#addams family x reader

[peachesdearest]

Addams family x artist! reader

Morticia and Gomez,

the pair are very supportive and even gave you an entire wing of the manor to use as your own personal studio. Perfect with a desk stuffed full of supplies for any medium you could think of. Large windows brought in natural light and inspiration for outside world and you could catch glimpses of the children running and playing in the yard.

Morticia would often bring you the heads of her roses for you to press or turn into paints.

Gomez would often bring you candles when you would work late into the day when the sky began to darken.

The couple would always make sure you were fed, watered and bathed.

When feeding you, Morticia would pull you into her lap and cut your food into smaller more manageable pieces while Gomez would feed them to you.

When ever you fall asleep at your desk Gomez carries you to bed while Morticia tucks you in with the two of them. Both wrap loving arms around you as they drift into sleep with you.

Wednesday,

Wednesday was always able to find the deeper meanings in your art. Sometimes she would quietly sit and watch you create your art and make small comments about what she believe was the cause of inspiration. Often times she would bring you things she found in hopes you incorporate them into your pieces.

Pugsley,

Pugsley in truth didn’t understand your art much, he didn’t really understand any art what so ever. While it went over his head, Pugsley still liked to sit in play in your studio as you worked. He was content just sitting in your comforting presence in the warmth of sunlight streaming through the windows.

[robin-the-enby]

Hello ! Could you do an gomez x fem reader x morticia where you meet them when you pick up your sister to school and they get really taken by you and start invinting you to things and you get overwelmed by the affection and tell them they are very nice but a relationship its not what you are after

I never see a reader who doesnt want a romantic relationship, it would be nice to see one who just wants a physical one

Thank you !

It has no appeal

Pairing: Gomez Addams x f!reader x Morticia Addams

Summary: After meeting the infamous Addams family, you can't help but feel drawn to them. But when you notice that the attraction is mutual, you start to worry if you can give them what they are asking for.

Warnings: female reader, queerplatonic (?) relationship, a teensy bit of angst (happy ending tho), use of (Y/N)

A/N: I have successfuly graduated high school and got into university, so I finally have time to write! However, I am still sorry it took me this long to get to this request. I was thinking while writing this and I absolutely love this dynamic, especially maybe the dynamic between the reader's sister and the Addams children, so maybe I'll do something else with this dynamic in the future :) And as an (possibly) aromantic person, I am so delighted to be able to write this piece! I took a spin on the relationship dynamic that might not be exactly in tune with your experience, so be aware of that 😅

Waiting in front of the tall building, you looked at it with melancholy. You used to go to the same building for years and now, much later, you're picking up your younger sister here. It was a strange feeling that reminded you just how fast time flies and you quickly stomped it down before it got out of hand.

You recently found a small flat in your hometown after your last...relationship...ended. You had a thing going on with a really nice person in the city you studied at, but recently they admitted that they were looking for something you simply couldn't give them and so you parted ways. And life went on.

You thought that a change of scenery would do you good and so you moved back in with your parents, just until you could find something for yourself. In exchange, you helped them around the house and ran some errands for them. But one of your favourite "chores" was picking up your younger sister from school. It felt nice, walking the same streets you grew up in and seeing the teachers that used to teach you. And, of course, the quality time spent with your sister was a great bonus.

She was a lively young girl, who in a few years would go to middle school and you remember how big of a deal that was at your age, so there was lots to talk about. You loved gossiping about her classmates and teachers and hearing about the adventures she had with her friends.

One of them stood out to you. His name was Pugsley and he was a year or two younger than your sister. Every recess they spent time together, playing and discussing very important things, which she always told you about and you gave your insight on. You also learned that Pugsley's sister was your sister's classmate. Her name was Wednesday and although your sister didn't have any problem with her, she told you that she was quite strange, and could be quite mean to Pugsley. You thought it was mighty cute, imagining your sister standing up for her friend during recess against his sister, who had the strangest game ideas from what you've heard.

You talked about it with your parents, asking if you should talk to someone, just to ensure everyone's safety, but they only looked at each other and than at you with strange uncertainty. Apparently, the children were the daughter and son of Gomez and Morticia Addams, who moved into town just when you left for uni. You vaguely remember hearing about someone moving in and you'd certainly be more curious about the newcomers if you weren't preparing for a new big chapter of your life that was colledge.

Your parents explained that the Addams family was a strange bunch, with a strange lifestyle and beliefs. But, as odd as they were, they were actually lovely people and completely harmless, although most of the other citizens avoided them, due to their interest in all the dark, gloomy and macabre things. However, they never seemed to mind the ostracism they faced. So you let it go. Your sister continued to be friends with Pugsley and talked Wednesday out of harming him on the school grounds. Most of the time, that is.

Even after you found a place of your own, you continued picking your sister up from school, because it helped your parents, who were very busy even with your help, but you also just really enjoyed it. And that's where you were now, listening quietly to the excited chatter of children around you, walking hand in hand with their parents and telling them about the day they had. You would've pondered more on the strangeness of a child's mind, but somebody crashed into you, trapping you in a tight hug.

You turned your head and ruffled your sister's hair "Hey you. Long time, no see. How was school today?" You greeted her. She looked up at you with a grin "Hi sis! You won't believe what Micah did in art class today!" You smirked "Oh really? Well, what's the tea then?" Your sister mimicked your expression and was about to speak, when her eyes focused on something behind you. Suddenly, her whole face lit up and she raised her hand to wave it enthusiastically. Turning your head to see who your sister was waving at, you saw a young boy who was just reciprocating your sister's gesture. You didn't know most of your sister's friends personally, but seeing the slightly taller girl standing next to him with her arms folded and a slight frown on her face, you had a hunch of who it could be.

You didn't quite hear your sister's confirming exclamation that the boy was, indeed, Pugsley Addams, because your eyes locked with the two people standing proudly behind the two children. The women, presumably Morticia Addams, was tall and slender, with a visage similar to that of a ghoul, pale skin, raven black hair that shone in the sun and black clothes that, in contrast, seemed to swallow all the light that fell upon it. Her lips were painted a deep red colour and her eyes were just as dark as the rest of her, making it impossible to tell their colour. And yet, she had an almost...angelic aura around her. Like the forbidden fruit, looking perfect on the outside, all beautiful and evoking the feeling of security and peace. But, and you couldn't quite explain why, even if you tried, you felt that underneath it all, was a great power, that you almost feared to uncover. Maybe it was the way she was looking at you. There wasn't anything...malicious or hostile in her gaze. Just something...magical. Wise. As if she knew a lot more than you. And you found yourself believing it.

Blinking a few times, you managed to break the intense eye contact with Morticia and looked at her husband, Gomez. He was shorter and quite the contrast to his wife. Where she was calm and collected, he seemed to vibrate with energy, even while standing still. He, too, was looking at you, but in his eyes, was just a spark, as if he was inviting you to come over and talk. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much and yet, he was just picking up his children from school. His appearance and mannerisms were energizing and uplifting.

And suddenly you saw your sister skipping over to the strange family, running straight towards Pugsley. Your eyes widened and you rushed after her. As she threw her arms around Pugsley, blabbering about something excitedly, you placed your hands on her shoulders. Throwing a short, apologetic look towards Mr. and Mrs. Addams, you gently reprimanded your sister "You can't just run off like that, without permission or letting me know at least..."

Your sister looks up at you, a sad, guilty look in her eyes. With a face like that, you can't really stay mad at her. "I know you were excited to see your friend, but you can't just run off like that. If something happened to you, I wouldn't know where you are." you explain to her as you pet her hair softly. She smiles with appreciation before nodding and apologising. You reciprocate her smile before turning your attention to the family that was watching your interaction silently, but with interest.

"I'm sorry for my little sister, she can be excitable around her friends, she doesn't mean to be rude." you excuse your sister, but Mr. Addams just waves his hand "Oh nonsense! We know from Pugsley here that your sister is a good friend of his, and any friend of his is welcom with us anytime." he smiles energetically and you can't deny that his smile is rather attractive. Right after that thought you remember his wife is standing right next to him, but before you can start to feel bad, you notice the warm look on her face as she looks at you, still with that...knowing look on her face.

You smile at Mr. Addams "Well, I'm glad we haven't caused any trouble. I'm (Y/N) by the way. It's nice to meet you...mister Addams, right?" you introduce yourself. Mr. Addams takes your hand, giving it a firm handshake, although you can't help but feel he is holding your hand just a tad longer than is appropriate. "Oh please, drop the formalities. Since our children seem to be good friends, we might as well be too, if you'd like. The name's Gomez."

You wonder briefly if Gomez's wife is as enthusiastic about the proposition as he is, but when you turn your gaze to her, she is already reaching for your hand, holding it gently, but confidently in her own. She gives you a charming smile and when she speaks, it's as if a siren is calling out to you, a helpless sailor on the wide, wide sea "I think my husband is right. My name is Moricia. This is our daughter Wednesday," she gestures to the infamous girl, who is still sporting a very neutral expression, although she seems to be staring straight into your soul, as if assessing you, before giving a slight nod "and this is Pugsley, as you may know." The boy smiles warmly at you, giving you a polite greeting.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you all, but I'm afraid we have to go, otherwise our mother will be worried about what happened to us." you chuckle and smile at the couple. They seem like wonderful people, you can't understand why anyone would have anything against them. "As a mother myself, I can completely understand that." Morticia smiles "And we would not want to keep you any longer. But I was thinking, would you like to come over for a visit? The children will surely have fun together and we would be delighted to get to know you better. We've heard you recently moved back here?" as she says this, she grabs ahold of Gomez's hand as they both smile. You feel the intensity in their gaze, and et there is no pressure that would force you to agree. You look down at your sister, who looks at you with pleading, hopeful eyes and mouths the word "please", before you turn your gaze back to the couple and grin "Yes, that's right. And that sounds amazing!"

You exchange numbers and go your seperate ways. You register, out of the corner of your eye, them getting into a fancy looking, oldfashioned car, apparently with a personal driver. You don't think much of it and continue to walk home with your sister, who was excitedly skipping along the sidewalk, asking about when you were going to call them the entire way.

It didn't take long for the date of the visit to be set. Morticia called the next afternoon and you agreed to come over with your little sister at the end of the week, so that your sister wouldn't have to rush home and prepare for school.

Once the day came, you were actually pretty nervous, although you didn't really understand why. You blamed it on the fact that you're going to a stranger's home and you wanted to make a good impression. Because it definitely wasn't the fact that you were attracted to a married couple. Yeah, as if.

When you the big house the Addams' lived in, you had to say you were impressed. Sure, it was...unorthodox, but it had a strange charm. And when you were invited inside by a rather tall man, who, although his skin was almost gray and his expression somewhat...dead, seemed pretty nice, you almost felt...homey. The atmosphere of the home, paired with the type of people that lived there, was actually cozy. Gomez gave your sister directions to where she can find Pugsley and Wednesday and she promptly ran off, leaving you alone with the couple.

When she was out of sight, the man took your hand delicately and placed a simple kiss on your knuckles. A simple gesture, that was made much more sensual by the way he looked at you from below, his eyes glinting with...admiration, you would say, if it didn't seem so wrong. Still, you smiled politely and tried to think nothing of it. But you made a mental note to stop these kinds of actions if they would appear, thinking of his unfortunate wife.

Morticia was in the living room, sitting by a grand fireplace, reading a book. You didn't recognize it, but when you asked, it was revealed that the book was in French. You felt...uplifited, being in the presence of such stylish and intelligent people, that weren't snobbish, like you've encountered in the past.

They sat you down across from them on a small sofa and asked if you'd like anything to drink, or perhaps to eat. You declined the food, but you couldn't resist a nice drink to complement the lovely afternoon. The pair sat on another sofa across the small, seemingly old conference table, slightly turned towards each other, hands intertwined. But their sight was only on you. Both of them watching you intently, but their faces were gentle and their smiles welcoming. A thought crossed your mind. Maybe Morticia wasn't an unfortunate wife with a philanderer husband. And when Gomez started passionately retelling a story from his quite adventorous past, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You wanted to listen, you really did, but his passionate movements, his grin, the lively glint in his eyes...And the way Morticia was listening to him, posed and collected as always, but oh so devoted to her husband, body, mind and soul, her gaze so tender...They looked so beautiful. A forbidden fruit that you could never experience the taste of.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

You snapped out of your thoughts and you saw the pair look at you, their faces showing concern, a little bit of curiosity and perhaps a hint of slight disappointment. You shook your head, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. "Oh, yes, I'm fine." you reassured them quickly "I am so sorry, my mind just...slipped. I promise I wanted to pay attention, you have a lovely way of telling stories, Gomez." you said, still not really used to being on first name basis on them in such a short while.

Lucky for you, they seemed to not take it personally. Morticia assured you that sometimes, the mind does what it wants and drifts where the body can't. In no time, you all finished your drinks and as Morticia went to put them in the kitchen, you stood up and offered to wash the dishes in return. She seemed hesitant, but you told her firmly you weren't going to take no for an answer and a smug smile bloomed on her face. When you looked back on it, she must've seen something in that action that drew her to you just as much as you were drawn to her.

You stood in the kitchen, side by side, you with your hands in the sink, scrubbing glasses and the woman of the house next to you, with a dish towel in her hand, drying and putting away different utensils you cleaned. You agreed to do all the dishes, since you were already at it. Once you were done, Morticia did something you didn't expect. Instead of vocalising her gratitude, she leaned towards you, placing one hand on your arm, and pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. You were left wide eyed at the kitchen sink, the sponge still in your hand. She handed you another towel, and you dried your hands, noticin Gomez, who was stood leaning on the entry to the kitchen, smiling as smugly as his wife. So that's how it is...you thought.

You went to check up on your sister, who was playing a pretty suspicious game with the siblings, but she seemed unhurt and happy, so you let it go, gently reminding her to stay safe and not do anything she doesn't want to. Then yu spent the rest of the afternoon chatting nd getting to know the unsusual pair. You also met the other inhabitants of the house - Gomez's brother, Fester, Lurch, the man who opened the door for you, the grandmother (you didn't know her name, or if she even was related to the family, but she was very sweet) and lastly...Thing. You couldn't deny you were a little put off by a sentient severed hand, but you calmed down when he offered you one of his fingers to shake. Despite the strangeness, they were all so polite and lovely and fun to be around. But, you had to go home in the evening.

After that, your sister started to come over the Addams' household more and more often. And every time, you accompanied her, of course. While her days were spent having all kinds of adventures with Pugsley and Wednesday, yours were spent calmly with the parents. Gardening with Morticia, listening to Gomez and running little rerrands with him or simply reading in the living room, all the while flirting, first subtly, but the more time you spent together the more...serious it was.

You were now sure that there is a mutual attraction going on and that there wasn't anyone who was unaware or not consenting. It felt...nice, for a while. Slowly starting over, getting close to someone again. But you were beginning to feel afraid of what was to come. You tried to enjoy everything while it lasted, before they inevitably approached you with the proposition of becoming more than just friends. You were afraid of hurting them, and yourself, just like last time. But at the same time, you couldn't make yourself pull away from the affection.

It was on a fateful Tuesday night. The Addams' planned a sleepover for your sister, which obviously meant you would come as well. Somehow, you knew this was going to be the fateful night, the moment you were dreading for a long time now. And it seemed that time wasn't on your side either. Time spent with Morticia and Gomez always seemed to fly right past you.

They had prepared a big dinner, that, although it looked questionable, tasted amazing. Paired with a nice drink, you put the children to bed and soon you were relaxing on an elegant sofa, you in the middle, the pair surrounding you from both sides. Your shoulders were touching and even though you knew what was going to happen, that you would maybe never se them again, the places where your skin touched theirs felt electric, sending shivers down your spine.

Of course they took notice. They were both so intune with your emotions and body language, it was amazing and dreadful at the same time. Gomez placed an arm behind your shoulders, Morticia placing her hand softly on your thigh, both rubbing soothing circles.

"(Y/N)..." Morticia started. "Our dear (Y/N)..." murmured Gomez, his head leaning closer to your shoulder. "You know you are an amazing person, dear?" Morticia asked, and you looked at her, not finding words to respond. She must've seen the turmoil in your eyes, because she smiled reassuringly. "I believe you are very smart, our darling." she continued "And that you can see that...we like you." "Oh, I think like is not even close to how we feel about you, corazón." Gomez said, placing a kiss on your shoulder, making you gasp. Morticia sent him a look "Gomez, behave yourself. We need to talk this out first and foremost. And I believe our trésor has something important to say." She looked at you just a intently as always and yet so tenderly, like only Morticia can. Your heart was beating out of your chest, your hands clammy as they clutched at your clothes. You took a deep breath. Now or never.

"Yes, I've noticed you have feelings for me. And everything you've done for me, and my sister, and everything you continue doing, I appreciate it. You don't even know how." you start, wanting them to know you care about them, just..differently. "But, I'm afraid, I cannot give you what you deserve. I'm sorry to tell you that...I'm not interested in a romantical relationship." And the truth was out. There was no return. Yet, you had to continue. "I...I care for you, and your family. You are amazing people and together, you both are so beautiful, it's almost ethereal sometimes..." you chuckle "Whenever you touch me, I feel as if my very soul was on fire. But...romance is not something I can give you." you finish and study their faces intently.

For once, the pair isn't smiling. You almost start to take it as a bad sign, an omen of a near end. But, Morticia looks up from your face to her husband and after some silent conversation between them, they nod at each other, once. Only once and they know exactly what the other wants, what they're thinking. Oh how you admire them, you think, as a small ember of hope still prevails inside your chest.

"Cariño..." Gomez takes your hands in his, stealing your attention. His eyes are soft and his face adorned by a sympathetic smile. "Don't apologise. There is nothing to apologise for. Some things we cannot help. And while you will belong to us, body and soul, we won't ask of you to return anything you don't feel you have. If you'll agree to that, that is." he smiles at you and nods and you actually feel like you might shed a few tears, happiness and relief washing over you and blooming in your chest with such force you think you might burst.

You feel hands on your shoulders and Morticia lays her head on your shoulder "What do you say, notre cœur?" And you laugh. You laugh happily, your eyes glinting. Instead of saying anything, you take your hands from Gomez and turn to Morticia. And cradling her face softly, you seal your answer with her lips. And then Gomez's. And then you seal it again, and again, and again.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Hi love can you please write a male Wednesday whos obsessive and like his father towards reader

Not far from the tree

Pairing: Male Wednesday addams x reader.

Wednesday Addams, son of Gomez and Morticia Addams. A man who only felt joy if he ever had such emotion when he tortured the unfortunate souls he deemed worthy and who despised love, had fallen. You weren't Addams material, he observed, his empty, soulless eyes bored into you as you talked to your friends.

He didn't like them, he liked them dead for talking to his love. Elegant and graceful like normal, Wednesday walked up to you, the previous conversation was immediately stopped as your friends noticed him, his mere presence commanding silence. "My love. " he greeted plainly and grabbed your hand, his eyes boring into the leader of your friend group, almost daring them to speak up "I will be taking her. I hope you don't mind." Wednesday didn't give them time to reply as he stalked away, in dragging with you.

"Have I told you that I hate your friends?" He asked, his fingers tapping away on his old typewriter. "Plenty," you giggled, watching him affectionately from his bed. Wednesday was facing away from you, but you could see a hint of pink in his normally deadly pale cheeks. A comfortable silence settled between you two.

Wednesday despised the feeling of excitement or any other strong emotion, but seeing you so enthusiastic about the upcoming prom and all the fun things you could do together, he couldn't help but feel a tiny smile form on his lips. It made him almost happy to see you happy.

For you, Wednesday would do anything, even dressing up In a suit and tie that matched the color of your outfit, for your happiness Wednesday would do anything. He'd walk through hell, purgatory, and heaven just to see a smile on his Mi alma lips.

The plastic cup creaks under Wednesday's grip as he watches you dance with the leader of your little buddies, it was honestly pathetic that your friend called that dancing. Taking one last sip of the bland fruit punch, Wednesday sat his drink on the table and walked to you.

"May I cut in?" he asked, his coal-black eyes piercing into your friend's soul. "Uh, yeah, sure," they replied nervously before quickly making their way off the dance floor.

"You didn't have to scare them, you know," you giggled as you placed your hand on his shoulder and intertwined your fingers with his.

"How can I not?" he hummed, twirling you in a spin before dipping you.

"You're mine."

[stickyvoiddiplomat]

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Wednesday by thelittleblackghost

Wednesday (Male Wednesday x female reader) by britherin

[whiskehorange]

Could you please write for platonic reader wanting to learn crafts/abilities from Morticia & Gomes, and as many characters from the hellboy movies as you possibly can please? (Sorry I just love them all)

Morticia

I have a strange feeling Morticia makes her own perfumes in her spare time. With all the pruning and gardening she does, I can only imagine the kind of... "witchy" concoctions she's able to make up

She'd gladly take you under her wing and not only show you and let you wear her own, but would take this as a sort of arts and crafts approach. She gets it, her scents might not be the best fitting for you, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have what you might be looking for!

Morticia was absolutely over the moon when you came to her with your very own fragrance the first time. You had spent weeks watching and planning out some with her and finally had the time to make one with your very own fitting profile of scents. She couldn't get enough of the smell at first and even showed them to Gomez

Although, this is another very slippery slope that leads to her delving into gardening with you, if you're in that. But, let's be honest, we're down to do anything if it includes some one on one bonding with Morticia

Gomez

Gomez couldn't be more ecstatic to hear you have an interest in his hobbies. It's different for you to watch him or ask him questions about it but actually wanting to take the time out of your day to spend it with him? Your the best-est friend he could ever ask for

His hobbies are either malewife activates or medieval dueling, and there is absolutely no in between But it really surprised him when you want to take up fencing.

It's something you've watching him do in his spare time, but you never noticed how much strength and control it took, but he was as patient as ever and was always there to correct your moves or give you tips on how to better your posture and stance

Each time you'd pull something new out of your sleeve from what he's told you he's as proud as ever, staring at you with wide eyes and an equally wide grin. You're learning, and even it it might take a while, he's just happy that you're taking it seriously

Hellboy

Genuinely, what does he even do in his free time besides lay in bed, smoke, and do crossword puzzles? When you first asked him about what his hobbies are he really couldn't even answer you, he just stood there in his room and looked around cluelessly

I think, your best case in this scenario, is to just watch him for a while, you'll notice the things he does in his free time that he never thought about or classified as a "hobby"

You notice though, occasionally, that he divulges into whittling. Typically after a slow day he'll just kick back and mindlessly carve away until he makes something remotely into a familiar shape. It's not perfect, by all means, but it's something. When you ask him about it he says it's nothing but you insist

From here, he teaching you it like it's common sense. Correcting you how to hold the knife, how to hold the wood, resorting to just taking it out of your hands and showing you how to do it in the very beginning. Eventually, it becomes to casual to the two of you that even he's begun doing it more often and the two of you bring new pieces you're either working on or have finished for each other to playfully critique

Abe

Annnnd on the other hand, there's too much that Abe does that it's really hard for him to say when you come to him, curious to do something new out of boredom. It takes him a while to think before he just spews out anything and everything he can think of that he's ever done

One of the biggest things though, I think he finds the easiest to ease you into would be scrapbooking. You can't tell me he doesn't entire stickers and little postcards and massive, thick journals just creatively dyed and crafted to a certain theme

But, it's easier than reading dead languages for fun, alright?

It's something he see's a fun and would love to have someone else he can share them with from time to time when he feels particularly crafty. He's ready to supply you with anything you could ever need - he's got plenty of spares

Bound journals, fountain pens, cards, and ink. Anything you could think of that you'd want to get crafty with, Abe's likely got it. Especially when it comes to ink and pens. And calligraphy? Abe teaches you that before anything else and gives out practice sheets like homework. So be ready to bring them back the next day for a stamp of approval

Johann

There wasn't much that Johann had time for if it wasn't work, but he always appreciated a friendly visit from you in stressful times. Of course, when you first ask him about what it is that he really just does in his personal times, only one thing could come to his mind: his Bonsai's

Now... Johann is a bit more restrictive in what he's willing to teach you - at least for the more hands on things, that is. He has only a couple himself, ones that he takes precious time out of his day and schedule to trim and prune to his liking and he does it very meticulously

He grows delighted whenever you step in to see him now, taking it a slight break in his studies and research to lull you over to his small collection and teach about their varieties and their history

When you show your genuine interest for them he's over the moon, but very stern with you. No, you cannot have one of his and no you cannot prune his, absolutely not. Get your own!

But, he's all ears for the questions you may have and will answer them quickly and correctly. When you get your own, however, he's definitely going to have a lot to say. Harsh worded critiques, but he means the best (for the plant, at least). You might be one of his only regular friends, but that doesn't mean he's going to sit by and watch such a beautiful plant die!

Liz

Liz can be a bit standoffish when it comes down to you wanting to really be a part of her needed alone time, but what she really needs is that person to share it with from time to time. Even she recognizes that it's not ideal to spend ALL of her time alone.

Annnnnd as on the nose as it may seem, the only thing that comes to mind for her to teach you would to be woodburning. OKAY LISTEN listen, I can see it as a small, therapeutic way for her to really get out some of her pent up energy and stress in a more controlled way

Although, the first time you sit down with her to start she realizes... well maybe it's easier for her to just do it from her fingertips than you. She shrugs it off and apologizes for not being able to really teach you anything, but deep down she was a bit sad there was nothing you could do

But the smile that slowly spread across her face the next day you showed up to her room with a woodburning kit in your hands was worth more than anything in the world. There was certainly a learning curve for her as well to see how your tools worked

It's not too hard for her to give you tips, however. It's a few more buttons and control than really only having using your thoughts and a single finger, but almost all of her tips and tricks apply!

Nuada

You're not catching a break. That's all I'm going to say. No matter what it is you wanna learn from him you are not catching a break. it's like you're back to taking 15 highschool AP classes at the same time and each gives you 7+ pieces of homework a night

You always knew one of the more passionate things he was interested in was weapon smithing and craftsmanship. Whenever you had taken notice to the fine detailing of his knives and swords, he was eager to boast about how many of them were made by yours truly

It was when you kept admiring his work when he had a small inkling that you might be interested in learning yourself, and boy was that all he needed to get you straight to work. It's easy for the first few sessions you guys have, just learning the basics of different materials and how best to using them, but it doesn't take long for him to throw you straight into some manual labor

You're bent over a anvil and sweating your ass over making the most rinky dink ass knife you've ever seen that likely won't cut a piece of bread. But you better hope it cuts something or else he's going to make you come back and try again. You work a 9 to 5 now

Nuala

God, what can't she do? She's just perfect, chefs kiss

But something that she can't get enough of is learning herself, so seeing you before her asking if she could tech you something she's got up her sleeve leaves her speechless - in a good way, of course! The two of you usually spent your time together kind of quietly, with your nose buried in books from all over the world and ages, but what you could never grasp was how Nuala could read most of them

You wanted her to teach you more languages than your own and she couldn't be more excited to teach you. Unlike her brother, she's much more mellowed out when it comes to helping you learn some more of the common languages in their elven cities and doesn't get onto you too hard if you struggle at first, she gets it

This is something she didn't realize she was passionate about - her ability to communicate with just about anyone, and she was more than happy to be your teacher. However, she can't help but laugh when you don't quite catch onto the more dead languages she tries to teach you about, but she'll just smile and save those for later

[multifamdomfan]

William Addams

Parent: Fester Addams

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Personality Type: INTJ

Birthday: October 31

Hair: curly black hair

Eyes: Black

Love Interest: I haven't decided if he'll have one or not

Friend: Tyler

Disorders: Antisocial Disorder (Sociopath)

Hobbies: chess, fensing, photography, arson, and grave digging

[terry-perry]

Alastor (watching Y/N from afar): Look at her. I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss!

[nxtaliaistyping]

Oh god, being a maid employed at the Addams family mansion.

Authors note: I love posting the most shameless, self indulgent shit.

18+ smut, bisexual fem reader, threesomes, switch vibes all around

Going feral, you're a young woman who goes for the maid position, being part time means you can still study at college while earning some extra cash. The vibe of the family doesn't put you off, in fact it actually draws you in, which captures the attention of the lord and lady of the house.

Both of them are so in love, always having their hands on each-other as you're interviewed, as they explain to you how they aren't exactly a normal family. And both of them don't miss the way the other's eyes will trace to the image of your thighs peaking out from under your skirt.

After you leave, they can't help but fuck right there on the table, whispering promises to seduce you, to have you under them soon enough.

It starts with your uniform, which you suppose does fit with the old fashioned vibe of the family, however the traditional maid outfit is quite...short. So short in fact that when you bend over to dust, your panties nearly gave poor Uncle Fester a fright as he came in.

Sneaking glances at you as you clean, no matter what you do you have both Morticia and Gomez’s attention. Their eyes are trained on you as you clean their house and cook meals for their children.

“She’s so flawless, so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh Gomez, isn’t she just?”

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife whenever it was just you and them, usually they’d schedule you to be in whenever the rest of the family was out. And the whole time they’d take any excuse to be near you, to gently touch your arm while you speak, to brush your hair out of your eyes as they praise you for the good work you do, how happy they are to have such a devoted maid.

Any of you could crumble first (my money is on Gomez), but when that happens, there’s no stopping the couple from showing you all the earthly pleasures they can. And my god they're a kinky couple.

Their favorite thing to do is to have you in the middle of them both, greedy hands running over every inch of your skin. One of their hands always ends up between your thighs, circling your clit while your other partner's hand would be groping your tits, pinching at your sensitive nipples to make you cry out and whimper for them.

All the while they'll compliment you heavily, praising every inch of you.

"Such a good girl for us, and a gorgeous one too."

"oh tesoro, she's right. You're gorgeous, and all ours."

Or they'd take it in turns. One night, Gomez has you and his wife on your knees for him, kissing eachother over his cock before he fucks you both. Another night, Morticia has you both bound as she tortures you two so deliciously that by the end, you and Gomez are slurring your words. And one glorious night they hand the reigns completely to you, allowing you to be in control.

After a while, the three of you would settle into a routine. You'd come and clean and do their laundry, and in return they'd make you cum at least three times. Most likely they'll up your pay too, telling you how such a gorgeous hardworking girl shouldn't have to worry about finances.

Reaching up to grab something, only to feel Morticia's hands grope under your dress. Bending over slightly and feeling Gomez's bulge pressed firmly against your ass.

Just being their little pet, so eager to serve them in every way <3

[rivai-hana]

Homicide 🤣

except eren

This conversation is from the addms family 2

[hadesrise]

## can’t help falling in love !!

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

pairings──── jason peter todd x addams!male reader

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

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

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?” Jason smirks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

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

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

But sometimes, love makes him afraid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fall down with me further, mon chéri.

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

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

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

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

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

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

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

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

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

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

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

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

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

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

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

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

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For I can’t help falling in love with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce looks down in dejection, nodding his head.

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

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason still didn’t pull out his guns.

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

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

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

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

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

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

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

For I can’t help falling in love with you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For I can’t help falling in love with you

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

[fandomnerd9602]

wensday x reader where she is mean to everyone and only has a soft spot for reader and is so sweet and kind to them

Wednesday nuzzles Y/N, hugging them from behind…

Y/N: whipped

Wednesday: no darling that’s you

Click! Enid takes a photo of the two of them…

Wednesday: burn that photo or I burn you

Enid: I can’t save it for your future kids?

Wednesday: hmm…I’ll allow it

[cami040405]

For Charles lee ray and Vincent Sinclair ? (Seperetly) would they be the gomez to readers morticia ? How much do they love and worship the reader? It can be any genre

Vincent Sinclair & Charles Lee Ray X Reader with a Relationship Dynamic like Gomez and Morticia (SEPARATE)

Summary: Imagine Vincent Sinclair and Charles Lee Ray (Separate) adoring their S/O like Gomez adores Morticia, they love them more than themselves and would kill and die for them.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, I loved writing it, I particularly love this couple and being inspired by them to write this was incredible.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent might not speak, but his love screams volumes. When he loves, it’s with every fiber of his quiet, artistic soul.

Gomez-Level Devotion? Absolutely. Think of him trailing behind the reader like a shadow, silently admiring every detail of them—the way they move, their voice, the way they look at his work like it's more than just wax. To him, the reader is muse, protector, and salvation all in one.

Worship? He doesn’t worship with words—he does it through acts of loyalty and obsession. Every sculpture becomes more refined, more emotional when it’s inspired by the reader. He’d craft wax roses that never wilt. He’d memorize the reader’s routines, quietly fixing things in the house before they ever notice it was broken. If someone disrespects the reader? Vincent’s got the tools and the silence to take care of it without question.

Romance Level? Sky-high. Picture candlelight shadows dancing across the walls of Ambrose as he gently holds the reader’s hand, guiding it over a sculpture they “made together.” He’d cherish any touch the reader offers like it’s sacred.

To most, Vincent Sinclair is a shadow in the dark, an artist of eerie genius, hidden behind silence and a mask that conceals more than just scars. But to you, he’s something else entirely. And to him, you are everything.

From the moment you stepped into Ambrose, you brought color to a world of wax—a life untouched by warmth. At first, he watched from a distance. Silent. Unmoving. Eyes behind the mask studying you with an artist’s curiosity… and something far deeper. Obsession? Maybe. Fascination? Undoubtedly. But it was never cruel. Never predatory. Vincent doesn’t take. He offers.

He’s a man of creation, and you became his muse. But not just any muse—the only one who matters.

Vincent carves you from memory in the quiet of night, every flick of his knife shaped by the way you tilt your head when you're curious, the way your eyes soften when you talk to him—even if he doesn’t answer. He sculpts the curve of your smile like it’s something holy. Wax figures of you start to appear in his studio, some only partially formed, others whole—each one a love letter in form, each one a whisper of “I see you. I need you.”

And not one is ever good enough in his eyes. Because how could he ever capture something as alive as you in stillness?

He doesn't say “I love you.” He shows it. Constantly.

You find your favorite books, once lost or forgotten, neatly placed on the dusty nightstand in your room—cleaned just for you; 

The blanket you left on the couch? Folded; 

The mug you chipped last week? Replaced with one he painted himself.

A small bouquet of wax flowers, made by his own hand, left where he knows you’ll find it first thing in the morning;

That music box you mentioned liking as a child? It plays again one evening, the tune echoing softly down the hallway—because he fixed it. For you;

He notices everything. And you never catch him in the act. It's like he's afraid you’ll see and turn away. But he watches your reactions—those small moments of awe or gratitude—and treasures them like relics.

He burns for your approval, though he’d never ask for it.

That first time you take his hand, truly take it, you feel it. He stiffens, startled—not because he doesn’t want it, but because he does. So much. Too much. It’s been so long since someone touched him without fear or disgust. Since someone saw him and didn’t flinch. When your fingers brush his scarred palm and you don’t let go, something in him cracks—not painfully, but softly. Like wax melting under warmth.

He holds on like he might never get the chance again. No words, just a quiet inhale through his mask. And that’s when you know:

He’d die for you.He’d kill for you.But more than anything… he’d live for you.

Vincent’s jealousy isn’t loud. It’s chillingly quiet. If someone dares look at you with impure intentions—or speaks to you like you’re something to be taken—Vincent doesn’t argue. He doesn’t growl or posture.

He simply disappears. And so does the problem.

Later, you might find wax where it shouldn’t be. A strange silence over Ambrose, even heavier than usual. And Vincent? He’ll avoid your eyes, working harder, faster, more violently in his studio until you gently touch his shoulder… remind him you’re still his.

That you chose him.

And that’s when he relaxes again. Slowly. Like a wounded animal learning it’s finally safe.

It’s not a love that asks anything of you. It doesn’t demand.

Vincent gives. And gives. And gives.

Even if you never say the words.

Even if you walk away.

But if you stay?

He’ll protect you from his brother. He’ll shield you from the dark. He’ll carve out a corner of the world where only you and he exist, covered in the scent of hot wax, old wood, and silent reverence.

To Vincent Sinclair, you aren’t just someone he loves. You're the only softness in a world that taught him to harden.

The candle in his cathedral.The heartbeat in a town of silence.The one soul who looked past the mask—and never looked away.

.

Charles Lee Ray

Now Charles is raw, passionate, and chaotic. But when he loves, he’s fire and blood and undying hunger.

Gomez-Level Devotion? Hell yes, but add murder and mischief. He’s the type to say, “You looked at someone else today? Nah, baby, I took care of it.” His version of devotion is borderline unhinged—but he thinks of the reader as his queen, his ride-or-die, the only person who really gets him.

Worship? Obsessively. He’ll call the reader “gorgeous,” “my dark angel,” “soulmate” in one breath and threaten the entire world in the next for even thinking of harming them. He’s a worshipper in leather and blood-stained knives.

Romance Level? It’s chaotic romantic. Expect impulsive grand gestures: stealing jewels to “match your eyes,” setting a place on fire just to say, “I burned it down for you,” and saying “I love you” with every kill he makes in the reader’s name. But he means it. In that bloody, intense way only Chucky can.

.

From the very first moment Charles laid eyes on you, something in him shifted—dangerously. He wasn’t the type to fall. He took. He played. He killed. But with you? It wasn’t just lust or power. It was need. The kind that sinks in deep like a knife to the ribs and never lets go.

To Charles, you were the one thing in the world that made sense. The chaos in his head quieted when you were near. He called you “his girl,” “his baby,” “his goddess of gore.” And he meant it. You weren’t just someone he wanted in his life—you were the reason he still had a life.

Chucky doesn’t show affection like a normal person. Oh no, sweetheart. He shows it in blood and bullets, in stolen jewelry, in whispered threats to anyone who dares look at you too long.

"You know I’d kill for you, right?” - Not a metaphor. He means it. One time, you offhandedly mentioned someone who made you uncomfortable at work. By morning, they were in the news: missing. Charles never said anything. Just smirked. “See, baby? Told you I take care of my girl.”

Pet names out the ass: “Doll,” “Sweet face,” “Murder baby,” “Queen of my rotten heart.” And somehow, even in his gruff voice, they sound like poetry.

Grand gestures, Chucky-style: He once carved your initials into his knife handle—right below his own. "Til death do us part? Baby, you and I skipped that step. We’re forever."

Like a dark priest at a bloody altar. Like a cultist who only believes in you. You’re his constant obsession. You walk into the room, and the world stops. His eyes are always on you. He doesn’t just want you—he claims you.

You're his sanity. His chaos. His tether to reality. He might be covered in blood, coming home from a "job," and the moment he sees you? His voice softens: “C’mere, baby. Missed your pretty face.”

He’d kill God for you if you asked. And when he says things like “I’d gut a priest just to hear you laugh,” he’s not joking. He thinks the reader’s happiness is divine. Sacred. Worth everything.

If you’re Morticia, he’s the bloodstained, cackling Gomez who kisses the back of your hand after slicing someone’s throat. He’d watch you walk by in your flowing black clothes, eyes gleaming like a man starved, whispering, “Marry me again, baby. And again. And again.”

He’d brag about you constantly: “You seen my girl? Smartest, hottest thing on this rotting earth. Could burn this place to the ground and still make it look sexy.”

He treats your body like a shrine: Every scar, every curve, every movement—you’re untouchable to everyone but him. He memorizes you. Sleeps wrapped around you like a possessive snake. And god help anyone who tries to separate you.

When you’re mad at him?: He goes feral. Can’t handle the cold shoulder. Will beg, scream, promise you the world. “Don’t shut me out, baby. I’ll slit my own throat if it means you’ll forgive me. You know you’re my f***ing everything.”

You’re a legend. A nightmare wrapped in silk. A goddess of beauty and power and danger. And he worships you like that. When the world spits venom, he snarls right back. But when you speak? He listens. When you touch his cheek, his whole body melts. And when you say, “I love you” his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

Because Chucky—Charles Lee Ray—loves like a wildfire. Violent, all-consuming, impossible to control.

And he’d rather die than live without you.

.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

"She's so beautiful, Mi alma." Wednesday muttered -for the first time ever- awed as he stared down at the little babe cradled safely in your arms. Little Blair Addams was a quiet baby, and there was no doubt she was the daughter of Wednesday, streaks of midnight hair and eyes black as coal. She barely cried when she came out.

"Would you like to hold her?" You asked softly, looking up at your husband, exhaustion bare on your face. Wednesday only nodes as he gently lifted his daughter from your arms, allowing you to give in to the tiredness of childbirth.

"il mio cuore, you only just arrived here and I will kill anyone who hurt you. You and your mother ruined me.." Wednesday whispered, his thumb ran over her cheek as she stared into his eyes. Blair cooed at his words as if she understood and a tiny smile on her little lips.

Life had gave him people he never knew he wanted and he would do anything to protect them. Anything.

Il mio cuore: my heart

Mi alma: my soul

[deadlynavigation]

Season’s Greetings

Warnings: swearing. reader has straight hair in this one.

Author’s note: yall when i tell you school has been kicking my ass. like i expected a challenge but this is just straight evil. anyways, so so sorry for literally no writing these past three months. i’m going to work on stuff i swear.

(Addams Family Masterlist)

(Full Masterlist)

“Cara mia, it’s barely November.”

No response.

“Amore mio?”

Still nothing.

“Y/n.”

A muffled “here!” comes from the pile of christmas decorations scattered on the floor. Wednesday slowly walks over to where the little voice emerged, taking in the garlands and ornaments that spring from half-opened, dusty boxes. He carefully sidesteps the multiple throw blankets and pillows strewn about, admiring your eye for such things whilst also trying to recall where he hid the matches and gas. Vinyls, unlike the decorations, are placed neatly on the sofa, one already removed from its case and sitting on the record player waiting to be played. Finally, Wednesday reaches the small bump in the mountain of holiday cheer.

Your head pops out. “Need anything, baby?”

Wednesday has to place a hand over his mouth to contain his smile. You do this every year, and it somehow becomes even more endearing to him. “Halloween was yesterday, cara mia.”

“...Ok?” You fail to grasp his point, blinking up at him as innocently as possible.

“We have months to do all of this, Y/n.”

“Time is ticking, baby. We gotta get a head start on this.”

He sighs, dropping onto his knees and accepting his fate. “Then you must need help, if we’re running on such a tight schedule.”

Your eyes dart from the dried flowers you’d been fiddling with to his face, which, although rare, held no signs of deception or teasing. “You’d really help? You’re not just fucking with me?”

Wednesday chuckles, reaching up to brush back a piece of your hair that had fallen loose in the chaos. “Of course, cara mia. It’s important to you, is it not?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Then I shall help.”

Hours later, Wednesday isn’t regretting that promise in the slightest. Or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself. He’s sorted through pounds of decorations, had dozens of arguments over what to trash or keep, and gone back down to the basement at least a dozen times to grab even more boxes. It’s now past midnight, and he can clearly see your eyes drooping.

“Amore mio, perhaps it’s time to put this away for the night,” He murmurs, reaching for the ornament you hold and gently pulling it away. It’s placed right back in its box, set on top of the pile for tomorrow.

You try to conceal a yawn, reaching for the ornament. “But we’re so close, baby. Just a couple more minutes, we could finish.”

“See, normally, I would agree with you,” Wednesday smirks, memories of last night running through his head, “but you’re exhausted, cara mia. What type of partner would I be if I didn’t chase you up to bed right now?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, pushing at his arm with no real intent. He snatches the opportunity, grasping your arm and bringing it up to his lips. Kiss upon kiss is imprinted on your skin as Wednesday moves from your wrist to your shoulder and back down again. He takes his time, holding eye contact with you as he kisses every individual vein of your arm, appreciating each little indent and bump, even burying himself into the warmth of your shoulder once he draws close enough.

“M’still not tired. Your tricks don’t work on me, baby.”

He snorts, face still tucked safely into your shoulder. “Of course not, my love.”

You almost let your eyes flutter shut at his voice, but remembering all the work that must be done, you shoot awake almost instantly. “No, baby, I mean it–we gotta finish this.”

“And we will–tomorrow. Let me take care of you, Y/n. Let yourself rest.”

You stare at the back of his head for a moment, narrowing your eyes as you run through your options. One: stay here, fall asleep on the floor, wake up with a broken back. Two: let Wednesday take you to bed, where you’ll then end up sleeping for at least fourteen hours. Three: refuse through yawning fits and insist that you’re perfectly fine to handle breakable decorations at one in the morning.

Only one of those options will end up working. You’re still in denial about which one it may be.

Wednesday can practically feel the gears turning in your mind and eventually tires of it, rising from your neck and standing. “Come on, amore mio. Time for bed. I will hear no more of it.”

“Okay,” you grumble, because as much as you’d like to stand your ground, you can feel the exhaustion creeping through your body. It becomes much more apparent as you step forward, legs half-asleep and shaking from the hours spent crouching in uncomfortable positions. “Carry me?”

Wednesday looks down at you, shaking his head. “As if I would allow anything else, Y/n.” With that, he scoops you up, adjusting for a second before maneuvering around the scattered decor and into the foyer. You bury your face in his neck, all too eager to be surrounded by warmth after the sunset brought frigid temperatures into your home. Wednesday plants a short kiss on your hairline before climbing the stairs, steadily guiding you both into the master bedroom.

He stops, and you realize it’s an indication that you’ve reached the bed and have to get down. You cling to him, refusing to jump down.

“Cara mia,” Wednesday cooes, pressing another peck onto your head. “How are we supposed to get ready for bed if I’m carrying you the whole time?”

“You’ll figure it out. I have confidence in you.” Your words are barely there, fading with your sleepiness. Your grip on his clothes slackens, and that’s the final straw for your partner. He gently lowers you onto the pillows, quickly spreading a blanket over your form.

“As much as I appreciate your reliance on my strength, I cannot live up to those expectations,” Wednesday laughs, strolling into the adjoined bathroom to quickly brush his teeth and rinse his face. The splashes of water reach your ears, spurring you to blearily rise and join him over the sink.

“M’tired,” you mumble, grabbing your toothbrush. You run it over your teeth for a time most dentists would consider unacceptable, rinsing and flossing afterwards to make up for your rush. Wednesday smiles softly, handing you your cleanser after you’re done.

“You coat your face in chemicals, I’ll worry about your hair.” He leans down, laying a cold kiss on your collarbone before getting to work. The brush glides through your hair as you rinse your cleanser off, reaching for a serum as Wednesday reaches for the soft little elastics you seem to prefer for nighttime. He combs his fingers through your hair, watching in fascination as the color catches the soft copper lights of the lamps in the bedroom. Over and over again, he watches it fall from his fingers and envisions a future where he combs through your graying hair with weathered hands. Yes, he’ll sleep well tonight with that in his mind.

He’s knocked from his train of thought as you plop your moisturizer back onto the counter, finished with your routine and now just waiting on the braids you were promised. Wednesday smiles sheepishly, kissing the back of your head as an apology before getting started. He manipulates the strands with expert fingers, years of practice on his sisters and mother proving useful.

“M’sorry I yelled at you about the mistletoe. You wouldn’t have known where exactly I wanted it, that was my fault.” You lean back into his chest as he works diligently, the motions lulling you to sleep.

“Amore, I would hang the moon and stars for you if you asked. The mistletoe will go exactly where you need it tomorrow.” He holds back a laugh as he recalls the argument, a five-minute long discussion involving door frames, rulers, and a silly little piece of the plant.

“I’m also sorry for the wreaths. I didn’t even know we had that many.”

“It’s ok, Y/n,” Wednesday whispers as he ties off on a braid, moving to the next one without jostling you from where you practically lie on him. “We all have passions. You support mine. These next two months, I will support yours.”

It’s quiet for a minute, both of you too content to break the silence. He finishes the second braid quickly, trying to get you both into bed before you end up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

“There we go, amore. All done, you did so well for me.” Wednesday rubs your arms up and down, trying to rouse you from your almost meditative state.

“Bed?” You whisper, rubbing an eye while trying to stay attached to him.

“Yes, come on.”

“What time is it?”

“Late,” Wednesday whispers back, checking the clock on your nightstand. He’s right–it’s almost 1:30 in the morning, an hour that he isn’t sure qualifies as late or just incredibly, wickedly early.

You fall into bed, rearranging the pillows until you can comfortably lie on them. Once Wednesday climbs in next to you, you forsake them, instead nuzzling right against his chest as he pulls you into him. It’s so warm and familiar that you fall asleep almost immediately, all the caffeine, disagreements, and upcoming holidays forgotten.

Wednesday almost laughs at how quickly you managed to fall asleep, proving him right that the decorations were a matter for another day. He’ll have to rub it in your face tomorrow, but for now, he envelops you with his arms pressed tightly against your back and dreams of many more holiday seasons to come.

[pandapetals]

Cara Mia

The whole mansion is celebrating Halloween and you and Logan dress up as Morticia and Gomez Addams.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

"Now that’s a costume," you said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe as Logan stepped out of the bathroom. He looked the part of Gomez Addams, dressed in a sharp pinstripe suit that clung to his broad shoulders, a fake mustache meticulously glued above his upper lip. Of course, there was still something rugged about him, the rough edges peeking through despite the polished attire. Somehow, he managed to look like Gomez Addams who’d just finished chopping wood.

Logan grunted as he tugged at the tight collar of the dress shirt, his brow furrowed in irritation. "Remind me again why I agreed to this. And don’t say it’s for the kids," he grumbled, his voice low and rough. "You know damn well I don’t dress up for anyone."

You glided across the room, your long, black Morticia gown swishing dramatically around your ankles as you came closer. "Oh, I’m sure," you replied, your voice silky and laced with playful sarcasm. "You’re doing it because you love Halloween. Besides," you added, reaching up to smooth the lapel of his jacket, "you make a very handsome Gomez."

He huffed, but his lips twitched up in the faintest hint of a smirk as he took in your costume. "And you," he said, his eyes raking over your elegant black dress, "look like you were born to play Morticia." His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you in closer as he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "What’s the line? 'Cara mia?'"

You laughed, lifting your hand to rest lightly on his chest. "That’s right," you replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "And I believe Morticia would respond with, 'Mon cher.'"

Logan smirked, his grip on your waist tightening as he dipped his head, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Keep talkin’ like that, and we’re not making it downstairs," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

"Downstairs now, " you scolded, swatting his shoulder playfully. "The kids are waiting, and I’d rather not be responsible for a riot because we kept them from their candy."

He let out a low chuckle, releasing you but letting his hand linger on your waist a moment longer. "Fine, fine. Let’s go entertain the little monsters," he muttered, but there was a glint of warmth in his eyes that said he didn’t really mind at all.

As you descended the stairs together, the sound of excited voices filled the air, and you could see the kids gathered in the mansion’s grand entryway, most of them already bouncing with anticipation. The room had been transformed into a haunted wonderland, complete with cobwebs, flickering fake candles, and eerie decorations hanging from the ceiling.

When you and Logan reached the bottom of the staircase, Jubilee let out a dramatic whistle. "Well, look who finally showed up," she teased, grinning from ear to ear. "I guess Logan’s not too cool for Halloween after all."

Logan rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, standing a little taller as though he were playing up the role. "I ain’t here for the costume," he grunted, though the faint curl of his lips betrayed him. "Just here to make sure you all don’t eat so much candy you get sick."

Rogue laughed, stepping closer with a smirk. "Well, Gomez, " she said, giving his suit a once-over, "I have to say, this is the most put-together I’ve seen you in a long time. You clean up nice."

Logan shot her a look, his brows knitting together as he grumbled, "Watch it, kid."

You slid your arm through his, leaning in with a smile. "Oh, come now, darling," you said in your best Morticia impression, "don’t be modest. Everyone knows you’re the most dashing man in the room."

A few of the older students snickered, and Remy, who was wearing a pirate costume that looked like it had seen better days, chimed in with a grin. "You know, Logan," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you really do have that whole Gomez thing down. You’re all protective and swoonin’ over your 'cara mia.' Next thing you know, you’ll be speakin' French."

Logan grunted, shaking his head. "Not a chance, Cajun. But keep talkin’, and I’ll show you how Gomez handles an unruly houseguest."

You laughed, giving Logan’s arm a gentle squeeze. "Now, now, mon cher, let’s not start any duels tonight," you said, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "We wouldn’t want to frighten the children."

As if on cue, a group of the younger kids came running over, already decked out in costumes ranging from witches to superheroes. "Mr. Howlett, look at my costume!" one of them shouted, holding out his arms to show off his vampire cape.

Logan gave a faint, almost begrudging smile as he looked down at the child. "Not bad, kid," he said, giving the boy a nod. "Got the fangs and everything, huh?"

"Yep!" the boy said proudly, flashing his plastic vampire teeth. "I’m gonna get so much candy!"

"Just don’t go biting anybody," Logan replied dryly, ruffling the kid’s hair as he rushed off to join the other trick-or-treaters.

You watched the exchange with a smile, a warmth spreading through your chest. Even in his gruffness, there was something endearing about the way Logan interacted with the kids; he was always protective and watchful. 

You leaned in close, your voice a low whisper. "I think you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, his lips twitching upward as he slid his hand into yours. "Maybe," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Don’t go tellin’ anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold."

"Your secret’s safe with me," you said, squeezing his hand. "But only if you do the tango with me later."

He chuckled, pulling you closer as the two of you made your way toward the candy station, the sound of laughter and squeals filling the room. "Deal, cara mia, " he whispered in your ear, his voice rough and affectionate.

You and Logan spent the better part of the evening wrangling the kids through the whirlwind of activities. There was pumpkin carving, where half the children ended up with more pumpkin guts on themselves than in the actual pumpkins, and a frantic candy-sorting session that resembled a mini stock exchange, with kids trading chocolates for lollipops and debating the merits of sour candies versus chocolate bars. The grand foyer echoed with the sound of squeals, laughter, and the occasional shriek when someone popped out of the fake cobwebs for a scare.

By the time the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed nine, the sugar-fueled chaos began to show signs of fading, and it was time to herd the little monsters off to bed.

Logan watched as you gently nudged a yawning witch and a sleepy vampire toward the staircase. "I doubt they’ll even sleep," he grumbled, arms crossed as he followed you down the hallway, his rugged features softened just a bit by the evening’s festivities.

"Well, if they don’t, at least it’s the weekend so we don’t have to worry about it in the morning,” you replied with a wink, shooing the last straggler up the stairs.

As the kids finally trudged to their rooms, dragging their candy bags behind them like little zombies, Remy appeared at your side, still dressed in his pirate costume, hat tilted at a jaunty angle. "Well, now that the little devils are out of our hair," he said with a grin, "it’s time for the real fun to start. I didn’t dress up for nothin’." He tipped his hat at you, then at Logan. "Hope you’re ready, chérie, ‘cause I brought out the good whiskey."

"About time," Logan grunted, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Might as well make this night worth the effort."

The moment the kids were safely tucked away, the main floor of the mansion transformed yet again—this time into a proper Halloween party for the adults. The common room was lit with a warm orange glow from jack-o'-lanterns scattered about, and cobwebs hung in the corners while a spooky playlist crackled from an old record player in the corner. A variety of drinks were set up on the bar, along with bowls of snacks and trays of cookies shaped like ghosts and bats.

"Alright, folks," Rogue called out from the center of the room, holding up a shot glass filled with something dark and ominous. "Let’s kick this thing off with a drinking game! Rules are simple—if you get caught in a lie, you drink. If you admit something embarrassing, we drink. And if anyone complains about their costume," she shot a glance at Logan, "they drink twice."

Logan smirked, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the bar and pouring himself a glass. "Looks like you’re all gonna get real drunk, then," he said, taking a swig.

"Please," you teased, sidling up next to him and giving him a playful nudge. "I’m pretty sure I could outdrink you in my sleep."

His eyebrow shot up, a spark of challenge lighting in his eyes. "That so?" he drawled, setting his glass down. "Guess we’ll have to see about that, cara mia. "

Remy, already leaning into the spirit of the game, handed out shot glasses to everyone. "Alright, first question," he said with a mischievous grin. "Raise your hand if you’ve ever used your powers to cheat in a game."

Several hands shot up—Bobby, who was dressed as Frankenstein, wiggled his fingers. "I mean, is it really cheating if it’s just a little bit of ice to cool the drinks?" he said with a grin.

Jean, who had come as a flapper girl, laughed and raised her glass. "Guilty," she admitted. "Scott and I may have used telekinesis during Twister once or twice."

You glanced over at Logan, who hadn’t raised his hand but was watching everyone with a hint of amusement. "And what about you, Mr. Howlett?" you asked, arching an eyebrow. "Ever used those heightened senses to win at cards?"

Logan’s lips twitched. "Don’t need to cheat to beat you," he shot back, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "But if I had used 'em, you’d never know."

"Oh, I see how it is," you teased, stepping closer to him. "Big talk from a guy who almost lost to me in poker last week."

"Almost doesn’t count, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning in, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "And if I remember right, you owed me a drink after that."

Remy cleared his throat loudly, cutting through the tension. "Well, well, look at these two," he said with a smirk. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were gonna re-enact that tango scene from Addams Family any minute now."

Rogue let out a laugh, grabbing another drink from the bar. "I’d pay to see that," she said, raising her glass toward you and Logan. "C’mon, Logan, show us your moves."

Logan rolled his eyes but reached for your hand, pulling you closer. "Fine," he grunted, "but don’t say I didn’t warn you."

You grinned, placing your other hand on his shoulder as you let him guide you into an exaggerated, dramatic dip. He held you there for a heartbeat, his face close to yours, a teasing smirk on his lips. "How’s that for a start?" he whispered.

"Not bad," you replied, your voice a playful purr. "But I think we can do better."

The music shifted to a slower, sultrier tune, and Logan pulled you upright, twirling you once before drawing you close again. The room around you faded into laughter and clinking glasses as you let yourselves get lost in the moment, your bodies moving together in time with the music.

As the night wore on, the drinks kept flowing, and the banter grew even more ridiculous. Someone—probably Bobby—had rigged up a costume contest for "Most Ridiculous Outfit," which ended up going to Logan while Hank, who’d put on a fake nose and glasses over his already blue fur, won for "Most Dedicated Effort."

Eventually, Rogue called out for another round of questions. "Alright, last one for the night—who here actually believes in ghosts?"

Several hands shot up, including Jean’s and Bobby’s. Logan remained still, his expression unreadable as he took a sip from his glass.

You nudged him playfully. "C’mon, Logan," you teased. "You’re not afraid of a few ghosts, are you?"

He glanced at you, his eyes steady and serious for just a moment before a grin tugged at his lips. "Darlin'," he said, his voice low and rough, "after all the things I’ve seen, I’m pretty sure a ghost would be the least of my worries."

The room erupted in laughter, and you raised your glass, clinking it against his. "Fair enough, Gomez. If we ever run into one, you’d better protect me."

Logan’s smirk deepened, and he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. "Always," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "But I think you can handle yourself just fine, Morticia. "

Eventually, the party began to wind down. One by one, people drifted off to bed, the laughter and chatter fading into the quiet hum of the mansion. The candles burned low, casting flickering shadows on the walls, and the faint strains of the last song played softly in the background. It was just you and Logan now, standing together in the dimly lit common room, the lingering warmth of the evening settling into a comfortable silence.

You stifled a yawn, your lids heavy with sleepiness as you leaned against Logan for support. "I’d say this Halloween was a success," you murmured, letting your head rest against his shoulder. "The kids had a blast, no one went into a sugar coma… and I think Hank’s costume might’ve actually caused Bobby to laugh to death."

Logan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that you felt more than heard. "Not bad," he agreed, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you. "Though I could’ve done without the 'Most Ridiculous Outfit' contest."

You tilted your head back to look up at him, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. "Come on , you know you secretly enjoyed yourself," you teased, reaching up to brush a stray piece of lint from his jacket lapel. "I even saw you smile a few times."

He scoffed, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward in that way that told you he wasn’t actually denying it. "You must be seein' things," he said, his tone gruff but warm. "Maybe it's the whiskey."

"Or maybe," you replied, your voice softening as you ran your fingers along the edge of his collar, "you’re just getting sentimental in your old age."

Logan’s eyes flicked down to meet yours, his gaze dark and steady. "Careful, darlin'," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl that sent a pleasant shiver through you. "You keep teasin' me like that, and I might start thinkin' you actually enjoy my company."

You tilted your chin up, closing the distance between you just enough for your breath to mingle with his. "And if I do?" you whispered, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke.

Before you could blink, his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his mouth met yours in a kiss. It was like the rest of the world fell away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in the warmth of each other. His fingers tangled in your hair, and you slid your hands up the front of his suit, fisting the fabric as if you were afraid he might pull away.

Logan didn’t pull away. If anything, he kissed you deeper, his other hand slipping down to your waist, pulling you against him. His lips moved over yours with a hunger.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your forehead resting against his as you struggled to catch your breath. "We should… probably head upstairs," you murmured, a teasing lilt in your voice as you glanced toward the darkened staircase. "Before someone comes down here and catches us."

Logan smirked, the warmth in his gaze tempered by that familiar spark of mischief. "Guess we wouldn’t want to ruin our reputations," he drawled, his hand slipping into yours as he led you toward the stairs. "C’mon, Morticia. Let’s continue this in private."

The two of you made your way upstairs, your footsteps quiet against the wood floor as you stole glances at each other, the anticipation building with every step. When you reached the top of the stairs, you couldn’t resist pulling him aside into one of the quieter hallways, your back pressing against the wall as you tugged him close again.

Logan didn’t waste a second. His hands slid to your hips, lifting you slightly as his mouth found yours once more, this kiss slower, deeper, as if he were savoring every second. You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, your body arching into his as a soft sigh escaped your lips. It wasn’t just the kiss that made your pulse quicken—it was the feeling of being completely wrapped up in him like he was the only thing that mattered right then.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breathing ragged, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and desire. "You look damn good in that dress," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his thumb traced along your jawline.

You smiled, your fingers toying with the collar of his suit jacket. "And you don’t look half bad in a suit," you teased. "But I think I like you better without it."

Logan’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark of challenge. "Then I guess you’ll have to do somethin’ about that, won’t you?"

Your laugh was soft and breathless as you kissed him again, tugging him toward your bedroom with a playful urgency. 

[newkatzkafe2023]

I know that this was kinda already been done, but genderbend Wukong's with a simp husband that's like Gomez Addams.

Mutual simps Simping for each other🤣🤣🤣🥰🥰🥰

(Lmk Wukong) Blushes like a cherry tomato as you smother her with affection. Wukong is needy, clingy, touch starve and so so incredibly afraid of being alone. Which is where you come in with endless blind love for you gracious monkey queen, and would heal her wounded heart. Please praise and cuddles her it's her favorite thing to do with you, as she vulnerable but blissful under your gaze and body. Wukong was in turn heaven and under your complete smell in addition and joy, allowing herself to be loved by you sweetly😊😌.

(MKR Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh her whole body would be red from your constant simping and love bombing. I mean it's one day where you have high regards for your sweet wife but do you have to do that sh*t in public. Endlessly calling her pet names and having her back in battle during battle and making sure to steal kisses from her. Wukong would have blown a fuse by now if she didn't eventually and officially fell in love with you, calling her your tough little peach. Wukong is gonna have to deal with your endless shameless simping, not like she's simping for you back😡😳.

(NR Wukong) Oh God people don't know if they should throw up from the lovey-dovey and sometimes sexy antics or Seethe in envy. You would have this woman wrapped around your little finger, and vise versa for you as well. Shamelessly flaunting your love all over the place and practically mating and making out on any service you both can find. Your both are basically mutual simps who would have your tongues down each other's throats and not apologizing for it🥴🥵.

(HIB Wukong) When you both first met she was certain you messing with her, but you pursued her with endless passion and did whatever you can think of to win her heart. She had refused your advances for a while but everything you do for her was genuine and sweet, caring for her and giving her endless compliments. She definitely not gonna be able to think straight with your gentle touches, and neck kisses ohhh you would break her in more ways then one. Then the final fatality of it all the first Passionate kiss you both have together, Wukong was doomed to simp from the start🫢☺️.

(Netflix Wukong) YES! YES! YES! SMOTHER HER WITH LOVE AND AFFECTION SHE NEEDS IT!!!! Wukong would be in a lovesick daze when it comes you, wooing her, and endlessly compliment and fond over her. She would tackle you and the make out session would endsue. To be honest she needs a man like you who would love her unconditionally and is endlessly supportive of her. After the harsh, cruel, and selfish world had battered and bruised her heart and soul of course you would come on down and defend her Honer. Wukong would be insain to turn away a hot romantic monkey man like you😍😘.

(BMW Wukong) Myyyyyyyy Myyyyyyyy Myyyyyyyyyyyyy you know just what to say to make her swoon and purr in delight. Wukong loves how you would basically kiss the ground she walks on and shower her with gifts and treasure you would fine along the way. You absolutely couldn't keep your claws and paws off each other as you would thrust into her, while Wukong sinks her newly sharpened claws into your back. It was so hot and sexy and it made her glad you both got married😏😉.

(Destined one) The Destined one would be speechless for a very different reason, being pursue by a monkey man who looks at her like she's a goddess. She would not know how to respond to this at all, so you need to be slow but sensual when it comes to her. You would speak softly to her and whole her hand while kissing it, make her blush with uncertainty but get her hooked a bit. Speak softly in her big sensitive ears before going for the kiss all down her neck and shoulders. The Destined one would have crossed heart eyes and make delicious purring, and that's how you become a delightful little princess's husband🤭🥰.

(Lotmk Wukong) Your marriage is basically a fairytale, filled with endless affection, love and simping. Wukong just takes it because even if she put up a fight, she would crash and burn if you so much as kiss her. Often at times when your alone you both would get lose in the thrills of passion rocking her world every night, and stealing kisses every day. You always seem to know which button to push and where to touch her, and you would make her scream and chirp and purr in pleasure. The cycle never stops like your a howling desperate demon just coming to Devour, it's all so frightening and why does she want you to do it again👅💦.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG 🗡