#gomez and morticia vibes if ever!!!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Either Way, What Bliss

ROSIE X M READER Summary: With the impending war against Heaven looming, who better than to ask for advice than Rosie and her very affectionate husband? Warnings: NONE. Requested by @pixie-skull Enjoy! REQUESTS OPEN

In the dark, decadent heart of Hell, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a sanctuary for wayward souls seeking redemption. Rosie, the charming and enigmatic demoness, had carved out a reputation as the go-to source for advice on matters of the heart, head, and herasy. Her husband, Y/N, a calm and wise presence by her side, was equally revered for his counsel on friendship and loyalty, though he preferred to differ to his wife on most matters. Mainly because he was too preoccupied holding her hand to care of the matter at hand. 

The hotel was bustling with activity, demons and sinners of all kinds milling about, seeking solace and guidance. The looming threat of war with Adam’s angels and Heaven had cast a shadow over the denizens of Hell, and the patrons of the Hazbin Hotel were no exception. Amidst the chaos, Rosie and Y/N found themselves inundated with requests for advice.

One evening, as the crimson sky outside darkened further, Charlie approached the couple.Y/N had his arm linked with Rosie’s, placing a tender kiss on her cheek. Only a cough from Charlie and nudge from his wife, stopped his affection with a sour look upon his face. Her eyes were filled with worry, her hands wringing nervously, though she kept a plastered smile on her face. 

"Rosie, Y/N, I would…no need your help," she began, her voice trembling. "Vaggie and I have been…struggling a bit, and with the angels threatening us, I'm scared we'll drift apart due to her…previous alignments."

Rosie offered Charlie a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "Why, love is tested in times of crisis, my dear!" she said gently tugging on her cheek a little.

Y/N stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on the princess’ shoulder. "Communication is key. You need to sit down and talk, really talk, about your fears and worries. Be honest and open. Remember, you're in this together." Gently grabbing Rosie’s hand, Y/N spun her in a display. “Gotta trust each other even when random stuff happens, you gotta go with the flow with your partner, easy as dancing child.” He then dipped Rosie and placed a soft kiss on her neck.

The princess nodded, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "Thank you, both of you. I'll try to talk to her tonight."

As the night wore on, Rosie and Y/N continued to offer their wisdom and support to the hotel patrons. Despite the impending threat from the angels, a sense of unity and hope began to blossom within the Hazbin Hotel. The couple's guidance helped the demons forge stronger bonds of love and friendship, giving them the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After a long day of offering counsel to the worried patrons, Rosie returned to Cannibal Town, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion once she entered the dark hallways of the Emporium. The faint light of the bedroom’s dim lamp cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the elegant yet cozy decor that spoke volumes about the couple's shared taste. Y/N was already there, waiting for her, his eyes lighting up the moment she walked through the door.

"Hello, Cher," he greeted her softly, crossing the room to envelop her in a tender embrace. "You look tired."

Rosie melted into his arms, the tension easing from her body as she buried her face in his chest. Y/N gently tilted her chin up, his eyes locking onto hers with a depth of affection that made her heart flutter. "You're incredible, you know that? The way you help everyone, the way you care… I'm in awe of you every single day cara mia."

Rosie blushed, a rare sight that Y/N cherished. "Oh you flatter me, Y/N."

He led her to the plush sofa by the window, where they could see the dark, fiery landscape of Hell outside. But the view didn't matter to them; it was the comfort of each other's presence that provided solace. Y/N sat down and pulled Rosie into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back against his chest.

For a moment, they simply sat in silence, savoring the closeness. Y/N's hands moved gently, one tracing soothing patterns on her back, the other threading through her hair. Rosie closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Y/N's hand slid down to intertwine with hers, their fingers fitting together perfectly. "No matter what happens, Rosie, I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We'll get through this together, just like we always have."

In that moment, the world outside faded away. The looming war, the fear, and the uncertainty were all distant concerns. Here, in the embrace of the one she loved, Rosie found the strength and comfort she needed. And as Y/N held her close, he silently vowed to protect and cherish her, come what may.

The next day, in the grand foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor, the Radio Demon, stood with his usual air of eerie confidence. His ever-present grin and vintage microphone added a touch of old-world charm to his otherwise intimidating presence. Despite his sinister reputation, there was an unspoken bond between him and Rosie, and by extension, Y/N.

Y/N approached Alastor with a determined yet respectful demeanor. The Radio Demon raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as Y/N drew closer. "Ah, Y/N! What a lovely surprise!”

Y/N smiled, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Alastor, I wanted to thank you."

Alastor's grin faltered for a split second, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Oh? And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve your gratitude?"

Y/N glanced around, ensuring they had a moment of privacy. "For introducing me to Rosie. I don't think I ever properly thanked you for that."

Alastor's eyes twinkled with amusement and a hint of nostalgia. "Ah, yes. Our dear Rosie. It seems like just yesterday I was playing matchmaker, doesn't it?" He chuckled, the sound echoing with a touch of static. "But tell me, Y/N, what brings on this sudden burst of sentimentality?"

Y/N shrugged, his smile softening. "With everything going on—the war, the fear—it made me realize how lucky I am to have her. I owe a lot of that to you."

Alastor's grin returned in full force, but there was a warmth behind it that he rarely showed. "Well, well, well. I must say, I do have a knack for bringing people together." He leaned in slightly, his tone conspiratorial. "But in all seriousness, Y/N, I'm glad she has you. You've been good for her."

Y/N's expression turned earnest. "And she's been everything to me. So, thank you, Alastor. For everything."

The Radio Demon waved a hand dismissively, but the gesture was softened by a rare look of genuine affection. "Think nothing of it, my friend. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything, as long as your green voodoo ain’t attached." Y/N replied without hesitation.

Alastor's eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and sincerity. "Take….care of her.”

Y/N nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I will. I promise."

With that, Alastor's grin took on its usual sharp edge, but the moment of camaraderie lingered. "Good. Now, off you go. I'm sure our dear Rosie is wondering where you've wandered off to. Though she has always made it a habit to lose a husband one way or another."

Y/N chuckled, giving Alastor a grateful nod before turning to leave, his eyes brightening upon seeing his wife inthe foyer and rushing to her side; which he would not leave until his second death did them part.

[hello-galad]

Cid has a battered old radio in his workshop. It catches a frequency that plays old songs, sometimes nostalgic for couples dancing to the rhythm of soft blues, other times all it plays is rock music and Cid hums the lyrics absentmindedly.

Sometimes Cid can hear soft humming coming from somewhere above him, as silent as the turning of pages. Vincent likes to read, perched most of the time on one of the crates or the wing of one of the planes. Sometimes a rafter, others a chair next to Cid’s as the engineer goes over blueprints and equations.

That day the radio station plays a soft but rhythmic melody that Cid will be the first to admit he doesn’t know how to dance to, but he doesn’t really care as he reaches out to Vincent with an extended hand in invitation. Vincent, who had been watching him swing around the workshop, a feeling of peace and happiness in that smile that carefully keeps the cigarette Cid is smoking in place, accepts Cid’s extended hand. Without warning he is lifted from the chair, twirled around and back in the blonde’s arms.

The song ends and is followed by a softer one that Vincent recognizes from back when he was still a Turk for ShinRa.

They sway together to the voice of the singer who reminds her love that she’s forever theirs.

[pegging-satan]

Once again, I am asking for Gin Akutagawa’s hand in marriage🙏

[marvelsswansong]

perfectly poisonous pair

summary: the three times Coriolanus realizes you're his perfect match, his eternal soulmate: darkness and all.

tags: coriolanus snow x fem!reader, possessive and dark soft!Corio with equally unhinged reader (an anon previously said morticia x gomez addams vibes), fluff, violence, non-canon compliant, CW for graphic descriptions of violence, kidnapping, murder, possessive/dark thoughts - please take care of yourself first!

☆ word count: 6K+ words ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Marriage is, at first instance to Coriolanus, an institution and an act that he doesn't quite see the point of.

The legal and financial benefits, sure. But committing himself to one person, to be bound to them body, heart and soul for the rest of his life? That level of vulnerability and permanence feels too foreign. Too abstract, even, that thinking about it quickly makes his stomach churn with sickness.

Coriolanus spends the majority of his upbringing, consoling himself that he doesn't have the time to worry about such things as romance. After all, there was always the next bill to pay and the next threat of eviction to dread.

Not to mention, he thinks, no one will truly ever get him. Not even grandma'am or Tigris understands his inner being. The man deep within his guts, the cunning voyeur who enjoys violence and manipulation. And if they only knew, he believes, they'd be horrified.

No one really knows Coriolanus for who he is. And no one will truly be able to understand what it's like to feel and think like him.

So marriage is completely out of the question for him.

At least for a long time.

Until he meets you.

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

the beginning: "must be a coincidence."

You're the first person (other than the wide-eyed idealist, Sejanus) to treat Coriolanus with kindness at the academy.

You come in as a transfer student mid-way through the semester and he comes to notice the small ways with which you show your appreciation for him. Slyly backing up his answers in class discussions. Smiling at him in the hallways. Sticking up for him in conversations, not caring if the others give you odd looks for defending a 'clear outsider' amongst them.

"If you ever need anything, you can always count on me." you'd once told him after school, his knees barely brushing against yours in the car you've invited him into so that he wouldn't have to walk home in the freezing cold.

Suppressing the urge to interrogate the reasoning behind your kindness, his numb fingers felt sudden warmth when you delicately placed a crumbled up note into his fist with your address in it.

"Stop by whenever you need something. Don't suffer alone, okay?"

He never takes you up on your offer.

At least, not until a few months later, when he finds himself knocking on your door late at night. Three in the morning to be precise, with a busted lip and dark red stains blossoming across his white shirt.

And when you open the door, you don't react to his disheveled state in the same way he'd expect from his family. No pity and shock like grandma'am, nor is there a trace of light apprehension and fear like there would be from Tigris.

Instead, your eyes crinkle with kindness as you invite him inside your home and sit him down on a nearby chair in the living room.

"How bad is it?" you ask, cutting him off with a stern glare before he can lie. "And don't lie to me, Snow. I need to know if you're going to need a drive to the hospital instead of my attempts at first aid."

Sighing, the blonde gives in, his bones aching too much to put up a fight.

"Not that bad, I promise." he grumbles, trying to keep his breathing normal as you lean in closely to examine his injuries. At this proximity, he can see the reflection of the overhanging yellow lights in your irises, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration before you leave the room and return with a soft towel and warm bowl of water.

"Could you look up for me?" you question, your cold fingers steadying his neck to carefully crane it upwards.

The warm, wet fabric in your hands then trace the edges of his jaw, picking up the droplets of blood scattered across his face.

Keeping his eyes forward at the line of bookshelves by the fireplace, time seems to slow down. His senses are overwhelmed by your hairwash - rosemary and vanilla, he thinks - and the room is awfully quiet. All he can hear is the muted sounds of your soft breaths and the rustling of leaves outside, the pale moonlight creeping in through the gaps of the floral curtains in the dead of December.

"Do you mind me asking what happened?" you ask, now switching your attention to the trail of blood buried into the crevice of his neck. You cringe right afterwards, almost wincing at your audacity. "Sorry, you don't have to say if you don't want to."

If anything, it just makes him smile. He likes seeing you embarrassed, he thinks.

"No, it's fine. I'll say. It was just... a party gone awry. Felix managed to convince everyone to go downtown."

You frown at the mention of the downtown area - it was common knowledge that it wasn't safe to wonder the south of the Capitol this late at night, especially if you were obviously from central.

"And then?"

"Got jumped. Felix and his friends ran away quickly. Sejanus got caught up in the mix and I couldn't just... leave him."

Coriolanus hates admitting the slightest sign of weakness, that perhaps he had a friend he cares for, so he's eternally glad that you don't dwell on it. Humming in response, you squeeze the towel in your hands, the water below now a murky shade of brown.

"And how much of this blood is your own? Do I need to get the sewing needles out?"

"I-"

His response is staggered by brief flashes of the fight playing in his mind. He recalls there being a lot of heavy breathing and fast movements. A slash there. A broken nose there. His feet driving down onto the man's chest repeatedly, down, down, down - he hears bones cracking at some point and Sejanus is suddenly pulling him backwards, begging him to stop but Coriolanus can't-

"Coriolanus."

Your voice snaps him out from his dazed state. He then swallows nervously, not knowing how much is safe to disclose.

"I'm fine. Really. Just some bruises and a split lip. The blood is from dodging a few knife attacks and the criminals stabbing one another."

It's a half-truth, really. Coriolanus had dodged a few stabs his way, but only because he tripped the man charging him and grabbed the knife instead to drive it into the man's sides. Enough to severely wound, but not kill. He feels the soles of his left shoe drag on the floor, the fabric nearly coming off from the repeated force with which he'd stepped on the other accomplice's ribs. It makes his jaw clench with embarrassment.

If you notice it's a lie, you don't say anything.

You ask him if he can undress, so that you can wash his clothes for him. After all, you tease in a lighthearted manner in an attempt to lift the mood, you still have school tomorrow at eight.

"You can leave the dirty clothes hanging by the chair outside the bathroom. I think you're overdue for a long, hot shower."

All arguments die in Coriolanus' mouth when he realizes how nice this feels. The foreign comfort of being cared for by someone else, of having his guard down and following someone else's lead for once. So he wordlessly follows you to the bathroom in the back and discards of his dirtied clothes outside.

The hot water is a nice luxury, the scalding temperature starting to erase his memories of the fight. He rubs his scalp raw and watches the water beneath his feet fade into the drain, the steady dripping of water droplets calming his mind.

When the blonde finishes, he comes out and sees that you've folded a set of new, clean clothes for him by the door of the bathroom (your father's old clothes, he learns). Once changed, he wanders outside and finds you hanging the freshly washed clothes outside on your front lawn.

"You should go home, Corio." you say quietly. "Your cousin and grandmother must be worried sick." you look back at him, a reassuring smile on your face.

"How... how can I ever repay you for all this?" he finds himself asking, desperate for an answer. Surely, you'll want something back for this. Certainly, this was all to get something back from him-

You shake your head sideways, waving your hand in dismissal.

"There's no need to repay me. I like to think you help me out every day at school, so think of this as more of... a much delayed gift."

Once you're both back inside the house, no longer shivering from the cold, he finds the silence to be oddly tense. You're in your sleepwear, after all, a silky night dress stopping right above your knees with a gray knit cardigan on top.

He swallows, nervously. He hopes you can't tell how fast his heart is beating.

"Uh, thank you. Seriously. I owe you."

"You really don't."

"I really do."

You roll your eyes playfully.

"The only person who owes me anything is Felix. He shouldn't have suggested you all go to downtown when it's dangerous, and he especially shouldn't have left you and Sejanus to nearly get stabbed to death." you spit, and your angry expression makes him chuckle.

"Ah, well, but he is the president's son. What can we do." he jokes. A small grin flickers onto your lips for half a second at that comment.

"So he is. Good night, Corio. I'll see you tomorrow."

It's initially an uneventful day for Coriolanus the next morning when he walks into the academy, naturally catching your eyes from across the room. You give him a reassuring nod from behind the door of your locker, where the majority of your attention is being held up by an overeager Felix - your assigned partner for the week.

Due to his schedule, Coriolanus doesn't see you again until lunch time. By which the newest rumor sweeping the academy has been the sudden violent illness which has fallen upon the president's son.

"I heard he was puking blood." he hears Clemensia whisper to Arachne, who nods furiously.

"Sejanus had to carry him to the medic's office - Felix looked like a half-dead ghost."

He's itching to speak to you as he quickly rounds the corner and runs up the flights of stairs leading to the library, where he's shared many lunches with you before. He knows your favorite sport by heart, that being the cozy seat under the large arched windows overlooking the front lawn.

As expected, he finds you there, sitting cross legged and gazing out towards the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he sees that you're watching Felix get escorted into a dark vehicle, an unreadable expression on your face.

"Have you heard that Felix is sick?" Coriolanus carefully asks, sitting down from across from you. You turn to him, your face scrunching up in sadness.

"Yes I have. Terrible news, really. Something about nasty nausea and uncontrollable vomiting."

Your tone is sympathetic and your face has all the features of genuine worry, but there's a small twinkle in your eyes that indicates a secret.

It makes Coriolanus delirious with want.

"And would his illness have anything to do with you being close to him as his project partner?" he questions, sliding in closer towards you to keep his voice down.

He looks down at your lips then back up at you, smirking.

"Just seems strange, don't you think? Given that he seemed just fine last night?"

A half-second smile, you shrug.

"Must be a coincidence."

He kisses you right then and there.

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

the point of no return: "you're quite a messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Finding you is a miracle to him.

And now that you two are officially dating, he sees the glimmer of hope for something permanent like marriage in the future.

But Coriolanus is still unsure of the publicity of that kind of arrangement, which leads him to request that you two keep the relationship under wraps. At least until graduation, he justifies, to keep the romance hidden away from the judging eyes of the faculty and fellow classmates.

You don't seem the least bit bothered by the news, your lips only quirking up into a warning smile as you tease that you may then have to bring other men as dates to public events to save face.

At the time, he'd just shrugged at that, playing it cool. "I don't get jealous easily." he'd said confidently.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It's only after he becomes your boyfriend that he becomes acutely aware of and sensitive to how desirable you are to others. Visitors to the academy flirt with you openly, not knowing that Coriolanus is watching from the background, fuming with anger. Your male classmates are too eager to carry your books for you, their body leaning ever too close towards yours when you ask them to pass on the papers in class.

But this, right now, seeing you with another man at the spring gala... It feels different.

Those people, the strangers and classmates, you let down firmly but gently. Those people, you wouldn't even let their hands hover above your skin, always placing a firm distance between you and them. Those people-

Fuck.

You didn't smile at those people like you're smiling at this date of yours. The tall, dark haired man's arm is lingering just above your waist, too close for Coriolanus' comfort, and his thoughts turn lethal when the man leans down to whisper something in your ear that seemingly makes you laugh.

It takes everything within him to not lose control then, when Sejanus speaks up.

"You alright?"

His friend's voice cuts into the tirade of violent thoughts playing in Coriolanus' mind, the whiskey starting to taste sour in his mouth. Forcing another sip of alcohol, he meticulously coaches himself to nod along, feigning disinterest in you and the mystery man.

"Just fine, Plinth." he grits out, but with his steely blue orbs not deviating from where you and your date are standing, it's obvious to any bystander that he's lying. So Sejanus chuckles, nudging the blonde playfully.

"Yeah right. Though, I'm not surprised that (Y/n) brought him along." Sejanus takes a sip of his wine, before pausing at seeing the blonde's expression remain hardened. "You do know who he is, right?"

"Am I supposed to?" Coriolanus scowls.

"That's Harrison Bramford. His grandfather was one of the main generals back in the days of the war and his family single-handedly leads the weapons manufacturing industry in Panem."

"Hm." is all Coriolanus says in response, the revelation doing little to appease his anger. His left arm rises in a reflex to force more alcohol down his throat, only to find the glass half empty.

"I need another drink." he announces, not caring to hear his friend's response.

Sliding into the bar, he hears your soft laugh and whisper before you disappear into a nearby hallway, leaving your 'date' alone. Out of the corner of Coriolanus' eyes, whilst he leans forwards and pretends to watch the bartender grabbing him another glass of whiskey, he sees the tall dark haired man also beelining towards the bar.

"Vodka on the rocks." Harrison growls, nearly slamming his glass down onto the counter. It's only then that Coriolanus lets himself look into the man's light green eyes, taking care to keep his expression fairly neutral and his voice calm.

"Rough night?" Coriolanus asks, deciding to play the unassuming role of a concerned stranger. Harrison chuckles, wiping his hands on his thighs whilst shaking his head.

"You have no fucking idea. Women are such pieces of work."

The blonde tastes blood with how hard he bites his cheek in an effort to stay silent.

"Your whiskey, sir."

He's grateful for the interruption of the bartender sliding his drink down towards him, as with every word leaving your date's mouth, Coriolanus is feeling his rage boiling and threatening to spill over like toxic waste.

"This chick asked me to come here tonight, you know? Me. A Bramford. I put up with her annoying stories and stupid questions all night, I even held her fucking bag for her to go to the bathroom." the man rants, his skin starting to twinge red with how fast he was speaking. "But will she even let me kiss her? Nooooo. Apparently it's too quick. Wouldn't even let me grab her ass."

It's then that your boyfriend finally loses it, and there's a muted sound of something shattering and the feeling of something sticky and hot running down his right hand. There's a few gasps of shock, the bartender hurrying over with a spare napkin as Coriolanus' blue eyes adjust to the blurry scene in front of him.

He's shattered the glass in his hand.

"Shit, you alright?" Harrison asks, leaning over to see and then pulling back with a disgusted expression after seeing the bloody sight. Remaining calm whilst pulling out the chunks of glass, Coriolanus chooses to play nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yep. Sorry, not used to..." he pauses, trying to find the right excuse. Instead, he finds a brilliant plan. "Not used to going so long without smoking."

The dark haired man nods in agreement, seemingly sympathizing.

"Ah, I get you. Nasty withdrawal symptoms, huh? Seen a lot of my buddies get them whenever they try to quit smoking."

Securing the makeshift tablecloth wrap around his injured hand, Coriolanus pushes his chair in with his legs, his uninjured hand strategically reaching into his pockets.

"I think I need a cigarette. Care to join?" he asks, already knowing the answer from the overwhelming scent of cigarettes spayed over the man's clothes.

"Why not."

Suppressing a smile, the blonde leads the drunken man out the door and far away from the venue, down a few shady alleyways and into narrow dirty streets crowded by graffiti and trash bags.

"Uh... you sure this is the right way?" the man behind nervously asks, and Coriolanus almost wants to roll his eyes at how pathetic he finds the man's fear.

"Don't worry, Bramford. Just avoiding the 'no smoking' signs and security guards by the venue."

Once the blonde is sure that they're both sufficiently far away from the venue, at a dead end alleyway sandwiched between a run down bike shed and abandoned dumpsters, he stops in his tracks. Coriolanus then uses the split second of confusion felt by the other man to strike him directly in the chest, forcing the taller man's entire body down.

Grabbing the nearest object next to him - a wooden crate- Coriolanus smashes it into bits on the man's head, whose face is now pressed up against the dirty cement.

"You absolute piece of shit." Coriolanus swears, adrenaline pumping through his veins in irregular rhythm as his boot kicks into the pained man's ribs repeatedly. "You disgusting, vile, privileged piece of shit."

Each insult is compounded by a stronger kick, the three glasses of whiskey and pure rage emboldening his thoughts and strengthening his attacks. Coriolanus thinks he may have heard a bone or two cracking, but he isn't sure. He can't even bring himself to care, not when his mind's fixation switches to the enticing sight of a broken glass bottle laying to his right, the jagged scars glistening under the moonlight. Coriolanus snatches it up in half a second, before pressing the edges of the makeshift blade against the whimpering man's throat.

"W-why are you doing this?" Harrison barely gets out, mouth already filled with blood, his gasps stuttered in pain.

The blonde only chuckles, his left knee coming down to press the man further into the ground, right hand beginning to trace the edge of the glass down the man's neck.

"Because, Bramford. You denigrated the love of my life. You dare try and place your filthy hands on her. Hell, for the crimes of your family and your disgusting behavior tonight, I should do the Capitol a favor and ki-"

"That's enough, Corio."

Your boyfriend nearly drops the bottle in his hand out of shock at hearing your voice ring out from behind him, the development so unexpected that for a second he almost wonders if he's hallucinating. But no, when he tilts his head backwards, he sees as clear as day you standing there with an amused grin on your face.

"Darling, I-" Coriolanus begins, stepping back up carefully and setting the glass bottle aside (but far away from Harrison's reach).

You just shush him, that ever-so-understanding twinkle in your eyes, your heels clicking on the uneven cobblestone as you stand with your body right up against his.

"I warned you about this, you know." you sigh. Coriolanus frowns, confused.

"What?"

"That you'd be jealous. He's just a toy, love. Nothing happened nor was ever going to happen tonight." you assure him, taking his uninjured hand in yours and squeezing it in comfort. You frown at the sight of his other bloodied hand, but he waves it off as an explanation for a later time.

"It's not that I don't trust you, petal. It was just... this scumbag was speaking about you in a revolting manner. I just couldn't contain myself." he slowly explains, a mix of guilt for being caught and anger for not being able to finish his actions creeping in. "He deserved it."

"Not denying that, love." you assure him again, smiling. "But goodness... What a mess you've made. You're quite the messy lover, Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus then can only watch, mesmerized, as you walk up next to Harrison's squirming body on the floor. Crouching down next to the man, you tut, as if you're saddened by the sight in front of you.

"Here's what's going to happen. We'll do you the favor of making it looking like you had too many drinks and got robbed. We'll take your wallet and expensive jacket. You'll survive, only a few major injuries but nothing life-threatening, and that's the story you'll tell your father and his friends." you pause, letting out another sigh, as if explaining this whole ordeal is tiring you. "In return, I will keep quiet about your nasty drug addiction to your father. One more strike and you're out, as your daddy said, so let's not aggravate him further. Deal?" you ask, smiling sweetly.

When the man stays silent, only letting out pained breaths in response, your right hand snaps out to press his face further into the concrete.

"I said, do we have a fucking deal, Bramford?"

Coriolanus finds himself completely transfixed by the attractive sight playing out in front of him: your pretty face scrunched up in fury, your delicate fingers dipped in blood as the man beneath you pathetically sobs and agrees. You then smirk, harshly dropping the man's head back down. Your boyfriend is by your side immediately, taking off the man's jacket as you pocket the wallet, your eyes finding Coriolanus' once more.

"I think I'm in love with you." the blonde confesses, the words coming out faster than he'd anticipated. It's a mix of things that causes the sudden confession, the adrenaline from having beaten a man nearly to death, the way your hair is being caressed by the harsh winds, the smell of your sweet perfume mixing with the harsh stench of copper in the air...

It's all making him dizzy and lovesick.

But all you do is roll your shoulders back and chuckle, kissing him quickly on the lips.

"I know."

But, Coriolanus thinks, you can't know - the real depths of his love, the unbridled fire now lapping at his skin, the overwhelming desire to claim you as only his.

And when he finally comes back home, he digs through his cabinets and finds the family ring. Swallowing thickly, he stores it in a small jewelry box and tucks it right underneath his bedroom's windowsill.

One day, he knows. He'll marry you.

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

the final act: "sorry for worrying you."

He'd meant to propose sooner.

He really did.

But then the games happened, his victory came with the assistant position to Dr Gaul and a full ride scholarship to university from the Plinths, and you'd be called away to District 2 to assist on your family's business operations.

Coriolanus missed you, fiercely. No amount of blurry phone calls and monthly visits lasting no more than the short weekend could satisfy his ache for you. Your melodic laugh. Your soft touch. Your witty observations and jokes, your soft breathing on his chest when he'd hold you at night.

But it's necessary, you'd remind him, lips trailing across his cold skin. It was how you and him were going to conquer the Capitol. Together.

On an assuming Tuesday in April, on the day you were due to arrive in time for Tigris' birthday, the phone rang in the mansion. The housekeeper, mid-way through dusting the library in preparation for your arrival, had come running into Coriolanus' room without even knocking. He'd woken up bleary eyed, a few swear words of annoyance on the tip of his tongue, all of which dissipated upon seeing the alarmed look on the housekeeper's face.

"It's for you, sir. Says it's urgent."

Brows furrowing, but not thinking anything much, Coriolanus answers the phone.

"Coriolanus Snow speaking." he mutters into the receiver, eyes still foggy from the remnants of sleep. The voice on the other end chuckles, a dark and pompous sound which makes him scowl in annoyance.

"Mr.Snow... when was Miss (L/n) set to arrive in the Capitol?"

The sinister question jolts the blonde awake immediately, a quick glance at the clock hanging by the door confirming his worst fears. It was four am, at least three hours past the time you were set to arrive.

"Is this a ransom call?" Coriolanus growls into the phone, his fingers clutching the receiver so tight his knuckles were beginning to redden. Teeth aching with how tensely he's clenching his law, his frantic eyes find the housekeeper's worried ones, before he urgently signals for the older woman to fetch the guards roaming the front of the property.

The stranger on the other side only chuckles in response, clearly gleeful at the distressed sound of Coriolanus' voice.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Snow. Would you like to perhaps ask her instead?"

The string of curses and violent threats bubbling under his throat never get spoken when he hears the sudden shuffling of feet and muffled arguing on the other side of the phone, before your voice fills his anxious ears.

"Hi, Corio."

Huh.

You seem awfully relaxed for someone taken as hostage.

Yes, he recalled having numerous discussions with you about such a scenario occurring once Coriolanus' status was elevated in the Capitol and you'd agreed to take on some share of the family business. And your boyfriend also knew that you'd grown up training in archery and fencing, so it wasn't as if you were wholly unprepared to defend yourself.

But still, it shocks him how your voice is completely aloof and calm, with even a hint of a smile at the end of your sentences.

"Hi, darling. Are you alright?" he carefully responds, pondering if you are perhaps being held at gunpoint and forced to speak in an unnatural manner. But you just hum in response, the same noise you'd make if he'd asked you something simple like what you wanted on your toast, nonchalant as ever.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine. Just don't forget to water the lilies, they get very temperamental this time of the year. Wouldn't want a repeat of last April, now would we?" you joke, and Coriolanus feels himself slightly relaxing into the conversation.

"Of course not."

"And don't forget you promised me pancakes the moment I came back to the house. I've been missing your banana pancakes dearly."

He can almost picture your smile at that comment.

"Well then... you should hurry back soon." he calmly responds, only for the phone to then be ripped away from you and the stranger's voice returns - grating and aggravated. Coriolanus can tell that your kidnapper is frustrated and dumbfounded by your seemingly calm disposition and mundane conversation with your boyfriend, a revelation which fills him with great satisfaction.

"If you still want her alive, leave a suitcase of $20,000 by the coordinates sent to you. You have two hours."

As if on cue, the housekeeper rushes back in with a note - tied to a bird sent over to the house, she says - and the security team behind. Unravelling the coordinates written onto the piece of paper, and looking back at the clock, Coriolanus' mind whirls with endless possibilities.

Explaining the situation in brief, he directs three of the guards to go out into the location with a briefcase loaded with fake cash - one to drop off the bag, the other two to keep extensive watch to see who picks it up. The other two, he commands to stay by watch at the house.

Sitting in an unmarked van whilst staring at the spot where his security guard had placed the suitcase, Coriolanus' leg won't stop bouncing up and down.

He's riddled with anxiety and doubt, hating himself for being unable to protect you, worrying about your whereabouts. As even if you sounded awfully calm and capable on the phone, a part of him can't help but wonder if that was all for show, to prevent him from worrying too much.

A torturous hour passes before Coriolanus gets a call from the housekeeper.

"Sir, she's home."

He nearly drops the phone.

"What?"

"Miss (Y/n) is home. She is sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of tea as we speak."

It's a blur as Coriolanus commands the car to race back towards the house, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest as he bursts through the doors of the main hallway.

And there, calm as ever with a light grin on your face, is you.

You're sitting in his favorite velvet cushioned chair by the dining table. Your face smeared with blood, your clothes are torn and hanging in loose threads, and your hair is wet, red crimson droplets falling onto the floor in steady drips. And as the sun rises over the estate, the golden light illuminates your hairline and Coriolanus swears he sees a halo above your bloodied form.

"Hi, love. Sorry for worrying you."

Without a single word, he rushes over to you and nearly yanks you up to a standing position, backing you up against the wall to kiss you fiercely. Your knees almost buckle from the force with which he grabs your neck, his shaky breaths so desperate, his hooded eyes still looking into yours as his left hand suddenly shows a ring box in his hand.

"Marry me, darling."

You blink twice, surprised at the sudden action, as he chuckles and laces his fingers with yours - blood on blood.

"We're perfect for each other. You are my soulmate, my perfect pair: body, heart and soul. Truthfully, I've had the ring with me for almost two years now, but it never felt... quite right." he pauses, taking in your shaky, happy smile. Your cold hands warming in his embrace. "Not until now. You're the one for me."

"Even if I bleed all over your kitchen?" you croak, as he slides the cool metal onto your ring finger, before kissing your bruised knuckles.

"Especially if you bleed over my kitchen. As long as it's not your own blood, of course."

It's you who closes the gap this time, nearly tackling him with the force with which you kiss him, arms encircling around his back. Smiling into the kiss, he tastes the mix of your strawberry lipgloss and the metallic hint of blood on your lips, an intoxicating combination.

When you two finally part for air, the silver band now glistening on your ring finger, Coriolanus chuckles.

"Now, would you like those banana pancakes?"

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

epilogue: "nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

"I think I'm starting to see a gray hair. on you, Corio."

Your husband scowls at the playful joke in the bedroom mirror, standing up to straighten his tie as you get changed in the walk-in closet.

"Please, I'm barely 30. Are you sure you're not hallucinating, darling?" he fights back, and you peek out half-dressed from the closet, pouting.

"You're questioning my eyesight now? How could you be so cruel."

Your faux sour expression is quickly kissed away by two cold hands cupping your cheeks, and you would've lost the balance in your heels had he not steadied you immediately, his hands dropping to your waist.

"Aw, I'm sorry, petal. Will you ever forgive me?"

You pretend to think about it, cocking your head sideways.

"That would depend."

"On what?"

"Mom! Dad!"

Your snarky response is cut off by the sound of small feet pattering on the marble floor, the front doors swinging open as a small figure runs straight to you and crashes into your legs. A spitting image of you and Coriolanus, your daughter, looks up from your knees before grasping onto her father's hand.

"Up, please."

Clearly amused by the sudden burst of energy in the room and his daughter's politeness even in moments of silliness, he crouches down and picks up the squealing child who comfortably settles into his arms.

"Guess what."

"What is it, honey?" you ask, brushing the stray hair out of her eyes.

"I got the highest score in my entire class on my math test."

"Wow, that's incredible, sweetheart." Coriolanus practically melts on the spot, bouncing the child up and down as she giggles into his neck. "You are the smartest person ever, Belle."

"Not as smart as mommy." she sasses in response, looking up at you for approval. You coo, ruffling her hair affectionately before looking up at your husband with raised eyebrows.

"See, Corio? Even our daughter is kinder to me than you are."

He rolls his eyes in response, left hand sneaking out to pull you in close as his lips kiss the top of your head.

"Nonsense. I love both my girls equally." he says, only for the picture perfect moment to be interrupted by another figure rushing into the room.

"Mrs Snow, the car's just arrived for you by the fr-" the intern freezes in his steps, having clearly caught the Snow family at a private time. You of course don't mind, just being amused by the situation, and your daughter is just curious at the new person who just walked in. All the while, Coriolanus' reaction couldn't be more different, his glare sharp and mean.

"I thought I made it clear, I don't want to ever be disturbed when I'm with my family. Unless it's an absolute emergency." Coriolanus states, his tone icy and unforgiving.

By the furrowing of his eyebrows and the cold stare in his eyes, you can already anticipate the flurry of murderous thoughts filling his head before you cut in. After all, the interrupting intern, a 17 year old boy by the name of Elijah, is only trying his best. And you find him oddly endearing and sweet, particularly with how badly he tries to impress your husband.

"It's fine, Elijah. Please ignore my husband's rude comment. I'll be right out."

Setting your daughter down, Coriolanus leans forward and growls into your ear, watching the young boy scatter away quickly.

"You're too nice to him, darling. Don't you think we should dispose of him and get a new intern...."

You slap his shoulder.

"What do I always tell you? No need to create unnecessary messes. Besides, he's really good with Belle and easy to control."

He smirks at that, irises filled pink.

"You're probably right. Can't have another bloody mess on your hands to clean up."

"Or vice versa."

He leans in close, cold lips touching your forehead.

"Nonsense, darling. I'd clean blood off of you forever."

And he truly means it.

a/n: andddd that's another major Corio fic down! thank you to everyone who showed me love on my last Corio oneshot ("melting snow") and for those who answered my poll - dark soft! and possessive Corio won out but girldad!Corio also got a TON of love so I included it a bit here and will probably write a whole standalone fic with girldad!Corio as the concept. thank you again to everyone for remaining patient, I had writer's block for a bit and I've just had the most awful few weeks ever (mental health wise and life wise) so it was difficult to find moments to write.

as always, please leave a like/comment/reblog/ask if you enjoyed. the interactions is what motivates me to write! I hope you liked it hehe x

[thesirencult]

X-MAS WITH YOUR FS.

PART 1 : UNDER

THE MISTLETOE

Kisses With Your FS

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

We are in a holiday mood ladies and gents! I decided to create a series of holiday readings centered around our FS. The kiss under the mistletoe, what gift your future spouse would buy you, spending holidays with them, a Christmas getaway etc.

Sit back with your hot cocoa and relax !

Santa came early this year 🦌

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

PILE 1

Kissing with your FS feels like home. Their hands wrapped around your waist remind you of hallmark movies you watched when you were a young kid, fantasizing about that kiss under the mistletoe.

Your FS is gentle and caring. They are all sugar, no spice and their kisses show just that.

Love, adoration and dedication. Your FS will kiss you slowly. Sometimes they will steal a kiss while putting up the lights and while you are baking cookies. They will always keep it PG, especially if others are present.

Your FS reminds me of Ryan from Castle. He is honourable, simple and affectionate yet super smart and ready to kick some a$$ if he needs to. They could actually look like him or if they are a woman they will be fair skinned and have light eyes, even if they are brown they will be on the lighter side. Also, if they are a woman they would be a lot like Sookie from True Blood.

Remember what I said about the spice? I take it back, a tiny bit. They can get spicy but in the most sweetest way. They are good boys/girls/theys. The type you take home to mama. They could even work in the military/fire department/police force.

Kissing them will make you feel safe and secure. No one would ever be able to take that feeling away from you both. Give em a peck from me too. They for sure deserve it !

Under the mistletoe they will get giddy and excited. Their smile is amazing, like Colgate type of smile and you will love seeing how happy they get around you and right before they kiss you. They will look like a schoolgirl/schoolboy, a kid stealing a cookie from the jar. Stealing kisses is how they will show how naughty they are. I just know who wears the pants in this relationship and news flash, it is not them, lol.

PILE 2

I can tell you one thing before I say anything about kissing.

Your FS finds you adorable. See that cat in the picture ? All cuddled up, not a care in the world, not a single thought behind those sleepy eyes.

Within every room you are the main event, at least for them. Actually, your FS will love kissing you when you are sleepy.

In general, the way you will find safety in their arms and ignore the whole world will drive them crazy. This shows me that your the way your FS kisses will make you feel loved and safe. It will also make you feel like a playful kitten. Your FS could be masculine (doesn't have to be a man) and they will make you feel safe to express your vulnerability and femininity.

They will not only love kissing your lips, they will love kissing your whole face and your hands/fingers. They will want to eat you up.

For them it will be pretty funny you melt into their arms cause you could be a very feisty person but with them you turn into a big baby.

I'm seeing a meme with a cat fighting with another cat and then going back to their mother and cuddling up like a baby.

Others will be like "Girl/boy/they who are you trying to fool?" And your person will say "Shhh they are sleeping. Don't mess with my baby." Meanwhile, over their shoulder you give the other person a hiss, lol.

Are you my "black cat 🐈‍⬛ energy" pile ? Well your person might be a whole tiger cause they seem to be thinking you are harmless and deserve every little kiss. This is giving "I'm a bad boy but I'll be good only with you." trope. Also, major Morticia and Gomez vibes. Height difference might be huge.

(Yup, that below is indeed you.)

[wholoveseggs]

Hi there!! I been reading your works and I love your writing. This my first request ever.

I had this idea, and I was thinking about a gothic vampire reader with the personality and the looks of Morticia Addams, and the love for the macabre. And Elijah catches her attention and she catches his attention. Of course, they meet at a gala, a opera etc. And for weeks, they have been getting to know each other. Until one day, he comes over to her house, they are having a good time then the visit turns steamy and smutty, it is passionate and feral. And maybe with blood sharing between the two.

But of course, if you don’t want to then you don’t have to and you can ignore this.

Decadence

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah meets an intriguing woman at the opera, leading to an evening of music, wine and vampiric indulgences.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @thealienartist!! Absolutely obsessed with this idea, I LOVE gothic romance & horror!!! This was an absolute dream to write. Can Elijah please be the Gomez to my Morticia heart? ♡♡

5.9k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, blood drinking, I was self-projecting hard with this one... {I just want to be her}, black cats, chocolate cake, vintage wine, a love letter, Victorian gothic everything... I listened to Totentanz on repeat while writing this... {its a vibe}

Elijah had always enjoyed the arts, whether that be in music or literature or even painting and live performances. He found that the arts were one of the only things that made him feel truly alive. Even with his undead heart beating within his chest.

Around the turn of the century, Elijah discovered his love for horror. It amused him to see how humans depicted the supernatural, their interpretations of his kind were rather off. Vampires living in run down castles, with no regard for the world around them, their main purpose to drain the blood of the innocent. It was almost laughable, though some of his kind did enjoy that lifestyle.

It was during this time that he fell in love with opera, something his siblings didn't exactly agree with. Rebekah found it to be dull, Klaus found it to be pretentious and Kol didn't care either way.

They just didn't get it, the music, the drama, the costumes, had him completely enraptured.

So, when he heard that La bohème was being performed, he immediately made plans to go. He had seen it many times, but never got tired of the performance. He just wished that he could have somebody to go with, but none of his family wanted to attend.

He put on his favorite four piece suit, combed his hair, grabbed his black trench coat and made his way to the opera house.

As the lights dimmed and the stage lit up, Elijah couldn't help but feel a little sad, wishing he had someone to share this interest with, but he was content watching alone.

He watched as the curtains parted and the actors began their first scene, he immediately fell into a trance as he took in the performance.

Intermission was announced and he went outside for some fresh air, he was surprised to see a woman, who looked like she was plucked straight out of the past, standing on the balcony.

She was smoking a cigarette, the long stick held elegantly in her fingers. Her nails were red talons and her dark hair cascaded down her back, stopping at her hips. She was dressed in a all black Victorian style dress, which complimented her pale skin, making it look almost ghostly.

She tilted her head at him in acknowledgement, then went back to staring out into the night.

Elijah usually wasn't the one to approach women, he preferred for them to make the first move. But something about this one intrigued him, he was curious about her.

He stepped onto the balcony and approached her slowly. Watching the wisps of smoke rise into the air.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Elijah Mikaelson, I presume?" Her voice was deep, but still feminine, her eyes darker than his own. She was strikingly beautiful, there was no doubt about that.

"You know who I am?" Elijah raised his eyebrows.

She chuckled, gracefully flicking her cigarette butt away.

"Who doesn't? The infamous Mikaelson's, who rule the streets of New Orleans with blood and fear... I'm a big fan," she said.

He smiled and shook his head, "We do not rule the city, we simply protect it from our enemies."

She hummed, a smirk gracing her ruby red lips.

"You do have a reputation," she replied.

Elijah nodded and stepped forward.

"What is your name, darling?"

She chuckled and leaned against the railing, gazing up at him with a smirk. "Y/n," she said, extending her hand out to him.

He grasped her hand gently, his lips brushing against her knuckles, her eyes sparkled as she watched his lips.

"Hmm, they don't make them like you anymore," she mused, her eyes traveling up and down his body. "You are so very old-fashioned," she added with a sly smile.

"Well I am quite old," he jested, matching her smile.

They stood and stared at each other for a moment before Elijah broke the silence. "What do you think of this performance?" He asked, gesturing towards the theater.

She shrugged, "I've seen worse, I've seen better," she replied.

Elijah found himself smirking at her response, not really knowing why. Maybe because he had found himself feeling the same.

"May I ask what brings you here?" He wondered why she was attending an opera alone.

"I was bored, looking for someone to eat," she stated. Her eyes roaming over his body once more.

Elijah let out a chuckle and ran a hand through his hair. There was only a handful of times in his long life that a woman actually made him nervous, this being one of those times.

She reached forward and placed her hand on his chest, leaning closer towards him, her lips ghosting against his ear, her scent surrounded him, it was intoxicating and Elijah found himself leaning into her.

"I'll see you around Mr. Mikaelson," she whispered and gently pulled away from him, giving him a wink before going back inside. Elijah watched her go, letting out a sigh as he shook his head, not being able to wipe the smile off of his face.

You considered yourself a solitary creature. Even in your human life, you tended to keep people at a distance. You felt misunderstood, even a bit judged by your peers, you didn't really like being around people.

After you were turned, things hadn't really changed that much, you still found it difficult to connect with others, but now you were mostly untethered and unburdened by society's rules.

The freedom of being a vampire was nice, to be able to go and do whatever you pleased, whenever you pleased and live however you saw fit.

You spent most of your years traveling, seeking out new places, experiencing new cultures and meeting people along the way. And with all this knowledge you learned exactly who you are and what you like.

New Orleans was one of your favorite places, full of vibrancy and life. It was an aesthetic heaven for you, a place that celebrated death, promoted the macabre, had strong connections to magic. Not to mention their appreciation for the arts.

For the last few decades, you had taken up residence in an old Victorian home. You compelled the local historical society to allow you to paint the exterior completely black. Planted dark red roses along the windows and hung little chandeliers made of animal bones along the porch.

You had spent quite a bit of time decorating the interior, making it a space that you could feel truly comfortable in. Something that made your home feel like it truly reflected your personality.

The house fit you perfectly; outside looking like something from a B-horror film, but the interior was homely and feminine, decorated with macabre pieces, gothic furniture, tapestries adorned the walls and candles were scattered everywhere.

You never really acclimated to modern society, you were turned in the 1800s and preferred to live according to the time. You liked old things, dark antiques, things that held a certain kind of energy within them.

So when you met Elijah Mikaelson at the opera house, you knew you had to add him to your collection.

You had heard about the Mikaelson family for a long time, whispers of them among the vampires. You had become intrigued, they were the oldest of your kind, the knowledge they possessed fascinated you.

You couldn't help the smirk that had stretched across your lips when you finally came face to face with Elijah, he was exactly how you imagined him. Tall, dark and handsome, dressed to perfection, emanating wealth and power. Finding him at the opera added to your attraction, knowing that his interests matched your own made it all that more charming.

Elijah Mikaelson was the fine wine of men and you wanted to bathe yourself in it. Wanted to drink up every drop of it, savoring the taste of it on your lips.

You sat in your living room, your cat on your lap, purring contently as you ran your fingers through his fur. You were dressed in a large silk robe, your hair tied up in a bun, dark wine colored lipstick on your lips. A mug filled with blood sat on the table beside you.

You were writing out a letter to him, with ink and parchment, your favorite fountain pen adding a certain flourish to your lettering. Your cat jumped off of your lap and you grabbed an envelope to place the letter inside. You folded the parchment and stuck it in the envelope, sealing it with wax and writing Elijah's name onto the paper.

You hoped he would like the gesture, you knew he was an old fashioned man, so sending him a letter with a gift was bound to catch his attention. It had been a long, long time since you felt nervous, and it had been at least a hundred years since you had a crush like this.

You grabbed the parcel with his gift in it and walked over to your front door, slipping on your heels, you headed out of the house and down your side walk, plucking a rose along the way.

The postman was close to leaving, just as you approached his mail van.

"Hello," you greeted, and watched as he turned and jumped, clearly startled by your sudden appearance.

"Jesus lady, I didn't hear you coming," he stammered, looking you up and down, a nervous smile on his face.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you left."

He shook his head and smiled, waving away your concern.

"I have a parcel for you to deliver," you said.

He nodded and held out his hand for the letter.

"What's the address?" He asked, staring down at the envelope, taking note of your fine penmanship.

"The Abattoir, in the French Quarter. For Elijah Mikaelson," you told him, running your fingertips along the thorns of your rose.

The postman nodded his head and placed the letter in his van.

"Have a nice day," he said as he walked away.

You watched him climb into his vehicle and drive away, a smirk playing on your lips, hoping your letter would get the attention you desired.

Elijah was spending the day lazing about, enjoying a rare day of peace and quiet, catching up on his reading. He wasn't expecting any visitors, but a knock sounded at the front door, which was a highly unusual occurrence.

He wandered downstairs, a nervous looking postman was waiting at the gate, looking around the old compound with fascination and hesitation.

"Elijah Mikaelson?" He asked timidly.

"Yes?" Elijah looked at him in bewilderment, it had been a long time since he had received anything in the mail, it wasn't like he had a registered address.

"This is for you," he said, handing him the envelope and a small package, wrapped in crimson coloured paper and tied with a black ribbon.

Elijah thanked him and made his way back into his home, he wondered who could have sent him a letter, the handwriting was immaculate, a skill that wasn't common in today's world.

He realized who it was from instantly when he saw the initials, y/n. A smile graced his lips, feeling like a giddy schoolboy instead of a thousand year old vampire.

He quickly undid the black ribbon and opened the paper, revealing a beautiful piece of art, depicting a flying demon eating a young woman's heart. The detail was incredibly fine, and he realized after a quick sniff, that the red of the painting was not paint. It was blood.

A thought crossed his mind, he wondered if it was a piece of your art, he found your work to be truly frightening, beautiful and enchanting, reminding him of the piece Nighthawks, though darker and macabre.

Opening the letter, he read it carefully,

Dearest Mr. Mikaelson, I hope this letter finds you well, if not please pardon my forwardness. I never understood the flirting etiquette of the modern woman. I find myself longing for the company of a man with your refined tastes, such a delicate palette. I was intrigued from the moment we met, our meeting felt fortuitous. I must confess that I have not felt this way in centuries, being in your presence awakened something within me that I wasn't aware still existed. I find myself completely enamored. Perhaps my feelings are returned? If not, then please accept this gift in hopes of extending our friendship. Though I do wish you share in my hopes of something a little more. I will be home tonight, perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me for a drink? Until then I remain Your Admirer, y/n.

Elijah couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he gently folded the parchment and placed it on his desk. He immediately went to check himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, combing it neatly to the side. He found himself anxiously changing his tie, nothing matched what he was wearing, but he wanted everything to be perfect.

He found a pair of ruby cufflinks, feeling that they complimented the letter and would perhaps set the mood.

Grabbing his black wool jacket and adjusting his tie, he made his way outside before stopping and running back inside, he couldn't possibly come empty handed and he knew just the thing to bring you.

You waited nervously inside your house, you had decided to wear a simple black slip dress, your hair flowing over your shoulders in waves, your black winged eyeliner perfectly defining your eyes.

You needed a way to quell your anxiety, so you decided to play a tune on your organ, something to fill the silence, create a soundtrack to go along with the nerves that bounced around inside your mind and heart.

If he didn't show, you would understand. It had been quite a while since you've expressed your affections to anyone. It had been a lifetime since you were courted.

Your fingers idly drifted over the ivory keys, producing a somber yet melodic tune. Your nails were filed into sharp talons, painted a deep crimson, matching the lipstick on your lips.

The melody flowed through the house, the tune reverberating against the walls, seeping through the floorboards. Your cat jumped up and settled in your lap, the soft vibrations from the organ lulling him into a purring trance.

A soft knock broke the melody and you felt your heart stutter. Placing your cat on the seat you walked over to your door. Taking a steadying breath, you grabbed the handle and opened the door.

Men usually didn't have you so utterly flustered, but with Elijah, it seemed like even your centuries old blood could grow warm.

"Good evening, I received your letter and gift, thank you."

He greeted you with a genuine smile, an excited glint in his eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in his appearance, he was dressed to perfection, like always, obviously following along with your old fashioned aesthetic. You liked that you didn't have to ask him, he just got it.

"Please, come in," you stepped to the side to make room for him, you shut the door as he walked inside.

"Quite a lovely home you have here," he said, admiring the interior of the house.

You took his coat and led him into the sitting room, pointing to one of the antique sofas.

"Please, take a seat."

He sat and placed the bottle of wine he had brought on the table.

You took the bottle and marveled at the label, your interest peaked, feeling slightly taken back, it was one of the rarest reds, bottles of this were difficult to come by, most of them now lying at the bottom of the sea.

You knew it was not a simple gesture, this was the kind of thing you save for very special occasions. Knowing that he considered this date that special made your stomach flutter.

"Now how did you manage to get your hands on this?" You asked, placing the bottle beside the two glasses you had set out earlier.

"My brother was the culprit behind a number of shipwrecks, during the golden era of piracy," Elijah responded, a smirk gracing his lips.

You chuckled as you grabbed the corkscrew. "That is no surprise," you replied as you popped the cork out.

You grabbed the glasses and walked over to him, passing him one of the glasses before sitting across from him.

You both raised your glasses and clinked them together, taking a drink, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

"I heard you playing as I approached the house, you have a lovely talent," Elijah said.

You smiled and nodded your head, looking down at your wine.

"That was very sweet of you to say," you looked up at him through your lashes, admiring his handsome features.

You took another sip and watched him over the rim of your glass, his eyes watching you as well.

"What were you playing? Totentanz?" He asked.

"Indeed, it’s one of my favorites," you said, tilting your glass in his direction, "and it felt appropriate," you jested.

A beautiful smile stretched across Elijah's face as he let out a chuckle. His smile made your lips curl up, mirroring his expression.

"So tell me," he began, "What made you decide to come to New Orleans?"

You shrugged and crossed your legs, the sliver of skin left exposed as the fabric cascaded over your thighs, capturing his attention.

"I love it here, the culture, the art, blood tastes sweeter here," you said, letting a sly smile grace your face. "I like the way this city weaves death and beauty," you paused and took a sip, "it just feels like home to me."

Elijah nodded his head in understanding, he appreciated what you had said. "Yes, there is a certain allure about this city,"

"Your family helped build it back in the 1800s, no?" You asked, running your finger along the lip of your glass.

He nodded, "yes we did, from swamps and brothels to one of the wealthiest cities."

You chuckled and shook your head, "yet the swamps and brothels remain," you mused.

"But not nearly as much," he joked.

You both sat and talked for hours, getting to know each other, laughing and drinking. Elijah was surprised to find that you didn't mind listening to him talk about his travels and life, in fact you hung onto his every word. To him, you were utterly enchanting, the way your eyes lit up as you talked, your laugh, the way you looked at him.

At one point he got up and sat closer to you, his hand gently grazing your thigh, leaning in close as you spoke, his eyes locked on yours. Your lips parted and you felt his breath ghosting across your mouth, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He was such a gentleman, waiting for you to initiate the kiss, but you wanted to do one last thing before you tasted his lips.

"I made something for us, if you would like to try it," you whispered.

He leaned back and tilted his head, his eyes curious.

You smirked and placed your wine glass down, slowly standing up.

"Follow me," you told him.

Elijah trailed after you into your dining room, a large wooden table in the center of the room, filled with silver platters and a centerpiece of black and white roses.

You had made a decadent chocolate cake using human blood, the dark rich blood mixing with the cocoa, making a sinfully dark and delicious dessert.

You pulled out a chair for him and motioned for him to sit.

"This looks delicious, did you make this?" Elijah asked.

You nodded and cut a slice for him, placing it on a plate.

"Yes, I made it from scratch," you said, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Gathered all the ingredients from local suppliers."

Elijah hummed, taking his first bite, his eyes widened and he let out a soft groan.

"This is divine," he exclaimed, the veins around his eyes darkening.

You sat and watched him eat the entire slice, his eyes were blown out, the bloodlust apparent in his expression. You bit your lip, trying to hold in your excitement.

You pushed your plate towards him, a wicked grin on your lips. "Would you like another slice?"

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the bloodlust making him look feral, his eyes completely black.

"I would prefer to taste something else," he said.

Your lips curled into a smile as he stood, pushing his chair back and pulling you out of yours.

His arms snaked around your waist, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you flush against him. You ran your hand up his chest and wrapped it around his neck, your lips meeting his.

He tasted like red wine, chocolate and just a hint of blood, his mouth soft and pliant, his tongue brushing against your lips. You nipped at his bottom lip and he growled, pushing his hips against yours, walking you backwards, pinning you against the wall.

"Where did you come from?" He marveled, his hands grabbing your ass.

You laughed and ran your hand through his hair, giving it a light tug.

"Does it matter?" You whispered, pressing your lips against his again, kissing him hungrily.

"You've been in my city for so long, yet I only just met you, how very unfortunate," his voice was gruff as he spoke, his hips rolling against yours.

"I guess we will have to make up for lost time," you said, your voice dripping with lust.

Elijah picked you up and flashed up the stairs, his hands cupping your ass, his lips attached to your neck. He walked you into the bedroom, tossing you on the bed.

You laid there, propped up on your elbows, staring up at him, a teasing smirk on your lips, your dark hair fanning out on the pillow.

He looked at you in awe, your red lips were swollen from his kiss and the hem of your slip had risen up your thighs. He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards you, hovering over your body, his mouth finding yours again, his hands running up to the hem of your stockings, his fingers teasing the skin under the material.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him, straddling his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt, revealing his toned chest.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping the straps of your slip off your shoulders, revealing your black corset, his hands trailing over the boning, the lace covering your breasts, the garters that held up your stockings, and the panties that were already ruined.

"I miss when women would dress this way," he sighed, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, a look of hunger in his eyes.

You chuckled, bending down to nip at his bottom lip, your lips moving along his jaw.

"Happy to keep the tradition alive," you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his neck, your fangs running along the artery, feeling his pulse against the tip of your fangs.

Elijah flipped you over and pressed his body against yours, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides, his thumb tilting your head back. His other hand found the ties inn the front of your corset, slowly undoing the knots, the ribbon sliding through the eyelets, the corset loosening with each pull.

You watched his eyes flicker over your breasts, his fangs extending, his breathing heavy. He looked up and met your gaze, his face shifting, his veins spreading underneath his eyes.

He bent down, his fangs sinking into your chest, your blood filling his mouth, dripping down his chin. Your eyes rolled back as he fed from you, his hand squeezing your breast, his fingers pinching and twisting your nipple.

The pain of his fangs and the pleasure of his hands were overwhelming, you felt drunk, you felt euphoric.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back, your mouth colliding with his, tasting yourself on his lips. He groaned into your mouth and rolled his hips against yours, his bulge pressing against your core.

You both frantically began to undress, his pants and belt tossed aside, your dress and corset ripped off, thrown onto the floor. You laid back, wearing nothing but your stockings and panties, his boxer briefs the only piece of clothing left on his body.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you back underneath him, his lips finding yours, his hand running up your leg, hooking his finger into the thin strap of your panties, tearing them off.

"That was entirely ungentlemanly," you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

Elijah smirked, kissing his way down your stomach, stopping at your pelvis, his fangs lightly scraping the skin above your pussy.

"You don't seem to mind," he mused, his hand pushing your thighs open, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips bucked and your hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it, urging him on. You appreciated his enthusiasm as he indulged in pleasuring you.

His tongue felt deliciously warm against your skin, your eyes shut, your breath ragged. It had been so long since you had a man between your legs, and Elijah was no ordinary lover, his skill level matched his age.

You moaned and writhed beneath him, his thumb pressed against your clit, your wetness covering his chin.

"Fucking hell," you panted, your body starting to tense.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your body a ball of pent up tension, with one final stroke of his tongue, your orgasm broke through the last sliver of control.

You shook and gasped as your climax took over, your whole body erupting in pleasure. Elijah lifted his head, watching you, his lips curling into a sly smile.

"That's a sight," he praised, sitting up and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

You slowly opened your eyes, a blissful smile plastered on your face.

"Indeed it is," you replied, your breathing uneven.

"But you should watch your language, I thought you were a lady," he teased, his eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

You narrowed your eyes and smirked, leaning forward, grabbing his shoulders and rolling him onto his back. Your bodies were slotted together, your faces close to each other.

"When have I ever claimed to be a lady?" You asked, kissing along his jawline, nipping the soft skin at the end of his neck.

Your hands trailed down his body, running over his chest, letting your nails run down his torso, breaking the skin, long bloody tracks appearing.

You kissed your way down his chest, licking the blood up, your fangs scraping against his abdomen. You looked up and caught his hungry gaze, his body tensing under you, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Smirking, you kissed the fabric that separated you from his cock, your hands reaching up and tugging at the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

Your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, licking the pre-cum. His eyes fluttered shut and he hissed in pleasure, his hands tangling in your hair.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as you slowly descended on his cock. "I may look like a lady," you popped off him and kissed the head. "but I fuck like a dirty, filthy whore."

Elijah groaned at your words, the hands in your hair tightening, gripping your strands, guiding you back down, taking in more of him.

You bobbed your head along his shaft, sucking and lapping at the vein along the underside, one of your hands pumping the part you couldn't fit in your mouth, the other gently cupping his balls, squeezing and massaging them.

Elijah slowly began to rock his hips, matching your rhythm, his breathing heavy and rapid, his voice hoarse as he murmured your name.

Pulling his cock out of your mouth, you looked up at him, tilting your head, "yes?" You smirked, blowing air onto the tip.

Elijah pulled you up and kissed you, flipping you over and once again pinning you underneath him. He pulled your thigh up to hook around his waist, gripping your ass, letting his cock rub along your slit. He pulled on the hem of your stocking, letting it snap back against your skin.

"Gorgeous, intoxicating thing," he cooed, slowly sinking into you.

You threw your head back and let out a moan, your leg hiked up to allow him deeper access. He placed one hand under your thigh, holding your leg in place, while the other found your neck, his thumb grazing your windpipe, applying the perfect amount of pressure. The hand under your leg holding you firmly. You knew that a part of him wanted to give into the bloodlust, the animalistic side of him that was desperate to sink his fangs into your neck. His gentleness mixed with his aggressiveness drove you wild.

You felt every inch of his cock as he slowly rolled his hips, pulling out of you almost fully before entering you again. He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing along yours. It was intense and overwhelming, the way he had all your senses tied up in his touch, his mouth, his taste, the sound of his breathing, his movements.

You struggled to hold it together, your pleasure building with each stroke, and he knew, he loved seeing you come undone.

He began to pick up his pace, his hips snapping against yours. It was like the perfect dance, his hips moving so smoothly and perfectly in time with yours, both of you chasing the inevitable crash.

Your eyes met, and everything else seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in his gaze, everything slowing down. He kissed you softly, tenderly, making you melt in his hands.

You brought one hand down to rest on his cheek, holding his face against yours, kissing him back just as tenderly. You ran your index finger along his jaw line, your sharp nail drawing blood, dipping your finger between your lips. He tasted so much better than you imagined, like pure power and divine lust.

Elijah groaned at the sight of your blood stained lips and he sped up, his lips on your neck, his fangs running over your skin.

You tugged on his hair, urging him to bite you, to drink his fill, you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over completely.

His fangs sank into your neck, your blood spilling into his mouth, some of it dripping onto your chest, his teeth slicing into your skin.

The sensation pushed you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you, your hands grabbing at his shoulders, a strangled cry of his name leaving your lips.

He didn't stop, just as he was reaching his peak, he sank his teeth in deeper. He growled, his hips losing their rhythm as his climax hit him. You were both a gasping, moaning mess, clinging to one another, your fingers digging into each other's skin.

The two of you collapsed in a sweaty heap, tangled in the sheets, your skin glistening, breathing heavy.

You felt light headed and euphoric. His gaze was piercing and loving, his fingers brushing across your neck, softly wiping the blood off. His mouth gently caressed yours, his hands cupping your face.

He brushed your hair behind your ears, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers tracing your skin. It was hard to believe that you had only known him for a night, it felt like a lifetime.

A long overdue release of tension and you were happy to be the object of his affections. He was by far the most interesting man you had ever met.

You melted into him, his hands wrapping around you, holding you close. Everything felt perfect, the dim lights, the sound of rain in the background, the weight of him beside you.

The slow creak of your bedroom door opening, cut through the stillness of the night. The soft mew of your cat greeted the both of you, followed by the sound of him jumping onto your bed. The comforting feeling of his paws walking along the sheets as he came to investigate the disturbance in his home.

He walked along Elijah's body, bumping his head against Elijah's outstretched hand, purring happily.

"And who might you be?" Elijah asked.

"Erebus," you responded, stroking Erebus' fur. "It means darkness."

Elijah nodded, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"An appropriate name," he mused, watching the black cat turn around on his chest, finding a comfortable spot to settle.

Erebus yawned and curled into a ball, closing his eyes.

You smiled and snuggled in closer to Elijah, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I guess Erebus wants me to stay," He chuckled.

You laughed and reached over him, scratching the cat behind the ears.

"It does seem that way," you teased. "And I have no intention of kicking you out."

Elijah smiled, kissing the top of your head.

"Good," he said. "Because I intend on staying right here."

You looked up at him and smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had never met anyone who could make you feel so special and desirable.

Elijah's face was gentle, his eyes crinkled, his mouth curled into a smile. He kissed you again, a sweet, chaste kiss, and then he turned his attention back to Erebus, who was now fast asleep on his chest.

"Did you know that Erebus fathered Eros, the god of love and desire?" He asked.

"I did," you chucked, watching your little cats chest rise and fall.

"There is a play house not far from here, they are putting on a performance about it, the play is called Sweet Eros. Would you like to go see it? It's quite twisted, it seems like something you would enjoy."

You nodded and kissed him, a grin on your face.

"Mr. Mikaelson, I think this is the start of something beautiful," you teased, your fingers tracing his collarbone.

"Oh my darling," he said, his lips brushing against yours. "It already is."

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[citrinae]

pumpkin spice evenings.

or: spending halloween with them. something quick & chill i wrote for fun as i sipped on the third cup of tea for today. enjoy some silliness, lovelies! 🎃

ft. the monster trio

masterlist

☾₊‧⁺ luffy 

will always come up with the weirdest, most eccentric costume ideas; usopp once explained him that halloween is for all things scary and mysterious, and you think that maybe he took it too literally when this year you see him on deck with a piece of wood around the neck that reads ‘empty stomach’.

but who can match his freak better than you, who soon returns from franky’s workshop with a costume of your own—‘empty fridge’. seeing you, luffy’s mouth stretches into a widest smile. he is so happy that you got his vision that he hugs you all night; cheerily jumping from behind, forming a knot around your waist with his hands. 

he loves to tell a good scary story; more than this he adores impersonating the characters making an appearance in those tales. of course props are mandatory: toothpicks for vampires, ketchup for blood, flour for ghosts. though you never get to find out how they wrap up as one way or another he’s always plucked from the floor and shaken off whatever shit he’s used from the kitchen to set a vibe. 

another thing luffy is very fond of—not necessarily around halloween—is pranks. and we know that these become a lot more fun with a partner in crime to support the mischief—that is you, in his case, keeping usopp busy as he sneaks some spiders under his pillow or slipping a fake eye in sanji’s soup when no one’s looking. the latter is more of a payback for not being allowed to listen to a story from beginning to end.

☾₊‧⁺ zoro

zoro doesn’t understand the hype formed around the holiday. he spent enough time in mihawk’s castle to not be moved by anything conventionally seen as ‘spooky’ or ‘frightening’. specifically he finds halloween costumes stupid, and by default he’s the type to show up to every party dressed up like, uh well, himself. 

the morning his green coat and red sash are missing he seems more confused than annoyed, opening and closing drawers to each five minutes, scratching his head. then he finds you on deck, and a hot flash of nervousness crosses his cheeks as he does. obviously his clothes look larger on you, loops and waves of green fabric hanging from your arms like willow leaves. his face grows even redder when you tell him he’s free to dress up for halloween as you if he wants.

stupid or not, celebrating a holiday means more booze, so you shouldn’t worry about him joining the rest of you for a midnight party. candles and carved pumpkins and spiderweb. glasses and liquor and bursts of laughter. suddenly he wraps his arm around your shoulder, dragging you the closest you’ve ever been to him in front of so many people. 

“you havin’ fun, pirate hunter?” he asks, playful and lukewarm into your ear. getting a grip through the shiver his voice sent down your spine, you tell him that you do. “how about we make it even more so for you,” brushing his thumb across your cheek. “with a drinking contest. loser keeps their costume on for another three days.”

☾₊‧⁺ sanji

he just lives for the coupley stuff that comes with halloween; so he will always go for classic pair costumes like the gomez to your morticia or the ken to your barbie—he’ll even do it the other way around, if you ask him, because how can he ever say no to you, when you look at him with those crystal eyes, so pure and celestial, that make his heart leap from his chest.

speaking of heavenly. “angel and devil” is another costume idea sanji’s quite big on, and that’s only because he always thought you’d be heart-stopping with a pair of white wings and a soft blush on your cheeks, glitter on your chest and a halo hovering above your head, so that you can look in a mirror and see yourself as he’s envisioned you in his head ever since the day he met you. 

you can stay assured that, aside from the batches of halloween-themed goodies he promised to the crew, he will also take some time in advance to make sure your costumes are thought out to the very detail. sanji genuinely thinks it’s so fun and romantic when you do each other’s makeup; eyeliner, facepaint, blush. whatever you need, he got you. he might not be the best at it, but hell he’s trying his best, and he looked so excited when he offered to do it that you couldn’t deny him this to begin with.

despite the effort put in both of your costumes, later at night it becomes harder and harder for him not to scoop you up from the floor and take you somewhere he can be alone with you, smudging your makeup with his lips and ripping your clothes off. he simply can’t stop thinking about it. about you; especially when you look so beautiful, enjoying a board game with the rest of the crew, glitter falling off your eyelashes and dusting your cheeks.

check here for main spooktober series (currently stretched to november).

[misscinnamonroll16]

Some more headcanons

For breakfast, JD is good at eggs, bacon, and sausage, hearty breakfast foods. Bruce is good at sweets, pancakes, crepes and french toast. Clay usually doesn't make breakfast but has gotten cinnamon rolls down to a science. Floyd didn't improve his cooking skills that much over the years, being able to cook a scrambled egg

Floyd, Clay and Branch are one of those people who just have coffee for breakfast (or tea in Floyd's case)

All the brothers are protective of each other but John and Floyd are the worst. JD is most likely to fight someone. Floyd has a sharp wit, turning his silver tongue into a dagger. Clay is also quick witted but will not hesitate to fight someone.

Clay sometimes overworks himself

Bruce and Brandy give Gomez and Morticia vibes but the tropical version

All the bros (besides Branch) know how to play an instrument. Floyd knows guitar, John Dory knows guitar and bass. Clay knows keyboard/piano. And Bruce knows drums

Bruce sometimes plays the bongos for his kids

My personal headcanons about their ages. JD is 38, Bruce is 36, Clay is 33, Floyd is 31 and Branch is 24

John still puts himself between his bros and danger

Despite JD being the oldest, Bruce is the first to go gray. But he embraces it, playing himself off as a silver fox

The band breaking up was inevitable. It was going to happen no matter what, whether it was when Branch was 4 or 15 (random number)

Floyd subconsciously leans against his brothers when they're near. John wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer. Bruce loosely wraps an arm around him. Clay leans back so the two of them are leaning against each other.

Each of the brothers are close in different ways. JD and Bruce are close from being the older ones, talking about how annoying the others are and reminiscing about how little they used to be. Bruce and Clay have a unique dynamic, they're both stuck in the middle and hated how John bosses them around. Clay and Floyd are definitely annoying little brothers, when put together they're all jokes and silliness. Floyd and Branch are close because Floyd took a special interest in Branch, in being a big brother

Floyd leans against people when he's laughing really hard, mostly against Clay (Dan from the ten minute power hour)

Floyd met and performed with Queen Barb. He thinks she doesn't remember him because they were never properly introduced but she does. She remembers him as the most hardcore pop trolls she's ever met

Floyd has a crap ton of stuffed animals on his bed

Branch, like John Dory, sleeps in his underwear

Bruce sleeps naked, unless one of his kids is in bed with them

Clay often falls asleep at his desk

Floyd and John are the creative ones of the family

Floyd is a decent artist

Bruce used to throw food and other things into Clay's hair when he was either sleeping or not paying attention. Clay never did figure it out but John Dory knew and scolded him for it

Although JD is not a dad, he has a dad voice. It was the voice he'd use when telling his brothers to clean up or go to bed. The first time he uses it after the reunite is when he's telling Branch to go bed. But he didn't say Branch directly so the other three think 'oh no, I have to go to bed' bc they immediately fall back into that mentality

[home-of-renn]

First Impressions

Tucker's first impression of the Addams family is that the whole lot of em are weird - which says a lot considering he's lived his whole life in Amity Park. He thought their whole dark and gloomy schtick was gonna be like Sam's but it turns out they're on a whole other level of creepy and messed up. They weren't the worst people he's ever met and he's relieved that Danny's finally got relatives who seem to actually care about his wellbeing - stupidly rich relatives who weren't obsessive, egotistical, psychopaths who were willing to donate a little green without any strings attached.

But their butler moans and moves like he was just yanked out of a grave and somehow the guy might actually be taller than Mr Fenton.

Their kids are weird but not so bad. Wednesday's dreary attitude could give Sam a run for her money and Pugsley had seemed nice till he'd pulled out a hack saw and an entire string of small explosives from seemingly nowhere (Tucker was finally seeing the Fenton family resemblance).

He had downright refused to step foot into that house after almost having a heart attack from his first encounter with the reanimated, disembodied hand that's got free range of the entire estate.

The grandmother belongs either in an asylum or an urn. She wears so many rings and necklaces and odd pieces of jewellery that she jingles and jangles with every step, yet somehow manages to pop up right behind you every time you turn around.

And Uncle Fester had straight-up serial killer vibes.

The only upside seemed to be the parents.

Mrs Morticia Addams had a figure reminiscent of Jessica Rabbit and wore a dress so tight he almost went half ghost. Sharp features, blood-red lipstick, legs for days and a hauntingly elegant presence. She was like one of those sirens of the deep. Not the kind that befriended seagulls or made questionable deals with tentacled sea witches, but the kind that sat poised on rocks and lured sailors to their watery graves.

He'd initially been so bewitched by Mrs Addams' dark, gleaming eyes that he'd ignored the other dark and handsome figure beside her.

Mr Gomez Addams was a man befitting his shiny cuff links, dapper suit and expensive cologne. He had greeted them with a mesmerising accent and dreamy bedroom eyes.

Mrs Addams stood, poised like a panther, held by a man who walked like he owned the world, and Tucker found himself suddenly besotted with the idea of unhinged grandmothers, murderous uncles, rabid cousins and the lot.

Honestly, the Addamsses are absolutely lovely people. If only he could convince Danny to visit more often.

[mysoftboybensolo]

Why do I feel like Kurt Wagner from X-Men and Gomez Addams from The Addams Family has similar vibes/would be great friends?

Both are fencing nerds, charming, very loving men/romantics, great with kids, who are incredibly loyal to their loved ones. Gomez would think Kurt was the coolest looking person ever, and even more so when he sees that Kurt can teleport and blend into the shadows. Kurt sparring with Gomez would be so entertaining to see, since both are agile and it gives Gomez a challenge when Kurt spars with his tail or does it from the ceiling.

Also, I am positive that if Kurt ever fell in love with the one, he would act towards his loved one the same way Gomez acts towards Morticia. Calling his loved one pet names (this is canon as he uses German endearments to his loved ones), and in episode 5 of "X-Men 97", he spouts beautiful quotes about love, so I can see him being just like Gomez when he falls in love.

Kurt Wagner and Gomez Addams, the greatest friendship that never was.

[fandom-geek17]

Why I actively think Tyler will be redeemed and Wyler will be endgame based on actual clues and my knowledge about movie-making (and not just because I am a raging Tyler apologist)

This is a long one so strap yourselves in, hahaha

First of all, Hunter Doohan confirmed that Tyler’s feelings for Wednesday were real because he didn’t know who she was or her significance to Laurel’s plan when they first met at the Weathervane. But I’d go even further and claim that he didn’t know her significance during the entire first episode. If he knew, why would he ever offer her a ride out of Jericho and offer her the police file that inadvertently led to her cracking the case and bringing Laurel down (but the argument could also be made that that’s why he gave her that file, to bring his abuser down).

Wednesday makes it abundantly clear over the entire season that she has no interest in Xavier whatsoever and is constantly turned off/annoyed by his presence and antics. And this might just be me personally, but Xavier reminds me a lot of an ex of mine who was extremely entitled, selfish, immature and giving major incel vibes. I feel like Xavier is the type of guy who is nice to a girl only when he is interested and/or wants something. And the way he treated Bianca at the Rave’N (immediate no-no) and immediately goes into pity party-mode whenever someone rejects him just irks me. But again, that might just be me.

Now compare that with Wednesday’s reaction to Tyler’s antics. Wednesday is not someone who wants closeness in the beginning, in any shape or form. She is honest, direct and blunt, with no interest in pretending she enjoys something to be polite. Yet she doesn’t object when Tyler manhandles her in ep 2 (in the forest), she never denies her interest in him in ep 4, her first reaction to attending the Rave’N with Xavier is ‘a bullet to the head’ whilst her reaction to attending with Tyler is to immediately start looking for a dress in her closet. She often seeks out his company when she doesn’t really have a reason to, like when she went through the trouble of going all the way to the Weathervane to ask Tyler about the meetinghouse instead just asking anyone else working at Pilgrim World. These small details are to me the ‘signals’ Tyler was referring to. And I think he also just felt the energy between them, or maybe when you’re a 16 year old boy, most things can be interpreted as ‘signals’ if there’s an interest on his part. Or it was just straight up manipulation, as Hunter stated on his instragram. Either way, we can’t deny that Wednesday seems to enjoy Tyler’s presence more than Xavier’s.

Speaking of Wednesday, this is WEDNESDAY ADDAMS. People claim Xavier is the “healthier choice”, which might be true for any other character. But I feel like it’s very OOC for Wednesday to choose one above the other for being “healthier”, not that I believe Xavier would be much healthier. Wednesday went as far as canonically confirming that Tyler is her type BECAUSE he’s a serial killing monster.

The Addams’ Family have a long history of embracing all things weird and unconventional. Fester would be over the moon hearing that a Hyde of all outcasts (his young crush) has captured Wednesday’s heart. Gomez and Morticia would be more than happy to give Tyler all the love and security he never got from his own family. Morticia smiles fondly when Pugsley mentions missing being waterboarded by Wednesday, I don’t think she would have any trouble embracing a traumatized outcast submitted to abuse and torture and then forced to do someone else’s bidding against their will. She mama-bear instincts would kick up.

Hunter Doohan also said that one of the things he looks forward to exploring in season 2 (now confirmed, yay!) is Tyler’s relationship with the Hyde, pulling each side. Who is the real Tyler and who is the Hyde? Does he have active control over the Hyde’s actions or are they all controlled by his master? Remember, we technically have no idea what Tyler did of his own free will and what he was forced to say and do (including that last fight in ep 8). I imagine the Hyde being more of a split personality rather just than man vs monster. The question is if only the Hyde-personality had access to his monster form.

We see that Tyler rebelled against Laurel when he could, when he wasn’t actively forced to do something. For example when he slipped Wednesday the police file (if we believe that theory) and when he chose to keep Eugene alive (Laurel said “take care of it”, clearly meaning “kill him” but since she never used the word ‘kill’, I believe he saw his chance). He also keeps pointing Wednesday in the right direction, even when he probably wasn’t supposed to according to his master, like when he helped her find the meeting house, helped her break into Laurel’s home, chased her and Enid into the basement where they could find more clues.

Grooming, abuse, torture, manipulation, and mind control!!! Need I say more? Tyler is a true victim of his circumstances and society. We must admit that it was pretty easy for Laurel to sink her claws into him. Lonely, traumatized boy with one dead parent and one to emotionally constipated to raise him through his trauma, and here comes Laurel and offers him the truth about his mother in exchange for mommy kink sexual advances until she kidnaps him to torture as she pleases in a cave. She basically presented herself as the sexual version of his mother that Freud loved to say young boys were so vulnerable to. Of course this lonely boy would fall for her act. Laurel even described herself as a plant metaphor in episode 4: some carnivorous varieties use sexual trickery or deception. She then made him think this entire nefarious plan was about him getting revenge on the way outcasts treated his mother.

We see Tyler screaming out for help, subtly and literally, when he tells Wednesday that he wants to “get out of this hellhole town” and later when he’s screaming in the bathtub in ep 3.

The writers keep mentioning Wyler’s “primal attraction” and how Wednesday is drawn to Tyler’s dark side even from the start when she didn’t know what he was. And I truly believe he feels the same way, he is so smitten when she states she would dump piranhas in the swimming pool again. They are both attracted to the darker aspects of their personalities, whereas I feel like Xavier has this romanticized view of Wednesday in his head and when she disproves that by being her morbid, honest self, his first instinct is to whine and feel sorry for himself. He doesn’t embrace every part of her character.

Netflix makes Wyler a large part of their promotion of the show, going as far as pinning Wyler-positive comments on Instagram and making Wyler at the dance their thumbnail for the show on Netflix and hyping Hunter Doohan in general.

If you compare Wyler and Wavier scenes, they tend to play very soft music and use soft/warm lighting during the Wyler scenes. Wavier scenes, sometimes have this too, but never as prominent as with Wyler. From what I’ve seen with other media, that is usually foreshadowing of the producers’ larger plan.

I have a Filler Couple Theory! And that is that the couple that becomes canon in the middle of a show’s entire runtime is almost never canon by the time the show ends. There are exceptions, of course. But generally, shows tend to follow a similar format: couple 1 is introduced as an idea in season 1, they may or may not become canon but the tension is there, for whatever reason couple 2 becomes canon in season 2/3 to create drama and more tension before couple one becomes endgame in season 3/3 (example Stancy in ST, Benvi in NHIE). An exception to this rule is if couple one is a blowburn over several seasons without a love triangle (example: Peraltiago in B99). The writers of Wednesday have planned 4 seasons. They end season 1 with Wyler broken up, hint that Wavier might take more precedence in season 2, and yet still keeps hyping Wyler as much as they do. I think Wavier will be a distraction/filler for Wednesday as Tyler regains her trust and they build so much sexual tension.

So, this was long and kind of all over the place. But as Enid, I write in my voice. And I will admit that some of these points may be down to pure manipulation on Tyler’s part, especially the signals thing. But part of what I love about this show is the ambiguity, the moral grey areas, the way they make a point of embracing the dark side of humanity and loving the characters through it. Until the show canonically confirms that there is no hope for Tyler/Wyler, I will continue to ship it. And I want to add that my will to ship Wyler has nothing to do with who I would personally choose for myself. If given the choice, I would date Enid before my mind could form the phrase ‘toxic relationship’, and I’m very much one of those boring straight people. But as a romantic partner for a dark, morbid character like Wednesday Addams, I would choose Tyler any day.

Tagging: @therulerofallpotatos

[gabessquishytum]

The black widow/sugar daddy ask has me obsessed, but I can’t help but make it a little silly (and of course lean into the Addams Family Gomez/Morticia vibes dreamling definitely has 😁)

So, Dream is a black widow, and his latest target is Hob Gadling, who was ridiculously easy to wrap around his finger. He practically worships the ground Dream walks on from minute one, without Dream having to do much at all. The meet to marry time is a new record for Dream, and he’s kind of enjoying himself. But alas, the wedding is done, the will rewritten in his favor, and all good things must come to an end.

Except Hob just…keeps not dying. He’s not noticing the traps and avoiding them, he blindly walks into them, but somehow they never manage to kill him or even incapacitate him.

He eats or drinks something poisoned and just compliments the interesting flavors. Tripping or pushing him down the stairs or out a window has him laughing at his own clumsiness as he stands and brushes himself off, nothing broken or bleeding or even bruised. Dropping something heavy on him has Hob gently teasing Dream for his clumsiness, with not even a concussion to show for it. Ropes and knives somehow get Hob excited and thinking that Dream is introducing some new games to the bedroom. At one point out of desperation Dream sits on Hob’s face in the hopes of suffocating him to death, and ends up passing out from too many orgasms instead (in hindsight not his brightest idea, trying to beat the king of oral sex at his own game).

Nothing works. Hob Gadling just refuses to die. And through it all he never stops lavishing Dream with gifts and attention, spoiling him rotten and treating him to the best sex he’s ever had, always with the mindset that Dream deserves it all.

Dream is enraged. Dream is fascinated. Dream is seriously considering for the first time in his career just staying in this marriage (apart from the whole not-dying thing, which offends his professional pride, he really has no complaints about his life with Hob, which he doesn’t know how to feel about)

-🪽anon

Oh this is rather wonderful!! I've been really enjoying thinking about this concept and it's really interesting to explore more of Dream’s deadly assassin side!!

I'm chuckling over the idea of Hob’s inability to die. It's hilarious. The ways that Dream tries to kill his husband become increasingly deranged. Crossbow (Hob apologises for getting in the way of the shot and pulls the bolt out of his own thigh). Drowning (Hob fucking FLOATS). Setting starving dogs on him (Hob ends up in a pile of cuddly, drooling doggos, grinning and thanking Dream for a wonderful surprise!). Its getting ridiculous. Dream’s reputation is on the line and his stupid, gorgeous, beloved husband won't die!!

And yes, of course Dream has managed to fall in love with Hob. It makes the whole thing even harder.

Finally Dream breaks down and admits the whole thing to Hob who... laughs a little. And admits that he knew. He isn't quite sure how he's managed not to die? Good luck maybe? Or maybe it's that Dream isn't really trying that hard?

Dream bristles and How Dare You's him, but Hob dips him, kisses him, and shuts him up. Hob’s leg slides between Dream’s and rubs against him and he whispers that it's ok. He's actually really really into the whole thing. He'd be honoured if Dream would continue "trying" to kill him. In the meantime he'll keep being a devoted husband and giving Dream the best sex he'll ever have.

Maybe eventually Dream will finally finish him off by sucking his life out through his cock. Now seems a pretty good time to try, anyway, and Dream is only too happy to slide to his knees. Hob really is exactly what he deserves.

[oneforthemunny]

halloween movie word association with the eddies

bride of chucky (specifically lol) is so rockstar!eddie. the sound track, the vibes, tiffany. it's so him in every way he would love it. you think he has a little crush on tiffany and maybe he does, bc the year it comes out, you dress up as chucky and tiffany for your halloween photos.

older!eddie idk i feel like he'd love practical magic. i think we cannoned he's kinda a rom com guy and it's close-ish??? a rom com halloween classic that he looks forward to each year. big fan of making midnight margaritas with you (bc tequila makes him horny lol).

mafia!eddie isn't big on horror, like he'll watch it but it kinda bores him after a while and i think in his free time he'd want something tamer, so i'm going with a classic- the addams family. i've said forever gomez and morticia is literally him and reader, and i think he'd just love that they're quirky and weird.

cowboy!eddie is the opposite lol. he loves a gory, gross movie that has you squirming and hiding in his shoulder and chest, peeking out only to lurch back in bc it's so foul. i'm going (with the cowboy theme in mind for funsies) he loves texas chainsaw massacre the first one, specifically. you're always petrified bc how can he watch that and be ok being alone after?? lol

bouncer!eddie loves scream. any scream movie, all scream movies. he loves the idea of the phone calls and the suspense of it all. it actually keeps his attention and he likes the mask lol.

janitor!eddie loves edwards scissorhands and it is so him and his vibe you can fight me on it but i'm not changing my mind EVER. the idea that this normal, perfect girl falls in love for a "freak"... he feels so seen. and he loves peg and the all black leather contrast to the pastel world ahhh!!! i could go on for days!!!

modern!eddie... i'm gonna ruffle some feathers here, but he's a nightmare before christmas guy and yeah... he's one of those guys i'm sorry. makes it his whole personality and def has a jack skellington tattoo lol. he watches it year round, but 10000% has decorations that are all that theme (and keeps them up year round lmao).

[owladaptive]

Helloo! Ur Addams family AU illustration is AMAZING I LOVE IT, i was drawn to ur page instantly. Jst wanted to ask fr ur take on Goldie and Scrooge in this AU (im a sucker fr the 2 oldies) - will we get any Gomez & Morticia vibes from those 2? I doubt DT17 Goldie can stay put though

Goldie, Goldie, Goldie. I've been ruminating on her for a while.

Because in a lot of ways the relationship is unchanged in the addams au. We've already seen Goldie and Scrooge dance together under the duress of romantic tension so taut they may as well have been attached by steel cables. We've already seen Goldie and Scrooge walk suggestive circles around the elephant that is a tumultuous past charged with the fiery heat of molten gold. (literally. for both the elephant and the molten gol- you know what I mean)

Addams AU Goldie is much similar to Scrooge and the rest of the cast in that, foundationally and fundamentally, she's the same character. I'm tempted to have her be like Launchpad, and just stick canon Goldie in there with the AU crazies and just see how she adapts.

But that would mean missing out on some real BAMF Goldie action so. Nah. Nah let's lean in to the AU here.

Goldie O'Gilt in the Addams AU is a dark temptress. She loves the gold, the chase and the high stakes more than ever. But she also loves to make Scrooge squirm - Torturing him every now and then with a sudden reappearance and robbing him of something expensive he was JUST about to get his hands on, teasing him mercilessly (maybe spiriting him away to run suggestive circles around each other, steal a sinful kiss or two perhaps) before leaving him high, dry and waxing beautiful curses upon her name.

They're more than Batman and Catwoman, they're the bloodhound and the vixen. They don't quietly go their separate ways after every meeting pondering with a vague, untethered longing when they'd cross paths again. No, they are cleaved apart after every meeting. They plot and dream and terrorize themselves with the thought of meeting again, and in the meantime they bathe and wallow with great reverence in the sweet pain of being apart.

For pete's sake if the rest of the family weren't THIS family they'd be disgusted, concerned and probably collectively abandon him whenever Goldie's around. Fortunately they Are THIS family and so are really happy for him. Mostly. Dewey, Louie and Beakley still take great offense to the gross romanticism of it all.

[vampwritesstuff]

Someone to Save Me ~

Pairing : Xavier Thorpe x Addams!reader (fem pronouns)

Summary : in which when her crazy, obsessive father comes searching for her, she needed a knight in shining armor. Or maybe a tortured artist.

Warnings : attempted kidnapping, abuse, swearing, mentions of being stalked, use of the word “princess”

Genre : angst to fluff/comfort, frenemies to lovers

Requests : open

Words : 2k+

This is an idea I had thought of and wanted to write, don’t remember what I had been doing but I immediately went to my notes and wrote a general idea on this, so here is a fleshed out version! I want to say that reader’s father is NOT Fester!

Masterlist

Having a crazy and obsessive father was difficult. That’s what led you to run from him, showing up on your Aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez’s doorstep, seeking refuge in their home. They knew how your father could get and allowed you to stay with them. You were 13, they couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself. Something that just sort of happened was that Wednesday basically became your bodyguard, she was never far from you anytime you were at school or in public. So, after being expelled for throwing piranhas into the swim team’s pool during their practice, you obviously had to go with her to her new school, Nevermore.

Now, you weren’t a normie, obviously since you were an Addams. You had an innate ability to control plants and organic objects around you. And seeing that there were woods that surrounded the Nevermore campus, it made you feel at home already. Pugsley had taken a liking to calling you ‘nymph’ because of your closeness to nature. It was a sour parting when your aunt, uncle and younger cousin had to leave. Pugsley had given you and Wednesday a tight hug, while you had patted his back and gave him encouraging words, Wednesday was… well, she was Wednesday. Your aunt gave you and your cousin each a pendant, while Wednesday’s could turn into a ‘W’ and ‘M’ for Wednesday and Morticia, yours had a carefully crafted tree on it. You smiled softly and thanked your aunt, giving her a hug before she got into the car where Lurch stood by, holding open the car door. Then they were off.

It had been barely a month since you’ve arrived at Nevermore Academy, and somehow your cousin has found herself playing detective in a search for a monster that most weren’t even sure existed. Of course, you believed her and have helped her in her investigation.

Despite Wednesday’s many complaints, you were given a single room, while Wednesday had to deal with a roommate who was the exact opposite of her. You thought it was good for Wednesday to have some social interaction with someone besides you or her family. Many of her complaints consisted of her trying to reason that she needed to protect you from your father, as she had been doing for the past three years. However, you were quick to shut her down.

“Wednesday, if he hasn’t found me yet, how in the hell do you think he would find me in a school for outcasts in a little town that’s barely on the map?” You had told her one day, during an outing in Jericho to go to the Weathervane. Of course, your cousin stayed silent, knowing that it was unlikely that your father would find you. You were good at covering your tracks.

It wasn’t long until Tyler Galpin, a normie and someone who had taken interest in your cousin, sat down with you both. You tensed, Tyler did not give you good vibes ever since you first met him, however your cousin seemed to never notice your state of nervousness whenever Tyler was around. It didn’t help that he was sitting next to you, and you were trapped inside the booth.

You stared at the table for the remainder of the time you and your cousin were at the Weathervane, unwilling to speak up that you wanted to leave in the case that you were going to be seen as rude. That’s when your phone buzzed, a text from Enid saved you. “Sorry Wednesday, but Enid says she’s having a crisis and needs me back at Nevermore.” You spoke up as Wednesday and Tyler talked over theories about who the monster could be. Tyler got the hint that you needed to leave and moved from the booth to allow you to slide past in order to leave. Wednesday just nodded, “Don’t get yourself killed.” She said as Tyler sat back down, you knew that was just her way of telling you to be safe. You nodded and left the Weathervane without another word, making your way from Jericho back to the school.

You were barely 5 minutes into the wooded part of the Nevermore campus when you got the eerie feeling that you were being watched, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You stopped to look around, only hearing the chirp of birds and the noise of bugs.

Hesitantly, you started walking again, this time at a much quicker pace. Already having your phone out with Enid on speed dial and ready to take off or fight for your life at a moments notice. There was no way in hell you were going to die in the woods, alone.

That’s when you heard a twig snap, stopping once again you looked around, taking note that it wasn’t you who stepped on a twig and broke it. That’s when you felt a presence behind you, immediately your instinct and training from Wednesday kicked in. Spinning around, you took control of some of the vines on the ground and used them to wrap the figure up and keep them from moving, they fell to the ground with a deep grunt, groaning as the vines tightened around them.

When your initial adrenaline wore off, you were able to make out the Nevermore uniform, specifically the male uniform. “Fuck, Y/n, didn’t think you would attack someone like that.” Xavier groaned as he was still constricted by the vines. “That’s why you don’t sneak up on a girl in the middle of the damn woods!” You exclaimed, letting the vines go of your control and allowing them to unwrap from Xavier.

You held out your hand to help him stand up, which he took in response. He brushed himself off, standing in front of you. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t sneak up on girls in the woods, got it.” He mumbled, “what were you doing out here anyway?” He asked, but you gave him an incredulous look, “Where else would I be going? I’m heading back from town to the school. Enid messaged me that she had something urgent going on and needed my help.” You told him as you turned and began to walk away from the artist.

You and Xavier had an odd dynamic going on, some days you both could be civil with each other, other days you were ready to rip his throat out just listening to him talk. Right about now, you were borderline annoyed with the boy, in between being civil and tying him up with vines again. You almost groaned as he caught up with you easily, ‘Curse his long legs.’ You thought. “What were you doing in Jericho?” He asked you, watching your expression carefully. “I was with Wednesday at the Weathervane.” You answered shortly, not wanting to delve into detail of your most recent outing with your cousin. From the corner of your eye, you saw Xavier nod stiffly. ‘Odd,’ You thought, ‘He’s never stiffened at the mention of Wednesday..’ you squinted at him, suspiciously.

“Now, what were you doing out here?” You turned his own question on him, he looked at you and shrugged, “Came to clear my head,” he told you but you looking at him seemed to make the boy nervous, something he never usually was when around you. He normally matched your energy, which made you even more suspicious of Xavier. “Okay.” There was something up with Xavier, and you knew it. But you didn’t want him to catch onto your suspicion, so you pretended that you believed him.

There was a silence between the both of you as you reached Nevermore, “See you later, Xav.” You said to him as you walked away, heading to Enid and Wednesday’s dorm in Ophelia Hall.

You seemed to run into Xavier in the woods a lot more than usual, especially on your daily stroll through the woods which you’ve recently been going on alone, since Wednesday was too busy with her investigation to join you. Each time you met in the woods, he seemed much more different than during school. Like he was a completely different person. Eventually, you decided to confront him about it, when he once again interrupted your stroll.

“What has been goin on with you lately, Xavier? You’ve been acting completely different lately, especially out of class.” You told him as he once again, joined you on a walk through the woods. “What do you mean, Y/n?” He tried to play you off, but you knew Xavier. He wouldn’t dismiss accusations against him, you’ve learned that since Wednesday began suspecting him and he found out about it. That’s how you realized.

“You’re not Xavier.” You whispered, barely loud enough for ‘Xavier’ to hear. When you looked up again, someone else was smirking at you, and it was someone you hoped to never see again. “Hello, princess.” Your father’s dark eyes bore into you as you were struck with fear, unable to move or make a sound as he walked towards you. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, such a shame that you saw through my disguise.” He stated as he caressed your face, his fingers lingering through a strand of your hair. “Why don’t you come home, princess? You belong with me. I am your father, after all.”

Finally, your sense came back to you and you moved away from him immediately. “No, you aren’t my father.” He began to look angry as you said that. “I don’t belong anywhere with you, and I’m sure as hell not your princess!” You shouted at him. By now, the man in front of you was fuming with anger, he reached for your arm and took hold of you in a vice grip, harshly pulling you towards him.

“Ungrateful little bitch! I created you, you are mine! You decide nothing for yourself.” His gripped tightened and you let out a yelp of pain, trying to pull from him. “Let go of me! I’m not going with you!” However, your father was much stronger than you, slapping you across the face as your head was immediately sent reeling to the side, your cheek stinging in pain. The hit was hard enough that it scrambled your thoughts, which allowed your father to pick you up without a fight and begin walking away from Nevermore.

Neither of you were aware that Thing had been following you. The hand immediately went to the closest person he could find to get help.

The sound of the shed door opening alerted Xavier that someone had entered his art studio, however he did not expect to find Thing frantically tugging at his pant leg, signing something Xavier couldn’t make out. However Xavier knew something was wrong, extremely wrong. “Show me.” Was all Xavier had to say and Thing was leading him into the woods.

Coming back to your senses, you were tossed over your father’s shoulder as he took you somewhere you didn’t recognize. You began thrashing around in his grip, “Let go of me! Someone help!” You screamed, hoping by some miracle, someone would be in the woods and hear you. “Stop squirming!” Your father shouted and threw you off his shoulder, your bodying hitting the hard ground and knocking your breath away from you, your lungs gasping for air. “You will come home. You will obey me. And you will never run from me again.” He seethed, his boot landing a kick to your ribs, then your stomach and head.

Tears filled your eyes, pain shooting everywhere throughout your body, you could hardly think. Hoping that someone would find you. Your father grabbed you and lifted you up by the collar of your shirt, “I’ll just have to break you into submission if you won’t be a good little girl.” Your father grinned at you as your half lidded eyes could hardly stay open, but you knew he was raising his fist to strike at you again.

“Get away from her!” You heard as you felt your self be dropped again, your father being tackled away from you, you could make out the shape of a hand in front of you, “Thing..” you whispered before having passed out from exhaustion.

Xavier had followed Thing at least a mile into the woods, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he didn’t know who was in danger but he knew they were important to Thing, so that left him with either two options. You, or Wednesday.

When he saw a man lifting you up by the collar of your shirt and his fist readying to hit you, something snapped in Xavier. Anger boiled over in him as he got close enough to see how terrible of shape you were in, blood covered half of your face and blood ran from your nose, your clothes torn and dirty. “Get away from her!” He shouted as he tackled the man away from you, blinded by pure and utter rage. All Xavier knew was that he had to protect the girl he had begun to accept his feelings for, and the scariest part was that he might’ve not ever gotten to tell her if he hadn’t been there in time to save her. Xavier didn’t stop until the man was a bloodied, unconscious mess. When he calmed down, Thing was tugging on the sleeve of his arm, ushering him to check on you.

You woke up in a hospital bed, looking around to see many get well soon cards, flowers, and other little gifts. Your head was fuzzy, but the last thing you remembered was dropping onto the ground and seeing Thing before it all went blank. No one was in the room with you, it was dark outside so you knew all of your friends and cousin were told to go back to Nevermore. Realizing that your throat was scratchy and you desperately needed some water, you pressed the small ‘help’ button on the side of your bed. It wasn’t long until a nurse and doctor rushed in to check on you, your throat hurt but somehow the nurse was able to understand that you needed water and left the room, retuning a few minutes later with a cold cup of water.

While the doctor did some checks on your vitals, you asked the nurse if she could inform principal Weems that you were awake, she nodded but told you it would be until the next day that anyone would be able to visit you. The doctor finished his check up and left the room with the nurse, allowing you some rest.

The next morning came quickly, and you were reminded of how much pain you were in when you attempted to sit up, “Ms. Addams, please stay laying down.” You heard a woman’s voice and looked to see principal Weems, standing in the doorway of your hospital room along with sheriff Galpin. “Sorry to question you so soon after waking up, but the station needs a statement about what happened when you were attacked. Wednesday told us that was your father, correct?” The sheriff asked you, quick to cut to the chase. A shiver ran down your spine as he mentioned your father, “Yes, that was…” you were interrupted by a coughing fit, “… that was my father.” You continued after the coughing had stopped. “What happened before Xavier got to the scene?” That question threw you, Xavier was the one who saved you? You shook yourself out of it, you’d worry about that later. “My father had disguised himself as Xavier and intercepted me during a walk, when I realized he was not Xavier, that’s when he began telling me that I had to go home with him, that he made me and owned me, that I was nothing without him. When I refused and tried to leave, he grabbed me. It’s a little fuzzy from there, but I remember a sting across my cheek and being carried away, I think I came to at one point and started fighting back. That’s when he threw me on the ground and started beating me.” You had to take a shaky breath to keep yourself from breaking down, “then he picked me up, and that’s when he was tackled away from me. I had no idea that it was Xavier who saved me.”

Once sheriff Galpin had finished getting your statement, and reassuring you that your father would be put away for a long time, you were discharged from the hospital and allowed to return to Nevermore. When you and Weems arrived, a large crowd of students were waiting to welcome you back, no doubt the work of Enid and Yoko.

When you stepped out of the car, Enid and Wednesday were the first ones to be by your side. Enid engulfed you into a hug, while Wednesday tried to keep her from smothering you and breaking anymore of your ribs. “Enid, she doesn’t need anymore broken ribs.” She chided the bubbly werewolf, who immediately let go and apologized. You looked at the crowd of students, recognizing some faces and not recognizing others. However, the one face you hoped to see, was not there. “Where’s Xavier?” You asked, hoping one of them knew where the artist was. “He’s been sulking like a lost puppy ever since you were put in the hospital, I’d bet he’s in his art shed right now.” Wednesday told you, keeping her accusatory remarks to herself, he did save his cousin’s life after all. The least she could do was cut him some slack.

“Oh, I was hoping I could talk to him.” Your mood significantly dampened since the guy who literally saved your life, couldn’t be bothered to welcome you back. “Hey, don’t look so upset, he did stay by your side the entire time you were asleep in the hospital!” Enid attempted to console you. You smiled at her, and at the thought of Xavier worrying over you. You decided that, for the time being, you would settle back into your routine and confront Xavier later.

It was a few hours later when Xavier showed up at your dorm room, knocking on the door. When you opened the door, you were greeted by a even more tired looking Xavier, the bags under his eyes were darker than before and he looked like he hadn’t had a proper sleep in ages. “Xavier, you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.” You worried over him, but her just looked at you with such emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t tell what her was feeling.

Then he stepped closer and pulled you into a hug, burying his face into your neck. Hesitantly you hugged him back, unsure of what exactly was going on. Half the time, you and Xavier couldn’t stand each other. The other half was spent laughing and making jokes about each other. You had never seen Xavier so vulnerable before.

Before you knew it, Xavier was crying while hugging you, hiccups interrupting him every few sobs. “Hey, hey. Xavi, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You pushed him away slightly, so you could look at his face. “I thought I was going to lose you.” He rasped, “And when I saw your dad holding you like that, limp and lifeless, I realized just how important you are to me.” He hiccuped as he explained.

You pulled him back into the hug, rubbing his back as he continued to sob. You didn’t know where this was coming from, but over the past few months, you had realized that he meant more to you than you originally thought. “Y/n, I love you, and I have no idea what I would’ve done if you were taken away from me.” Xavier spoke again, this time clearer. You were shocked, you figured your feelings for him would end up being one sided, so you pushed them far far down. However, those feelings bubbled to the surface as he said those words. “I love you too, Xavier.” You replied, you could see him visibly relax at your words.

“Let me take you on a date, whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.” He told you as you smiled up at him, he leaned down and leaned his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes and enjoying each others embrace. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” He smiled and as you both looked at each other you shared your first kiss, of many to come.

Yeah, Xavier saved your life. He was your artist in shining armor.

[fanfictionroxs]

HOTD targ-strong/rivers Addams family AU

Black Queen Rhaenyra + Harwin in his haunted house Harrenhall would give those impeccable Morticia-Gomez vibes.

+ Alys coming in with OG Morticia vibes as Harwin's older sis and the owner of Harrenhall. The house and it's spirits chose her and love and adore her. She is connected to them and it seems like it is her blood that flows through the house and powers it.

+ Imagine Jace as Wednesday. Dad's goth princess.

+ Larys trying to murder Harwin is a weekly event. It is their brotherly love language.

+ Aemma never died and she lives with them happily. Rhaenyra murdered her pos father under the guidance of her mother (patricide is a beloved tradition my sweet girl, Aemma teaches her) when he tried to force Aemma to have more children. When Harwin saw her, covered in her father's blood, he fell in love in typical Gomez fashion.

+ And that's how I met your mother! Harwin tells this story to their children with besotted eyes every night.

"ah cara mia! You were the most deranged thing I ever saw!" Harwin breathes out dreamily.

"ah mon coer!" Rhaenyra blushes.

The targ-strong/rivers family being westeros's Addams family 😍