship between Daemon and Nettles. I'll skip a little now and go to the part where Manfryd Mooton, Lord of Maidenpool, received a raven from the Queen telling him to kill Nettles and bring her back her head, as the girl had been judged guilty of high treason. Maester Norren is the one going to give Daemon the letter Lord Mooton received from the Queen, and this is what he said:

Weary after a long day of fruitless flight, they were sharing a simple meal of boiled beef and beets when I entered, talking softly with each other, of what I cannot say. The prince greeted me politely, but as he read I saw the joy go from his eyes, and a sadness descended upon him, like a weight too heavy to be borne. When the girl asked what was in the letter, he said, 'A queen's words, a whore's work.'

Daemon tells Maester Norren to leave and speak no word of it until the day after. Now, I said here what I thought about their relationship: Nettles, a bastard girl without any family, with Valyrian blood, a dragonrider, was taken under Daemon’s wing who taught her, gave her gifts etc, like a father would do with his daughter. Daemon loved Nettles as a daughter, and he’s very loving and protective of his family.

He’s losing another loved one, again, and he knows Rhaenyra’s state of mind. He doesn’t blame her, he immediately understands that Mysaria is the one who told his wife that twisted version of his relationship with Nettles. It could also be that Mysaria, if we accept the version where Daemon had Rhaenyra’s permission to have sex with her, felt abandoned when he left King’s Landing and heard about him doting on this young girl. It’s only speculation, of course, but she might have been jealous if it was more than sex for her (unlike for him who was in love with Rhaenyra until the end) and seeking revenge.

So, let’s see: he's lost his unborn child when he sent a pregnant Mysaria away and her ship sailed (all because his brother was furious at him for wanting a dragon egg for his future child and told Daemon to go back to the woman he had been forced to marry). Then his second wife Laena, mother of his two daughters, died in childbirth as well as their son. He’s happy when he marries Rhaenyra: they’re in love, they have a beautiful family with two more sons together, Rhaenyra is gonna be Queen after her father one day. Except that the Greens commited treason, Rhaenyra gave birth to a stillborn daughter, Luke died, Jace died, and when Rhaenyra finally has the throne which belongs to her... she’s the one who became a tyrant, but Daemon didn’t want to hear any more than she did about making peace with the Greens. They’re angry, rightfully so: there will be no peace.

And now, he’s losing another loved one. He’s losing another child, since she was like a daughter to him. He asked the Maester to wait until the day after. Why? To prepare. Nettles leaves, and he says immediately after that he’s leaving for Harrenhal, where he will wait for Aemond and finally avenge Luke (driving Dark Sister into his blind eye instead of the other one wasn’t a coincidence).

How the prince and his bastard girl spent their last night beneath Lord Mooton's roof is not recorded, but as dawn broke they appeared together in the yard, and Prince Daemon helped Nettles saddle Sheepstealer one last time. [...] No word of farewell was spoken betwixt man and maid, but as Sheepstealer beat his leathery brown wings and climbed into the dawn sky, Caraxes raised his head and gave a scream that shattered every window in Jonquil's Tower.

Could it be what he’s thinking about as Nettles leaves and that Caraxes feels? Because yes, that’s sure to break a lot of windows.

#ASOIAF #Daemon Targaryen #Nettles #Rhaenyra Targaryen #answered

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