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Chapter Text

The full moon hung like a silver coin, bathing the Addams mansion in an eerie glow. The house creaked with its usual gothic charm, the wind howling through the cracks like a ghost seeking refuge. But none of this disturbed the residents of the mansion—least of all, Morticia and Gomez Addams, who reveled in such darkness like others might in the warmth of sunlight.

It was a night like any other. Morticia sat by the grand fireplace, her fingers absently running through the sleek hair of one of their pet ravens, while Gomez twirled his cigar with the skill of a magician conjuring secrets. But there was a slight tension in the air tonight, one they both felt but had not yet spoken aloud.

"Darling," Morticia began, her voice smooth as silk but laced with curiosity, "Have you noticed how often Wednesday slips away after dusk?"

Gomez, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous sparkle, leaned closer to his beloved wife. "I have, cara mia," he murmured, his deep voice tinged with fascination. "Our little viper has always had her secrets, but lately, there is something... peculiar in the way she returns."

"Almost softened," Morticia agreed, her dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Not in spirit, but in mood. I wonder, mon amour, what it is that draws her to that place."

Gomez took Morticia’s hand and kissed her fingertips, a smirk curling his lips. "Perhaps it is time we find out."

♣♥♠♦

Meanwhile, across the street and a few doors down, you sat in your quiet, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books. You lived a simple life, content in your solitude, and had long since accepted the role of the "shy neighbor" who kept to themselves. In a neighborhood full of boisterous personalities, it suited you well to remain unnoticed—until Wednesday Addams appeared at your window one chilly evening.

At first, you hadn’t understood what the young girl wanted. Wednesday was direct, but in a way that felt like she was withholding the true depths of her thoughts. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce through your walls, both literal and metaphorical, as if seeing something within you even you didn’t recognize. You thought she might be there to frighten you, or worse, but to your surprise, all she had wanted was a story.

Since that night, she had returned again and again, slipping into your home as silently as the shadows that seemed to follow her. It had become a routine. Each evening after dusk, she would appear at your window, and you would invite her in with barely a word exchanged.

Tonight was no different. The clock struck ten when you heard the familiar tap against your window. You smiled to yourself, already knowing who it was. You crossed the room, pulling open the window to see Wednesday standing there, her expression as blank as ever, yet you sensed an eagerness beneath her calm exterior.

“Come in,” you said softly, stepping aside. She slipped inside with her usual grace, the hem of her black dress brushing the floor as she moved to the armchair by the fireplace, her favorite spot. You grabbed a worn copy of Frankenstein from your shelf and settled across from her.

You had come to cherish these moments. Wednesday, for all her morbid fascinations, was a child who found solace in the stillness you offered. And you, in turn, had found something precious in reading to her, a sense of purpose, perhaps. You didn’t often have visitors, but somehow Wednesday had become more than that. She felt like… family, in some strange, unsettling way.

As you began reading aloud, your voice the only sound breaking the comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but glance at Wednesday from time to time. Her eyes, wide and alert, drank in every word as if they were a secret only you and she shared. It made you smile, though you always hid it. You didn’t want to seem foolish in front of her.

As the story unfolded, Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through your narration. “You remind me of my mother.”

Your heart skipped at the sudden statement. Wednesday rarely spoke unless prompted. "I do?" you asked, unsure whether to be flattered or wary.

“She reads to me as you do,” Wednesday said, her tone unchanging. “But not with the same quietness. You... calm the shadows.”

There was something unsettling in her words, but also something tender. Wednesday wasn’t known for giving compliments, and you were aware this was perhaps the highest one you would ever receive from her. Still, you couldn’t quite ignore the weight behind what she had said.

You hesitated, lowering the book slightly. “Do your parents… know that you come here?”

“They know everything,” Wednesday replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But they haven’t yet decided whether you’re dangerous.”

Your brow furrowed at the cryptic answer, though it was typical of Wednesday. “I’m not dangerous,” you said softly, but your words lacked conviction.

“No,” Wednesday agreed, her eyes flickering to meet yours. “But they will want to know what makes you... different.”

♣♥♠♦

Back at the Addams mansion, Morticia and Gomez stood by a window.

“Shall we pay a visit to our mysterious neighbor?” Gomez asked, his hand slipping around Morticia’s waist. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and excitement.

Morticia leaned against him, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Yes, darling. Let’s see who it is that has captured our daughter’s interest... and perhaps, ours as well.”

They shared a look, full of unspoken understanding, before slipping into the night together, their elegant forms melding with the shadows as they made their way toward your home.`

Chapter Text

The next night arrived like a whisper, the fog curling around the Addams mansion as if the night itself was in love with the peculiar family it embraced. Inside, the flickering candlelight illuminated the lavish yet eerie décor, casting long, spindly shadows across the walls. Morticia stood at the door, her raven hair sleek and draping over her shoulders, her lips painted in a shade darker than the night outside. She glanced at Gomez, who adjusted his bow tie with a smile, his eyes alight with the thrill of the unknown.

"Are you ready, my love?" Morticia purred, her gaze sliding to the window as she saw Wednesday once again disappear into the fog on her nightly journey.

"Ready as I ever am, Tish," Gomez replied, his voice dripping with adoration for his wife. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier, ever the dashing gentleman. “I feel as though we are stepping into the pages of one of our beloved novels—a mystery unfolding right before our eyes.”

With a silent understanding, the two slipped into the night, moving with the grace of panthers toward your modest home. The thrill of curiosity ran through their veins. The soft clack of their footsteps on the cobbled street was the only sound that accompanied them as they approached your window.

Inside, you were already settling into your usual spot, a cup of tea in hand, waiting for Wednesday’s arrival. She had become a welcome constant in your otherwise quiet life. You weren’t sure what it was about her presence, but the stillness she brought didn’t feel like the eerie loneliness you had known before. It felt comfortable. Maybe even comforting.

You were just about to get up and check the window when a soft knock at the door startled you.

No one ever came to your door.

Your heart raced, and you hesitated. The knock came again, this time more deliberate, though not impatient. You quickly set down your tea and moved to answer it, your mind racing with possibilities. Was it someone from the neighborhood? A delivery you forgot about?

When you opened the door, the last thing you expected was the sight of Morticia and Gomez Addams standing on your doorstep. They were both so effortlessly elegant, standing there like they had just stepped out of a portrait from another era. Morticia’s gaze was steady, almost serene, while Gomez looked at you with an intense curiosity, his posture perfectly upright but with a sense of unrestrained energy coiled beneath the surface.

“Good evening,” Morticia began, her voice velvety smooth. “I hope we haven’t startled you.”

You blinked, caught entirely off-guard, and struggled to find your voice. “N-No, not at all. Can I... help you?”

Gomez stepped forward slightly, his hand resting lightly on his wife’s arm. “We’ve come to meet the person who has captured our darling Wednesday’s interest. You, my dear, are a mystery we are most intrigued to solve.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you felt your face flush slightly. “Wednesday... she’s been visiting for a while now,” you admitted quietly, stepping aside to let them in. “I hope that’s okay.”

Morticia glided past you with the grace of a ghost, her eyes sweeping over your home as if taking in every detail. “Oh, yes, we know. She has a habit of not being as subtle as she believes.” Her lips quirked into a soft smile. “But we are not here to reprimand. We are merely curious about what has drawn her here so frequently. After all, our little viper is rarely taken with anyone outside the family.”

Gomez followed, his eyes alight with intrigue as he looked around, clearly interested in every corner of your life. “She speaks of you often,” he said, his voice rich and warm. “Not with words of sentiment, of course, but she returns from here... softer.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. The weight of their presence in your small space made the air feel thicker somehow. “She likes to read with me,” you explained, fidgeting slightly under their steady gazes. “We talk about books. She... seems to enjoy it.”

Morticia’s dark eyes lingered on you for a moment before she moved to your small bookshelf, her long fingers trailing over the spines of your books. “You seem to have a calming effect on her, something that even I, her mother, can admit is quite rare.”

Gomez’s grin widened. “Indeed, it is a rare soul who can bring calm to the storm that is our Wednesday.”

You weren’t sure if you should feel complimented or wary. Their intensity was overwhelming, yet there was no denying the magnetic pull they both had. They moved with a kind of synchronized grace, as if they were extensions of one another, and even in their curiosity about you, there was something... captivating.

Morticia turned from the bookshelf, her gaze now fully focused on you. “Tell me, how do you feel about her?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Feel? I mean... I think she’s... special,” you answered honestly, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Morticia said, a trace of amusement in her voice.

Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and in walked Wednesday, her expression as neutral as ever. She stopped just inside the doorway, her eyes flicking between her parents and you.

“I see you’ve introduced yourselves,” Wednesday said in her usual monotone, though there was a slight raise of her brow that betrayed her curiosity.

Gomez chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “We couldn’t resist, my dear. You’ve been keeping such delightful company; naturally, we had to investigate.”

Wednesday looked to you, her gaze softening ever so slightly. “They aren’t causing you trouble, are they?”

You shook your head quickly, feeling the tension ease slightly now that she was here. “No, not at all.”

Morticia stepped closer to her daughter, her hand resting gently on Wednesday’s shoulder. “We simply wanted to meet the person who has become so important to you.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. You hadn’t thought of yourself as important to Wednesday, but the way Morticia said it made it sound like something undeniable. A truth you hadn’t quite realized.

Wednesday turned her gaze back to you. “They’ll want to stay for a while.”

Your heart skipped a beat, realizing what she meant. Morticia and Gomez had no intention of leaving after this brief introduction. They wanted to get to know you, to understand why you had become a fixture in their daughter’s life. And despite your natural shyness, you found yourself... intrigued by them as well.

“Would you like some tea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but the invitation was genuine.

Gomez’s eyes lit up. “Splendid idea! Tish, did I not say we would be in for an interesting evening?”

Morticia smiled, a slow and deliberate curve of her lips. “Indeed, darling. I believe this will be most... enlightening.”

As you moved to prepare the tea, you felt the weight of their eyes on you, but somehow, it wasn’t as unsettling as you’d expected. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Wednesday trusted you, or perhaps it was something else, something about Gomez’s charm, or Morticia’s elegance—that made you feel as though, for the first time in a long while, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Chapter Text

The evening grew darker, the weight of the night pressing in on your small living room as you fumbled with the teapot, the clink of porcelain against wood echoing in the silence. Every move you made felt awkward under the sharp gazes of Morticia and Gomez, their presence overwhelming in a way that was both unnerving and strangely thrilling. You couldn’t quite place it, whether it was their elegance or their intensity,but the air seemed to thicken whenever they entered a room. And now, they were here, sitting in your home, watching you with a kind of fascination that made your hands tremble.

You tried to focus on the task at hand: brewing tea. It was something simple, something familiar. And yet, even the simple act felt monumental with the Addams family observing your every movement.

“You have quite the collection of books,” Morticia’s voice floated across the room, velvety and calm. “Many of them appear to be gothic classics. A taste for the macabre, perhaps?”

You swallowed hard, setting the teapot down on the small table and turning to face her. “I-I’ve always liked those kinds of stories,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “The... the quiet kind. Dark, but... not too loud.”

Gomez chuckled softly, his grin spreading wide. “Ah, someone after our own hearts, querida,” he said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye. “Subtlety in darkness, elegance in terror—how utterly delightful.”

Morticia’s eyes, half-lidded and thoughtful, seemed to probe deeper than her words suggested. “Quiet darkness,” she mused, her voice almost a purr. “There’s something enchanting about that. A quietness that hides a storm beneath, perhaps?”

You felt your pulse quicken, her words digging into something deep within you. Were they... complimenting you? It felt that way, but with Morticia and Gomez, even compliments felt like they carried a hidden layer. Still, you nodded, struggling to find words that didn’t trip over themselves. “I... I suppose so. It’s... comforting. In a way.”

“Comforting,” Morticia repeated, her lips curving into a small smile. “How fascinating.”

Wednesday, who had been watching the interaction from her usual spot in the armchair, spoke up then, her voice cutting through the subtle tension. “They’ll prod until they find what they’re looking for,” she said flatly, her dark eyes flicking between her parents and you. “You don’t have to answer everything.”

You blinked, caught off-guard by her bluntness, and a small wave of relief washed over you. She had a way of stating things that others wouldn’t dare to say, and it was oddly reassuring. Even in the middle of their curiosity, Wednesday was protecting you, just as much as she was part of this strange, inquisitive family.

Morticia’s smile deepened at her daughter’s words, but her gaze never left yours. “We aren’t trying to pry, darling. We simply want to understand what it is that draws our daughter here each night.”

“I-I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “She... she just comes. I didn’t ask why.”

Gomez leaned back in his chair, twirling his cigar with practiced ease. “And that, my dear, is precisely what makes you so intriguing.”

You busied yourself with pouring the tea, hoping it would help calm your nerves. As you set the cups in front of Morticia and Gomez, you felt the overwhelming urge to please them—to show them that you were worth their interest, that you weren’t a disappointment. But how could you, someone so quiet and reserved, possibly measure up to the Addams family’s grand and eccentric standards?

“I... I’m sorry if I’m not—” you started, your voice breaking slightly. “I mean, I don’t know if I... fit.”

Morticia reached for her cup with a slow, deliberate movement, her dark eyes never leaving yours. “Fit?” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. “Darling, you misunderstand. We are not looking for anyone to ‘fit.’ We are drawn to the unconventional, the unusual. And you...” She paused, her gaze softening just a touch. “You are quite unique.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you felt a mix of confusion and warmth at her words. Was that really how they saw you? Unique?

Gomez took a sip of the tea, his eyes widening slightly as he let out a satisfied sigh. “Exquisite,” he said, setting the cup down with a dramatic flourish. “Not just the tea, of course, but the whole situation. You see, my dear, we live for what others might consider... oddities. And there is nothing more thrilling than meeting someone who, like us, dances on the edge of that line.”

“I... I’m not thrilling,” you said quietly, almost to yourself.

Morticia’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You underestimate yourself.”

A soft cough came from Wednesday, who had been listening in silence. “You’re overloading them.”

Gomez laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the room. “Nonsense! We’re merely getting to know our charming host.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, your natural shyness warring with the strange comfort you were beginning to feel in their presence. As intimidating as Morticia and Gomez were, there was something about the way they regarded you, like you were a puzzle they were eager to piece together. It was unnerving, yes, but it was also... flattering.

“I... I just want to make sure I’m not... disappointing,” you said softly, your fingers nervously twisting together. It was a vulnerable admission, one that felt too raw to be spoken aloud, but it slipped out before you could stop it.

Gomez’s expression shifted slightly, a rare moment of seriousness crossing his features. “Disappoint? My dear, you could never disappoint us. You’ve already done something most would never dare to, capturing our daughter’s interest.”

Morticia’s gaze softened, and she reached out, placing a cool hand on top of yours. “You have nothing to fear from us, darling. We are not like the rest of the world. We do not judge by conventional standards.”

Her touch sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of her presence. The way her words wrapped around you, like shadows coaxing you into a darker, more thrilling world. A world that you realized you were beginning to want to be a part of.

Before you could respond, Wednesday stood, moving toward the window with her usual calm grace. “They’ll keep circling you,” she said, glancing back at you. “But you’ll get used to it. They don’t stop until they’re satisfied.”

You chuckled softly, despite your nerves. “I guess I’ll just have to keep making tea, then.”

Morticia smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. “Indeed. And perhaps, in time, we will discover just how deep your quiet darkness truly runs.”

Gomez leaned back with a contented sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I can tell already, my love. Our dear neighbor is far more intriguing than they realize.”

As the evening stretched on, with more tea and conversations that danced around the edges of your comfort zone, you couldn’t help but feel a shift inside you. The Addams family, strange, elegant, and overwhelming, had accepted you into their orbit. And though the idea of being at the center of their curiosity was terrifying, it was also... exhilarating.

Chapter Text

The night sky was an expanse of thick, velvety darkness as Wednesday Addams slipped quietly out of her home, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were silent, her expression neutral, but beneath her calm exterior was a growing sense of unease. Something was wrong tonight—something she couldn’t quite explain.

It wasn’t in the usual, obvious way that one might describe things as being wrong. There were no bloodcurdling screams, no ominous crashes of thunder, no cryptic omens that plagued the Addams household. No, it was quieter than that. Subtler. It was in the way the night felt heavier somehow, the air thicker, more suffocating.

And most disturbingly of all, when she arrived at your window, you weren’t there.

Wednesday frowned, her dark eyes scanning the shadows of your living room. The usual dim glow of your lamps was absent. The curtains were drawn, but there was no movement behind them, no soft sound of shuffling feet, no whisper of a page turning from the book you usually held in your hands when she arrived. The house was… still. Too still.

She pressed her hand against the glass, peering inside with a growing sense of unease. You were always home. Always.

Where were you?

Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she stood there in the quiet, her mind racing through possibilities. You weren’t the type to leave without notice. You were so shy, so grounded in your quiet routines. It wasn’t like you to vanish.

For a moment, she considered the possibility that you had simply stepped out for some fresh air, but something inside her told her otherwise. Something about the way the house felt empty, the way the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally long tonight.

Her eyes flicked up toward the sky, where the moon hung low and full. But this wasn’t the usual moon she had come to expect. The familiar silver gleam was gone, replaced by an unsettling crimson hue—a blood moon, looming over the night like a silent omen. It cast an eerie red glow across the landscape, making the shadows twist and shift unnervingly.

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. The blood moon. It was a rare occurrence, one that often signified shifts in the natural order—an omen of change. The Addams family had always taken the moon’s phases seriously, particularly when it turned crimson. But what did it mean this time? Could it have something to do with your sudden disappearance?

She didn’t like uncertainty. Wednesday thrived in an atmosphere of control and logic, but tonight, the air felt thick with something unknown—something she couldn’t place. And for the first time in a long while, she felt... a touch of worry.

Worry wasn’t a sensation she welcomed, nor one she often experienced. But the fact remained: You were always home. Tonight, you weren’t.

Turning on her heel, Wednesday walked briskly back toward the mansion. Her thoughts swirled as she approached the grand front doors and slipped inside. She knew exactly who could help her make sense of this.

“Mother. Father.”

Morticia and Gomez were lounging in the drawing room, their usual air of elegance and charm wrapping around them like a dark, velvety cloak. Morticia looked up from her embroidery, her long, pale fingers weaving thread through fabric with effortless precision. Gomez, reclining beside her with a cigar, looked up, his smile wide and welcoming.

“Ah, Wednesday, my dear,” Gomez greeted, though he immediately noticed the tension in her posture. “What seems to be troubling you? Did someone displease you in a particularly ghastly way?”

Wednesday didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Our neighbor. They’re gone.”

Morticia’s hand paused mid-stitch, her black eyes narrowing slightly. “Gone?”

Wednesday nodded, her gaze steady, though there was an undercurrent of something unspoken beneath her calm demeanor. “They are always home. I went to see them, but the house was empty. No lights, no movement.”

Gomez raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Unusual, indeed. Our shy neighbor is not the type to wander off into the night unannounced.”

Morticia set down her embroidery, her gaze thoughtful as she stood. “And tonight, of all nights,” she mused, glancing out the window toward the blood-red moon. “The moon is in an unsettling phase. It is rare... but when it appears, there are often disruptions in the usual patterns.”

“You think the blood moon has something to do with it?” Wednesday asked, her voice betraying only a fraction of the unease she felt.

Morticia walked over to the large window, her silhouette framed by the eerie crimson glow of the moonlight. “The blood moon has long been associated with changes in energy, shifts in fate. Some say it has the power to pull people into places they otherwise wouldn’t go, to reveal hidden truths—or to conceal them.”

Gomez stood, his eyes alight with intrigue. “Perhaps our dear neighbor has been pulled into such a shift.”

Wednesday’s expression remained stony, though her mind churned with possibilities. “They wouldn’t leave without saying something. They’re not the kind to seek out... shifts.”

Morticia moved toward her daughter, her hand resting lightly on Wednesday’s shoulder. “The moon doesn’t ask for permission, my dear. It only acts. And sometimes, it draws those who are most vulnerable.”

Wednesday’s mind raced as her mother’s words sank in. Could the moon have... taken you somewhere? Drawn you into something beyond your control? The thought was unsettling, but the possibility was real. You were sensitive to changes, to shifts in energy, even if you didn’t know it.

“What do we do?” Wednesday asked, her voice low but steady.

Morticia and Gomez exchanged a glance, their shared understanding unspoken but clear. “We find them,” Gomez said, his tone resolute. “If the blood moon has anything to do with their disappearance, then we must follow its trail.”

Morticia nodded, her eyes gleaming with dark determination. “We will need to consult the family’s ancient texts, the ones that speak of the moon’s influence on those attuned to it.”

Wednesday’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her mind sharpening with a cold resolve. She wouldn’t let this go unanswered. You were hers, in a way—her second parent, her quiet constant in the chaos. And if something had taken you, something tied to the strange pull of the moon, she would drag you back, no matter what it took.

“I’ll get Pugsley,” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “He’ll want to help.”

Gomez’s grin widened, the thrill of the chase evident in his eyes. “Excellent idea, my viper. A family search, how wonderfully morbid!”

As Wednesday moved to gather her brother and prepare for the search, Morticia looked out at the blood moon once more, her eyes narrowing. “The blood moon doesn’t often choose people at random,” she murmured to herself. “There is something more here. Something we have yet to see.”

Gomez came to her side, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Whatever it is, we’ll uncover it, my love. Together.”

Morticia smiled softly, her gaze never leaving the moon. “Together.”

Chapter Text

The forest loomed like a sea of shadows, ancient trees twisting toward the sky as if trying to reach the blood-red moon that still hovered ominously above. The Addams family moved through the underbrush with the grace of predators, their footsteps silent, their eyes sharp as they searched for any sign of you. The trail had led them deeper into the woods than they had expected—far beyond where they’d usually find you.

Wednesday led the way, her cold determination driving her forward, her gaze sweeping across the landscape with a hunter’s precision. Morticia and Gomez followed closely behind, their eyes alight with intrigue, while Pugsley trailed behind them, clutching a heavy bag of supplies in case things got... interesting.

It wasn’t long before they stumbled upon something unexpected: a cabin.

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, her sharp gaze landing on the small structure nestled between the thick trees. It was a modest building, clearly built recently—too recent for it to be something hidden from the Addamses for long. The wood was clean, the roof intact, yet it felt out of place in this ancient forest. And there was something... off about it.

“Not exactly your style,” Gomez commented lightly, running a hand through his slicked-back hair as he surveyed the cabin. “But something about this place... It doesn’t sit right, does it?”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She could feel it too. The cabin wasn’t just out of place—it was wrong. The air around it seemed heavier, thick with an oppressive tension that made her skin prickle. It wasn’t fear she felt, but something close to it. Something unnatural was tied to this place.

Without a word, she approached the cabin door, her hand brushing over the rough wood. It creaked open with little resistance, as if it had been waiting for her. The inside was dark, the faint scent of damp earth and pine lingering in the air.

Pugsley peered over her shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Looks like no one’s been here for long,” he whispered, though his excitement was barely contained. “This place has ‘haunted’ written all over it.”

Morticia stepped inside, her dark eyes scanning the small room. “No one has lived here long enough to haunt it,” she said softly. “But something else lingers.”

Wednesday moved further into the cabin, her eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light. The space was small and sparsely furnished—just a table, a single chair, and a few scattered belongings. The faintest trace of dust had begun to gather on the surfaces, as though someone had been here recently but not returned in days.

And then she saw it: a small door in the floor, half-hidden beneath a rug. Her instincts sharpened instantly.

“Mother. Father,” she called out quietly, and they came to her side.

The trapdoor.

Gomez’s eyes lit up with excitement. “A secret entrance! How delightfully cliché.”

Without hesitation, Wednesday pulled the door open. A cold gust of air wafted up from below, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of damp stone. A narrow set of stairs led down into the earth, vanishing into the darkness.

Morticia smiled softly. “A cave. How very promising.”

One by one, they descended into the cave, the walls growing colder and rougher the deeper they went. The narrow tunnel eventually opened up into a larger chamber, dimly lit by strange, glowing fungi clinging to the stone. The air was thick with moisture, and the silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional drip of water.

And there, at the center of the cavern, huddled against the far wall, was... something.

A creature, but not like anything they had seen before. Its form was twisted and hunched, its skin pale and oddly smooth, almost translucent in the dim light. It had the shape of a human, but its limbs were elongated, its fingers clawed. Its eyes—wide, fearful—shone in the faint light as it watched the Addams family approach.

It didn’t snarl or attack. In fact, it trembled.

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, her dark eyes narrowing as she studied the creature. “It’s afraid.”

Gomez stepped forward, twirling his rapier as he peered at the creature with unabashed fascination. “Well, well, well. It seems our little beast is not quite as fearsome as it first appears.”

The creature’s wide eyes flicked to each of them in turn, its breathing ragged and shallow. It pressed itself further against the wall, trying to make itself smaller, trying to hide. It whimpered softly, its voice thin and shaky, almost... familiar.

Wednesday’s frown deepened. She moved closer, her footsteps slow and deliberate, and the creature flinched but didn’t lash out. It just watched her, wide-eyed, its trembling worsening the closer she got.

That’s when she noticed it, the way it was breathing, the way its hands shook, the way it was curled into itself as if trying to disappear. These movements... they were just like yours.

“Mother. Father.” Her voice was cold, but underneath, there was a thread of realization. “Look at how it behaves.”

Morticia stepped forward, her expression thoughtful as she studied the creature closely. “It is not attacking. It’s... frightened.”

Gomez tilted his head, his grin widening. “Remarkably timid, for a beast. How unusual.”

But Wednesday was no longer focused on its appearance. She was focused on the way it acted. The creature’s movements, its shyness, the way it was trying to hide, mirrored you almost perfectly. It was as though it had taken on your very mannerisms, your hesitance, your need to shrink into the background.

It didn’t make sense, and yet it did.

“This isn’t just any creature,” Wednesday said quietly, her voice cold but certain. “This is them.”

Morticia’s eyes flicked toward her daughter, understanding dawning in her gaze. “You mean...?”

Wednesday nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “The blood moon. It must have changed them.”

Gomez’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, how wonderfully bizarre! A transformation caused by the moon’s influence, a connection between their shy nature and this new form.”

Pugsley, who had been watching with wide eyes, leaned in closer. “Does that mean they’re, like... cursed?”

“Not cursed,” Morticia said softly, her gaze thoughtful as she stepped even closer to the creature—you, huddled in fear. “But affected by forces beyond their control. The blood moon has a way of pulling at what lies hidden beneath the surface.”

Wednesday crouched down, her face now level with yours, the creature’s. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Her eyes met yours, steady and sharp. “It’s still you, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The creature, you, trembled but didn’t look away. The fear was clear, but so was the familiarity. You weren’t a monster. You were you, changed by something unnatural, something that had latched onto your quiet, reserved nature and twisted it into this form.

“Mother, Father,” Wednesday said, standing. “We’re taking them home.”

Morticia smiled, her eyes gleaming with dark delight. “Of course. We’ll reverse this... fascinating transformation. After all, we have plenty of experience in such matters.”

Gomez clapped his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. “This will be marvelous! We’ll have you back to your shy, quiet self in no time. Though, I must admit, this new form is quite... intriguing.”

Wednesday’s gaze never left you as she approached carefully. She extended a hand toward you, her expression as unreadable as ever. “Come. We’re going home.”

You hesitated, your clawed fingers trembling, but something in her voice—something calm, certain—pulled you forward. Slowly, cautiously, you reached out and took her hand.

Chapter Text

The Addams family moved swiftly through the forest, guiding you—still in your transformed, beastly state—back to the mansion. The moon’s crimson glow was slowly beginning to fade, but its influence still lingered in the night air. The weight of the transformation clung to you, each step heavy with the strange duality of your existence. You could feel the eyes of the Addams family on you, their curiosity palpable, but not invasive. They were the only ones who could make this feel almost... normal.

Wednesday walked beside you, her hand never leaving yours. She hadn’t asked questions yet; she hadn’t demanded answers. That was her way—calculating, patient, waiting until the right moment. But you knew the questions would come. And you weren’t sure how to explain the truth.

As they approached the grand entrance of the mansion, Morticia and Gomez exchanged knowing glances, clearly intrigued by the mystery surrounding your transformation. They seemed unfazed by the fact that you were, at the moment, more beast than human. In fact, they seemed almost delighted by the prospect of unraveling the enigma.

Once inside the mansion, the family led you to the drawing room, where the fire crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. Morticia, with her usual grace, settled into a chair, her sharp eyes observing you closely. Gomez stood behind her, twirling his cigar with a grin of anticipation. Pugsley sat cross-legged on the floor, eager to see what would happen next.

Wednesday, ever silent and observant, stood at your side, her hand still lightly brushing against yours. She was waiting—waiting for you to speak, to explain what had happened.

The blood moon had begun to wane, its crimson hue fading into a duller glow. You could feel the shift inside you, the pull of your transformation weakening. The long claws at the ends of your fingers retracted, your elongated limbs returning to their usual form. Your breathing steadied as the beastly tension melted away, and slowly, you returned to your human self.

The silence in the room stretched long after the change had finished, but the Addams family waited patiently. They weren’t strangers to the supernatural or the bizarre. They welcomed it. But you knew this was different—this was you. And they deserved the truth.

“I... I wasn’t cursed,” you began softly, your voice a bit hoarse from the transformation. You glanced around, meeting their gazes, the weight of your admission hanging in the air. “This isn’t the first time I’ve changed like that. It happens every time there’s a blood moon.”

Gomez’s eyes gleamed with excitement, and he took a step forward, his voice full of admiration. “Fascinating! So, you’re saying this transformation—this beast we saw—it’s part of who you are?”

You nodded, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “I was... I was born with it. It’s in my blood. My family, they were all... like this. I’m... a type of werewolf.”

Pugsley’s eyes widened, his face lighting up with pure excitement. “A werewolf?! That’s so cool! Can you, like, turn into a giant wolf or something?”

You gave him a small smile, shaking your head. “Not exactly. I’m not like the werewolves you see in movies. My kind only changes during a blood moon, and when we do... we don’t turn into wolves. It’s more... primal. We become something between human and beast, something that reflects our truest nature.”

Morticia leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest. “So the form we saw in the cave—it wasn’t simply a beast. It was an expression of your inner self.”

You hesitated, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. “Yes. It... it draws out the parts of me that I usually keep hidden. My fears, my anxieties. When I change, I feel... vulnerable. Exposed. The form you saw is me, but... the most fearful part of me.”

Wednesday’s eyes flickered with understanding, and she tilted her head slightly. “That’s why the creature was afraid of us,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t just a beast—it was you, reacting the way you would have if you’d been human.”

You nodded again, the knot in your chest loosening just a little. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I usually lock myself away during a blood moon, so no one ever sees me like that. But this time, something... called me out. The moon was stronger this time. It pulled me into the forest.”

Gomez’s grin widened, his excitement palpable. “A werewolf tied to the blood moon! How utterly delightful!”

Morticia’s gaze softened, and she regarded you with a strange mix of warmth and curiosity. “And here you were, keeping such a fascinating secret from us. How... intriguing.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said softly, your hands twisting together nervously. “I’ve always kept to myself because of this. It’s why I live so quietly, so... isolated. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I didn’t want you to think I was dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Wednesday said, her voice calm but with a hint of something sharper beneath it. “You’re not dangerous. You’re just... you.”

You blinked, surprised by her words. She met your gaze, her eyes steady and certain. “You’ve been coming to my house for months,” you murmured. “You’ve seen how shy I am, how... awkward. And now you’ve seen this. Aren’t you... afraid?”

Wednesday’s lips quirked ever so slightly, the closest thing to a smile you’d ever seen from her. “I don’t fear the things I understand,” she said simply. “And I understand you. You’re not a beast. You’re still the same person who reads to me.”

Morticia and Gomez exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with pride at their daughter’s response.

“Wednesday’s right,” Morticia said softly, her voice as smooth as ever. “You are no more dangerous to us than the moon itself. You simply are what you are. And if anything, that makes you all the more... intriguing.”

Gomez clapped his hands together, his excitement bubbling over. “A werewolf neighbor! Oh, the possibilities! My dear, you have no idea how much we appreciate the unusual.”

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions. The knot of tension that had been building inside you since the transformation was beginning to unwind. They weren’t afraid. They didn’t see you as a monster. If anything, they seemed more fascinated by you than ever.

“I... I thought you might not want me around after this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Morticia rose from her chair with her signature grace and moved toward you, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Darling, we would never turn away someone as... unique as you. You’ve become part of our lives, part of our family in a way. And as you know, we don’t scare easily.”

Gomez nodded enthusiastically. “In fact, we thrive on the bizarre and extraordinary! Consider yourself even more welcome in our home.”

Wednesday’s gaze softened, just slightly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The weight of her words hit you in the best way possible. Despite everything—despite the transformation, despite your fear that they might see you as a threat—they had accepted you without hesitation. More than that, they had embraced you.

You let out a soft breath, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Thank you. I... I don’t know what to say.”

Gomez grinned, wrapping an arm around Morticia’s waist. “Say nothing, my dear. We already know. You are one of us now.”

As the warmth of the fire flickered across the room, you realized something profound: for the first time in a long while, you weren’t afraid of being yourself. Here, with the Addams family, there was no need to hide, no need to fear your own nature. You were accepted—just as you were, beast and all.

Chapter Text

Life with the Addams family had settled into a strange, wonderful rhythm since your transformation during the blood moon. They had embraced you fully, quirks and all, and you had slowly begun to feel at ease in their presence. Gomez’s boundless enthusiasm, Morticia’s graceful, measured charm, and Wednesday’s quiet, steady companionship had become your new normal. And though you still found yourself nervous from time to time—particularly when Morticia and Gomez’s gaze lingered a little too long—you were beginning to find your place in their world.

That night, the mansion was particularly quiet. The shadows stretched long across the walls, and a faint breeze whispered through the halls. You had spent most of the evening reading with Wednesday, enjoying the comfort of her silence and the weight of a shared story between you. As the hour grew late, you excused yourself, intending to retreat to one of the guest rooms they had so generously offered as your own.

But as you made your way through the winding corridors, you heard something that made you pause, a soft, melodical voice, spoken in a language that rolled off the tongue like velvet.

French.

It was Morticia’s voice, her words wrapping around the language with such sensual grace that it made you stop in your tracks. You felt an unfamiliar heat rise to your face as you lingered near the slightly ajar door to the drawing room.

“Mon cher, tu es plus délicieux que la mort elle-même,”

(“My dear, you are more delicious than death itself")

Morticia purred, her voice as smooth and dark as the night. There was a rich amusement in her tone, but also a depth of feeling that you couldn’t quite ignore.

“Comme toujours, tu me fais frémir d’admiration.”
(“As always, you make me shudder with admiration.”)

You froze, the intensity of her voice making your heart skip a beat. You didn’t mean to listen, but the way she spoke, you looked at the way she poured affection into every word, it felt impossible to pull yourself away. Your cheeks flushed as you heard Gomez respond, his voice full of playful adoration.

“Tish, mon amour, tu sais que je ne vis que pour toi,”
(“Tish, my love, you know I only live for you.")

He replied, the passion in his voice unmistakable.

“Chaque souffle que je prends est pour te voir frémir, pour te faire sourire.”
(“Every breath I take is to see you quiver, to make you smile.”)

There was a brief silence, and you imagined them gazing into each other’s eyes, locked in a moment of intense devotion. The thought made you squirm with embarrassment. You knew they shared an unbreakable bond, but hearing it spoken in such intimate, romantic French, it felt like you had accidentally stumbled upon something too personal.

And yet, you couldn’t move.

“Chéri."
(Dear)

Morticia whispered, her voice low and dangerous, but with a smile you could hear.

“Si tu continues, je ne pourrai pas me contenir.”
(“If you continue, I won’t be able to contain myself.”)

You could practically hear Gomez’s grin widen.

“Alors ne te contiens pas, ma déesse. C’est moi qui suis à tes pieds.”
(“So don’t hold back, my goddess. It is I who am at your feet.”)

You were officially blushing. Hard. The heat on your face was unbearable, and your heart thudded in your chest like a wild thing. They were having a moment, a very intense, romantic moment, and you had intruded on it. You shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t be here.

But just as you decided to tiptoe away, your foot slipped against the polished floor, letting out a soft squeak.

The room fell silent.

You froze, your breath caught in your throat. Maybe, just maybe, they hadn’t heard you.

But then you heard Morticia’s voice, calm and sweet, cutting through the quiet. “Ah, our dear friend. Won’t you join us?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your hand gripped the doorframe as you took a shaky breath, already cursing yourself for getting caught. Slowly, you stepped into the drawing room, your face flushed with embarrassment, and found Morticia and Gomez seated on one of the grand, velvet sofas. Gomez had one arm draped lovingly around Morticia, and they both wore expressions that were a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to... I was just... I didn’t realize you were...”

Morticia raised an elegant brow, her smile soft and knowing. “There’s no need to apologize, darling. You’re part of the family now. There’s no need to feel embarrassed.”

Gomez chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ah, my dear, we were merely speaking the language of love! French always has a way of... heightening the mood.”

You swallowed hard, the heat on your face only intensifying. “I... I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you mumbled, desperately trying to keep your eyes from meeting theirs.

Morticia’s smile widened ever so slightly, and she stood, her movements as graceful as ever. “You haven’t interrupted anything,” she said softly, her hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “In fact, I think it’s quite charming that you’re so shy.”

Her touch sent a shiver down your spine, not of fear, but of sheer intensity. Morticia had a way of making even the most mundane interaction feel like a grand, dramatic gesture. It was hard to breathe in her presence sometimes, especially when she was this close.

Gomez stood as well, his grin warm and welcoming. “Indeed, my love,” he agreed, placing a hand on Morticia’s waist. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed around us. We adore having you here.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady your nerves, but the warmth of their attention was almost too much. “I just... didn’t expect...”

“That we would be so... affectionate?” Morticia finished for you, her smile tinged with amusement. “You’ll get used to it, darling. Passion is woven into every part of our lives.”

Gomez chuckled again, giving you a playful wink. “Indeed! In this family, love is never quiet. You should see how we are when we’re fencing—it’s practically poetry.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, despite your embarrassment. They weren’t upset. In fact, they seemed entirely unbothered by your intrusion. If anything, they were amused by it.

Still, you couldn’t shake the heat from your face. “I just... I’m sorry. I’ll let you two get back to your... French.”

Morticia’s eyes gleamed as she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, French isn’t just for lovers. Perhaps we’ll teach you a few phrases, darling. It’s such a beautiful language. Don’t you think?”

Your face grew even warmer, if that was possible, and you nodded quickly, too flustered to form a coherent reply. Morticia’s amusement was evident in the way her lips quirked, but there was also something tender in her gaze, something that told you she found your shyness endearing rather than awkward.

Gomez, ever the enthusiastic charmer, clapped a hand on your shoulder with a broad grin. “Well, don’t worry, my friend! Soon enough, you’ll be whispering sweet nothings like a true romantic. We’ll make sure of it!”

You managed a small, sheepish smile. “I... I’m not sure I could ever pull that off.”

Morticia’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, darling. You’ll be surprised at what you’re capable of.”

With that, they both returned to the sofa, their attention still warm but less intense, allowing you the chance to breathe again. You gave them a quick nod, excusing yourself as gracefully as you could manage, your heart still pounding in your chest.

As you hurried down the hallway, the sound of their soft laughter trailing behind you, you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. It seemed that in the Addams family, even the most embarrassing moments were treated with kindness and humor. And as overwhelming as their passion could be, it made you feel... accepted. Maybe, just maybe, you could learn to embrace that side of yourself, too.

Chapter Text

The Addams mansion was alive with its usual dark charm, shadows dancing along the candlelit walls as the evening crept in. You had become more comfortable here, perhaps even too comfortable at times. The initial nervousness of being around such an intense family had begun to fade, though you still had moments where you felt overwhelmed by their passion and eccentricity. Yet, it was hard not to be swept up in their world.

Tonight, you found yourself wandering into the drawing room once again, where Gomez and Morticia sat close, as they often did, locked in a quiet conversation. Their connection was palpable, the kind of deep bond that you could almost feel in the air around them. It was the sort of relationship you admired but couldn’t quite imagine yourself in—especially with how shy you usually were.

Still, you’d grown fond of them both in ways you hadn’t expected. Morticia’s calm elegance, Gomez’s boundless enthusiasm, it was infectious. And though you tried to stay reserved, something in you had started to open up. The family had a way of drawing you out of your shell, little by little.

Tonight, though, you were feeling a little bolder than usual.

As you entered the room, Morticia noticed you first, her dark eyes lifting to meet yours with that usual, quiet intensity. “Ah, our shy friend joins us,” she said, her voice like velvet. “Please, sit.”

Gomez grinned, waving you over with his cigar in hand. “Ah, yes! Come, sit, sit. We were just discussing the virtues of passion in everyday life. A topic I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate more as time goes on.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the warmth in their invitation. “You two always seem to be discussing passion. It’s impressive.”

Morticia’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Passion is the very heartbeat of life, darling. Without it, everything is... dreadfully dull.”

Gomez leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Exactly! Life without passion? Unthinkable! Mon cher, without Tish, I would be but a shell of a man.”

You took a seat across from them, the firelight casting a soft glow over the room, making everything feel intimate, like you were part of something bigger. You leaned back, feeling more at ease than you usually would.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” you started, keeping your tone light, “since you two love French so much, maybe I should try my hand at something else.”

Gomez raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? Something else, you say?”

You nodded, biting back a playful grin. “Yeah. Maybe Spanish.”

Morticia’s smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Spanish, hmm? Do you speak it?”

“A little,” you admitted, feeling a flicker of nerves as you decided to take a risk. “Let’s see how I do.”

You cleared your throat, glancing between them as you leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Morticia. The playful mood made you feel bolder than usual, and without fully thinking it through, you said in a low, teasing voice:

“Eres tan hermosa como la noche misma, Morticia.”

(You are as beautiful as the night itself, Morticia.)

Morticia’s eyes gleamed in the firelight, her smile deepening as she tilted her head ever so slightly. “Oh, my dear,” she purred, her voice like silk. “Flattery suits you.”

You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks but pressed on, feeling the thrill of it as you turned your gaze to Gomez, whose eyes were wide with delight.

“And you, Gomez,” you continued, grinning now, “tienes un espíritu que podría inspirar a los dioses.”

(You have a spirit that could inspire the gods.)

Gomez let out a bark of laughter, his hand dramatically clutching his heart. “Oh! Magnificent! You flatter me, dear friend, more than I deserve!”

You were in too deep now, the playful boldness taking over as you leaned back, laughing softly. “I’m not sure I can keep up with your usual level of passion, but... it’s fun to try.”

Morticia exchanged a glance with Gomez, her amusement evident, but there was something else in her gaze—a spark, a shift. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Fun to try, hmm?” she echoed, her voice low and rich. “And what, darling, are you trying to achieve with such... flirting?”

Your face went warm immediately, and the realization of what you’d just done hit you like a freight train. You had been flirting. Playfully, yes, but flirting nonetheless. You hadn’t meant to, had you?

Gomez’s grin widened as he leaned back, clearly enjoying this turn of events. “Tish, it seems our dear friend has a hidden talent for seduction.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your face as Morticia’s gaze stayed locked on you. “I was just... you know, joking.”

“Joking,” Morticia repeated softly, her voice like a purr. “I wonder, darling... were you?”

Gomez, ever the enthusiastic participant, leaned closer, resting his hand on Morticia’s arm as he looked at you with an exaggerated air of intrigue. “Come now, you flatter us with your words, and then you pull back? Tsk, tsk. A true romantic would follow through, no?”

Your heart raced. You hadn’t expected them to take your playful flirting this seriously, or to respond with such intensity. “I-I didn’t mean to cross any lines,” you said quickly, your nervousness returning in full force. “I was just—”

“Oh, darling,” Morticia interrupted, her voice smooth and calming, “you haven’t crossed any lines. Far from it.” Her eyes softened, but there was still that sharp glint of amusement. “In fact, I find your... boldness quite refreshing.”

Gomez laughed again, his grin as wide as ever. “Yes! You’ve stepped into dangerous territory, my friend, but it’s a territory we very much enjoy.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. They were both looking at you in that intense, focused way they had, each of them amused, intrigued, and not at all uncomfortable with the flirting. In fact, they seemed to be encouraging it.

Morticia leaned back, her fingers brushing over the arm of the chair as she regarded you with her usual grace. “You’ve become quite comfortable with us, haven’t you?”

You nodded, still trying to process how you’d gone from a playful joke to this heated, flirtatious atmosphere. “I guess I have,” you admitted softly.

“And do you enjoy it?” Morticia asked, her voice low, her gaze steady. “Being around us like this?”

The question felt loaded, her tone smooth and dangerous in the most enticing way. You could feel the weight of her words, the way she was pulling you deeper into something you hadn’t anticipated.

“I do,” you said, almost without thinking. “I like being here with you.”

Gomez grinned, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Then there’s no need for embarrassment! After all, in this family, passion and affection are freely given.”

Morticia’s smile was softer now, but no less intense. “You’ve shown us a side of yourself tonight, darling. A side we... quite like.”

Your heart raced as you met her gaze, unsure of what to say but knowing that whatever had just happened had changed something between you. There was no going back to shyness after this—no more hiding behind your quiet nature. You had flirted with fire, and now you were feeling its warmth.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to like it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8 got double posted 💀

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of the Addams mansion, casting long slashes of light over the dark wood floors. It was the kind of morning that felt oddly peaceful, a contrast to the mansion’s usual undercurrent of delightful strangeness. You had spent most of the morning in your usual quiet routine, helping Wednesday with her studies and occasionally trading dry commentary with her over the absurdities of school life.

But something was different today, something you couldn’t quite place. It was as though a quiet anticipation hung in the air, as if the house itself was waiting for something to happen. You had done your best to push it out of your mind, keeping your expression neutral and your demeanor calm, but your heart was pounding for reasons only you knew.

Because today, something new was going to arrive at the Addams mansion.

+-+-+-+-+ (I don't know how to separate chapters cuz I get lazy)

It had started with a feeling, one that you had tried to ignore for weeks but had become impossible to dismiss. Morticia and Gomez were a force of nature, their passion for each other an undeniable whirlwind of elegance and fire. But somewhere along the way, you had found yourself swept up in that storm. Not in the way they were with each other, but in a quiet, reverent way. You admired them, cared for them, felt something for them that went beyond the usual bond of friendship.

You weren’t bold enough to say it outright. Not like Gomez, who would proclaim his love for Morticia with grand, sweeping gestures. And certainly not like Morticia, whose every word and movement seemed to carry the weight of unspoken desire. No, you weren’t like them. But you could do something small, something quiet and secret, something that might speak to your feelings without drawing attention.

A letter. Anonymous, yes, but personal. It had taken you days to craft it, each word carefully chosen, every sentence wrapped in the kind of elegance you knew they would appreciate. You had poured your heart into it, knowing full well that it was a risk, but unable to stop yourself from doing it.

And now, somewhere in the mansion, that letter had found its way into their hands.

(which form of the Addams Family sagas do you like? I personally imagine Morticia and Gomez from the Addam Family Values when I write this, and for Wednesday I view her as the one from Wednesday.)

Gomez sat at the head of the long dining table, breakfast laid out in front of him, though his attention was clearly focused on something else entirely. A crisp, cream-colored envelope was in his hands, and the look on his face was one of pure delight. His eyes practically gleamed with excitement as he waved the letter in the air, calling out to Morticia, who was elegantly descending the grand staircase.

“Cara mia!” Gomez exclaimed, his voice rich with amusement and intrigue. “You must see this. A letter, and it's an anonymous letter! And I daresay, it’s one of the most delightful things I’ve ever read.”

Morticia’s dark eyes sparkled with curiosity as she reached the bottom of the stairs, gliding toward her husband with her usual grace. She took the letter from him, her slender fingers brushing his hand as she unfolded it, her gaze scanning the page with interest.

The moment she began reading, her lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, her voice as smooth as silk. “It seems we have a secret admirer.”

You watched from the doorway of the drawing room, trying to keep your expression neutral as your heart raced in your chest. You had planned every detail of this, how the letter would arrive, how it would be anonymous, how it would speak of gifts to come, but you hadn’t expected to witness their reaction. Seeing them together like this, reading your words... it felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Morticia’s voice broke the silence, her tone playful as she read aloud:

“‘To the most elegant of flowers in the night,
And her flame, ever burning bright...
This letter is but the first of many,
For admiration blooms here plenty.’”

Her eyes flicked up to Gomez, amusement dancing in her gaze. “It seems our mysterious courtier is quite the poet.”

Gomez let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his eyes shining with delight. “A poet, indeed! And with such a fine taste in words. But, oh, Tish, there’s more!”

Morticia’s smile deepened as she continued reading.

“‘A letter is but the beginning of my gifts,
For soon there will be more to lift
Your spirits high, with treasures rare,
For you, my muse, beyond compare.’”

Morticia’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile as she finished reading. “Mysterious gifts, hmm? This is becoming quite intriguing.”

Gomez leaned back in his chair, his grin wide and unabashed. “Ah, Tish! A secret admirer with such exquisite taste, how marvelous! It’s like something out of one of our favorite novels.”

Morticia folded the letter carefully, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper. “Indeed, darling. But the question remains... who is this admirer?”

You swallowed hard, hoping they wouldn’t look your way. You had taken care to leave no trace of your identity, but still, standing here, watching them read your words, it felt like you were dangerously close to being found out.

Gomez turned the letter over in his hands, as if inspecting it for clues. “No signature, no indication of who sent it... Whoever they are, they clearly wish to remain hidden.”

Morticia’s dark eyes flicked to the window, her gaze thoughtful. “Perhaps they wish to observe us from afar. A quiet courtship, shrouded in mystery.”

Gomez’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh, I do love a good mystery! Whoever this is, they know us well. And they’ve chosen the perfect way to capture our attention.”

You could feel your face warming as they spoke, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. The letter had been written in the hopes that it would delight them, yes, but now that they were discussing it so openly, you felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected. What if they discovered it was you? Would they laugh? Would they find it charming,or strange?

Before you could spiral further into your thoughts, Wednesday entered the room, her eyes immediately landing on the letter in Morticia’s hand. “You’ve received a letter,” she observed flatly. “From a secret admirer?”

Gomez nodded enthusiastically, holding the letter up for her to see. “Indeed! A poet, no less, with promises of future gifts!”

Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you briefly, then back to her parents. “How predictable. Someone enamored with you, too afraid to show their face.”

Morticia’s smile softened, though there was a playful edge to it. “Perhaps they simply wish to remain mysterious for a time, darling. After all, there is something... romantic about secrecy.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. “Or they’re a coward.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at that, and Wednesday’s eyes flicked to you again, just for a moment, as if she could sense something. But her expression remained neutral, and she said nothing more.

Morticia set the letter down on the table, her smile still lingering. “Whoever they are, they’ve gone to great lengths to craft something beautiful. And I, for one, am curious to see what these ‘gifts’ might be.”

Gomez clapped his hands together, his excitement barely contained. “Yes! Let the game begin! We shall await the next move of our mysterious suitor with great anticipation.”

You swallowed hard, feeling both exhilarated and nervous as you watched them, your secret still safe, for now. You had no intention of revealing yourself yet, not when the thrill of the mystery was so strong. There would be time for that later. For now, you would play the role of the anonymous courtier, watching from the shadows as the story unfolded.

As you turned to leave the room, your heart still pounding in your chest, Wednesday’s voice stopped you.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” she asked, her gaze fixed on you now. “A letter, with no name. Someone watching from the shadows.”

You froze, your throat tight. “Strange?” you echoed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I suppose.”

Wednesday’s dark eyes studied you for a moment longer, then she shrugged. “Maybe not.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the doorway, your secret still intact, at least for now.

(I have two lovely chapters tonight)

The days following the anonymous letter were filled with a quiet, bubbling anticipation. The Addams mansion, with all its dark elegance and gothic charm, had taken on a subtle energy, there was an air of mystery woven into the fabric of its halls. Morticia and Gomez, though always passionate and intrigued by life’s more unusual pleasures, seemed particularly attuned to the mystery of their anonymous admirer.

And you, though hiding behind the veil of secrecy, were more attuned to them than ever.

After the success of the letter, your mind had spun with the possibilities of what to give them next. A single letter wouldn’t be enough, not for Morticia and Gomez. You needed to give them something personal, something thoughtful, and most importantly, something that reflected your understanding of who they truly were. Each gift had to be perfect.

It had taken days of careful planning. Moving through the mansion unnoticed had been tricky, especially with Wednesday’s sharp eyes watching. But you’d managed it. The first two gifts were ready, and now it was time to leave them where they would be discovered.

The First Gift: For Morticia🤭

Late in the evening, when the house was at its quietest, you moved through the shadowy halls with the first gift in hand. It was delicate and beautiful, an object Morticia would no doubt appreciate. She had always had an eye for the refined and the macabre, and you had found something that fit her perfectly.

A rare, black orchid, its petals dark as night, encased in a delicate glass bell jar. The flower itself was almost otherworldly, with deep, velvety petals and a fragrance that was subtle but intoxicating. Black orchids were notoriously difficult to find, and even harder to maintain, but you had managed it. You knew that Morticia, with her love of gardening and the strange beauty of nature, would be captivated by it.

You placed the gift carefully on her vanity table in the master bedroom, ensuring it was positioned just so, with a small, handwritten note beside it:

“For the lady of the night, whose beauty rivals the rarest of flowers.”

You took a breath, heart pounding, and slipped out of the room just as silently as you had entered.

The Second Gift: For Gomez 😋

Gomez, with his boundless energy and penchant for passion, required something different. You had spent time watching him, seeing what brought out that gleam in his eye, that boyish excitement that seemed to bubble up whenever he found something truly thrilling. It hadn’t been hard to figure out what he loved most, aside from Morticia.

You knew that Gomez had an undying love for fencing and all things related to swordsmanship. His rapier was practically an extension of himself, and his love for fencing had always been something he took pride in. So, for Gomez, you had procured something unique: a set of antique fencing gloves, carefully restored to their former glory.

They were elegant and worn just enough to show their history, but still supple and ready for use. The leather was dark and smooth, stitched with intricate patterns in silver thread that shimmered faintly in the light. These gloves had belonged to a famed fencer from centuries past, a piece of history that Gomez would undoubtedly treasure.

You left the gloves in Gomez’s study, placed neatly on his desk beside his rapier, with a note tied to them:

“For the swordsman whose passion cuts deeper than any blade.”

As you placed the gloves down, you couldn’t help but smile. Gomez would love them.

(Can I just fuck them please)

The next morning arrived with an air of excitement. You made your way to breakfast, trying to appear as casual as possible despite the anxious energy building inside you. You had no idea what kind of reaction your gifts would provoke, but the anticipation of it was both thrilling and terrifying.

When you arrived in the dining room, Gomez and Morticia were already there, seated at the table. Gomez, always the first to speak, greeted you with his usual enthusiasm, though there was something more in his tone this morning.

“Ah, my friend! Just the person we wanted to see!” Gomez exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “It seems our mysterious admirer has outdone themselves!”

You blinked, keeping your expression neutral. “Really?”

Morticia’s eyes sparkled as she lifted her teacup, her smile slow and knowing. “Yes. This morning, we were each presented with... gifts. Very thoughtful, very personal gifts.”

She glanced at Gomez, and there was something unspoken in the way they exchanged looks, something that spoke to the depth of their connection.

Gomez leaned forward, practically beaming. “Tish received the most exquisite black orchid. It’s a flower that suits her perfectly, dark, beautiful, and rare.”

Morticia’s smile deepened, and she inclined her head slightly. “And Gomez, of course, received something equally fitting. A pair of fencing gloves, restored with such care. They’re stunning.”

Your heart raced in your chest, but you kept your face as calm as possible. “That sounds... incredible,” you said, carefully choosing your words. “It seems like your admirer really understands you both.”

Morticia’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than you expected, her dark eyes sharp but warm. “Indeed,” she said softly. “It seems they know us very well.”

Gomez clapped his hands together, clearly relishing the mystery. “But who could it be, Tish? An admirer, a romantic, someone with a flair for the dramatic! Ah, I love it!”

You smiled, relieved that your secret was still safe, at least for now. They were delighted, and that was all that mattered. You had taken a risk, and it had paid off.

But then, as you started to relax, Wednesday appeared in the doorway, her eyes immediately flicking between you, Morticia, and Gomez. She took a seat at the table, her expression neutral, but there was something in her gaze that made your stomach twist.

“I see the gifts arrived,” she said flatly, her tone giving away nothing. “They seem... appropriate.”

Gomez chuckled, clearly too caught up in his excitement to notice the tension in Wednesday’s voice. “Indeed they did! It’s a marvelous mystery, and I can’t wait to see what comes next.”

But Wednesday’s eyes lingered on you, just for a second too long, before she returned her attention to her breakfast.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let the nerves show. Did she know? Could she possibly suspect you? You had been so careful, so meticulous in your planning, but Wednesday was nothing if not observant.

For the rest of breakfast, you stayed quiet, letting Morticia and Gomez revel in their gifts while you did your best to remain unnoticed. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were slowly closing in on your secret. You had pulled off the first two gifts, but how long could you keep this going before someone
(particularly Wednesday) figured it out?

(Genuinely I outdid myself, kill me please, I just want to get to the yummyness.)

Chapter Text

The Addams mansion felt different the next few days, charged with anticipation. The gifts you had left for Morticia and Gomez had been a success. Both were delighted, intrigued, and perhaps even a little more enamored with their mysterious admirer. Yet, for all the excitement and fun of leaving secret gifts, there was one thing that weighed on you: Wednesday.

She had been watching you, and her sharp gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of secrecy you had worked so hard to maintain. You knew she was suspicious, and that alone made you nervous. But as much as you tried to act normal, Wednesday’s unspoken scrutiny felt like a tightening noose. Still, you pressed forward, there were more gifts to deliver, more pieces to add to this intricate game.

Late one night, when the house was bathed in moonlight, you sat in your room carefully preparing the next two gifts. You had spent days planning these new tokens, each one a reflection of what you had learned about Morticia and Gomez. The mystery was half the fun, but it was also an excuse to express how much they meant to you, even if you couldn’t say it out loud.

The first gift was for Morticia. You had found an antique silver hand mirror, the frame twisted into elegant, gothic patterns of roses and thorns. The mirror itself, though beautiful, held a secret, etched into the back was a faint, almost imperceptible engraving of a raven in flight, a subtle nod to her dark elegance. It wasn’t just an object of vanity, it was a reflection of her unique beauty and power.

For Gomez, you had something more personal, a handwritten letter from a famous fencing master you had tracked down for one of his rare collections. The letter spoke of passion for the art of swordsmanship, of the thrill of every duel, and it was written with the same fervor that Gomez himself seemed to embody. You knew he would appreciate not just the words, but the history and the soul behind them.

With the gifts ready, you waited for the right moment. The mansion was quiet, the usual whispers of the house’s creaks and groans echoing in the background. It was the perfect time to move unnoticed, at least, you hoped so.

The Gift for Morticia:

You slipped into Morticia’s personal parlor, where she often tended to her roses or sat in quiet contemplation. The room, with its rich, dark tones and subtle fragrance of decaying flowers, always felt like a reflection of her, elegant, mysterious, and quietly powerful. You carefully placed the mirror on her vanity, ensuring it caught the faint glow of the moonlight through the window.

Next to it, you left a small note:

“To the one whose beauty defies the light and thrives in the shadows, may you always see yourself as the world sees you: powerful, eternal.”

The Gift for Gomez:

The study was Gomez’s domain, filled with his eclectic collections and fencing memorabilia. You placed the carefully folded letter on his desk, setting it just beside his rapier, which gleamed under the dim light. As with Morticia’s gift, you added a note, though this one more personal:

“To the swordsman whose passion rivals the greatest of legends, may you always find the thrill in every duel, and never lose the fire that burns so brightly within you.”

The next morning, you found yourself sitting at breakfast with the family again. The usual conversation flowed easily, Gomez’s enthusiastic ramblings, Morticia’s calm grace, Pugsley’s occasional bursts of excitement, but your heart raced. You knew that at some point today, they would discover their new gifts, and with that discovery would come more questions. Would they grow suspicious? Or would they continue to delight in the mystery?

Gomez, as always, was the first to break the silence.

“Cara mia,” he began, his voice full of energy, “I must say, our admirer has excellent taste! Another gift arrived in the night, an antique mirror for you, Tish. Truly exquisite!”

Morticia smiled, her eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “Yes, it’s a beautiful piece. But it’s not just the mirror, darlin, ,it’s the thought behind it. There’s something... personal in the choice.”

Gomez’s grin widened. “Indeed! And I received a letter, a personal letter from a fencing master I’ve admired for years. It’s... almost uncanny how well this admirer knows us.”

You smiled to yourself, grateful that your gifts had once again been well received. But as you looked up, you caught Wednesday’s eyes watching you across the table. Her expression was as cold and unreadable as ever, but there was a sharpness in her gaze that made you uneasy.

“Uncanny,” Wednesday echoed, her voice calm but laced with suspicion. “Almost as if this ‘admirer’ isn’t as anonymous as they’d like us to believe.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you felt exposed. You had known she was suspicious, but hearing her say it aloud sent a wave of panic through you. Morticia and Gomez, however, seemed too caught up in the excitement of the gifts to notice the tension.

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, mon cher,” Gomez said, twirling his fork theatrically. “The mystery, the intrigue, it’s all part of the courtship! Whoever they are, they know how to keep us on our toes.”

Morticia’s smile deepened, and she glanced at Gomez with amusement. “Yes, darling. Though I must admit, I am curious to see how long they can keep up this charade.”

Wednesday’s gaze never left yours, her dark eyes calculating. “Yes,” she said softly. “How long indeed?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of nervous energy. You did your best to avoid drawing attention to yourself, but every time you crossed paths with Wednesday, her sharp gaze seemed to linger just a little too long. She hadn’t confronted you directly, but you knew she was getting closer to figuring it out. The game was growing more dangerous with every gift you left.

Later that evening, as the household settled into its usual routine, you found yourself in the drawing room, sitting alone by the fire. You stared into the flames, trying to calm the anxious thrum of your heartbeat. The gifts had been perfect—exactly what you wanted them to be—but Wednesday’s growing suspicion weighed heavily on your mind.

You didn’t hear her enter, but suddenly, there she was—Wednesday, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on you. The flickering firelight cast long shadows across her face, making her look even more intense than usual.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the silence thick and heavy between you. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice low and steady.

“You’re hiding something,” she said simply.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice calm. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. “You’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are.”

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For a long moment, Wednesday said nothing. Her dark eyes seemed to study you, weighing every word, every twitch of your face. Finally, she stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m watching you,” she said. “And I always figure things out.”

Without another word, she turned and left the room, leaving you alone with the crackling fire and the pounding of your own heartbeat.

The game was getting more dangerous, and Wednesday was on your scent.

(Bro why do I do this like if I wrote this normally it wouldn't be like this, cause I'd rather, and I'll stress on this for every fic I write, be informal, it's easier.)

The Addams mansion had always had a sense of the unusual, its halls filled with whispers, creaks, and the unseen shadows that lurked in every corner. But now, after the gifts you’d left for Morticia and Gomez, there was something else hanging in the air, a tension that hadn’t been there before. The excitement of the anonymous courtship was palpable, but it was tangled with something far more dangerous: suspicion.

Wednesday’s words from the night before still echoed in your mind. “I’m watching you.” It had been a warning, subtle but clear. She was getting closer to figuring it out, and though you had tried to stay calm, your nerves were beginning to fray. The game was growing more complicated. The thrill of leaving secret gifts had turned into something more, something darker. You had always known this was a risk, but now it felt like you were walking a tightrope, and Wednesday’s sharp gaze was the balance you couldn’t quite maintain.

The next morning, the mansion was quiet, the kind of silence that felt like the world was holding its breath. You tried to keep your routine normal, spending time with Wednesday in her usual cold but steady way. You went over her schoolwork, discussed the morbid curiosities of the day, and helped her with her current fascination, dissecting obscure mysteries from old books. But all the while, you could feel her watching you, her gaze cutting through every moment, as though she was waiting for you to slip up.

“Do you think it’s strange,” Wednesday began suddenly, her voice flat as she turned a page of the dusty book in front of her, “that our parents have received such thoughtful gifts... yet the admirer remains silent?”

You swallowed, trying not to let the nervous energy bubbling in your chest show. “I suppose that’s part of the mystery,” you replied, keeping your voice steady. “They want to remain hidden.”

Wednesday’s eyes flicked up from the book, pinning you with that familiar, unsettling stare. “Or maybe they’re hiding because they’re afraid of being caught.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly forced a chuckle, keeping your tone light. “It’s all part of the fun, isn’t it? The suspense?”

Wednesday’s lips twitched, just barely, into something resembling a smirk, but her eyes never softened. “Yes. Suspense.”

You could feel the weight of her gaze, the way she seemed to be probing your every word, your every reaction. It was unnerving, but you knew better than to show weakness in front of her. You had to keep playing the game, even though you were beginning to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

Later that day, Morticia and Gomez once again discovered the gifts you had left for them. You hadn’t been there when they found them, thankfully, but you overheard their conversation from the hallway.

“Darling,” Morticia’s voice was smooth, rich with appreciation, “our admirer has outdone themselves again. The new dress is simply stunning.”

“And the sword!” Gomez added, his voice filled with joy. “Oh, Tish, the passion in that sword, it’s like they knew exactly what I wanted.”

There was a pause, then Morticia spoke again, her tone softer, almost thoughtful. “It does seem as though they know us quite intimately.”

You heard the soft creak of her chair, as if she had leaned closer to Gomez. “Do you think it could be someone we already know?”

Gomez chuckled. “Perhaps. Though I must admit, I’ve enjoyed the anonymity. It makes everything feel so... dangerous.”

You stepped back, retreating from the doorway before they could sense your presence. As much as you wanted to hear more, the risk was too great. Wednesday was watching you, and the last thing you needed was to be caught lingering where you shouldn’t be.

The day passed slowly, every moment stretched thin by the tension that had settled over you like a second skin. You spent the afternoon keeping busy, helping Pugsley with his latest trap-building project and doing your best to stay out of Wednesday’s line of sight. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

And, of course, you were.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the mansion was once again bathed in shadows, you found yourself drawn to the library. It was one of the quieter places in the house, and tonight, you needed the solitude. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting long shadows across the shelves of dusty books and ancient artifacts. You sat in one of the large, leather chairs, staring into the flames, trying to gather your thoughts.

The gifts had been perfect, Morticia and Gomez were delighted. But the thrill you had once felt from leaving them was starting to twist into something darker. You couldn’t keep this up forever. Eventually, someone, likely Wednesday, would figure it out. And what then? Would they find it charming, or would they see it as an intrusion? A betrayal?

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Another quiet night alone?”

The voice sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and your eyes snapped open. There, standing in the doorway of the library, was Wednesday.

She moved silently across the room, her dark eyes fixed on you as she approached. She didn’t sit, but instead stood by the fireplace, her gaze never leaving yours.

“You’ve been... distant today,” she said, her voice calm but edged with something sharper.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just needed some time to think.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer without giving yourself away. “About... everything. The gifts, the mystery. It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. Then, finally, she spoke again, her voice low and deliberate.

“You know, I’ve been thinking too,” she said quietly. “About how these gifts, thoughtful, personal, seem to come from someone who knows our family well. Someone who has been watching, listening... observing.”

You felt your pulse quicken, and your mind scrambled to find a way out of the conversation. “I suppose it’s possible,” you said carefully, trying not to let your voice waver. “But anyone could admire your parents from afar. They’re... captivating.”

Wednesday’s gaze sharpened, and she took a step closer. “Yes. Captivating.”

The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Your heart raced, and for the first time, you felt truly trapped. There was no escaping her, but now she was too close, too focused. She had always been sharp, always known more than she let on, but now, it felt like she was circling you, waiting for the moment to strike.

But then, she stepped back, her expression softening just a fraction. “You’re not as careful as you think you are.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at her, your mind racing.

She knew.

But instead of pressing the issue, Wednesday turned toward the door, her hand resting on the frame as she looked back at you.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “I won’t tell.”

And with that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone by the fire with your heart pounding in your chest.

(please, I wanna edit the next one so bad, but then I won't have content for TMRW)

Chapter Text

I like to strain myself by making too many stories, I am not discontinuing this story, but it will be a little while for me to add another chapter, as I lost most of the content for the chapter that this was supposed to be.

I thank those who will be patient, my oneshots will still be updated, but keeping to a story is difficult sometimes.

I do have some of the content still and I'll be trying to post it today.

Thank you.

If you have an requests for this story, you can DM me here or on Discord.

- Inlovewithmadsmikklesen -

Thank you for being patient.

Chapter Text

Tonight, you would leave the final tokens of your affections. Gifts had been delivered before, discreetly placed in hidden nooks and crannies around the house. Tonight's offerings, one for Morticia, one for Gomez, were both different, yet each one accompanied by a poem written in your own hand.

You’d spent hours crafting each line, hoping to capture in verse what words often couldn’t express: your admiration, your yearning, your promise to cherish both Morticia’s ethereal beauty and Gomez’s fiery passion.

You slipped into the study, where Gomez kept his fencing foils and the memorabilia of a thousand duels. Among the assorted weapons and polished trophies, you placed the gift. Wrapped in dark green silk, it was a carved wolf statuette you had whittled yourself, each line carefully etched. You felt it captured a bit of your essence, wild, loyal, fiercely protective.

Next, you left a small scroll beside it, the paper tied with a black ribbon:

To Gomez,
Bearer of passion, of fire so wild,
In you, fierce love is both man and child.
To duel for a cause, to laugh in the face
Of all things morbid, you hold a lover’s grace.
My loyalty, my strength I give to you,
As a wolf stands guard through the midnight blue.

You imagined Gomez’s reaction, the way his eyes would twinkle with delight, the laughter he’d stifle as he read. And then you moved quietly to Morticia’s greenhouse, the air thick with the scent of lilies, roses, and orchids, each one a little darker than it should be, each somehow imbued with Morticia’s mystery. You placed a silver locket on the pedestal where she kept her favorite black roses.

A black ribbon tied your next note:

To Morticia,
A wraith in moonlight, an enigma rare,
Your shadowed beauty, beyond compare.
A kiss in the dark, a touch cold as bone,
And yet, with you, I am never alone.
To cherish you, to guard you in night’s veil,
My heart is yours, through every tale.

With a final glance at the locket, you felt a sense of satisfaction. The gifts were in place, awaiting discovery. You slipped back through the corridors, your senses heightened, as though the shadows themselves were watching, knowing that tonight, the Addamses would find the next pieces of your secret courting, a silent promise written under moonlight.

The faint glow of candlelight flickered down the corridor as you made your way back, heart still pounding from leaving the gifts. But as you rounded a corner, a figure stood waiting in the dim light, draped in elegance and mystery, Morticia.

Her lips curled in a knowing smile, and with a graceful tilt of her head, she stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Her eyes, dark as midnight, held yours with a predatory gleam.

"Ah, mon cher loup," she murmured, voice rich and soft. “Je t’attendais… Je savais que c'était toi, depuis le début.”
(Ah, my dear wolf... I’ve been waiting for you… I knew it was you, from the very beginning.)

Heat crept up your neck, and you felt your heart hammer in your chest as her words sank in. She had known, this whole time.

"Pourquoi es-tu si silencieux, hmm?" she continued, her gaze sliding over you with a teasing glint. “Ton silence… si charmant, si vulnérable.”
(Why are you so silent, hmm? Your silence… so charming, so vulnerable.)

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry as Morticia closed in, her perfume intoxicating. Her words wove a spell around you, drawing you in and holding you still.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed down the hall. Gomez strode toward you, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained enthusiasm, his smile widening as he took in the scene.

"Ah, cara mia," he practically purred, “speaking French? You know what that does to me!” He took her hand and kissed it with fervor, his gaze flashing to you with an intense appreciation.

“Mon amour,” Morticia replied, her voice a sultry whisper as she addressed Gomez, “notre ami ici a été si… galant, si dévoué.”
(My love, our friend here has been so... gallant, so devoted.)

Gomez’s eyes sparkled, and he looked at you with uncontained delight. "A wolf with a poet’s soul and a secret heart!" he declared, reaching to grasp your shoulder. “You must join us, mon ami! A soul so bold deserves its reward.”

Morticia’s laughter was soft and low as she leaned close, her hand lightly grazing your arm. “Après tout, un loup aussi loyal mérite toute notre… attention.”
(After all, a wolf so loyal deserves all of our… attention.)

As they each fixed you with a look that left no room for escape, you realized that you’d been caught in their web, exactly where you wanted to be.

Chapter Text

Morticia tilted her head, smile so graceful, as if her slow methodical movements were just as ready as a praying mantis'.

Gomez looked at you like candy, eyes flashing with a sense of lust and desire, unlike his lover he was quite more willing to show it so brashly. Show it out for the world to see.

A rush sent through you as you realized how close Morticia had gotten to you. It was as if she glided upon spiders. She smelled of dead roses, and decaying wood. Pleasant, and yet unpleasant. Decaying things always smelled sweet... Morticia wore those scents with pride.

She clasped her hands together before watching as Gomez practically lunged at you, hands grasping your wrists, in all reality, he looked more of a monster than you did long nights before.

Morticia gave a breathless chuckle... "Mon cher." She scolded. Gomez looked ready to ravish you on the spot. He turned his head, like a lost puppy.

"Surely you don't plan to take them on the floor?" She said softly. "That would be so unlike you..." She said, lust curling into her words. Her hand went to the back of his neck, pointer finger tickling the base.

He looked at her, guilty. "No, no... I would break them.." He shivered under her touch. Reverence in his eyes for her... but it did not deter or fall when he looked at you.

He scooped you up into his strong arms, taking you possibly to their bedroom. Gomez opened the door, and as soon as he closed it, and as soon as he put you down.

They were both without clothes in mere moments. You gasped in shock to see them so exposed. Morticia pushed a nail into Gomez's exposed back, releasing a drop of blood. Gomez growled and held himself above you. Back arching.

"Hermosa..." Gomez shivered under her touch, barely even staying above you.

He looked down at you. Seeing your shocked and aroused expression in your eyes. Gomez huffed. His cock was hard, leaking upon your clothed thigh... Morticia slid into bed next to you, her hands in your hair now. Intentions for Morticia were unkown, but soon they wouldn't matter as Gomez held your wrists above your head once more.

With his free hand, he grasped your shirt and ripped it off. Resulting in a cry. You were so aroused by these displays of lust. Body reacting to them with no more of a attempted thought.

Morticia hummed something tuneless while Gomez played with your belt. Gomez finished and slid your pants off, leaving you exposed to the greed in both the man and woman.

Gomez moaned and held your waist. Cock heavy and resting on your thigh. Morticia looked at it greedily.

They haven't said another word yet. Immaculately staring at you. Gomez groaned as slender fingers wrapped around his cock.. "Black rose..." Gomez shivered heavily and humped into Morticia's hand.

He groaned in disgrunted desire, Mortica gently teased him away, now she was the one in between your thighs.

She gave you a smile, which sent shivers throughout your spine. She gently ran her nail from your chest down to the base of your intimate area... grazing enough just to cut the skin.

You tried your best not to make a sound as she lowered her head. Gomez was whimpering, hand on his cock as he watched the scene play.

He looked like he was stoned...

Morticia licked with all the passion that she had for you. You squirmed. Gomez held you down. Geez... bond kink much.

You jumped when Morticia bit down, gushes of liquid coming from you now. She went back to licking.

Gomez whimpered, rubbing faster. He wouldnt cum, not that you knew that. He was practically trained in the art of cumming last. He grunted, smearing precum over his tip to lubricate it naturally.

He lowered his head to your arm, and bit hard, you bucked slightly, pain and pleasure jolting up your nerves. Gomez thrusted into his hand faster.

"Thats it mon Lupe..." Morticia whispered. "succomber aux trônes de la passion" Gomez moaned, shivering from her words.

(Succumb to the thrones of passion...)

"Trish.." he moaned into your arm fucking himself faster with his hand. Morticia held you down by placing a gentle hand on your stomach as your first orgasm ruptured through you.

She was skilled with her lips... you had to give her that.

Gomez groaned pulling his lips away. Blood staining his lips. He howled softly in pain when Morticia pulled his hair.

"Trish," he was practically drooling, your blood, and his saliva dripping from his lips. Morticia kissed him, tasting your blood for the first time. Gomez held her waist.

You were trying to recollect, but your brain was more fuzzy than you've ever felt. Gomez held Morticia above his cock groaning as he kept himself going from inside.

It was straining him not to take her right then and now. But he was a good boy... he whimpered and moaned as she kissed and nipped his neck.

So this was happening, you were really about to sit here and watch this go down. Not like you had a choice anyway, you were licked brainless.

Gomez huffed in and out, moaning in pleasure as Morticia lowered ontop of him.

" Joder, Trish... ¿no sabes lo que me estás haciendo?"

(Fuck, Trish, don't you know what you do to me?)

He whimper and started to move. Morticia only smiled, Gomez was always trapped in her web. She dug her nails into his back as he started to ravish her.

Morticia's moans were silent, yet louder than expected, if that even made sense. "Yes... Gomez..."

You had a slight feeling that she'd be screaming pretty soon... you weren't wrong. Gomez had... stamina... his hands were now holding the head board as he practically lift Morticia with just his torso.

You yelped in shock as you felt her warm back on your chest. What in... this was shockingly really hot, each thrust of Gomez's hips resulted in Morticia being shoved into you.

And you thought you were the animal.

Morticia moaned, screamed and thrashed under her husband. Gomez was muttering some incantation over and over again.

Gomez started to slow as Morticia had a mind shattering orgasm, her body shaking. He didnt stop though, fucking her through it.

Finally, he stilled, moaning softly. "Trish.." He rolled both him and Morticia off of you. Allowing you easier access to oxygen. Slowly, Morticia reluctantly pulled away.

Gomez seemingly looked more as if he had went out to a gym than fucking the mind out of his wife.

He was huffing, yes, but he seemed like if he waited a bit he'd probably be ready for another round.

Morticia got up and returned with a basin and cloth. Her first attention were yours and Gomez's wounds...

Now looking at Gomez's back, there were faint scars scattered around them, treated well enough that they were invisible almost.

The thought made you aroused again. They did this often. You gasped softly as she kissed your wound.

Gomez got up and got water for the three of you. Tenderly. Placing it on the nightstand.

They soon laid beside you and held you close. And if you felt Gomez's erection in the middle of the night.

There was no proof that you didnt wake him up to get fucked silently...

But Morticia knew everything, so it was pointless to attempt to hide your blushing face.

》The End...