Bal•ter
(v.) to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment.
In which Y/n Addams is adopted into a family of pure outcast, being an outcast herself.
What will she do when she ends up going to a school that her ado...
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Follow The Lead
Being let into the morgueby Thing. Wednesday was quick to her orders, "While I do the autopsy, you two find the file of the monster's other victims and make copies."
You headed to the office quickly as she spoke. "Don't pout, your scalpel skills are questionable." Wednesday tells Thing.
You pushed the door open and waited for Thing to come waltzing in. He crawls up the desk towards the printer and you begin to search through the cabinet of each file, grabbing them, you hand them to Thing. He places the paper on the copier you pressed buttons on. The both of you working fluidly. Repeating the same steps over and over again as if a broken symphony.
Though something stopped you both seeing the lights from a car. Thing looked through the blinds and was off towards the autopsy room. You neatly place the papers together, placing them under the file and placing them in a hidden spot. You rushed yourself out and hid yourself in one of the freezer, Wednesday closed the door before she went into her hiding spot.
It was dark and cold that it made you shiver. In a good way.
Moments had come to pass as you laid there with your own thoughts that circled back to a certain tortured artist. You've seen some of his works and how they've improved since he was ten years old. But your thoughts didn't stop there, they ventured further all the way to his physical appearances. Comparing him to his ten year old self, his hair longer, his eyes barely holding the same childish excitement, his height now surpassing yours. And his eyes... they made you want to fall into a vat of acid and drown in it. The way he spoke to you with such a tone, such a voice. Speaking of... his voice made you feel something. Moths filling up your stomach, fluttering. Though you barely acknowledge them everytime they appear. Refusing that you, yourself were falling for him. The only time you agreed with Wednesday, your emotion was making you weak.
Yet your thoughts could place a clear picture of him right before you. Standing there with the same smile that he always gave you, his eyes holding a kind of emotion in them but the one that you pictured was made of pure abortion. Pushing his hair over his ear as his mouth opened and closed saying sweet intoxicating words that you wanted to hear.
Blinking to yourself, you sat in silence. Is this how your parents were when they were in highschool? Was Morticia always thinking about Gomez like this? Was Gomez always thinking about Morticia like this? What of your biological parents? Were they ever in this sort of predicament? Fawning over someone in a span of a couple of months. Enticed with his scent that never left your mind. His scent... he always smelled like lavender and tangerines along with a woodsy smell.
Falling more into your own thoughts about the tortured artist, you barely noticed the door open and Thing walking besides your head. When you did noticed him he was tapping your temple. Turning towards him, you apologized, "Sorry I was thinking." You pushed the table out of the freezer and got out, pushing it back in.
