Sweet

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

"𝕋ℍ𝕀𝕊 magnificent piece is encrusted with rubies and fifteen emerald chips. It was donated by Morticia and Gomez Addams," the Judge announced, his voice echoing through the room. Margaret stood before the crowd at the charity auction, her fingers still caught in the finger trap, as she emphasized the charitable cause. "Remember, this year, over half our proceeds will benefit the elderly and the mentally disabled."

Morticia turned to Grandmama, who nodded approvingly, before taking her seat next to Wednesday, Lilith, and Pugsley. The Judge continued, "I'll open the bidding at five thousand dollars."

Gomez's laughter filled the room before he boldly declared, "Five... Not good enough. Twenty thousand dollars." Margaret, taken aback, questioned, "What are they doing?" Lilith chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement.

As the bidding escalated to fifty thousand dollars, Gomez and Morticia engaged in a playful exchange, with Gomez passionately kissing Morticia's arm. Wednesday, observing the scene, couldn't help but notice Lilith stifling her laughter. His own lips curled into a small smile before he turned his attention back to the auction. The Judge's voice cut through the room once more, "Fifty thousand, going once. Fifty thousand, going twice. Sold to Morticia Addams for fifty thousand dollars."

🥀

As the family rode back home in the car with Lurch at the wheel, Wednesday sat between his brother and Lilith, who had drifted off to sleep beside him. Knowing she hadn't rested well the previous night, he made sure not to disturb her. Gently, he leaned her head against his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her, shielding her from the cold. Across from him, their parents and Fester sat, the latter with his fingers still trapped in the finger trap. Morticia, with her usual grace, remarked, "Isn't it too enchanting?" Her smile radiated warmth as she addressed Fester's plight.

"How do you take it off?" Fester inquired, breaking the silence.

Morticia's attention shifted to the trapped fingers, and with her deft touch, she began to remove the trap. "There's a trick to it, of course," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. As she worked, Wednesday's dark eyes lingered on Fester, suspicion flickering in their depths.

As they arrived home, the familiar sound of Gomez's model train set greeted them. "How do you take it off? That's absurd," Gomez muttered to himself, lost in nostalgia. "That finger trap was a party favor at his tenth birthday!"

In Pugsley's room, Morticia sat with the children, reading to them as Wednesday held Lilith close beside him. The peaceful scene was interrupted by the distant sound of the train. "Oh, no," Morticia sighed.

Pugsley remarked, "Father's playing with his trains."

Gomez reminisced, his voice carrying through the house, "He wore that finger trap for two years! Mother had to teach him to eat with his feet. And the combination and the password and my cigar, and he slept so well!" "

He's using the diesel," Pugsley remarked as they listened to the sound of the train. Wednesday, instinctively playing with Lilith's hair as she slept on his lap, covered her ears to shield her from the noise, careful not to disturb her slumber. "Dead man's curve," Morticia added calmly, observing the miniature train set with a serene demeanor. Gomez laughed with delight as the trains whirred by. Wednesday, addressing his mother, remarked, "It's all about Uncle Fester, isn't it?" Morticia's gaze shifted to the water tube, where Fester was sliding down. Narrowing her eyes, she muttered, "Spirits above me, give me a sign. Shall I be joyous or shall I be damned?"

Suddenly, the two trains collided, causing the house to shake with the impact.

As Wednesday carried Lilith to her room, he moved with a silent grace, his steps barely making a sound on the plush carpet. He carefully tucked her into bed, adjusting the covers around her sleeping form. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Lilith appeared almost angelic, her troubled expression smoothed away in slumber. Turning away from the window where his mother conversed with Fester in the graveyard, Wednesday's attention was drawn back to the sleeping girl. He watched her for a moment, his mind filled with questions about the pain she carried with her, the weight of her sorrows evident even in her sleep. What could have caused such anguish in her young life?

With gentle fingers, Wednesday reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, careful not to disturb her rest. As he gazed upon her peaceful countenance, a surge of tenderness welled up within him, a desire to protect her from whatever darkness had haunted her past.

Leaning closer, he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips, a gesture of solace and compassion. As he did so, he felt a warmth spread through him, as if some invisible bond had formed between them in that fleeting moment.

Reluctantly pulling away, Wednesday silently retreated to the door, casting one last glance back at Lilith as the moonlight bathed her in its ethereal glow. With a quiet sigh, he closed the door behind him, leaving her to her dreams as he made his way to his own room, the events of the evening lingering in his thoughts.

🥀

As the sun bathed the room in its golden light the next morning, Wednesday found himself bound to a chair, his brother Pugsley standing guard. Fester paced back and forth, his voice tense as he spoke into the phone, "They're on to me, Mother. I'm almost sure. Of course, I tried. I still can't find it." Pugsley approached Fester, presenting two jars of deadly substances. "Arsenic, cyanide. Cyanide, arsenic. Arsenic, arsenic," Fester muttered, pondering his choice. Eventually, he picked  the arsenic bottle, and Pugsley returned to his post beside Wednesday.

"Don't say that. You know I do," Fester continued into the phone, his tone fraught with urgency.

Later, in the kitchen, Lurch and Thing were busy preparing a meal. Wednesday passed by, a knife in hand. Meanwhile, Morticia conversed with Grandmama at the table, where Lilith was engrossed in her drawings. "His trains are everywhere. The children are beside themselves," Morticia remarked to Grandmama before spotting Wednesday with the knife, she reached out for it, but then reconsidered, "Is that for your brother?" Wednesday nodded while holding the kitchen knife.

"I don't think so," Morticia declared, offering him a larger knife instead. Wednesday accepted it, but before he continued on his way, he paused, his gaze lingering on Lilith. With a surprising tenderness, he reached out and gently cupped her face, causing her to look up at him in surprise and flustered.

As he traced the corner of her lips where he had kissed her last night, Lilith felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks, her heart fluttering in her chest. With a soft smile, Wednesday turned away, leaving Lilith in a daze as she returned to her drawings, her mind swirling with confusion and a hint of excitement. Observing the scene, Morticia couldn't help but grin before turning back to Grandmama, seeking her advice. "This can't go on. How can I help him? Tell me, Mama," she implored. Grandmama, ever wise, opened her large book and began to search for answers, muttering, "'Troubled husbands.'"

"'Adultery'?"

"Oh, no."

"'Financial, money troubles?"

"No."

"Turned into toad or reptile."

"Is there an index?"

🥀

Fester sat in his room, frustration etched on his face, as Mrs. Craven leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. "They know I'm a fraud, the whole bunch," Fester confessed, his tone filled with defeat. "It's not going to work." Mrs. Craven dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. "Who knows? Gomez, that overheated moron?" she scoffed, her disdain evident. Fester turned to face her, his expression serious. "He's no moron. He's Fester's brother. They had some awful fight years ago. He's suspicious, they all are, I can tell."

Mrs. Craven approached him, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Really? Well, thank God I came over here. However, what about Lilith, that freak, do they suspect her? Has she said anything?" she inquired, her tone sharp with concern.

Fester shook his head adamantly. "Nothing," he confirmed, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Mrs. Craven's eyes gleamed with determination as she leaned in closer. "Good, Gordon, whatever you do, keep that girl's mouth shut. I still think she lied about not hearing our plan," she urged, her words laced with urgency.

Fester's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he questioned, seeking clarity. Mrs. Craven straightened up, adopting a faux accent as she spoke with chilling conviction. "Anything, make her trauma worse, anything," she commanded, her voice dripping with malice. With a final reminder of her supposed credentials, Mrs. Craven emphasized her resolve. "I will counsel the troubled family, ease their distress. It's my calling. Remember, Gordon?" she declared, her words ringing with ominous intent. Fester's eyes widened in realization as he processed her directive. "I'm a doctor," she stated, her accent becoming stronger as she fixed him with a steely gaze.

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

I hope you have enjoyed it and have a fabulous day today <3