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uraveragelonelysapphic · 14 days ago

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Lavender

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending!), mentions of vomiting and blood.

a/n: Hello hello! This is perhaps definitely ass, but I really wanted to write for these two because I'm hopelessly in love with them both. Please enjoy!

Hanahaki Disease 花吐き病 (Japanese) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

The natural world had always brought you peace. The softness of the grass under your feet, the gentle breeze blowing against your skin, the tender feeling of a flower blooming by your hand. You were a green witch, after all.

That was what had driven your family away. You had been 12 when you first sprouted a lily from your hand. You were more curious than scared; you had always sensed there was something that separated you from the rest of your family. Something about the earth’s treasures had always called to you.

But even at your young age, you knew who you were living with. Sharing your abilities was a recipe for disaster; a sure fire way to have you outcast from your family.

So you did your best to keep your powers a secret, honing them in private, away from the watchful eye of your parents.

When you were 20, the inevitable happened. You were meant to be collecting berries for dinner when you had spotted a Willow Tree. It was worse for wear; you could feel it pleading for help as you approached it with a soft smile.

“It’s alright,” you soothed the tree as you gently placed your palms against the soil where its roots rested, “You’ll be alright.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on strengthening the roots as green magic pulsed out from your hands, through the soil, and into the tree itself, which began to heal instantly.

The snapping of a twig broke you out from your trance, turning your head to see your mother fleeing the scene. Your heart dropped as you quickly stood, moving to follow her.

She was too fast. By the time you had returned to your cabin, everyone and everything was gone. Your entire family had left you.

You fell to your knees in the middle of what was once your home, tears rolling down your face as you stared at the ground. Numb, broken, grieving.

You don’t know how long you stayed in that spot. You didn’t eat, you didn’t sleep, you just sat, staring, longing.

It wasn’t until a cold hand lifted your chin that you realized you weren’t alone anymore.

“Hello, darling,” a voice said softly, and you locked eyes with one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. Her brown eyes were intoxicating, drawing you in. You tilted your head at her in confusion and intrigue. Who was she? What was she doing here?

“You’ve been sat here for a week, darling. No food, no water, no sleep. You’ll kill yourself if you keep up like this,” she said as she looked at you curiously.

Your eyes widened in realization. Death.

She shook her head at you gently, sensing your fear. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not taking you. It’s not your time,” she said, stroking your hair gently.

“Thank you, Lady Death,” you stuttered out, in awe of her soft nature, directly contrasting the connotation of her very existence.

She smiled at you in response. “You can call me Rio, sweet girl.”

There was a moment where you two merely looked at one another before she looked away, taking on a rather stern expression. “But I feel the need to tell you, sitting here and mourning your abandonment will only hurt you. It’s not your time. So don’t let it be. Get up, you’re coming with me.”

You stumble away from her in confusion. “I thought you weren’t taking me?”

She shook her head. “I’m not taking you to the afterlife. I am, however, taking you in. You’ll be staying with Agatha and I.”

You knew that name. You had read about it during your private studies.

“Agatha? Like…’The Witch Killer’ Agatha? That Agatha?” you asked cautiously.

Rio cackled, extending her hand to you.

You took it.

And so began the years you spent with Death and her lover, Agatha Harkness. The two women were vastly different to their reputations that had preceded them. Sure, they both had a fierceness to them. They had to, in order to survive their daily lives filled with corpses and taking souls.

But, with each other, they held such a softness. Rio often came back from a long day exhausted and drained. Death didn’t tend to be a fan favorite, and people made it evident, shouting at her and berating her as she escorted the souls of their loved ones to the afterlife. But Agatha greeted her at the door each evening with a hug, simply holding her for minutes on end, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as Rio visibly relaxed into her hold.

And Rio returned the favor, treating Agatha with a love full of tenderness and warmth. Comforting her after each nightmare, preventing her from overworking herself, giving her soft apology kisses after any arguments.

Before long, you knew almost everything about the pair. You learned about Agatha and her son, and his loss which nearly tore Agatha and Rio apart. How Agatha was only a ‘Witch Killer’ to keep Nicky alive as long as she could. How Rio held such anguish and guilt at having to take Nicky’s soul. How Agatha once held it against her but now loved her as fiercely as ever.

The two were made for each other, and though they welcomed you with a similar softness to that which they showed each other, you chalked it up to them taking pity on a girl who was abandoned by her family. You knew they could never love you like they loved each other.

But that didn’t stop you from falling for them. It happened subconsciously; you never meant for it to happen. But when your heart panged in longing at seeing Agatha and Rio curled up in each other’s arms in the living room, you knew it had happened. It panged even further as you looked down, noticing a red carnation that had bloomed in your palm against your will.

You were determined to ignore it. Surely you could enjoy their presence without focusing on the way your stomach flipped when Rio smiled at you, or how your heart seemed to triple in size whenever Agatha would stroke your hair in affectionate greeting. But what you had to do became evident one morning.

“We’re headed out for a bit, doll,” Agatha said as you sat at the table eating the breakfast she had made for you.

You nodded. “Okay! Don’t stay out too late, I’m making your favorite for dinner, Ags.”

She beamed at you, making butterflies flare up in your stomach so violently they made you uneasy. “You’re a gem. Isn’t she just?” She turned to Rio, squeezing her hand gently.

“Oh, yeah, she’s the sweetest,” Rio replied, winking at you as you feel your heart beat faster.

The two bid you a final farewell before leaving for the day. As soon as they left, you began to feel an uncomfortable itch in your throat. You furrowed your brows, attempting to clear your throat to ease the discomfort, but to no avail. Eventually you began coughing. It was a cough that made you feel sick, made you feel like something was really wrong.

And when you coughed into your palm and saw the petals of daffodils, your suspicions were confirmed.

You had heard of Hanahaki disease but had always believed it to be a myth. Your heart dropped at the realization that your love for these women was going to kill you.

You had to leave.

So you did. You packed up that day and left, traveling solo for centuries as you studied the disease you suffered from.

Luckily, it impacted witches differently than humans. As your lifespan tended to be a lot longer, the disease was longer lasting; escalating at a slower pace before killing you altogether.

For the first hundred years, it had mostly been a consistent burning in your throat and coughing up various flower petals. Miserable, but bearable nonetheless.

After those hundred years, it began to escalate at a quicker pace as the flowers bloomed quicker and sharper. After 200 years of this disease, you were weaker than ever before. Coughing constantly, a never ending sensation of your insides burning, vomiting flower petals and blood.

Yes, there was the option of surgery, but you couldn’t bring yourself to allow that option to become a reality. You didn’t want to forget the love you held for Rio and Agatha. They had shown you kindness and softness like none other. You would die before you let yourself remove the memory of them from your very soul.

And you were getting close. You knew your time was running out.

And so, after another long day of slowly dying, you stared up at the sky, longing for your loves, even though you knew it could never be.

It was then that you felt yourself being sucked into the ground beneath you, and you let out a yelp at the shock.

Before you knew it, you were clawing your way out of the ground, now in a completely unfamiliar place. You were on a path in a strange, dystopian-looking forest. You could feel the magic buzzing around you as you pulled yourself up from the ground.

“Who is that?”

“I thought we already got a green witch?”

You heard a gasp and looked up to meet a pair of blue eyes you had longed for night after night for the past 200 years.

“Agatha,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes before you could stop them.

A familiar voice said your name and you shuddered at the sound.

“Rio.”

The two women stared at you and you stared back, unsure of what to say.

“So, are you gonna introduce us to the new girl, or…” a witch in a pink dress asked and you broke your intense stare-down to introduce yourself by name to the coven of witches.

“I’m a green witch,” you explained.

“We’ve already got one,” a teenage boy said, pointing at Rio awkwardly.

You knew well and good that Rio wasn’t here as a green witch, she was here on work business, but you didn’t want to blow what seemed to be a cover, and you also didn’t have a damn clue where you were, so you played along.

“Well, you know summoning spells, you never know how many you’re gonna get…” you tried cautiously, still feeling the gaze of your former housemates burning into the side of your head.

“Y/N, a word?” Agatha finally asked, and you gulp before nodding and following her and Rio to a secluded part of the forest.

“Hey guys…what’s up?” you asked with an awkward smile, trying to ease the tension.

Rio narrowed her eyes at you, crossing her arms. “What’s up is that you up and left 200 years ago without so much as a word to either of us. Care to explain?”

You tried to look to Agatha for support, but she wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your stomach turned at the thought that you had upset these women you loved so deeply.

You took a deep breath, staring at the ground. “I had some business to attend to. I didn’t want either of you to get wrapped up in it.”

“Was your business ‘killing yourself?’ You look rough,” Rio said, a teasing smirk hiding her worry.

“Thanks,” you rolled your eyes, some tension releasing from your shoulders at the knowledge that Rio wasn’t angry enough to ignore you.

“You left without so much as saying goodbye,” Agatha said quietly. She sounded so hurt, and you couldn’t believe you had brought this on the pair, but you knew they deserved to love each other in peace, not be burdened at being the cause of your death.

“Ags, I’m really sorry, I should’ve said goodbye, I just-“ you were cut off as a violent coughing fit shook you, causing both women to raise their eyebrows at you.

You turned away from them as you coughed a plumeria flower out of your throat. You quickly slipped the flower into your pocket and wiped a bit of blood from the corner of your mouth before turning to face the two witches again.

The eyes on you were soft and concerned, but you shook your head at them, shutting down their questions before they even asked. “I’m fine, just a cough.”

Rio opened her mouth to protest when a witch sporting orange streaks in her hair interrupted.

“I’m sorry to get in the middle of whatever this reunion is, but I think it’s time for our next trial.”

You furrowed your brows. “Trial?” You began to realize that you had no idea where you actually were.

“Duh, we are on the Witches Road, after all!” The teenage boy exclaimed, leaving you even more confused.

The road isn’t real. You knew all about the song that Agatha had used to lure her victims in.

“Wait, but-“ you stopped yourself from questioning any further when you saw Rio subtly shake her head at you, a silent plea to not reveal the truth of the road to the group.

You nodded in understanding, deciding to save your questions for later. “Alright, where’s the next trial?”

You looked up to see the group staring at something behind you. Agatha and Rio were particularly fascinated by it.

You turned around and your stomach dropped. You saw a cottage. It’s covered in vines and moss, making it appear worn down. But you thought it was beautiful. Perhaps that’s because it was yours. And Agatha’s. and Rio’s.

You looked at the path leading to the cottage. It was covered in flowers. You took a deep breath.

You just got here and already you were being given a trial.

As you and the rest of the coven approached the cottage, you couldn’t help but turn to the women you desire the most for comfort.

Rio had an arm wrapped around Agatha’s waist, her thumb gently stroking the witch’s hip bone. Agatha looked up at her, smiling in gratitude, and Rio pressed a soft kiss to Agatha’s forehead.

Your stomach churned at the sight, and you felt bile rising in your throat. You painfully swallowed it back down, cringing at the effect it had on your throat, already raw from the thorns slowly tearing it to shreds.

“You good?” The witch in the pink dress asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the cottage looked just like you thought it would.

Home.

The same furniture, same pillows and blankets, same decor on the walls.

Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered all the time you had spent here with the women you loved more than anything.

“Doll,” a gentle voice said, and you turned to see Agatha looking at you softly. She approached you slowly, holding a hand out for you, but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your face and continuing to move through the house.

“This is new,” you heard Rio’s voice from the room resembling your bedroom.

You entered and were greeted with a tapestry on your wall. It showed 5 flowers. Below the woven flowers was a message:

The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke. For if they never cared, a life cannot be spared.

“It’s my life,” you breathed out, staring in horror at the plants on the tapestry.

Rio nodded, running her fingers along the tapestry as she identified the plants.

“Lily. Rebirth,” she began.

“The birth of your powers, the birth of you as a witch,” Agatha identified.

“Willow Tree. Loss.”

“The loss of your kin. Being abandoned by those you called family,” Agatha continued.

“Red Carnations. Deep, affectionate love.”

Agatha went silent at this, her brows furrowing.

“Daffodil. Unrequited love.”

Rio and Agatha were visibly shaken by this point. What hadn’t you told them? You were in love? With who?

Rio snapped her head to look at you upon seeing the last flower.

“Plumeria,” she said grimly.

Agatha’s eyes were wide. “What does that mean?”

Rio only continued to look at you.

“Rio, what does that mean???”

Her question was answered as you began to cough violently again, the sheer force of it bringing you to your knees.

Agatha rushed over to you in a panic. She looked at the rest of the coven in terror. “What’s happening to her?” she cried as you began to choke.

“The words she never spoke will slowly begin to choke,” the teenager said.

“Hanahaki disease,” the witch in pink breathed out.

“What the hell is that?” Agatha was crying now, watching as petals and thorns made their way out of your mouth covered in blood.

“A disease that affects someone facing unrequited love,” Rio said in realization.

As she put the pieces together she knelt in front of you in an instant, anger coursing through her.

“You left because of this,” she said, her voice low, “You thought we didn’t love you, so you left?” she asked incredulously.

“Didn’t want—you to—-see me die,” you gasped out, fighting for air as you began to cough up more and more blood.

“You’re not dying, Y/N. I won’t take you,” Rio choked out, her sorrow getting the best of her.

“Better this way,” you managed, and Agatha choked out a sob.

“It’s not, doll, we love you, we love you,” she cried helplessly.

The whole coven stood in shock. The two women they feared the most were in the most pain they had seen since they began to walk the road.

Both women hold you tight, desperately trying to convince you of their love.

Rio grabbed your face to look at her. “There’s a reason I took you in that day, mi vida,” she whispered as tears fell down her face, “I felt pulled to you. I knew you would be special to me. Aggie and I love you so much, please believe me.”

She leaned in and pressed her lips to yours, ignoring the blood and petals and thorns and focusing on you. Just you.

When she pulled away you gasped, finally able to gather air into your lungs.

Relief was visible throughout the entire coven. They had only just met you, but seeing how your existence being threatened had brought absolute devastation to two of the most intimidating women on earth had shaken them.

As you began to breathe again, you sagged against Agatha.

“You’re okay, doll, you’re okay now,” she assured you as she gently ran a hand through your hair.

The door to the cottage slammed open, and the rest of the coven took it as their cue to leave, giving you three a moment to recover.

As you laid against Agatha, you looked at Rio with tired eyes. “Sorry for getting blood on you,” you rasped, causing the woman to roll her eyes at you.

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” She scolded before taking both of your hands in hers. “I. Love. You.”

Tears filled your eyes at her earnest confession. “I’m so sorry I ran,” you began, your body shaking, “I saw the love you had for each other, and how much you had healed each other, and I couldn’t hurt that. I didn’t want you to see me die. It wouldn’t have been your fault,” you said brokenly.

Agatha shushed you, kissing the top of your head. “You shouldn’t have run. It would’ve saved us all 200 years of agony,” she said, and you hang your head in guilt.

But then you felt a cold hand lifting your chin. And suddenly you were 20 years old again, looking into the eyes of Lady Death herself.

But this time, instead of looking at you with curiosity, she looked at you with something much stronger. She looked at you with love.

“But we’ve got you back now,” she said, smiling tearfully at you, “so we’re taking you in. Is that okay?”

Your body wracked with sobs as you nodded, and both women were holding you in an instant. Your back was against Agatha’s front as her arms wrapped around your waist. Rio straddled you, her arms wrapping around your neck as she pulled you close.

And out of the cracked wooden floor of that cottage, something bloomed.

Lavender. Healing. Love.

#agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #agathario x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 4 months ago

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Astro Notes : Short N Sweet - The power lilith holds <3

Lilith in the 1st - Very strong personalities. Gifted in using the eyes to seduce others. Magnetic. Can fight the demons off of you so please be weary of getting to close if you don't want them to see what hides beneath the surface. There angelic, believe it or not. They're not here to see the world as you see it, they have a taboo personality, yes, but its also because they must learn how to live for themselves and not for anyone else.

Lilith in the 2nd - Cash cow. Can basically get any man to give them what they want. They have to be comfortable in getting under peoples skin, because they can trigger people with how they talk. Insensitive? Not exactly. Just doesn't budge and cares to be 'nice'.

Lilith in the 3rd - Creative freaks. Can use the mind in a million ways, but they still seek out one thing that works for them as they are very passionate people and whatever keeps their attention the most they'll go at it forever. They are use to the attention from people since primary school. So they like to hide a lot. They have a weird mind and they don't care to share it with too many people. If they ever considered writing, they could make some pretty interesting stuff. Sibling rivalries are a thing here.

Lilith in the 4th - Tumulous relationships with family & friends. It's because they're the outcast of the group. I mean, they know a lot and they can't stand for nothing but the truth. But sometimes the truth kills, even when they don't mean for it to be. Can be a hard knock life but they make it worth something. They're no angel, just the universe in the flesh. <3

Lilith in the 5th - Captivating presence. Lovely auras, and amazing bodies. Could be good at dancing. Could be a lil promiscuous. Could be a little dangerous. You never know. Secretive/private about their affairs.. But the stories they have I promise you its like reading a novel. Naturally sensual & can't get enough of them, even if you tried ;)

Lilith in the 6th - Goes hard for groups that aren't seen enough. Can have jealous coworkers or people who want to annoy them and get them out of character. Could also have sensual experiences with co workers. Demands compensation. Could be extremely well liked or hated no in between.

Lilith in the 7th - Spicy individuals. People love to hate them. Could have bisexual allegations from time to time. Most people like to be around them but despise them after a while. Sweet as a pie though, most people allow the rumors to get to them but usually these people are naturally sweet and empathetic. Popular loners.

Lilith in the 8th - Strong personalities. Capable of seeing beyond the veil. Has issues with society due to their daring nature but they do come out ready and swinging. Hypnotic presence. Can heal as much as they can poison, so be careful wit em ;)

Lilith in the 9th - Very beautiful spirits who are the epitome of being carefree. The universe takes them wherever their hearts want to go, and the journey is always something that last a life time. Being connected to someone with this placement could give you the feelings of something amazing. Always hold their hand tight because once their gone its over.

Lilith in the 10th - Dreamy auras. Have a knack for the public and the audience can feel their raw energy. Have haters from all area codes, this just makes them more confident. They know how to appease society well, and they can take on roles that others are too afraid to. This is great placement for lilith to be in.

Lilith in the 11th - Could had to fight to keep their self esteem in check. Due to being outcasted alot, they could of been the scapegoat for a lot of reasons that didn't pertain to them much. With time, they learn to accept that their energy isn't for anyone, and that their value is more than what you can define it. Helpful sweethearts who just wants to be around community that gets them.

Lilith in the 12th - The dream world is a nightmare. My apologies to y'all cause I'm suppose to start it off a little sweet. But this is placement of a witch/warlock. You guys have many gifts that go past the ordinary. And you more than likely come up with some ish down the line. There is a time where you will undergo a lot of spiritual refinement to keep your head going. Don't be afraid of what shows up, it might teach you something!

#im so sorry to lilith in the 12th #astrology thoughts #astrology theories #thoughts #love #astrology #astrology observations #tropical astrology #astro observations #spirituality #astro knowledge #short n sweet

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paxtito · 16 days ago

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fire and the thud.

pairings: wednesday x fem!reader

word count: 7683

warnings: smut, 18+. knives, grave digging, swearing, wednesday almost kills someone, fingering, kissing, lesbian sex (all characters are 18+)

summary: your mother, larissa, was good friends with morticia back in their days at nevermore. when you and wednesday were born, you were practically attached to the hip. but, your father wanted you to live with him for a while, leaving you and wednesday without contact until now. you’d come back from visiting your father in england to find that wednesday had been enrolled at nevermore.

a/n: this fanfic has really been through some shit, changed the title and outcome so many times but i’ve finally settled on this. apologies in advance for any errors and also the length

MASTERLIST

The heavy oak doors of Nevermore creak as you push them open, the familiar scent of old wood and faint lavender filling your senses. The school looks almost exactly the same as when you left it—high arches, dark stone corridors, the peculiar, warm-yet-foreboding atmosphere that clings to every corner. You never expected to be back so soon, certainly not so suddenly, but here you are. And it feels strange, like returning to some half-forgotten dream.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, peering around the entrance hall. Somewhere above, the great clock ticks in its steady, methodical rhythm, echoing faintly down the halls. You’re looking for your mom, the Headmistress herself, but she’s nowhere in sight just yet. You smirk a little, wondering if she’s busy welcoming another batch of outcasts to her beloved school, as she likes to call them.

Then you hear footsteps, a soft, deliberate sound against the stone floor, and look up—freezing for just a second as your gaze lands on her.

Wednesday stands there, her face as pale and expressionless as ever, eyes watching you with an intensity you remember all too well. She hasn’t changed one bit, from the dark braids draped over her shoulders to the sharp, calculating gaze that seems to see right through you. She’s grown older, of course, taller maybe, but she’s exactly as you remember.

And you’d know her anywhere. After all, you practically grew up together—your mother, Larissa, and Morticia Addams were ‘best friends’ back in their Nevermore days. Some might say the two were as different as night and day, yet there was always a bond there, something that brought them back to each other despite the odds. And that bond, somehow, extended to you and Wednesday, two kids who had little choice but to spend time together while their mothers reconnected over tea and half-whispered memories of the past.

You take a hesitant step forward, feeling a strange swirl of nostalgia and nerves rise in your chest. “Wednesday?”

She tilts her head, her dark eyes assessing you coolly. “Back from England already?” Her voice is calm, as if no time has passed at all, like she’s still the same stoic, blunt child you remember.

“Surprise,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is pounding.

There’s a moment of silence, charged with the weight of all the years you’ve been apart, and yet, something about it feels natural, like slipping back into an old habit.

“You look… different,” she says finally, her gaze sharp as ever as she sizes you up. “Taller.”

“So do you,” you reply, then add with a faint grin, “Except the taller part.”

She narrows her eyes at you in a way that only Wednesday could, but it’s almost… fond. “If I remember correctly, I was always the smarter one. Height is irrelevant.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t improved,” you shoot back, grinning. It’s strange how quickly the old rhythm returns between you both, the teasing, the barbs exchanged without any real bite. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

Wednesday raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Your sense of humor has certainly deteriorated during your time abroad."

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe I just needed to be back among the living dead to rediscover it."

She snorts softly, the sound oddly endearing coming from her usually stoic demeanor. "I suppose being back at Nevermore will do that to a person."

As you stand there trading barbs, you can't help but let your gaze wander over her. She's still as pale as ever, her dark hair braided tightly against her skull. But there's a new edge to her, a sharpness that wasn't there before. It's in the set of her jaw, the way she holds herself with a quiet confidence that demands attention without saying a word.

"So," you say, breaking the silence that has fallen between you. "What have you been up to since I left? Still perfecting your taxidermy skills?"

A ghost of a smile flits across her lips. "Among other things. But some secrets are best kept buried."

You can't help but laugh at that. "Fair enough. I suppose I've got a few of my own to keep under wraps."

She tilts her head, studying you with those dark, penetrating eyes. "I'm sure you do. Though I must admit, I'm curious to hear about your adventures in the land of the living."

You shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Not much to tell, really. Just your standard boring English school life.”

She arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Somehow, I doubt that."

You sigh dramatically. "Fine, you got me. It wasn't all bad. Made some friends, learned a few things. But nothing compared to the excitement of Nevermore."

A genuine smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I'm glad to hear it. It would be a shame if you'd gone soft during your time away."

—

A few days have passed since your sudden return to Nevermore, and you're still adjusting to the odd juxtaposition of the familiar and the foreign. The school itself hasn't changed much, but you're older now, seeing it through different eyes. And then there's Wednesday, who seems to be everywhere you turn, her dark eyes following you like a specter.

It's late afternoon, and you're wandering through the grounds, trying to clear your head after a particularly dull history lecture. The air is crisp, the leaves crunching under your feet as you make your way towards an old oak tree.

As you approach, you see a figure already seated against the trunk, long legs stretched out, head bent over a book. Even from a distance, you recognize the shock of dark hair, the pale skin. Wednesday looks up as you draw near, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your approach.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, settling yourself onto the ground beside her.

She doesn't move, just continues to stare at you, her gaze unreadable. "Did you?"

You shrug, plucking a leaf from the ground and twirling it between your fingers. "Call it intuition."

She watches the leaf spin for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about that day. The day you left."

You freeze, the leaf falling forgotten to the ground. You've tried not to think about that day too much, the way it felt to leave Wednesday behind, to step into a world that didn't understand you the way she did.

"Yeah?" you say, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

She nods, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I remember standing at the window of my room, watching your car disappear into the distance. I remember thinking that I wouldn't see you again."

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. "And now here I am."

She turns to look at you then, her gaze intense. "Yes, here you are. But you're different. Older. Changed."

She falls silent then, her eyes drifting back to the distant horizon. You can see the tension in her jaw, the way her hands clench around the book in her lap. It's clear that whatever she's thinking, it's weighing on her.

Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady. "I know we haven't spoken much since you returned. But I want you to know that... I'm glad you're back, Y/N."

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process them. Wednesday isn't exactly known for her emotional outpourings, and hearing her say those words feels... significant. Important.

Wednesday's words hang in the air between you, weighty and profound. You can feel the sincerity behind them, the depth of emotion that she usually keeps tightly locked away. It's a side of her that few people get to see, and you feel a rush of warmth in your chest at the thought that she trusts you enough to share it with you.

"I'm glad too," you say softly, meeting her gaze. "Gladder than I ever thought I'd be."

She looks away then, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. It's a rare sight, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it.

“Cute.”

Wednesday's blush deepens at your comment, and she shoots you a sharp glare. "I am not cute," she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't ever call me that again."

You hold up your hands in mock surrender, trying to keep the grin off your face. "Sorry, sorry. I meant 'formidable' or 'intimidating'. Those are much better descriptions of you, I'm sure."

She narrows her eyes at you, but there's a hint of something else in her gaze - a glimmer of amusement, perhaps, or maybe just a touch of affection. "You'd better believe it," she mutters, but there's no real bite to her words.

You settle back against the trunk of the tree, stretching your legs out in front of you. "So, what's new with you? Any exciting murder mysteries or occult rituals I should know about?"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Wouldn't you like to know? I'm afraid my secrets are safe with me."

"Damn," you sigh, feigning disappointment. "And here I thought we were friends."

She snorts softly, nudging you with her elbow. "We are friends, Y/N. But even friends have limits."

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the casual familiarity of the gesture. "Fair enough. I suppose I can respect that."

For a while, you sit in comfortable silence, watching the play of light through the leaves overhead. It's peaceful, in a way - just the two of you, lost in your own thoughts, content in each other's presence.

Wednesday's eyes drift shut for a moment, her face tilted towards the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above. There's a softness to her features that you rarely see, a vulnerability that she only shows when she thinks no one is looking.

She's always been like that - guarded, cautious, quick to put up walls to keep people out. But with you, she lets her guard down just a little. It's a privilege, really, to be trusted with this side of her.

You watch her, committing every detail to memory. The way her dark lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathes in the crisp autumn air.

A breeze rustles the leaves above, and Wednesday's eyes flutter open, fixing you with a questioning gaze. "What are you looking at?" she asks, her voice low and suspicious.

You shake your head, grinning. "Nothing. Just enjoying the scenery."

She narrows her eyes, but there's no real anger behind it. "You're strange, Y/N. You always have been."

"And you love it," you tease, nudging her back with your shoulder.

She doesn't deny it, just shrugs and turns her attention back to the book in her lap. But you can see the hint of a smile on her lips, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction.

It's in moments like these that you realize just how much you've missed her, how much a part of your life she's always been. And as you sit there, side by side beneath the old oak tree, you can't help but feel a sense of rightness, of belonging.

Whatever the future holds, whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that you'll face them together. You and Wednesday, the odd couple, the misfits, the outcasts. Together, you can weather any storm.

“Remember our little grave digging rendezvous? There’s an abandoned graveyard in the woods… Could pay it a visit tonight.”

Wednesday's head snaps up at your suggestion, her dark eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she just stares at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask," she purrs, her voice low and conspiratorial.

You can't help but grin at her enthusiastic response. "Thought you might be too busy with your taxidermy collection to spare a night for some good old-fashioned grave robbing."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a glint of amusement in her gaze. "Please. Taxidermy is a hobby, grave robbing is a lifestyle."

You laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. "Of course it is. I don't know why I even asked."

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Meet me at midnight by the old stone wall. Don't be late."

—

The sun has long since set by the time you make your way to the rendezvous point, the old stone wall looming ominously in the darkness. You can feel the chill in the air, the way it seeps into your bones and makes your breath mist in the night. It's the perfect weather for a little grave robbing, you muse to yourself, a wicked grin tugging at your lips.

As you approach the wall, you see a familiar figure waiting for you in the shadows. Wednesday is leaning against the stone, her dark hair a stark contrast against the gray of the wall. She's wearing all black, as usual, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Right on time," she says as you draw near, her voice low and teasing. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Please. Like that would ever happen."

She pushes off the wall, falling into step beside you as you make your way towards the woods.

The forest looms ahead, an impenetrable wall of darkness that seems to swallow the moonlight whole. Wednesday leads the way, her steps sure and confident even in the pitch black. You follow close behind, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

As you venture deeper into the woods, the air grows colder, damper. The trees seem to press in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers. You can feel the weight of the forest, the way it seems to pulse with a life of its own.

After what feels like an eternity, you break through the treeline and into a small clearing. Before you lies the graveyard, a jumble of crumbling headstones and weathered crypts. The place has an eerie stillness to it, as if the very air is holding its breath.

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes glinting with a manic light. "Welcome to our little slice of paradise," she says, gesturing grandly at the graveyard.

You stare at the graveyard, your heart racing. The crumbling headstones and weathered crypts seem to loom menacingly in the darkness, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown grass. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your unease, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveys the graveyard. "Isn't it beautiful?" she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "All this history, all these stories, just waiting to be uncovered."

You swallow hard, trying to muster up some of her enthusiasm. "Sure," you manage, your voice coming out a little higher pitched than you intended. "Beautiful."

Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, Y/N. Where's your sense of adventure? This is what we've always dreamed of, isn't it? A chance to get our hands dirty, to delve into the unknown?"

You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as her. "You speak like a poet."

Wednesday grins at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Poetry is for the weak. I prefer the prose of the macabre."

She strides forward, her boots crunching on the dead leaves littering the ground. You hurry to keep up, your heart pounding in your chest as you weave between the headstones. Some are little more than crumbled ruins, the names and dates long since eroded away. Others stand tall and proud, their epitaphs still legible in the moonlight.

As you make your way deeper into the graveyard, you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you whirl around, half expecting to see some ghostly figure lurking in the shadows. But there's nothing there, just the endless rows of graves stretching out before you.

Wednesday, meanwhile, seems completely at ease. She moves through the graveyard like a cat, her steps silent and sure. Every so often, she pauses to examine a particularly interesting headstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters as if trying to read the secrets of the dead.

"Look at this one," she says, gesturing to a large, ornate tomb. "Elias Crane, died 1847. Apparently, he was a wealthy businessman. But rumor has it, he made his fortune through less than savory means."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Such as?"

Wednesday leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Grave robbing. Body snatching. All the things respectable society frowns upon."

You can't help but grin at that. "Sounds like our kind of guy."

Wednesday nods, a wicked glint in her eye. "Exactly. I bet he's got some fascinating stories buried with him."

You put your backpack down, pulling out a plastic spade, one that is obviously meant for kids at the beach.

Wednesday's eyes widen as you pull out the child's spade, a mix of amusement and disappointment crossing her face. "Really, Y/N? A plastic shovel? I was expecting something a bit more... professional."

She reaches into her own bag, pulling out a sleek, black shovel that looks like it could double as a weapon. "This is how you do grave robbing.”

She strides over to the nearest grave, kneeling down beside the headstone. You hurry to follow, your plastic spade feeling woefully inadequate in comparison.

"Alright, let's see what secrets Mr. Crane is hiding," Wednesday murmurs, plunging her shovel into the soft earth.

You do the same, your spade making a hollow 'thunk' as it hits the ground. Wednesday shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“My shovel is cuter.”

Wednesday snorts, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Cuter? Really? We're going for aesthetics over functionality here?"

She shakes her head, but there's no real annoyance in her voice. If anything, she seems even more excited by the challenge.

"Alright then, Y/N. Let's see what you can do with that adorable little spade of yours."

With that, she plunges her own shovel into the ground, the blade slicing through the earth with a satisfying thud. You follow suit, your plastic spade making a far less impressive noise as it scrapes against the dirt.

For a while, the only sound is the steady rhythm of shoveling, punctuated by the occasional grunt of effort. Wednesday moves with a practiced ease, her movements efficient and precise. You, on the other hand, quickly find yourself winded, your arms burning with the unfamiliar exertion.

"Come on, Y/N," Wednesday calls over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Put some muscle into it. We're not here to dig a hole for a potted plant."

You grit your teeth, redoubling your efforts. Slowly, painfully, the hole begins to take shape, the walls of the grave yawning open like a hungry mouth.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Wednesday, marveling at the way she seems so completely in her element. Her pale skin glows in the moonlight, and there's a fierce determination in her eyes that takes your breath away.

"Watch it!" Wednesday yells suddenly, and you jerk back just in time to avoid smacking your shovel against hers. You stare down into the hole, which is now deep enough for you to stand in. The wooden coffin lies below, its surface covered in a layer of dirt and debris.

Wednesday tosses her shovel aside, dropping to her knees beside the grave. She runs her hands over the coffin, tracing the intricate carvings that adorn its surface.

Wednesday's eyes shine with excitement as she runs her hands over the ancient wood, tracing the intricate carvings etched into its surface. The coffin is clearly old, the once-polished finish now dulled by centuries of exposure to the elements.

"Look at this craftsmanship," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "They just don't make them like this anymore."

You peer into the grave, your heart hammering in your chest. The idea of what lies inside the coffin is both thrilling and terrifying, a reminder of the fragility of life and the inevitability of death.

Wednesday seems oblivious to your apprehension, her attention focused solely on the task at hand. She pulls a small crowbar from her bag, wedging it between the lid of the coffin and its frame. With a grunt of effort, she pries the lid open, the ancient wood groaning in protest.

The smell that wafts up from the coffin is overwhelming - the cloying scent of decay, of earth and rot. You gag, stepping back from the edge of the grave. But Wednesday seems unaffected, leaning forward to peer inside.

"Well, well," she breathes, a note of excitement in her voice. "Looks like our friend Elias is still with us."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look into the coffin. The body inside is little more than a skeleton, clad in the tattered remains of a funeral suit. The flesh has long since rotted away, leaving only bones and a few scraps of leathery skin.

Wednesday reaches into the coffin, her slender fingers brushing against the yellowed bones. She lifts out a human femur, examining it with a critical eye.

"Fascinating," she murmurs, turning the bone over in her hands. "Look at the way the marrow cavity has collapsed. That suggests a prolonged period of exposure to the elements."

She carefully places the bone back inside the coffin, her expression thoughtful.

You just blink, unsure of what to do now. “Well, that was exhilarating.” You mutter, sarcasm etched in your tone.

The moonlight filters through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the graveyard. Wednesday turns to you, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "What's the matter, Y/N? Not quite the thrill you were hoping for?"

You can't help but smirk back at her, despite the unsettling nature of your surroundings. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just not cut out for the macabre after all."

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who suggested this little adventure in the first place."

You shrug, trying to project a nonchalance you don't quite feel. "I may have gotten carried away. But hey, at least we found something interesting, right?"

Wednesday's gaze lingers on you, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure what we're going to do with Elias now."

You glance back at the open coffin, a shiver running down your spine. "Maybe we should put him back? Seems only right, considering we disturbed his rest."

Wednesday nods, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Probably for the best. Wouldn't want to deal with the wrath of a vengeful spirit."

Together, you carefully lower the coffin lid, sealing Elias back in his eternal slumber. As you brush the dirt back over the grave, you can't help but feel a sense of relief, a sudden desire to leave this place behind.

But as you turn to go, you find yourself face to face with Wednesday, her eyes wide and searching in the moonlight. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the air between you crackling with tension.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I've been wanting to say..."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You know what's coming, have known for a long time, but hearing her say it out loud is still a shock.

Before you can utter a response, Wednesday closes the distance between you, her cool fingers curling around the back of your neck. She pulls you closer, her eyes locked on yours, a swirling vortex of emotions - longing, desire, and a hint of vulnerability.

Her lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence and passion. You melt into the kiss, your arms encircling her waist, pulling her flush against you. The world falls away, the graveyard and the dead forgotten as you lose yourself in the taste and feel of her.

Wednesday's lips are cool and sweet against yours, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of your mouth. You part your lips, granting her access, and she takes full advantage, deepening the kiss with a low moan. Your tongues dance and twine, a sensual battle for dominance that leaves you both breathless.

When she finally pulls back, you're both panting, your hearts racing in sync. Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She rests her forehead against yours, her voice husky and low.

"I've wanted to do that for so long, Y/N. I hope I didn't misread the signs."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tangling in her silky hair. "Not at all. I've been waiting for this too."

You and Wednesday are still caught up in the afterglow of your first kiss, your bodies pressed close, when a sudden noise shatters the silence of the graveyard. It's a rustling sound, the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, and it's coming from the direction of the woods.

Wednesday's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline. "Did you hear that?" she whispers, her voice tense with suspicion.

You nod, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. "It sounded like it came from over there."

Wednesday reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, wicked-looking knife. She hands it to you, her grip tight and urgent. "Just in case."

You take the knife, your fingers closing around the smooth handle. The blade gleams in the moonlight, its edge honed to a razor's sharpness.

Together, you creep towards the source of the noise, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of dead leaves. As you draw closer to the woods, you can hear the sound more clearly now - a low, guttural moan, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching.

Wednesday holds up a hand, signaling for you to stop. She points to a shadowy figure, hunched over just beyond the edge of the trees. The figure is swaying slightly, as if drunk or disoriented, and you can see the glint of a bottle in its hand.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a drunk," Wednesday murmurs, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Probably some vagrant who thought he'd find shelter in the woods."

You're about to suggest leaving the man be when he suddenly staggers forward, his eyes wide and wild as they lock onto yours. He lets out a low, animalistic growl, raising the bottle like a weapon.

"Hey, man, some of us are trying to sleep here!" he slurs, taking a stumbling step towards you. "Why don't you and your little girlfriend fuck off?"

Before you can react, Wednesday lurches forward, her hand outstretched. She aims the knife at the man's throat, her eyes narrowed.

The drunk man's eyes widen in fear as he sees the knife, his bravado evaporating like mist in the moonlight. He stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

You move forward, your hand gripping over Wednesday’s, stopping her from going too far. “No.”

Wednesday hesitates, her grip on the knife faltering. She looks at you, confusion and frustration warring in her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hisses, her voice low and urgent. "We can't just let him get away. Who knows what he might do?"

The drunk man stumbles further back, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble, alright?" he says, his voice shaking. "I'm just trying to find a place to sleep, that's all. I didn't mean no harm."

Wednesday scoffs, her grip tightening on the knife once more. "Oh, and I suppose disturbing our private moment is no harm done? I don't think so."

The man's eyes widen in panic as he realizes the precariousness of his situation. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, the bottle still clutched in one trembling fist.

"Please, I'm sorry, I'll go, I won't bother you again, just please don't hurt me," he babbles, his words slurring together in his haste.

Wednesday's jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing to slits. She takes a step forward, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"You should have thought of that before you interrupted us," she snarls, her voice dripping with venom.

The man's eyes dart to you, pleading for help, for mercy. You can see the terror in his gaze, the knowledge that he is completely at the mercy of these two strange girls.

“Goddamn it, Wednesday. Stop it.”

Wednesday's grip on the knife loosens slightly at your command, but she doesn't lower it. Her eyes are still fixed on the drunk man, her expression a mix of anger and contempt.

"Why should we stop?" she hisses, her voice low and dangerous. "He's just some pathetic vagrant. No one will miss him."

The man's eyes widen in fear, his body trembling as he backs away from you both. "Please," he whimpers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want any trouble. I'll leave, I swear."

You step forward, gently placing a hand on Wednesday's arm. The touch is light, but the gesture is clear - a plea for her to stand down, to show mercy.

Wednesday's eyes flick to you, surprise and confusion written across her face. She's so focused on the drunk man that she hadn't expected your intervention.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she asks, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "This man needs to be taught a lesson."

The drunk man takes another stumbling step backwards, his eyes darting between you and Wednesday in terror. He's clearly aware of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between life and death that he's currently balancing on.

For a moment, Wednesday seems torn, her gaze flickering between you and the drunk man. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between her darker impulses and the bond she shares with you.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Wednesday lowers the knife. She lets out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Fine," she says, her voice tight. "But if he steps out of line again, he's fair game."

The drunk man lets out a shaky sigh of relief, his body sagging with the realization that he's been spared. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'll go, I promise. Just please, no more trouble."

He turns and staggers off into the woods, his footsteps crunching on the dead leaves. You watch him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

You can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation, a nervous energy buzzing through your veins. "Where did you even get that knife, Wednesday? I didn't realize you were packing heat on our little graveyard rendezvous."

Wednesday's lips quirk into a wry smile, her eyes glinting with mischief in the moonlight. "Always be prepared, Y/N. You never know when you might need a little... protection." She tucks the knife back into her bag with practiced ease, her movements fluid and graceful.

You shake your head, a mix of amusement and exasperation coloring your voice. "I swear, sometimes I think you're just looking for an excuse to use that thing. What would your parents say if they knew?"

Wednesday scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Please. They'd probably be proud. 'Our little girl, all grown up and ready to defend herself.' Besides, it's not like we actually used it."

You can't argue with that logic, even as a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of what might have happened if you hadn't intervened. "True enough. But maybe next time, let's stick to less... lethal forms of self-defense, hmm?"

Wednesday shrugs, her expression unrepentant. "Can't make any promises. But I'll try to keep my bloodlust in check, for your sake."

Despite the morbid humor of the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of affection for Wednesday. Her dark sense of humor, her fierce protectiveness, her willingness to embrace the macabre - it's all part of what draws you to her.

You step closer to her, your hand finding hers in the darkness. "Come on," you murmur, tugging her gently towards the edge of the graveyard. "Let's get out of here before anyone else decides to crash our party."

—

The heavy door of the dorm room creaks open, revealing the dimly lit space within. Wednesday stumbles inside, pulling you along with her. Her lips never leave yours as she kicks the door shut behind you, her hands roaming eagerly over your body.

You're lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth on yours, the press of her body against yours. It's only when you feel the edge of the bed hit the back of your knees that you break the kiss, gasping for air.

Wednesday's eyes are dark with desire, her hair mussed and her lips swollen from your passionate embrace. She tugs at your shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste to get it off.

"Wednesday, wait," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "Are you sure about this?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours in the dim light. There's a flicker of uncertainty in their depths, a moment of hesitation. But then she's pressing against you again, her mouth finding yours once more.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she murmurs against your lips. "I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you for so long."

You surrender to the moment, your hands tangling in her hair as you deepen the kiss. Clothes are shed in a flurry of fabric, landing haphazardly on the floor as you tumble onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heated skin.

A soft groan, followed by the rustle of sheets, startles you both out of your passionate haze.

"W-Wednesday?" a sleepy voice mumbles. "Is that you?"

Wednesday's eyes widen in horror, her face flushing crimson as she realizes the mistake she's made, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest piece of clothing.

“Oh, hey, Enid.” You smile, trying to appear nonchalant.

Enid sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily. She blinks a few times, her gaze adjusting to the dim light. When she focuses on you and Wednesday, her eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, um, hi," she stammers, her cheeks flushing pink. "I didn't realize you two were... I mean, I thought..."

There's an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of Wednesday's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of crickets outside.

Enid clears her throat, pulling the blanket up higher around her shoulders. "So, uh, are you two going to...?" She trails off, her eyes widening as she realizes the implications of her question.

Wednesday's face is beet red, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "No!" she blurts out, her voice uncharacteristically high-pitched. "We weren't going to... I mean, we weren't..."

Enid's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in shock. "Wednesday, are you... are you blushing?"

Wednesday scowls, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I am not blushing," she snaps, her voice tight with embarrassment. "I just... I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

Enid blinks, her expression softening. "It's okay, Wednesday. I'm not judging. I'm happy for you, really." She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I always knew you had a thing for Y/N."

—

Since that night in the dorm room, things had been undeniably awkward between you and Wednesday. The air was thick with unresolved tension, the memory of passionate kisses and wandering hands lingering like a ghost in the room. You couldn't look at her without feeling a flush creep up your neck, your heart racing at the slightest brush of her fingers against yours.

Even Enid seemed to notice the change in your dynamic, her knowing smiles and raised eyebrows a constant reminder of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. You tried to focus on your classes, to push aside the distracting thoughts of Wednesday's lips on yours, but it was a losing battle.

As you walked down the hallway towards your next class, your mind was miles away, replaying the events of that fateful night. Wednesday's touch, her breathless moans, the way her body had felt pressed against yours...

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your wrist, yanking you roughly into a nearby janitor's closet. The door slammed shut behind you, plunging you into darkness. You stumbled, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggled to make out the silhouette of your attacker.

"Do you have any idea how hard it's been for me to focus on anything since that night?" a familiar voice growled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light, revealing Wednesday's face, etched with a mixture of frustration and desire. She stepped closer, her body mere inches from yours, her breath hot against your cheek.

"I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," she whispered, her voice low and urgent. "Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is your face, feel your touch..."

Her hands slid up your arms, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer. "Tell me you feel it too," she breathed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you want me as much as I want you."

You feel Wednesday's breath on your ear, her words sending a jolt of electricity through your body. The suddenness of her actions catches you off guard, but the desire in her voice is undeniable.

"I... I do," you manage to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you too, Wednesday. Nonstop."

Wednesday's hands slide down your sides, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She presses you back against the wall, her body molding to yours in a way that makes your head spin.

"Then why haven't you done anything about it?" she demands, her voice a low growl. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I wasn't... I mean, I didn't think..."

Wednesday cuts you off with a searing kiss, her lips claiming yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. You melt into her, your hands tangling in her hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of her mouth on yours.

When she finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chests heaving against each other. "I can't wait anymore," Wednesday pants, her eyes wild with need. "I need you, Y/N. Right here, right now."

Your mind races, the implications of her words sinking in. You're not in your dorm room, where you can take your time, explore each other at a leisurely pace. You're in a janitor's closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies and the faint scent of bleach.

But the desire in Wednesday's eyes, the way her body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight. Your hands slide down to her waist, your fingers digging into her hips as you pull her closer.

"We shouldn't..." you start, even as your body betrays you, arching into her touch.

Wednesday silences you with another kiss, her tongue delving into your mouth as her hands roam over your body with a desperate urgency. "Don't think," she breathes against your lips. "Just feel."

Wednesday's hands slide under your shirt, her fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You gasp, your back arching off the wall as she trails her touch higher, brushing against the soft swell of your breasts.

"Wednesday," you moan, your voice breathy with need. "We can't... not here..."

But even as the words leave your lips, you're arching into her touch, your body betraying your true desires. Wednesday's mouth finds your neck, her teeth grazing against your pulse point as she sucks and nips at the sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the sensation. Wednesday's hands are everywhere, sliding under your clothes, mapping the curves of your body with a desperate hunger.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. With a sudden burst of strength, you reverse your positions, pinning Wednesday against the wall with your body. She lets out a surprised gasp, her eyes widening as she looks up at you with a mix of shock and desire.

"My turn," you murmur, your voice low and commanding. Your hands slide under her shirt, your fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of her stomach. Wednesday shivers, her skin breaking out in goosebumps under your touch.

You lean in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Wednesday moans into your mouth, her hands fisting in your hair as she pulls you closer. Your tongues tangle together, the kiss growing more heated with each passing second.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding up to cup Wednesday's breasts through her bra. She arches into your touch, her nipples hardening under your palms. You break the kiss, trailing your lips down her neck, your teeth grazing against her pulse point.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, her body trembling with need. "Please," she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Touch me, Y/N. I need you."

Your fingers find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with a deft flick. The garment falls away, exposing her breasts to your hungry gaze. You lower your head, your tongue swirling around one hardened peak.

Wednesday cries out, her back arching off the wall as you lavish attention on her breasts. Your hands slide down her body, tugging at the waistband of her skirt.

With a swift movement, you yank the garment down, leaving Wednesday in nothing but her panties. She steps out of the pool of fabric, her legs trembling with anticipation.

Your hands slide up her thighs, your fingers hooking into the waistband of her underwear. With a slow, deliberate movement, you tug them down, revealing her most intimate parts to your eager gaze.

Wednesday is bare before you, her body laid out like a feast for the taking. You take a moment to admire her, your eyes drinking in every feature.

Wednesday's breath hitches as you drink in the sight of her, her body quivering under your appraising gaze. The air between you is electric, charged with a heady mix of desire and anticipation.

You step closer, your body pressing against hers in a delicious friction that sends sparks racing through your veins. Wednesday's hands come up to rest on your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin as she anchors herself to you.

"Please," she breathes, her voice a desperate whimper. "I need you, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this moment for so long."

Your hand slides between her legs, your fingers brushing against the slick heat of her core. Wednesday gasps, her hips bucking forward, seeking more of your touch. You tease her, your fingers dipping just barely inside before retreating, driving her wild with need.

Wednesday's breath comes in short, sharp gasps as your fingers tease her most sensitive spots. Her hips grind against your hand, seeking more of your touch, more of the delicious friction that's building inside her.

You can feel the heat of her, the slickness coating your fingers as you work her higher and higher. Wednesday's head thrashes from side to side, her eyes squeezed shut as she loses herself in the pleasure.

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, Y/N, don't stop."

Your fingers plunge deeper, curling inside her in a way that makes her see stars. Wednesday's back arches off the wall, her nails digging into your shoulders as she rides the wave of sensation.

You can feel her tightening around your fingers, her body tensing as she nears the edge. You double your efforts, your thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Wednesday's cry echoes off the walls of the small closet, her body shaking as the orgasm crashes over her. She clings to you, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as she rides out the waves of pleasure.

You hold her through it, your hand gentle as you help her down from the high. When she finally stills, you pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. You lick them clean, savoring the taste of her on your tongue.

The taste of Wednesday on your fingers is exquisite, a heady mix of sweet and salty that makes your head spin. You savor it for a long moment, your eyes locked with hers as you lick them clean.

Wednesday's body is still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm when you pull your fingers from her slick heat. The taste of her essence lingers on your tongue, a tantalizing reminder of what you've just shared.

You meet her gaze, your eyes dark with desire and satisfaction. "I should get going," you murmur, regret tinging your voice. "I don't want to be late for class."

Wednesday nods, her breath still coming in short, sharp gasps. She reaches out, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you in for one last, searing kiss.

"Until next time," she whispers against your lips, her voice a promise of things to come.

—

#wednesday addams #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader smut #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #fanfiction #jenna ortega #x reader #enid sinclair #wednesday addams x fem!reader

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toournextadventure · 3 months ago

Text

when you love it pt.2

Summary: Learning to accept yourself again is a hard task. Thankfully, you've got two lovely Outcasts to help you

Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, typical vampire violence Pairing: Wenclair x Reader (part 1) A/N: Surprise, this is not the last part, there will be one more. So sorry but... it gets better

“Have you ever eaten somebody?”

Ah, there they were. The Little Bane of your existence, as you had come to endearingly call them over the last few months. A menace at best, the little wolf had, for some unknown reason, made it a point to attach themself to your hip. Even on the full moon, the pup would sniff you out and remain with you until they turned back into the headache they truly were.

Admirable.

“Why do you ask?” You asked without looking down to meet their eyes. The eyes of an Addams, you thought.

“Mother said people go insane after eating human flesh,” the child said. “I’m trying to collect evidence to prove her wrong.”

The question was pure Addams.

“I believe it’s only if they eat the brain matter of a human,” you said, finally looking down.

“So you have then?” They asked. “Eaten someone?”

“What do you think?” You asked.

Their head tilted just like Enid's as they thought of an answer. After all this time, you were still finding more and more similarities between them and their mothers. It was almost comical. The toothy grin, the troublesome look in their eyes. A perfect mix of two perfect women.

“No,” they finally said. “I don’t think you have.”

You smiled, showing your fangs. “Correct.”

You both looked back out toward the scenery in front of the cabin. Winter was always the most beautiful time, if anyone asked your opinion. The snow coated the trees in the finest powder, creating an almost constant appearance of fresh snowfall. To the back of the cabin was a lake that froze over so thoroughly, you could skate for hours and never fall through.

Though falling through was always an adventure of its own, you would admit.

Perhaps you could get Enid to skate with you again. Oh, wouldn’t that be grand? It had been ages since you had last danced together upon the shimmering ice. The amount of trust that came with such an act… would you be able to skate as before? Could she put her life in your hands once again?

You deflated; you wouldn’t blame her if she couldn’t.

“Have you ever had blood from someone you know?”

Each cell in your dead body froze.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

“What do you think?” You asked, looking back down at them.

They didn’t look away in contemplation. No, they kept their eyes locked with yours. It was uncomfortable. They had Wednesday’s stunning brown eyes. Eyes you had stared into night after night before watching the light slowly fade from one mistake. Just one.

“Yes,” they said.

“Aunt Yoko’s here!” One of the other children yelled from the house.

You looked back out to the scenery before your Little Bane ran off to join the others.

“Correct,” you mumbled with a sigh.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the feel of her blood falling down your throat. The heat that pooled in your chest and had your dead heart wishing to beat. Each inch of scar tissue embedded in your skin ached at the memory. She’s just inside, your Instincts whispered. Just a sip.

Your lip caught on your fang as you snarled at the thought. An animalistic sound; pathetic. But the sound made you feel as if you could quiet the Instincts. You would not drink from her again. Had it learned nothing from the last time? There was blood in the fridge, you would survive just fine.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you.

“Aunt Yoko wants to speak with you,” your Little Bane said.

You exhaled slowly and nodded to yourself. Of course she would. She had never truly been your biggest fan. Vampires don’t trust other vampires, she had said, if you remembered correctly. Which you did. Her Instincts may have dulled over the generations, but her intelligence remained as sharp as ever.

“Lead the way,” you said.

Your Little Bane’s lip caught on their canine, so reminiscent of Enid you wanted to laugh. At times, the child was pure Addams. Every cell of their being practically screamed it. Yet, at moments like this, you were reminded that Enid was also an Addams in her own right. And that child, though outwardly appearing as Wednesday, was Enid’s little copy.

In the past, Yoko Tanaka had never intimidated you. After all, why would she? Her family had gone soft, adamantly refusing to drink from a source regardless of its humanity; or lack thereof. There had been a few instances during your college years where she had debated your own family beliefs, questioning the primality of it all. And it was, you wouldn’t deny it. Drinking from the source was what your ancestors had done, and the Instinct continued to flow through your veins whether you liked it or not.

You had silently agreed with her, though you would never let her know.

Now, however? After what Enid had jokingly titled The Beatdown - which neither you nor Wednesday found very humorous, but if that was how she coped then who were you to deny her such a trivial thing - Yoko terrified you. And given how she was looking at you as you walked closer…

She was aware of it.

“Tanaka,” you said with a polite nod and smile.

Her arms crossed tighter over her chest.

“In the car, pup,” she said in a tone that contradicted her body language.

“Aunt Div is in my spot,” they said without hesitation.

The immediate change in Yoko’s body was comical. She turned to look into the car where Divina - with whom you shared no ill will, though you knew it was no mutual feeling - was sitting in the front passenger seat. Her head was facing the back of the car where she was, supposedly, talking with the other Addams children.

Yoko rapped her knuckles against the window. “You’re being displaced, babe,” she called out.

Divina’s shoulders slumped, but she promptly unbuckled her sit and got out of the car. The look she gave you was anything but polite as she slid into the middle seat, pushing one of the children into the back. They were all laughing and smiling; truly Enid’s children.

“Good luck,” your Little Bane said to you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled back as they climbed into the car and shut the door, leaving you alone with Yoko.

How enjoyably torturous.

“Hello, Tanaka-”

“-Cut the bullshit,” she interrupted. Straight to the point as always. “No one wants you around them.” Her finger jabbed into your chest. “No one trusts you around them.”

“I understand,” you said.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

A wet gasp-

-snarling-

-relief-

-pain-

“I very much do,” you mumbled.

“I should rip your heart out now and eliminate any chance of the past repeating itself,” she said. Silence hung thick between you before she pulled her arms back to her body. “But I won’t, because Enid would cry and Wednesday would bury me six feet under.”

“This is my house, Tanaka,” you said. “I am more than prepared.”

“You’d better be,” she said as she started moving at a glacial pace toward the driver’s side of the car. “Because I’ll kill you and curse your entire line if you touch a hair on either of their heads.”

The threat was enough to have you shiver. Oh, if you failed and your family was cursed? They would never forgive you. They would start hunting you for sport, and it would be no less than you deserved.

Yoko stopped before opening her door.

“Not that I’ll need to,” she said. “You’re proof Enid can do it herself.”

Her words bounced around your skull as the car finally pulled away, taking all the Addams children with it. A part of you was almost… disappointed. You had grown to tolerate them over the past few months. They were rather enjoyable at times even, constantly inviting you for games. Or movies, once games had quickly become outlawed due to the… unruliness.

“I wish I had gotten another goodbye hug,” Enid said, appearing beside you seemingly out of nowhere.

You should have been able to smell her approach. Wolves were… not the most pleasant. Not horrific, simply not as appealing as humans. She had asked you to describe it once, what the difference was between her and Wednesday. Like a Christmas candle during the heat of summer, you had explained. So not like in Twilight? She had teased.

She’s my Christmas candle, you thought with a smile.

“It’s only for a weekend,” you told her. Her eyes sparkled. “Then you can have hello hugs instead.”

Her smile could have illuminated the world. “I do like hello hugs.”

“Come inside,” you said with a gesture toward the cabin, “I believe it’s going to snow.”

Enid’s joyful disposition had never waned over time. If anything, she almost seemed more joyous and carefree. Something lightened its load on your chest at the observation. You hadn’t ruined her outlook on life. She was, for all intents and purposes, outwardly okay.

A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded.

Wednesday was precisely where you had left her earlier; sitting in your small library, a book in hand and a cup of tea on the table. It was one of your more obscure books, having come from your long line of ancestors. In other words, from some murderous Frenchman’s basement. The pages were probably stained with blood.

“I had almost forgotten the joy of silence,” she said as Enid practically fell into her lap. With practised ease, she made way for her wolf without taking her eyes away from the book.

“It’s too quiet,” Enid said with a sigh.

You walked over to the record player you kept in the corner of the room as your married women talked silently amongst themselves. It was endearing to hear them talk of their young. To talk as if they truly loved them. What was that like, you wondered? To care for your young in such a deep, conditionless way?

Cold fingers ran against the thin spines of records in their cases, unsure of where to stop. Would they have ever had children if you had stayed with them? Younglings had never been in your future; you wouldn’t dare bring a child into your bloodline. But they seemed so very happy and content with their choices in life. Perhaps it was going to happen for them regardless.

Without looking, you picked a record out of its case and gently placed it on the player. Could you be trusted around their whelps? The children themselves seemed unconcerned, but what about Enid and Wednesday? Would they trust you? You weren’t even sure if you wanted them to trust you. Children were creatures you had yet to conquer.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

The beautiful sounds of jazz fell from the record playing, encasing the room in a warmth that had previously been absent. Deep down you knew it wasn’t the music that made the house feel correct. But things were still new - again. You weren’t ready to make that admittance just yet.

“What are the plans for this weekend?” Enid asked when you sat in the second chair in the room. Only a small round end table was situated between you and your girls. Could… you still call them that?

“We should enjoy the silence while we can,” Wednesday said.

Enid huffed. “You know they aren’t that bad, Willa.”

They continued to bicker - lovingly, of course - while you just sat and watched. Unlike the soiree those few months ago, they were far more relaxed. Casual even, if you had to put a word on it. Enid was bundled in warm clothes - funny, considering she ran hot - and Wednesday was in a simple black sweater and leggings.

Everything about them in that moment reminded you of college. When you would all relax in the evenings. You were usually stuck with your nose in a book, terrified you wouldn’t manage to pass your classes, let alone the bar exam. But you could never properly focus because Enid and Wednesday were always around, bickering like an old married couple even from the very beginning.

Would you ever have that relationship with them again? Simply existing with them without fear of injury or betrayal. Whether it was just you or all of you, there was tension so thick in the air it was suffocating. You didn’t want to keep a tense, cordial relationship with them. Though, it did no good to dwell on the fact. You would respect their wishes until your dying breath.

Something warm grabbed your hand. Something with claws that pressed deep into the palm of your hand. There would be indentations left behind. If she didn’t ease up, perhaps a spot or two of blood. With you, she had never learned to manage her strength; there was no real need.

You never minded.

“What do you normally do?” Enid asked.

You exhaled slowly. “I sit here, listen to jazz, and work.”

“Both of you are so boring,” Enid groaned. “It’s our one full weekend without the kids,” she continued. “We can’t waste it by working.”

“I’m not working,” Wednesday said as she placed the book down on the table and looked at her wife with the softest of smiles. “I’m reading.”

The way they looked at each other was mesmerising. It was pure, unadulterated love. You hadn’t known either of them back when Wednesday was - as Enid so endearingly described - emotionally stunted. You two hadn’t been as outwardly romantic as Enid - she set the bar rather high - but you would’ve never considered her stunted. Especially now, watching the way she looked at her wife.

“We should do something,” Enid said. Her hand squeezed yours; her nails pricked your skin. “All of us.”

“All of us, you say?” You inquired. She glared at you.

“What a scandal,” Wednesday chimed in.

“I forgot how annoying you both are,” Enid mumbled to herself with no attempt to hide her little smile.

Her smile. The thing you had looked forward to seeing every morning before everything had crashed down around you. Even on the worst of days, you knew her smile would be enough to fix everything. Just the same as you hoped you could have fixed everything for her.

Until you couldn’t.

Outside, you could hear the snow starting to fall.

“What is there to do around the cabin?” Wednesday asked; her eyes never left Enid’s. “So our winter wolf doesn’t get too antsy?”

Another squeeze of your hand, digging the sharp, colourful nails deeper.

“Well,” you drew out the word as you thought. “There’s a frozen lake down the path.” Enid’s ears perked up slightly. “Or the town over usually has a winter market around this time.”

That was what did it. At the mention of a market, Enid practically jumped up from Wednesday’s lap. You kept your eyes on her even as you saw Wednesday smile out of your periphery. Her hands clasped together and she looked between the both of you with an excitement you hadn’t seen from her since before that night.

“Grab your winter coats, we’re going to the market!” She proclaimed excitedly.

You looked over at Wednesday with a raised brow but didn’t bother stopping your smile. She smiled back; anything for your wolf.

—---

It had only been a year or two since you had last attended the market and, as such, everyone still remembered you. As such, it was a little more complicated to get through everything than you had initially thought. With everyone stopping you to talk and catch up, you felt like you were holding Enid and Wednesday back as opposed to letting them have their fun.

The sweet older lady who ran the flower shop was still talking to you when you saw Enid walking off, leaving Wednesday to sidle up beside you. Had she done that on purpose? Clearly, she hadn’t just abandoned Wednesday, right? Not in your care, at least. None of you had trusted you two alone just yet.

Even though it hurt, it was a necessary precaution.

Finally, after what had probably been an hour of conversation with the sweet flower lady, you managed to separate with a polite goodbye and a promise to stop by next time you were in town. Whether she knew of your… infliction or not, you had no clue. It didn’t matter. At least she was kind.

“Where did our pup run off to?” You asked as Wednesday all but led you through the market.

“She saw some hot cider,” Wednesday said softly, stopping at one of the little booths. “She can never turn down a sweet treat.”

“Oh, I remember. We spent far too much money on her sweet treats,” you grumbled.

If you had kept track, you would have been horrified at how much both you and Wednesday spent on Enid. It hadn’t been with the intent to brag, or show off, you just wanted her to have everything she wished. Most of the time, that included drinks and sweet treats. And you were nothing if not eager to please.

“At least it’s not chocolate,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft, you wouldn’t have imagined it had actually come from her.

She was looking down at some of the trinkets at the table. They were brilliantly made, and you smiled politely at the woman in charge before standing behind Wednesday. Over her shoulder, you could see it wasn’t particularly anything interesting. Not to her.

Her body tensed up when you brushed against her. This close, you could hear the blood coursing through her veins. It was enticing. More than enticing. Your fingers twitched with the very thought of tasting something so delectable once again. Pain pricked at the inside of your lips as you re-positioned your fangs. It would be a simple thing.

The scars on her neck looked angry; they held shame not even thousands of years of instinct could fight. You had done that to her. You had nearly killed her. She was deathly still as you lifted a shaking hand to lift the collar of her coat, hiding the guilt you could never erase.

“You look cold,” you said softly, pulling your hands back to clasp them behind your back.

You both knew you were lying.

“I’m quite warm, actually,” she said. “I figured you could tell.”

You swallowed loudly. It didn’t ease the ache that was growing in the back of your throat. If anything, it made it worse. Each time she breathed, you could see the pulse in her veins. Enid wasn’t around. Surely you could handle it this time, you were far more mature this go around.

“I still believe I was correct,” she said.

Your head tilted to the side. Correct about what?

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Right.

“We must remember that night very differently,” you said as you looked up; there was a mirror in front of you. She couldn’t see you, but you could very well see her. “I remember proving you wrong.”

You weren’t prepared for her to lean back into you. To be touching you after so long. She was cold; not from the snow starting to fall. And as ridiculous as it sounded, she felt like she trusted you. Did she? After you had very nearly killed her, could she trust you?

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said softly as she pulled your arms to wrap around her waist.

“My dear,” you whispered into her ear, “I very much did hurt you.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

You barely held back a laugh. “All that means is Enid kicked my ass.”

“And I would do it again.”

Part of you urged you to pull apart from Wednesday, like you had just been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. There was nothing wrong with holding her again; hell, your girls had practically encouraged it. But the last time Enid had seen you both together was… not pretty.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

“What are we talking about?” Enid asked after she practically squeezed herself directly in between you and Wednesday.

“Your sweet treats,” Wednesday said effortlessly. “Is it worth it?”

She wrapped her hands around the paper cup and shrugged her shoulders high. “Always.”

“I think there’s some chocolate covered strawberries a few booths away,” you said while Enid continued to shimmy her way into more warmth. “White and dark chocolate.” Both women’s eyes lit up. “My treat.”

Wednesday looked at you with soft eyes. A look she hadn’t given you since… it was nice. Without uttering a single word, you were left with a warmth in your chest that your dead heart could never replicate.

“Lead the way,” she said softly.

—---

For reasons unknown to you or Wednesday, Enid was still freezing hours after getting back to the cabin. Hot tea had been made. And remade. And remade again. Then you had finally given in and lit the fireplace, as well as setting up a pallet on the floor in front of it so she could curl up and try to warm her fur.

And she was still shivering.

“Cara mia, please.” Wednesday’s voice carried from the living room to the kitchen. “Will nothing ease your cold?”

Enid hummed. “I know something that could warm me up.”

Her quiet giggle was all you needed to hear to know what she was implying. Your darling pup was the most insatiable creature you had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Perhaps that was why she seemed to fit so well with two other partners; it would take at least two to keep her satisfied.

Outside, the front porch creaked. If you hadn’t already been accustomed to the sound, you would have brushed it off as wind. After all, it was still snowing steadily outside. But it wasn’t the sound of snow falling onto the porch. No, it was something else. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

In the living room, you could still hear the soft sounds of Enid and Wednesday enjoying their time together. As you passed, you could vaguely see them on the pallet in front of the fireplace. Every aspect of it reminded you of your times in university, each living your own lives, yet doing it together. Perhaps you could get back to that again. Surely their children wouldn’t mind another… parent? Hmm, that wasn’t quite right, you could figure it out-

“-Hello, bon ami.”

If you hadn’t been frozen in place, you would have slammed the door in his face. What the hell was he doing? In your home? No, he wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be back home, hunting humans for sport like everyone else. He knew better.

“You gonna let me in?” He asked in his thick accent that charmed some and repulsed others.

“Go home, Bas,” you said quietly.

“Why? You got company?” He inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m a’comin’ in.”

He pushed his way past you into the cabin. If your mind hadn’t felt like mush, you would have had the good sense to stop him. Or at least to have warned Enid and Wednesday. But no, you were simply stuck wondering how he had even found you in the first place.

“I smell a rougarou.” His smile was sadistic and his fangs were sharp. Lethal. “What if Daddy found out, huh?”

“How about some tea?” You asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at you. Just looked. Was that what Wednesday had seen in you that night? No, surely you had been more vicious. Nothing curious about you, that was for sure.

“Got some of that boudin left?” He asked.

You nodded once.

“Lead the way.”

He continued to look around as you did your best to lead him as far away from your girls as possible. If he wanted to make a pop-in visit, fine. But you weren’t going to let him torment everyone else in the cabin. He could have a cup of tea, some boudin, and be on his way back home.

“Make it the good way?” He asked as he practically fell into one of the chairs at the table. “I’d hate to have to help myself in this house of yours.”

Without waiting for him to finish, you tossed a bag of blood onto the table. It slid across the smooth wood until stopping directly in front of him. He didn’t even look down, just kept his cold eyes glued to yours.

“Keep your teeth to yourself,” you said.

He laughed while you turned back to the stove. The sooner you got the tea going and could get him fed, the sooner he would leave. That was all you really wanted. Things were going well, and Enid and Wednesday were in good moods. You didn’t need him to ruin it.

The stove lit with a single spark, and you gently placed the kettle on top. It would still take a minute to boil, and you had it all planned out. You would grab the blood and boudin from the fridge. Put the food in the oven, make the tea, and get him fed and out of your house.

But you should have known better.

“I smell meat,” Enid said as she practically skipped into the kitchen.

And stopped short when she saw someone at the table.

“Oh, couyon,” he said with a smile toward you once Wednesday walked in. “You naughty thing, you.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. Wednesday was looking at you with her “explain Or Else” look. Something you hadn’t minded before, but now? Now it made your skin crawl. Like spiderwebs caught on every inch of your body, and you couldn’t get them off.

The pan slid smoothly into the oven, and you started the timer.

“This is Bastien,” you said with a lazy gesture toward the parasite at the end of the table. “My brother.”

“Baby brother,” he corrected quickly. “And you two must be the delectable little snacks.”

“Told you to keep your teeth to yourself,” you said with a raised brow. You quickly looked at Enid with far softer eyes. “Food will just be a few more minutes.” Then to Wednesday. “I’m making tea.”

Carefully, slowly, both Enid and Wednesday sat down at the table. Across from each other, but not near Bastien. The whole time, he watched them like a predator. Biding his time, the way he had been taught. You met his eyes.

His gaze towards your girls turned softer.

“So,” Bastien said as you turned back to the stove and grabbed the kettle. “Which one of you gave my sweet sibling all those scars?”

You poured some blood into the bottom of two mugs.

“I did,” Enid said. “So don’t try anything or you’ll have some to match.”

Bastien howled; a deep, obnoxious belly laugh. It… was nice to hear. As much as you didn’t want him there, he was your brother. Baby brother, as he constantly reminded you. There was comfort in the sound of his laugh; there always had been.

“That’s good, I like that,” he said, still failing to keep his laughter in check. “So that means your witch was the blood bag.”

You practically slammed the mug onto the table in front of Bastien. He looked up at you again, tilting his head to the side. It reminded you of Enid. He reminded you too much of Enid. No, you weren’t going to be phased. You knew the vampire charm; you wouldn’t fall for it.

“Serve yourself,” you demanded.

“Come on, cher,” he said as you proceeded to pour tea into Wednesday’s and Enid’s mugs. “I’m just askin’ if that’s what you almost died for.” You set the teapot on the table and walked back to the oven. “Simple curiosity.”

“Almost died?” Enid asked.

You didn’t turn around.

“The scars didn’t give it away?” Bastien asked.

You grabbed the kitchen counter.

“How did you know?” Wednesday asked.

He started talking, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t have to. The entire night was engraved into every fold of your brain, etched into the walls of your skull. No amount of alcohol, or nicotine, or blood, or the occasional line would erase. It stayed there, taunting you. Teasing you.

Blood pumped in your ears. It was loud, but not loud enough to ease the growls and screams that were bouncing off your skull. The trees soared past you. Each step of your foot was jarring as it practically bounced off the hard ground.

Wednesday’s blood still coated your lips.

The pain in your throat was harsh; it wouldn’t heal fast enough to ease the ache. Miles and miles flew by without you ever noticing. The sun rose, then set, then rose, and finally set again. Each new day was a blur. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

You hoped Enid was okay.

And Wednesday was alive.

Oh. The thought of Wednesday, lying there with your teeth marks in her flesh. Blood pooling around her; her life pooling around her. All because of you. Because of you. You killed her. You killed one of the loves of your life.

Panting breaths came faster. You killed her. Everything slowly came to a stop. The bark was rough under your fingers as you leaned against a tree to stay upright. Around you, the bugs from the bayou were loud in your ears. Still not louder than the fight.

You killed her.

Possibly killed Enid as well.

You killed them both.

Something scratched against the soft tissue inside your throat. It grew and grew until you couldn’t tell where your exterior wounds ended and the interior ones began. Only when you inhaled deeply did you discover the cause.

“What you screamin’ for, cher?” Daddy said, appearing out of thin air. Or directly in front of you. You didn’t know. “Thought you were up at that fancy university of yours.”

“Looks like you brawled with a hunter, little monster,” Bastien said. “Did you at least get a snack out of it?”

A snack.

Wednesday.

You leaned over and expelled every bit of blood you had gotten into your body. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it only exacerbated the sharp pain in your chest to see just how much you had taken from her. From your girl. Your Wednesday.

A chunk of the countertop broke off in your hand. The kitchen went silent. You blinked slowly before looking down. It wouldn’t be an easy fix. But you could do it, it would just take a weekend or two. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to replace the entire counter.

“Boudin’s burnin’, cher,” Bastien said softly from beside you. When had he gotten there? “Go sit down, I got it.”

Niceties would get him nowhere. And yet, you still went and sat at the table between Enid and Wednesday. They were looking at you, you could feel it. But you couldn’t take your eyes away from the scar on Wednesday’s hand.

The scars you had caused.

You killed her.

“I know I asked for dinner,” Bastien said, “but I think I should head out for the night.” His hand rested on your shoulder; it was cold and soft. “It was nice meeting you both.”

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. His lips - much like you believed of your own - were cold. It wasn’t long before he pulled away. His footsteps were loud against the wooden floor, slowly getting softer and softer until the door opened and clicked shut.

Leaving you alone with your two girls.

Your two girls you nearly killed.

A monster.

#wenclair x reader #wednesday x reader #enid x reader #wednesday addams x reader #enid sinclair x reader

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whitlovealways8 · 5 months ago

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Astro Observations Pt 4

I am not a professional astrologer but I have been studying for some years and have made some accurate world predictions; as well as, predictions for myself and loved ones.

Aquarius suns are leaders. They tend to be the type that everyone wants to be friends with or be around.

Leo placements unaware of their own power can be envious towards others. However, when they know who they are they are unstoppable!

In terms of facial features and zodiac signs, the obvious ones to me are capricorns with a distinct head shape and cancers, they have rosy/high cheekbones to me.

Gemini suns are so humorous and witty! They are blunt however and people arent always use to that level of honesty.

Someone said people with Saturn ruled 3h like to curse 🤭 as a Scorpio rising I can agree. How about you Sag risings?

What is it with Aries and beign combative? I mentioned it in a previous post but honestly they think the worst of others without giving the benefit of the doubt. Scorpios are paranoid but Aries is a step up imo.

Taurus placements are fashionistas. They can dress so well and know how to coordinate. Would be great at being stylists for sure.

Capricorn dominant children are really hardworkers. They are willing to help around the house.

As someone with Chiron in the 11h, I do have a hard time finding my tribe. I have been wounded by friends a lot.

I have Mars at 29° Aries in my SR chart and it really has me wondering wtf will I be putting all my energy into to closing off or starting. Its in the 3h.

Cancer moon in SR chart means spending more time with your mom or a maternal figure and I can confirm. I have been spending much more time with my mom.

Aquarius female children tend to be outcasted in their childhood years by family. They also have like this cinderella energy of being the one who does a lot of the work around the house. Honorary mention Scorpio risings with their Aquarius 4h.

Virgo placements have a bit of a selfish trait.

Pisces rising folks are very ethereal, its not even in their looks alone. But just this feeling they give off. You want to be their friend.

I have a 5h stellium in my SR chart I will let you all know how it plays out 🤗 at the halfway point.

Thank you for reading & reblogging. You can follow me on twitter @whitlovealways8 and youtube @whitthamessenger

#astro notes #synastry #transits #astro placements #astro observations #astrology community #astro thoughts #solar return observations

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shesoutofhere · 6 months ago

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I think I’ll die

Steve Harrington x reader (enemies to lovers) (kinda?)

Pt.2

Summary: you and Steve mutually agree to disagree, on everything. That’s until a hot summer day brings you two closer than ever.

Ignore all typos or I’ll cry <3——————————————————————————-

You have a pep in your step as you walk towards the family video store. Tape in hand, you swing the door open. You guessed the plot twist before even watching the movie and now Robin owes you ten bucks.

You walk in, you sigh at the sight in front of you. Leaning on a shelf talking to another customer is Steve. You quickly bolt into an aisle in hopes that he didn’t see you.

Your relationship with Steve is a bit more on the rocky side. One day he was King Steve, every outcast's worst enemy and then all the sudden he’s hanging around your best friend and a bunch of kids. Robin swears up and down that he’s a changed man but when you ask why, she offers no answers. So as of right now, your opinions on him remain the same.

In all honesty, it’s not like he’s made much of an effort to get along with you, so things proceed as they have been. You and Steve, Sharing Robin, like split custody.

You’re now kneeling down in the aisle you’re in, looking at the movies on the bottom shelf.

Out of nowhere a shadow appears above your head. You pay it no mind, hoping it’ll just pass over. The shadow clears its throat. You look up and there Steve is, in all his glory.

You roll your eyes and look back down at the shelf in front of you, trying your best to ignore him. The next thing you know, he’s leaning right over you, deciding now is the perfect time to put tapes back on the shelf above your head.

You know what he’s doing. Steve is doing what he always does when he sees you, trying to get a reaction out of you. Well Steven, today is not that day. You pay him no mind and continue sifting through the tapes in front of you. Steve takes your silence as a dare to push your buttons. He leans over you again, except this time you feel his knees pressing into your back. Your hands stop moving against the tapes.

You don't dare look up at him, you can envision his little smirk perfectly. Steve really starts to put his weight on your back, you stumble a bit forward, he lets out a small snort.

Without a second thought you scooch to the side as quickly as you can. Since Steve no longer has anything in front of him to hold his weight, he goes tumbling forward. He catches himself, of course, but not without dropping all the tapes in his hand and sending the ones on the shelf in front of him flying to the side. This time you let out a laugh.

“Oh come on, my stack.” Steve looks down at you with a glare.

You finally stand up from your spot on the ground and walk out the aisle, Steve follows right on your heels.

You feel him right behind you, “shouldn’t you be picking those up Harrington?” He scoffs, “I should make you clean them up since it's your fault they went all over the place.”

You turn around and Steve stumbles to a stop. “I am a loyal, paying customer, how dare you talk to me like that.”

“Oh bullshit, you don’t even pay for your movies half the time thanks to Robin.” That’s true, you don’t.

“Speaking of Robin, Where is she? I gotta talk to her” You lean over the front desk, peeking to see if Robin is hiding under the counter again.

Steve walks around and snatches the tape you’ve been holding. “She went out back for a Keith break.” You wince, completely understandable Rob.

Steve starts returning your tape for you. He sticks out his hand like he’s expecting something. “Can I help you Steven?”Steve sighs, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me Steven, and yes, you owe me a late fee. You were supposed to return this yesterday.” Robin didn’t work yesterday, hence the reason you didn’t return it yesterday.

You snatch the tape from his hand, “ I’ll pay it when Robin gets back, can you leave me alone now?”

Steve scoffs at your bluntness.

You look back at the aisle you guys came from “ I think you should clean up your mess, it’s a hazard to other customers.”

Steve walks out from behind the counter, mumbling a quick ‘you’re a hazard to other customers’ and heads towards the aisle to pick up the tapes.

When you turn back around, you see Robin walking up towards the front. You give her a smile, waiting for her the reach the counter.

“Good afternoon my lady, you seem chipper.” Your smile widens, “Chipper I am Robin, I’m about to become 10 dollars richer.” Robin gives you a confused look which quickly morphes into shock. “No way, noo way!” You nod your head “Yes way Robin, pay up.” You stick your hand out expectantly.

Robin takes the tape from your other hand, “How? How do you always get it?” You shrug “It’s my god given talent.” Robin returns your tape and goes to say something when she’s cut off.

“Charge her Robin! Charge her the late fee!” you turn around and see Steve come out the aisle with his stack of tapes.

“Oh my gosh Harrington, go away.” He doesn’t. He marches right up next to you.

“This,” he points back and forth between you and Robin, “this has to stop, no more freebies for you any more.”

You look at Robin and back at Steve. “Okay, who you the right to decide that?” Robin backs you up, “yeah Steve who gives you the right?”

“I’ll have you know, I care about following the rules that pertain to my job.” Robin points her finger at him, “Oh you dirty liar, you give freebies to cute chicks all the time, hows that for following company policies.”

Oh, Does he? Interesting.

Steve looks at you, you can’t really tell what he’s thinking but it’s weirding you out. You look back to Robin.

“Look Harrington, We’ll let you and your freebies for hot chicks slide, if you let Robin and I’s little deal go.”

He gives a curt nod.

“Robin, I haven’t forgotten, My ten dollars please.”

Robin looks up at you, oh no, you know that look. “Funny story, I actually don’t have the a ten to give you.” Robin gives you a sheepish smile but you don’t take it. “Robinnn, you do this every time.” She shrugs “what, I’m poor.”

Steve just stands and looks at the two of you. “Oh so now you guys are openly gambling in front of me?”

You stick your hand out. “Steven this has nothing to do with you.” He pulls your hand down out of his face. You keep your attention on Robin. “Yeah well I’m poor too Rob. That was gonna pay for my day at the pool.”

You can practically see the gears turning. “What if I told you I know a person with a pool, for free.”

“Robin, who do you know that I don’t, that has a pool?” You say crossing your arms.

Steve figures out who she's referencing before you

“No way, my pool is private, not open to the public.”

Robin yanks on Steve’s arm from over the counter. “Oh come on Steve, the kids are there all the time. Would you be generous enough to share your fortune? For me, please?”

Steve is quiet, he’s thinking. Finally with a sigh, he decided “Fine, fine, whatever you guys can come hangout at my pool.” With that, Steve walks away with his stack of tapes.

Sorry Robin, there was no way in hell you were going to Steve’s house.

——————————————————————

You caved.

It’s hot, very hot, and all you can think about is taking a dip in a nice cold pool, even if it’s Steve’s pool.

Robin called you a while ago that she was already there. You waited another 30 minutes before heading out, really debating if you want to go.

You pull up to the address Robin gave you. You look at the address scribbled on the paper just to make sure you were at the right place.

You walk up to the front door and knock, no one answers. You sway back and forth on your feet and decide to knock again. No answers, maybe everyone is out back and can’t hear?

You’re thinking maybe now is the time to run back to your car and just go home. Your inner battle is interrupted by the door swinging open.

Steve stands there with a smug look on his face.

You stare back “um hey”

“Uh hi” he mocks you “were you thinking about walking away?”

What? Oh. “Where you just standing there watching me you freak?”

You know you should be nicer, it is his house after all but it’s hot and you're sweating and you feel like you’re melting and he’s being mean and he’s getting on your nerves.

“Well are we gonna keep standing here orrr”

Steve pushes the door open all the way, inviting you in.

You walk right past him and you keep walking but you have no idea where to go. Steve shuts the door after you and brushes past you, you assume he knows where he’s going so you just follow him.

As you walk through the house,you can’t help but stare at everything.Steve’s house is beyond nice, it’s beautiful. You linger behind him, focusing on every little thing you pass.

You aren’t paying attention and don’t realize that Steve has stopped walking.

You run right into him

“Okay who's the freak now, why are you starting down everything in here? it’s creeping me out.”

Dammit he noticed. No point in lying.

“Your house is insane”

“No it is not”

“Uh, yes it is.”

“No it’s not, it’s a normal house, now move.” He goes behind you and starts shoving you towards what you assume is the back door.

“Are you kidding me, this is not normal, you’re a true ten percenter.”

“Okay I get it, eat the rich or whatever.”

You look behind you and give him a disgusted look. “It doesn’t sound right when you say it.”

Steve ignores you and goes to open the back door. You are immediately greeted by the sound of yelling and splashing. How you didn’t hear it before is beyond you. Once you step outside and your eyes adjust to the light you see the culprits of the splashing.

A pool full of teens. A pool full of teens that are now staring at you.

Robin hops up from her lounge chair and walks towards you.

“Hey I thought you’d never make it, I called you forever ago.”

The delay was on purpose. “Yeah sorry, I got distracted, You know me.” Robin seems to buy the excuse and shrugs.

“Well come sit down.” Robin leads you over to the lounge chair right next to hers.

You go to sit down but you still feel lingering eyes. “Hey Rob, why are the children staring at me?”

She whips her head towards them and they immediately look away. “You’re new, they’re frightened.”

“Understandable.”

You leave it at that.

You sit in your chair but you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, caused by the mixture of heat and the situation itself.

Once you feel like everyones stopped staring you decide to take your jean shorts and top off. You try to be as nonchalant as you can, but you feel lingering eyes again. You turn to the kids but they're too wrapped up in whatever water fight they're having. You look more to your left and find the wandering eyes. Steve tries to act like he wasn't staring, he turns his head a bit too late, and it could just be the heat but you see a pink tint on his cheeks.

Weird.

You lounge on the chairs with Robin for a while. Robin seems unaffected by the sun, reading her book peacefully. You, on the other hand, are sweltering. Your skin is shiny with sweat. Everything in you wants to jump right into the pool but you don’t.

It’s weird. For some reason you feel almost embarrassed to get in the pool. You know Steve offered but you know it was reluctantly. Also, you have no idea who these kids are and the idea of just jumping in the pool with them makes you nervous.

How pitiful, a bunch of high schoolers are scaring you.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe Robin will want to get in with you. You glanced towards Robin, who is currently sipping on whatever drink Steve gave her, eyebrows scrunched tightly. She’s gotten to the good part of her book, so you can count Robin out of getting into the water with you.

This is fine, you think. You’ll just sit here and tan away. Maybe Robin will make the decision soon to get in and you’ll jump at the opportunity to join her.

You turn from your stomach onto your back. You use your hand to block the sun but something bigger in front of you does the job for you.

Steve stands in front of you. “You’re gonna pass out from the heat.”

You move your hand to look at him. “What are you talking about Steven?”

You hear a chuckle come from the pool “Steven? You call him Steven?” You lean over to see who's laughing. You see one of the kids hanging on the pool wall, he’s got a silly little grin on his face.

Steve turns around, “No, no one calls me Steven”

“Liar, I call you Steven all the time.”

Steve turns back towards you, “Yeah and I tell you not to every time you do.”

“Why, what's so wrong with calling you Steven?”

“Uh, maybe the fact that it isn’t my name”

You gasp, “No way that isn’t your real name.”

Steve puts a hand on his hip, “Oh as if you don’t know what my real name is.”

You give him a look.”What's that supposed to mean? Is everyone just expected to know who you are and what your name is, big shot.”

“Okay that isn't what I meant”

You and Steve start to bicker back and forth but are silenced by a loud groan coming next from you.

Robin slams her book shut, “do you see what you started Henderson, they were doing so well.”

Henderson, that's the name of the instigator.

You go to sit up, “I was doing just well until Harrington over here came up to me and started bothering me.”

“Well I just thought that you looked hot and-” he cuts himself off, “not hot, well yes hot, you look sweaty and gross and yeah, you know.”

You all just stare at Steve, You don’t know what bothers you more, the fact that he called you sweaty and gross, or that he was staring long enough to notice how uncomfortable you were getting with the heat.

You hear a full on belly laugh, it comes from the Henderson kid. He shakes his head laughing and swims back over to the other kids.

This leaves you, Steve, and Robin in an awkward silence.

Robin finally puts her book down on the side table next to her, “Alright maybe it is time to get in the water.”

Oh bless Robin, she may not always pick up on social cues but you internally applaud her for picking up this one.

You get up and start walking towards the pool. Robin jumps right in. You’re about to head in when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn around fully to look and it Steve. You're about to ask him what his problem is but before you can he gives you a smug smile and pushes you.

You lose your footing and fall right into the pool. You feel a splash right next to you from under the water. You assume Steve jumped in right after you.

You feel beyond embarrassed and stay as long as you can under the water. Gravity defies your wishes and you begin to float back up to the surface of the water. When your head breaks through the water you gasp for air. All you can hear is everyone laughing, but in the mixture of laughs is Steves.

He’s laughing, you’ve never seen him laugh this hard before. You can’t help but feel a little less angry. The water feels amazing and that's enough to fully disperse your anger.

The kids get distracted by their own antics and Robin joins in with them. You sit back, not really a fan of getting splashed. Steve swims over to you, still giggling. You try your hardest not to smile but you can’t help it.

When he reaches you he speaks up, “I wish you could’ve seen your face, it was the most hilarious thing ever.”

You splash a bit of water towards him. “Yeah well I didn’t really expect to get flung into the water.”

Steve shrugs his shoulders,”What did you expect?” You give a small laugh, “more from you, but shame on me for having faith.” You both just giggle. You sit in silence for a bit, just watching Robin and the kids fight over the only two tubes in the pool.

You glance towards Steve. He’s got a real big smile on his face. The suns hitting him straight on. He’s glowing and it makes your heart beat faster.

No, no,no,no.

You are not doing this. This is not what you need. You have seen about a bazillion girls go down this same path and you will not end up like the rest of them.

You continue swimming towards the stairs, “I'm just gonna sit on the stairs for a bit.”

“Hey if the kids are being overwhelming with all the splashing, I can tell them to stop.”

No Steve it’s not the kids, it’s you but he doesn’t seem to get it as he continues to follow you to the steps.

You don’t know how to fend him off so you do what you always do, you be mean. “Gosh Harrington can you just go bother someone else.” You sat on the stairs and looked at him and you wished you hadn’t.

Steve has got this sad puppy look. His browns pinched and brown eyes wide. Before you can apologize he turns and starts swimming towards the rest of the group, muttering a small whatever.

You sit alone with a pit in your stomach. You see everyone having the time of their lives. It's better this way you think. Better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

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

A couple of hours have passed and Steve has steered clear of you. You’ve all been going back and forth between the pool and the chairs.

The kids worked up a huge appetite so Steve ordered some pizza and now everyone was lounging around.

You haven’t felt any better than you did earlier and you think you’ve stayed long enough.

You walk up to Robin who’s floating on a tube in the pool.

You lean over the pool so you can catch her attention.

“Hey Rob I think I’m gonna head out.”

She sits up in her tube, “what, why, the pizza hasn’t even gotten here yet.”

“It’s okay I’m not that hungry. Plus it’s getting late and I forgot my glasses.”

Robin groans, “what did I tell you about you glasses, you gotta keep them in your car man.”

They are in your car, but at this point you’re looking for any excuse to leave.

“Steve can drive you home. He has to drive me home anyways.”

You give her a look. “Robin, you can’t just offer for him.”

She gives you a sheepish smile. “I’m sure Steve won’t mind.”

“Steve won’t mind what.” Oh gosh you feel like you’re gonna cry.

You both look at Steve as he repeats his question.

“You don’t mind driving her home right.”

Whatever you said about Robin and social cues, this is what you meant.

You shake your head. “No he doesn’t have to drive me home, it makes no sense and plus he probably has to take all the kids home anyways.” That should do it.

It doesn’t. “Actually Nance is coming to pick them up. They’re having a sleep over at Mikes.”

Oh, Nance, Nance, you’ve heard about her.

Nancy, super cool badass Nancy who Steve has been hung up on since high school Nancy.

With your new found feelings, you’d rather not see them interact so even more reason to leave.

“Well I-” Robin cuts you off

“At least stay for pizza”

You stare at her and then glanced towards Steve, he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay Rob, I’ll stay for pizza.”

Robin gives a small yes and floats away on her tube.

You're done with the pool and want to change. You see Steve heading inside and step after him.

“Hey, mind if I borrow the bathroom.”

He just nods. You wait for instructions on where it is but none come.

Steve looks at you with a “what” look on his face.

“um , where’s the bathroom?”

Steve starts walking without saying anything. You follow behind him.

He leads you up the stairs. Finally you reach a bathroom which you assume is his based on all the hair products sitting on the counter.

“You can use this one. The kids are taking turns in the one downstairs so they won’t bother you up here.”

That's actually..really generous.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower to rinse off the chlorine? It’s starting to burn my eyes.”

Steve just nods. “Be my guest.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving you in the bathroom.

You lock the door and shimmy out of your wet bathing suit. It takes you a minute to figure out the hot water but when you do, you crank it up.

Once in the shower, you look at all the fancy products Steve has. You grab a shampoo bottle and are immediately hit with a familiar scent. You shake your head and put the bottle down. You grab the body wash and it's the same thing all over again. You quickly use it then rinse off and get out.

You feel like you're losing it. Everything in this bathroom is overwhelming you and you need to get out, quickly.

You lather lotion all over yourself and finish throwing on your clothes and run out the bathroom with your wet clothes in hand. You scurry down the stairs and head towards the back door. You can immediately smell the pizza and are grateful that the scent takes over the smell of Steve's body wash on you.

You see everyone surrounding the pizza boxes. Steve is trying her best to keep things in order but there's only so much he can do against a band of hungry teenagers.

You see robin sitting at the outdoor table with two plates, she pats the seat next to her. You walk over to her with a small smile.

“Hey, I was trying to save you a slice of pepperoni but us grown ups might be stuck with the supreme.”

You pat her on the back “thanks for trying, I’m proud of you either way.”

Robin smiles at the praise and hands you a plate with a supreme slice on it.

You take it but cant help but look at it with a bit of disdain. You actually don’t like supreme but you’ve actually worked up an appetite, so supreme will do.

Eventually each kid starts taking a seat at the table with you guys. You guys small talk until the Henderson kid gives you a compliment on your shirt. You give thanks and look down at it, thats when it dawns on you that it isn’t yours.

The shirt belonged to an ex of yours, you said you’d throw out all his things but you kept most of the t-shirts he left behind. They make great lounge shirts.

“Um thanks, it's actually my exes.” all the kids giggle and Robin gasps at you.

“What the heck, I should’ve known something was going on, that would explain why he asks about you every time he comes into the store.”

This is news to you and before you can defend yourself you hear Steve mumble a quiet “is that who that is ?”

It throws you off for a bit but then you and Robin start bickering back and forth about said ex.

Steve clears his throat loudly, “I’ll be back,” and with that he heads inside.

Robin rolls her eyes at him “dramatic much?” The kids laugh again and everyone starts chowing down on their pizzas.

You and Robin chat with the kids. They have you laughing so hard that you tear up a bit. You can see why Robin cares for them so much. You all continue to chat until you hear another set of laughs coming from the back door.

You all turn to look and you see Steve and Nancy. Steve looks at her like he’s hanging onto every sentence that comes out of her mouth You look down at your plate, you start to get that obnoxious feeling in your stomach and feel your heart pick up.

All the kids yell in unison “Nancyy!”

She laughs, “hey guys, had fun?”

They answer with their own responses.

Steve and Nancy come to sit down at the table where everyone else is.

Steve grabs a seat next to you and Nancy next to him. You want to get up and move but you feel like that might be a bit of an overreaction.

Steve grabs a plate and puts a slice on it and hands it over to Nancy, just like its second nature.

Nancy gives him a small thank you and starts eating her slice. You can't help looking back and forth between your plate and hers, you feel embarrassed.Your plate is filled with all the veggies you picked off your slice, while everyone else is eating it just fine.

Robin interrupts your internal conflict by leaning over to talk to Nancy.

“Hey Nance, this is my best friend by the way.”

Nancy puts her plate down and reaches her hand out to you, “hey it's really nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You reach your hand across Steve to meet hers, “It’s great to meet you too, I hope it's been all things good.” She just smiles and nods. Steve lets out a snort after your comment. You do your best to just ignore him.

Everyone starts chattering away as you continue to pick at your pizza.

Out of nowhere Steve lets out a sigh and looks over towards you.

“What's the point of getting a supreme slice if you're not even gonna eat it right.”

You feel your face flush out of embarrassment at him calling you out.

“There weren't any pepperoni slices left.”

“So then just eat the pizza that's left.” he says with a mean tone to his voice.

“That's literally what I'm doing right now.”

“No you aren't, you practically picked everything off your slice, its just bread.”

You're starting to get annoyed with his comments. “Okay I don’t like what’s on a supreme slice , is that a crime?”

“Not a crime, it's just a waste.”

At this point you can feel everyone quieting around you. You know that your arguments with Steve are a form of entertainment for others but you don’t want to argue. However, against your better judgment, you continue.

“What is it with you today Harrington? You are especially intolerable today.”

He scoffs, “you ever consider the fact its because I am having to spend more time than usual with you.”

Ouch

“Okay, you were the one who invited me over.”

There's a shift in the air. Everyone around you can tell that this isn't just some silly bickering. Robin tries to change the subject but Steve just can’t let it go.

“Yeah, well that was for Robin and in all honesty I thought you’d have the decency not to show up, all things considered.”

Everyone goes dead silent, no more lingering chatter.

“Considering what Harrington?” you urge him on, you really want to hear him say it. For a second you think he’ll hold his tongue but then he blurts it out.

“Considering I despise you.” he’s quiet for a second but not for long. “You’ve got no shame you know, showing up to someone's house even though you’ve done nothing but shit on them every chance you get.”

Robin chair screeches from next to you. “Steve! What the hell?!”

Everyone stares at you wide-eyed, all expecting a quick whipped insult back. It never comes. You don’t have anything to say to Steve Harrington and you don’t think you ever will after this.

You quietly get up from your chair with your plate in hand. Your legs wobble a bit as you stand and Robin reaches for your arm, urging you not to leave. Robin's puppy eyes won't get you this time.

You grab your bag of things and speed walk to the back door. Once you’ve open the door, you can hear a hush chorus of what the hell’s. You drop your plate in the sink and walk through the house to get to your car.

You hear footsteps, and don't know who to expect. When you turn around you get surprised when you see Nancy standing right in front of you.

She approaches you with wariness

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're good to drive.”

You give a pitiful fake laugh, “yeah, i’m fine, I just really have to head out now.”

She walks with you, “that's not like him, well not anymore, I don’t really know what that was.”

“Look Nancy, I don't need you to defend him to me. That's how it's always been between the two of us. I think he’s right, no more long periods of time with the two of us.”

Nancy gives a sad smile, you know she can see right through you and you hate it.

“I’ve never really seen him act like this, but I don’t think he despises you, I’ve seen Steve hate and that isn’t it.”

You know she’s just trying to make you feel better but the whole ‘I know him’ spiel just makes your heart ache even more. Nancy does know Steve in that manner and you can’t stand it even after him blowing up on you.

You give Nancy a small smile and tell her goodbye.

You finally get into your car and rummage around for your glasses. You can’t find them. You can't help but laugh. You really didn’t have your glasses all this time. You turn your brights on, in hopes that it makes seeing a bit easier.

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

You’ve been home for a while now and still are unable to sleep. Your brain is running a mile a minute and you’ve given up trying to lay down. You're sitting at your window staring out into space. You replay the conversation with Steve. You could still hear the way his voice raised and you can see the scowl on his face everytime you close your eyes.

You can’t just sit here, you’ve got to go and do something, anything to get your brain to just stop its constant buzzing. You grab your keys and a jacket as you head out your room. You don’t even bother changing out of your pajamas as you sneak out the side door. Your parents are heavy sleepers so you doubt they hear the engine turn but if they do that's just something youll deal with when you get back home.

You drive until you find a gas station that's still open. When you walk in, the cashier gives you an odd look. You ignore him as you go to grab all the snacks you crave. You usually have some self restraint but you think of it as a treat to make up for the day you had.

You walk out with a back full of candy and chips in one hand and an icy in the other.

When you make it back home you’re gathering your things when you see a car slowly rolling down the road. Still with no glasses, all you can do is squint really hard to try and make out the car. You see the car park two houses down the road and turn off. They sit in their car for a moment but finally you see the car door swing open. You decide that you might need to hurry inside.

you inhale sharply when you see the person making their way down the sidewalk, this time a lot closer than before. You start to speed walk to the side door.

All is well you think, until you hear a ‘hey’ come from behind you. You ignore it as you try your best to get your hands to stop shaking to unlock the door. You hear it again expect this time closer.

You freak out and the only thing you can do is chuck your slushy at whoever came up behind you and scream.

That's when you finally hear a string of curses from a voice that sounds oddly familiar.

You look over at the shadow figure and squint really hard. “Harrington?”

Steve, who now has slushy all over him looks up. “Yes, yes it's me Steve. Dude what the actual hell?” He looks back down at his shirt and tries to wipe pieces of frozen slushy off his shirt.

You look at him bewildered. Is he saying what the hell to you? After running up on you like some freak in the night?

“Hey that's my line, what else did you expect. You can't just creep up on a girl in the middle of the night, it's not right.”

Steve goes to argue back but you both see the light turn through the side door window.

You look back at each other with wide eyes.

“go, go hide somewhere.” you whisper shout to Steve, urging him to go anywhere that isnt right in front of your door.

He quickly rounds the corner of the house right as the side door opens. Your mother is standing in her robe with a frantic look on her sleepy face.

“What on earth is happening out here?”

“Oh, I was throwing away some trash.” you point to the bag in your hand, “then i saw some sort of critter run away from the trash cans.”

Your mom seems to believe your story. “Oh my gosh, did you see what it was?”

You shake your head. “No, i dont have my glasses.” you hope Steve is listening for the next part. “But I bet it was ugly and I hope it never comes back.”

Your mom’s too tired to pick up on your tone and just shakes her head back at you. “Why are you throwing away trash right now?”

“You know me and my late night cleaning.”

Yeah, you got her there. “Okay well don't forget to lock the door when you come back in, also please keep it down.”

“Sure thing mom, love you.” she gives a “love you too honey” and walks back towards her room.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You head over to where Steve was hiding. When you round the corner you see Steve standing there still trying to get the slushy off of him. You can't see much in the dark but you know for a fact that his shirt is ruined.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

Steve doesn’t look up at you, he just continues to fidget with his shirt.

“I don’t know, I was dropping Robin off. We talked for a bit and she gave me your address. I think I want to talk”

“You think you want to talk?”

“Yeah.”

Um, “about?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

You scoff, “I think they’re warranted, all things considered.”

“True true, you got me there.”

You can’t really stand seeing a blurry Steve with red slushy dripping off of him so you speak before you can really think about it.

“Do you wanna come in?”

Steve finally looks up at you. “Like inside?”

“Where else would we be going?”

“But your parents are home.”

You let out an annoyed breath “Look you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just offering so you could get all that'' you motion towards his shirt, “off of you.”

Steve answers the second the sentence comes out your mouth. “Yes, yes, I’d like to come inside.”

“Okay well, come on.”

After asking him to take off his shoes, you have him sneak up the stairs as quietly as he can.

Once in your room you close the door behind you and lock it. Now that you're both in your room, you start to panic. You quickly look around to make sure there isn’t anything weird laying around. Steve doesn't seem like who knows where to look either. His eyes jump from item to item, scanning everything around your room.

You sort of have a deja vu moment to earlier when you were staring at everything in his house.

You clear your throat. “Um, through that door is the bathroom if you want to rinse off. I can find something that you can wear.”

You go to your drawers and rummage through until you find a shirt and shorts that you think will fit him. “Here, I think these should work.”

Steve takes the clothes from your hands. “More of your ex's clothes?” you think he’s trying to make a joke but his tone seems more upset than joking.

“No, that's actually my brother's old clothes.”

“Oh, well I’m gonna wash up.”

Before you can respond, Steve shuts the bathroom door behind him and you hear the shower turn on.

A bit of time passes and you hear the shower turn off, a bit of rummaging comes from the bathroom and finally Steve walks out. He’s got your brother's clothes on and his dirty clothes in hand.

“Is there any way I can try washing this?”

Now's probably not the best time to run the washer. “I think it’ll wake my parents.”

“Right” Steve nods.

“I can try scrubbing it in the sink.”

“Yeah , I’d appreciate it.”

You walk up and grab the shirt out of his hands. You go into the bathroom and he follows behind you. You reach under your sink and take out some bleach and a scrub. Steve takes a seat on the edge of the tub behind you.

There's no sound but the faucet running and you scrubbing at the stains on his shirt. Once you've scrubbed as hard as you can, you ring out the shirt and hang it on the towel rack.

“I couldn't get it all out but I think I did some damage.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

There's a pause, “I deserved it.”

Agreed. “Yeah , you really scared me.”

Steve shakes his head. “Not for that.”

You immediately know what he’s talking about and the mention of it seems to reignite whatever irritation you had for him.

“Yeah, talk about hospitality.” Steve doesn't seem to enjoy your sarcastic tone but he takes it nonetheless.

“Look, I was really irritated and everything you were saying was just really setting me off and” he pauses. “ if I could just explain my perspective I think you’d be able to under-”

Is he really telling you how irritating you were being?

You cut him off before he can finish. “What did you come over for?”

“What?”

“What did you come over for? Was it to apologize because where you were headed didn't sound like an apology.”

He gives no answer.

“I’d rather you not apologize if you don’t mean it.”

“I think we both have some apologizing to do.”

That throws you for a loop. “What do I have to apologize for?” Steve huffs, “You aren’t exactly innocent in all of this.”

“I didn’t embarrass you in front of a group of people you’ve just met. I also didn't kick you out of my house, which I'm thinking I should do now.”

“Woah, I did not kick you out of my house.”

You scoff, “Might as well have but don't worry, I now have the decency to never show up again.” you’re being mean and you know it but you can’t help it. Everything is so back and forth with Steve and you can’t help but revert back to where you guys started.

Fighting, saying mean things to one another should feel normal but it doesn't. You see Steve's face and he looks so defeated and usually that has no effect on you but it does this time.

“I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late and I’m tired.”

Steve goes to say something else but you beat him to it. “Aren't you tired?” Steve knows you’re not just talking about the time of night. He knows what you’re insinuating.

You let out a sigh and slump into the counter behind you. “Some people just don’t get along. Forcing a relationship isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Steve looks up from the ground “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You give a small shrug, you fiddle with your nails. “Maybe we just need to steer clear. It makes Robin uncomfortable, I can see it.” Steve stays quiet so you continue.

“She’s my best friend and I love her and for some reason she loves you just as much. I don’t want her to choose.” Robins is really good at hiding it in small jokes and jabs but you can see it in her face when you and Steve argue. Everyone else sees it as silly bickering but Robin knows the extent of it, she hears both sides constantly nagging about the two people she loves the most.

Steve finally speaks up “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that too.” you both make eye contact and Steve’s eyes still look so sad. “So what, we just ignore each other, I don’t think that’ll make Robin any happier.”

You let out a laugh and Steve looks at you bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

“We sound like divorced parents, like we're trying to figure out what the best course of action is for our kid.” Steve doesn’t find it as funny and you don’t get why, he seems genuinely distraught and you can't help but point it out.

“Why so serious? This is like a dream come true for you.”

Steve stands up from the tub and walks a few a couple steps and ends up right in front of you.

“You’re an idiot.” Is he serious right now? He wants to go again?

“What the actual hell is your problem? I am trying to be civil and you’re being an assho-”

“I’m an idiot too.” Okay, what is going on? Steve steps a bit closer and you try to scoot away but you're stopped by the counter behind you. He’s so close to you, you can smell your body wash and shampoo on him.

“Did you use my soap?”

He gives a simple “yes” and proceeds, “did you want to just sit in the water and not actually clean myself?”

“Well I didn’t know the hair could stand anything under a thirty dollar range.”

Steve doesn’t look as sad any more and you’re even more confused. “No, not usually, but I made an exception tonight.”

You're arguing with Steve, at least you think you are, but you second guess yourself because Steve seems sooo… bubbly?

You focus in, “okay we need to finish talking.”

Steve just shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

what.is.happening?

“Can I tell you what I came for?”

“We already discussed this, you came to tell me how annoying I am and yada yada.”

Steve shakes his head again. “No, you never really let me finish. You just kind of ran with the conversation.”

That's…kinda true.

You stay quiet and let him speak.

Steve lets out a sigh. “I was irritated. I had been on edge all day at the idea of you coming over to my house. I was scared to have someone who I don’t get along with in my space. I was even more nervous to see how things would be around all the kids.”

He pauses, you bump your knee with his to get him to continue. “The way I get with you, I don’t act like that in front of the kids or really with anyone. I’m never sure where we will go and it was all unsettling, but then you got there and everything was fine and the kids thought we were a hoot and things felt, well, normal.”

You nod your head agreeing, things were fine. “It was going great but then you got all defensive again and it threw me off, kinda brought me back to reality. The reality is that you don’t like me.”

He inhales deeply before releasing it and continuing . “It upset me because I don’t feel that way about you, not anymore. At first yeah, you totally annoyed the shit out of me, but after time I found myself annoying you on purpose. If it got you to talk to me then it would do. Trust me I still felt bothered by you every now and then but it was different.”

Whatever realization you just had today, Steve had it a while ago.

You look down at Steve’s hands and they clench at his sides, and then he does something that surprises you. Steve brings his hands to rest on the counter behind you. He’s now trapped you in between his arms, but you don’t feel trapped, you feel oddly okay with this.

You and Steve are so close now, you can really smell your body wash lingering off of him. It makes your cheeks heat up. The idea of him in your shower, using your products like it’s no big deal feels intimate.

You look down at your feet to try and hide your blush but Steve brings his head down to find your eyes. When you look back up Steve’s got a serious look on his face.

“Not that you have to respond, but I'm not gonna lie, I'm so nervous right now I might die.”

You let out a laugh and Steve smiles at you, “you’re so dramatic.” Steve nods, “yeah, i'm all sorts of things when it comes to you.”

You feel like you can’t breathe, Steve has become so earnest in a matter of minutes and you don’t know how to handle it. You panic and say the first thing that comes to mind. “And what about you and Nancy?”

Steve looks upset for a second but then his face morphes into confusion, “What about me and Nacy.”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent, “ Robins always going on about how hung up you are on her.”

“You know if I didn’t love Robin so much, I'd really put her through the ringer.”

You nod your head in agreement, Rob can be a bit much sometimes. Steve continues, “I think she interpreted that all wrong, I do talk about Nancy, that's true, but it’s not because I’m hung up on her.” he sighs, “I treated her pretty badly and I regret it so much and I think I always will but there's nothing with Nancy, that's over, closed, done .”

“Oh and, she’s got a boyfriend and they’re really great together and I'm happy fo-”

You cut Steve off by bringing your hand up to cover his mouth , “okay okay I get it. Point proven.”

You can feel him smile from under your hand, he lifts one of his hands up to grab yours. When he does, he keeps it in his hold. You flex your hand in his, not knowing what to do, he grips your hand tighter, thinking you're trying to pull away.

You both stand there for a minute before you gain the courage to speak. “What does this mean, for us?”

Steves quick to respond. “Whatever you want it to mean, if you want it to mean anything.”

He’s got a hopeful look in his eyes and you just can't turn him down, not anymore.

“I, Look, this is all very new to me. A couple hours ago I thought I was going to drown you in your own pool but now, drowning you doesn't seem as appealing to me.”

Steve laughs, like fully laughs, and for a moment you're scared your parents are going to hear him, but you're too distracted by him to care.

“Oh my gosh, talk about the confession of the century. Your’e not really good at this.”

Your’e mildly offended. “Yes I am, this is just different.”

“Was it different with your ex boyfriend too?”

Oh seriously?

“Why are we talking about my ex boyfriend right now? He’s not relevant to the conversation.”

No I guess not but since we’re on the topic, what's all that about?”

You give him a questionable look. “Whats’ my ex all about?”

“Yeah”

“um , he’s a guy that I dated, and then we broke up?”

You're questionable because you don't really know what he’s looking for.

Steve drops your hand to lean forward on the counter again. You can't help but be a little sad, just a little.

“Oh wow really, no, I mean why’s he always asking about you and why do you still have his clothes?”

You give a little shrug, “I actually had no idea he was asking about me, I really need to ask rob about that and I kept some of his shirts because, well, they're comfortable.”

Steve blinks at you. “Because they're comfortable?”

You nod.

Steve chuckles and leans in to put his head on your shoulder. “I'm gonna lose my mind, I really am.”

Woah woah woah, if you thought you were blushing before, you really are now.

Steve goes to lift his head up and you quickly push it back onto your shoulder. You’ll be damned if he sees you blushing this hard.

Steve laughs again and you can't help but laugh with him.

“Um, what's going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Mhm.”

You take a moment to really feel Steve’s hair and you're honestly a little jealous. Never in your life have you felt hair as smooth and silky as his. You continue and rub your hand through his locks. You’re not really holding his head down anymore but he makes no effort to lift it up.

You hear him sigh and it knocks you out of your daze. You lift your hand up and Steve shoots his head up.

“Why’d you stop?”

“What?”

He just repeats the question. “I- I don't know, I just thought that I should?”

Steve shakes his head, “man you're really out of your element here huh?”

You get defensive. “Uh no I am not, I just,” you let out a breath, “ Steve, I meant it when i said things are different with you but it's not a bad different, it's a good different and I think that- ”

Steve stops your rambling, eyes wide. “Did you just call me Steve?”

You stop to think, you didn't even realize you had.

“That is your name isn't it?”

Steve says nothing for a moment and then out of nowhere his hands are on your sides. He pulls you forward. You gasp in shock.

Steve looks you right in the eyes and asks “say it again.”

You play coy “it again.” Steve lets out a frustrated groan and gives your hips a shake “say my name again. If you don't, I think I might die.”

He’s really pulling out all the stops and he’s almost got you “Say please.”

Steve is as close as he’s ever been when he whispers a quiet “please”

You say his name even quieter but he’s close enough to pick it up

“Steve.”

There's a split second where Steve stares at you with a look that has so much meaning and all you do is nod and he’s invaded your space fully.

Steve kisses you with such urgency, like he’s waited his whole life for this moment and you can't help but meet him with the same furocity.

He’s obviously very skilled and the thought of all his past endeavors have you feeling green but as if he can read your mind, Steve pulls you in even closer, pressing himself against you.

You think you could do this forever but your lungs are demanding air.

Steve doesn't let you pull away for any longer than a second, each gasp of air is eaten by him right after. You can't help but smile into the kisses. Steve pays no mind and just lands kiss after kiss after kiss. You feel so light headed and airy, you think you’ll faint if this goes on any longer.

You bring your hands to his hair again, which elicits a groan from Steve. That alone makes you want to continue but you’ve got to breathe. You grab a hold of his locks and pull gently, Steve pulls away long enough for you to say his name again. Another groan follows.

He’s rushing forward, eyes on your lips, when you grip his hair tighter, he winces and you immediately rush to apologize.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I just needed a minute and that's the only thing I could think of.”

Steve pants out a response. “Next time you wanna stop, definitely don't do that cause that does not make me want to stop.”

It doesn't take much time for you to get how he’s insinuating.

You run your hands along the spots that you tugged on, hoping to soothe the sting.

“I'm sorry Steve.”

The sweet tone in your voice has Steve back on you, kissing along your jaw.

“Say.”

Kiss

“It.”

Kiss

“Again.”

You let out a sweet sigh, “Steve”

“Again.” he says as he makes his trail down the side of your neck.

you breathe out an airy laugh, “Steve”

you’d say his name a million times, over and over again, if this is what it got you.

Finally, after what feels like forever, Steve pulls away.

“You're gonna get tired of your own name if you keep making me say it.” you say teasingly

Steve’s still holding you close, “No way, not if it’s you saying it.”

You hum. You both stand close, basking in each other's presence when all the sudden you hear a loud crack.

You and Steve both jump at the sound. You both walk out the bathroom hand in hand. Steve gets in front of you, like he’s trying to protect you from whatever made the noise. It makes your heart stutter.

When you both walk into your room you notice that rain is coming down hard and you’ve still got your window open.

“Shit” you say scurrying over to the window.

Steve comes up right behind you to help push the window down. He does so with little effort of course.

You both linger and suddenly something comes to mind. “It's raining.”

“I see that.” Steve gives you a little smirk. “Pretty hard too.”

You nod “yeah, as your host” you pause to make sure he’s paying attention, “I just can't, with a conscious mind, let you drive in that rain. It's for your safety.”

Steve nods aggressively, “of course, of course.”

You clap your hands, “well that's that.” without another word, you drag him over to your bed. You throw your hoard of pillows onto the ground and fall onto your bed. Steve stands still, not really sure what to do.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Steve, still standing, says “things, many many things.”

You scoot into a comfortable position and pat the spot next to you “woah you move fast, freak.”

Steve gives an offended look but finally goes to lay down next to you. You both lay there, facing one another.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

You bring your hand up to flick him on the forehead, “you didn't have to, I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve grabs your hand before you can pull it away. “Whatever, you’re imagining things.” Steve tries his best to change the subject but you can see his face turning red.

“Steve,” you say, dragging his name, “are you blushing right now?”

Steve goes to cover your eyes, “Shut up, aren't you blind? You’re seeing things.”

You pry his hand away. “I am not blind.” you say, going to pinch his sides.

Steve tries and succeeds in pinning your hands down, he’s above you grinning. “Why are you insistent on harming me all of a sudden? Is it like a kink or something?”

You feel your face heat up, “what? Absolutely not. And what about you with the hair pulling?”

Steve is stunned silent. “Lets…. Let's not go there.”

Still with your hand pinned, “I think we should actually, you seem to really get a kick out of me yanking on your hair, I can only imagine what else you like being yan-”

Steve cuts you off with a bruising kiss and as much as you like teasing him, this is much much better.

Steve kisses with so much passion, almost like he can’t help it, it makes you get that sickly sweet feeling in your stomach.

Obviously distracted, he lets go of your hands and they immediately fly up to his hair. You think you might be obsessed with it.

Steve runs his hands up and down your body, your shirt scrunching up due to this. Steve wastes no time and slides his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. This causes you to gasp into his mouth. Steve likes this reaction, grinning into your lips.

You bring your legs to wrap around his back and pull him down. Steve stumbles a bit and is now pressing himself into you.

You break apart from him, gasping for air. Steve immediately kisses a trail down your neck. Hands still in his hair, eyes closed, you let out a blissful sigh.

Deciding to be a bit mischievous, Steve nips at different spots on your neck, eliciting small sounds from you, until he finally finds a spot that has you bringing a hand to cover your mouth.

You feel like you're floating, like you're dreaming and none of this is real. Is this real?

You lay your hands on the sides of Steve's face and lift. When he looks up, he’s looking at you with the dreamiest eyes. You need to reach a stopping point but with that look you just can't help it.

One more, you think. You guide him up to kiss you again and this time it’s so sweet you think you might cry.

One more turns into two, then a dozen more.

Finally after what feels like an eternity, you find yourselves with Steve resting his head in the crook of your neck, still kissing the skin there from time to time.

You lay there, running your hands through his hair, everyone now and then getting a sound of approval.

Steve breaks the silence first. “You know earlier, at my house, I really did feel like a freak.”

You give a small laugh. “What? Why?”

Steve, still with his face buried in your neck, “You were sitting in your bathing suit and you were legitimately glistening in the sun, and I could not for the life of me, stop looking.”

That's why you felt like someone was watching you, you'd just never assume it was him.

Steve continues, “that's when i decided to get you into the pull, I thought that if I pushed you in, you’d look like a wet dog and all would be well.”

You scoff and slap the side of his head “real nice Steve.”

He laughs, “let me finish” you can feel his hands fiddling at your side. “That totally backfired on me because you came up from the water and it was like, in slow motion, and you were laughing, like actually laughing and in that moment I could have died.”

“Steve, how's this gonna work? I can't have you almost dying every time I'm being a total babe, because that's like all the time.”

Steve nods in agreement. “Oh yeah, totally not good for my health at all, but you’re worth it.”

This makes your heart swell.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. You can feel Steve’s breathing getting slower as well. Before you realize, you both drift off to sleep.

——————————————————————————

When you stir awake, you’re lost for a split second before you remembered what all transpired last night. It's still pouring rain outside and you have no will to get out of bed, not that you could anyways. You don't know how, but Steve has managed to get most of his body laying on yours, head still tucked away and arm tightly wrapped around your waist.

You're totally fine laying like this until you get the urge to pee. You’re squirming finally wakes him up and for a moment you're hopeful that you can be freed to use the restroom. Steves blinks at you but then just closes his eyes and tightens his arm around you.

“Steveee.” he ignored you. “Steve, I have to get up.”

Steve shakes his head and gives a simple no.

“Yes, I have to. I have to go to the-”

You go quiet when you hear the stairs squeak from outside your door.

Now you really start to panic and yet, Steve is still insistent on holding you down.

You whisper now “Steve, no more jokes, it's my parents.” This has Steve shooting his head up, eyes now equally as wide as yours.

He lets you go and before he can say anything, you shoot out of bed and start throwing all your pillows and throw blankets over him into a big pile. He looks lost and you whisper to him. “Don't move, matter of fact, don't breathe.” and you throw one more pillow right onto his face.

You go to your door right as you hear a knock. You crack your door open slightly and see your mom.

“Good morning”

“Good morning.” you say, trying to sound normal.

You hear your dad from down stairs yelling that he’ll be in the car.

Your mom yells that she’ll be right there.

They’re leaving? Score!

Your mom looks you up and down. “We're heading to your aunts for breakfast, we’ll be back a bit later.”

You nod, trying to be nonchalant. “Yeah yeah, sounds good.”

You pray that's all but your mom says something else.

“Im assuming the animal came back last night.”

“um , what mom?”

Shes got a funny smile on her face, “the critter that scared you last night, it came back right.”

Ooooh, you’re done for.

You both look down the stairs when you hear the front door close. Youre mom looks back at you.

“Whatever is going on, we’ll talk later okay?”

You nod defeatingly. “Yeah okay.”

Your mom ruffles your hair through the crack in the door.

“And hunny?”

“Yes?”

“Go uncover that poor boy before you suffocate him to death.” and with that she walks down the stairs and you hear the door close for the second time.

Your a bit stunned at your door but your knocked out of it when you hear steve rise up from his pile, gasping for air.

You turn around and walk towards him. “Soooo my mom totally knows your here.”

He winces, “yeah I could kinda hear her.”

You sit down next to him. “On the brightside, it looks like my dad didn’t.”

Steve gives you a look. “Is that a brightside?” you nod your head. “Oh yeah, my dad would have killed you.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and you can't help but bust out in laughter. In a rush, he grabs you and has you both falling back into the bed.

“Don't play like that, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” you pat his chest. “Oh that definitely wasn't a joke, you should definitely fear the old man.”

Steve gulps. “I dont know whats worse, that or trying to explain all of this to Rob.”

Oh damn. Robin.

You sigh. “That might take the cake.” Steve gives a mhm.

You sit up and swing you legs over Steve’s legs, now straddling him.

“We could sit and talk about how your ass is grass orrr we could do something else.”

Steves hands come up to grip your waist. “The second option, definitely the second option.”

“I like your thinking Harrington.” Steve gives you a look and pulls you down for a bruising kiss.

You’re absolutely done for.

You think this is a slippery situation. Steve will be able to get away with a lot when he finds out that all he has to do is kiss you. You think it might be the same for him.

Steve gives your side a pinch and you gasp into his mouth. This has him sliding his tongue into yours. His hands find their way under your shirt and caress your bare sides.

Steve continues with his slow languid kisses and you think that you won’t be able to live through another morning if it’s not like this.

You smile at your inner thoughts, finding it funny how his dramatics have rubbed off on you. Steve doesn’t question it and continues.

When you two finally pull away you go to lay next to him. Staying up super late and waking up early, the tiredness begins to creep up on you both.

No more words are spoken. With the rain pouring down and your room still being gloomy from the clouds, you decide that sleeping again is inevitable. Steve seems to agree as he’s already got his eyes closed and arm thrown around your stomach.

Everything can wait, you think.

Your mom

Robin

Your dad

The whole world for all you care.

With one final glance towards Steve, you close your eyes and are lulled to sleep by the rain hitting the roof.

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Helloooo! I’m literally crying, this took me so long but I love it, I love them. I have so much more for them.

#myeyesareburning #naptime

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic

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neptuneschldd · 1 year ago

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Difficult Placements in the Natal Chart.❤️‍🩹🖤

small disclaimer; none of these placements listed are depicted as bad or evil placements, these are areas in a chart that require more attention to and tell more about a much more darker/struggling side about the individual.

Sun in 8H/6H/12H. These individuals may take on the heavier parts of life rather than having things come easy to them. These individuals have a possibility of having a distorted self-image, they may not even know exactly who they are and may bc hidden from the spotlight. These individuals are resilient and often work hard in secret, they’re the type that don’t trust anyone and sometimes not even themselves, they can be critical on themselves. Additionally these individuals may have a struggling or complex relationship with father/make figures.

However in maturer years they learn to go with the flow of things, and find peace even in difficult moments.

Along with this, mainly any personal placements within the 8H/12H. These individuals at a young age are shown to the tougher sides of lives, they experience a lot and hold lots of knowledge even at young ages about various things from their own personal experiences. They have a heightened awareness and deeper understanding of the things around them. Wise yet unheard, often very misunderstood individuals. They benefit from expressing their emotions verbally or even through art or their desired professions.

Lilith at 18°. These individuals suppress their shadow side and several traits that make them, them. These individuals are strong beings yet are often underestimated by others because of how much they suppress themselves. These individuals should work more on their inner beings (ie. shadow work) to appreciate the different sides of themselves.

Jupiter 3H. These individuals in early life may lack when it comes to communication skills, they often hold themselves back from their full potential. Once they get out of this they can amass huge amounts of success, they grow when going out of their comfort zones and communicating with others.

Sun/Moon-Pluto Asp. (Esp. conjunction). These individuals are powerful people, seriously. However, they often have complications with their image (Sun) or their emotions (Moon), they can. They tend to have inner turmoil that they usually hide effortlessly, their issues may fluctuate and they’re always experiencing new things every month, they often can’t catch a break.

Sun-Chiron. These individuals have serious issues with their images, often dealing with power struggles in younger years. As they get older they may have felt like they spent an eternity trying to figure themselves out yet still haven’t made any progress (I promise its okay🫂). Once these individuals accept their past experiences and grow their confidence and work on themselves, they’re truly unstoppable.

Chiron in Aquarius/Leo/Gemini or in 11H/3H. These individuals may have struggled in the past or have a common theme in their lives relating to their self expression. May have been force to hide their true selves and conform to societies standards. They may have been treated as the odd “black sheep” or the outcast in groups/family. Misunderstood however as they get older they learn to shine a lot better and it comes almost effortlessly.

Moon-Mars/Mercury Negative aspects. These individuals may struggle with emotions. They may spiral out of control and express things that they don’t actually mean. They often don’t know how to properly express negative feelings and people may see them as too much. They find it hard to put their thoughts into words. They often need to journal out their feelings, even talking to people anonymously may benefit even possibly therapy.

Jupiter/Moon-Neptune negative aspects. These individuals are more likely to highly depend on daydreaming as means of escape. They may even resort or become highly co-dependent on false depictions of love, substances, etc. With these individuals there’s like a huge storm cloud that’s constantly covering up the beauty of a scenery. They may overindulge in materialistic things and are likely to maladaptive daydream or technology. These individuals should spend more time away from material things, or do small activities that keeps their mind stable and working.

Neptune/Pluto in 11H. These individuals constantly are blinded by their surroundings and their enemies tend to hide in plain sight. They’re more likely to fall susceptible to the evil eye, and attract envy a lot from others. They may be delusional when it comes to friendships, and not notice that the people they call their “friends” are actually trying to tear down their energy. These individuals are also likely to absorb a lot of negativity from others and can often feel drained easily from being around people. They benefit from becoming more aware of the people around them, perhaps having a form of protection near them and watch carefully who they let in their vicinity.

Uranus 12H. Similar to an Aquarius Chiron imo, these individuals suppress who they are from others. They have a subconscious fear that often holds them back from expressing their unique side completely. They benefit and notice good change when they be their authentic selves rather than conforming to society because they truly are one-of-a-kind individuals 🖤.

Saturn in the 1H/5H/7H/11H/8H. These individuals often restrict themselves from the pleasures of life, they can’t have fun and often are overly critical of themselves. These individuals are highly reflective people and often have trust issues, they overanalyze people and themselves throughout their lives. These individuals need to learn to let go of the harsh standard they hold themselves and other people to, they can’t change things that are out of their control and should learn to relax and live life, these individuals will find fulfillment when they finally let go.

Virgo Moon. These individuals may have grown being overly criticized, they also may have had a critical mother and often take onto these traits into their adulthood. These individuals are the type to work hard and don’t give themselves any time relax at all, they are genuine people yet most people often misunderstand them as controlling or too serious.

Mars/Mercury in Pisces/12H. These individuals may have a lot of suppressed feelings, they often don’t express how they truly feel and perhaps people around them often made them feel that they shouldn’t show their emotions. These individuals can even be explosive at times, they need to learn to control their emotions.

Saturn Square Venus. These individuals not only struggle in relationships but often struggle with themselves and their self-love, these individuals restrict themselves and often have a closed minded approach when it comes to love, either this or they don’t receive much opportunity to experience it. These individuals are pushed to find love within themselves without the dependency of someone else.

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That’s all for now, please comment if there’s any other things that can be added. And if you have any of these placements listed here’s a hug 🫂!

-neptune. ❤️‍🩹

#astrology #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #challanging aspects #12h placements

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sansaorgana · 10 days ago

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— IN PERPETUITY (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — Two most powerful Lieutenants of Morgoth and twisted lovers in private form a pact through cursed marriage to become their master's equal successors and rule Middle-earth together. He, however, has other plans and does not intend to share. She takes the matters into her own hands.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The idea for this fic showed up in my head while I was working on a different fic with a Maia!Reader, in which she is good and pure and all that. And that other story will be finished and posted, too, but with a delay because I focused on this one first. 🙈 The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. This fic will have a second part with Annatar!Sauron but in this part you get only Jack Lowden!Sauron because that ginger loser needs some love and attention as well. 😭🥰 The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, betrayal, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking/pact/magic, mentions of Sauron being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,650

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (I)

It was no surprise to any of The Valar that you were one of the first to follow Morgoth. You always found it troublesome to obey the orders, to show respect or loyalty. As if you had been already created flawed, although no one dared to question Eru’s decisions.

The gods were aware, however, that Morgoth wanted you as his servant as well for he was a god like them. Therefore, they expected you to come back with your tail between your legs, begging for their forgiveness since they were much more merciful masters than he ever would be.

Nevertheless, that did not happen and you became one of the most loyal Lieutenants to the Dark Lord. You sometimes amazed your own self with the amount of cruelty you were able to inflict. Perhaps Eru himself had created you this way indeed – perhaps you were evil by his design. Dark creatures like Morgoth or you were needed to emphasise the lightness – cursed outcasts to show an example.

Morgoth did not even need to break you as much as others who had followed him. He did not feel the need to rebuild you or push you as far as most of his followers because it did not take much for you to become the very worst version of yourself.

You were the lucky one.

Mairon was not.

You could hear his whimpers and screams of pain as he was tortured. And you watched and watched in awe at him transforming with Morgoth's help into the man that would from now on be known as Sauron amongst many.

But to you he would remain Mairon. And Mairon watched you in awe, too.

He observed you with admiration and curiosity. He wanted to be more like you – so terrifyingly beautiful in your art of cruelty. And he was learning the craft from you.

Until, eventually, with your master's help and by his twisted design, Mairon became a Lieutenant as loyal and fierce as you.

And each time he failed at a task given to him by Morgoth, he would come to you first, seeking comfort and hoping you would ease your master before their encounter – like a child would come to their mother, fearing their father's anger.

Everyone knew Morgoth was gracing you with a special treatment. And even though it was unlikely he was able to feel any real affection towards you, many knew that you were the only Lieutenant of his that he actually cared about because you were the only one who abandoned The Valar thoroughly and wholly.

You did not care about him, though. The Valar were right – you did not enjoy being under him; under anyone. And you truly hated the destruction that he was causing as you could not understand the desire of becoming the King of ashes.

You wanted to be the Dark Lady yourself and you often fantasised what you would do if you were him. His god-like status did not intimidate you and you could not care less whether it was a blasphemy or not to imagine yourself as a Vala. No god had ever intimated you.

You were your own god and you wanted to rule over the world. To make it perfect and harmonious.

You became closer with Mairon when you sensed his heart was corrupted with the same thoughts and feelings. And while your Maiar bodies remained focused on the battles and schemes – so unfamiliar with the carnal desires of the flesh – as you spent more and more time together and he shared with you his dream of forging the very special and powerful Rings, you could feel the strange and odd desire growing within you.

One day, you gave in to them.

You heard his screams of pain throughout the fortress like the ones back in the day when Morgoth had been shaping him to his whim and design. Now he was punishing him for one of his failures and your master’s wrath was undeniable.

Mairon was one of his best Lieutenants, therefore Morgoth expected from him the most.

And when the punishment ended, Mairon found himself knocking weakly upon the doors of your chambers. You opened them and gasped at the state of his flesh. He was too weak to heal himself fully, allowing the bruises to form and cuts to bleed.

You welcomed him and laid him down in your bed before tangling your limbs with his; his face buried in your chest as your fingers brushed his ginger hair and gently teased his pointy ears.

"My poor Mairon," you whispered and leaned in to place a kiss upon his temple.

He looked up at you with devotion.

Unlike you, he had been once Eru’s perfect creation – Mairon had been pure in his past, worshipping the Valar like he had been designed to. The Valar were no more in his heart but the devotion remained and you were the subject of it.

"Let me ease your pain," you spoke softly and caressed his cheek with your fingers, making the small cuts disappear as bruises began to fade away. He closed his eyes and sighed out of relief. "Where else can I aid you, my Mairon?" You asked as his eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Everywhere," he breathed out. "I need you everywhere, my Lady."

The odd desire you had been fighting within you for a long time now apparently was not one-sided. Perhaps a Maia fallen was a Maia burdened with such humiliating and carnal needs.

You rolled him over onto his back as you sat astride him with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Maybe it was not a burden... Maybe it would be a new adventure, a new path to follow.

You got rid of his robes in a haste as his hands weakly caressed your thighs wherever they could reach under your dress. And once he was naked for you – under you – you felt like an animal, driven by the urges you could not stop.

That felt ungodly.

Your fingers curled on his chest, scratching the flesh and you watched your nails leave red trails upon his pale skin. Instead of healing him, you only added more to the pain but the pathetic whimpers leaving his mouth were not of suffering but of pleasure.

"Yours..." was all he gasped as your pupils widened even further. Yours... How good it felt to have him at your mercy.

You were like Morgoth himself now with Mairon laid out for you, eager for you to shape him the way you wished him to be.

And you loved to feel like Morgoth, to share at least a tiny bit of his power. The realisation was enough to make you feel the itch deep inside the heat of your core.

"Mine..." you nodded at Mairon and grasped his length to squeeze it, watching him wince as the flesh hardened under your touch.

You kept pumping him and observing all his sighs, eye rolls and the tremble of his thighs. His eyes filled with tears as he kept bravely staring up at you despite his vision getting blurry and hazy.

Your pace quickened and you used your free hand to caress his thighs gently as if you were trying to soothe them but it only caused them to tremble more while you watched his body giving in to your touch so eagerly and easily.

All of the sudden, just to tease him, you stopped your hand's rapid movements and squeezed the swollen tip. Mairon whined and bucked his hips desperately, the tip of his cock pulsating under your thumb. When you let go of him completely, he spilled himself with a groan and blushing cheeks as his hips kept rutting into nothing.

What a pathetic and yet delicious sight it was. You felt the wetness between your legs leaking down your thighs already.

“You're so fun to play with, my Mairon," you pointed out. "I wish our master allowed me to be the one responsible for your punishments."

"I wish that, too, my Lady," he breathed out, putting his hand on his chest, surprised to feel how fast his heart pounded.

"It is not over yet," you pouted. "You spoiled my fun by giving in to your desires so quickly."

You smirked and with one swift movement you took your dress off to throw it on the floor, revealing your naked form to him. You adjusted yourself and grabbed his cock once more, so swollen and sensitive, which caused Mairon to whimper. You lowered yourself slowly on his length, hissing at the new experience of feeling full.

Your eyes rolled all the way to the back as you threw your head and scratched Mairon's chest when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you and brushing all the right spots that made you aware of pleasures of the flesh you had never even known of before.

"Divine," he breathed out and you rolled your hips slowly with a whine.

When you adjusted to the slightly burning feeling, your eyes opened with a sparkle of mischief as you began riding him – faster and faster with each given bounce, keeping your eye contact with him although his vision was too hazy to see you clearly.

It was like a trance and you lost track of time. The Maiar needed no rest, therefore it could have been days – maybe even weeks – spent on nothing else but fucking yourself on his cock, using him for your own, newlyfound pleasure; reaching your highs countless of times and beginning all over and over again until the matters much more important than indulging yourselves interrupted your blissful state.

"One day, there will be only the two of us," Mairon whispered into your ear as he watched you getting dressed in front of the mirror. "And we will not leave our chambers for a whole century."

"Would you leave your kingdom unattended for such a long time?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I certainly would not," you added harshly and fixed your gown's corset one last time before leaving him behind inside your chambers as you walked out with your head held high and back straightened.

With an illusion of dignity that was supposed to hide the fact you had just spent long and endless days on worshipping Mairon’s flesh with nothing but pleasure and devotion as he had been only laying there and receiving and you had been the one to do all the work like he was the master you served.

After Morgoth's defeat, Mairon and you both were the only ones who could possibly become your master's successors for you were his most powerful Lieutenants.

Instead of starting a war between yourselves, you chose to create a pact of taking over Morgoth's legacy together as equals.

The holy bond of marriage was the most suitable way to seal this union for all eternity, especially when it seemed that you two shared the same goal and the same vision of healing Middle-earth and crafting it to fit your peaceful ideal.

The oath had nothing to do with the holy Valinor's customs. You used forbidden dark magic to bind you two together in perpetuity; mixing your black bloods together and drinking the cursed mixture from the cup as you exchanged the rings forged by Mairon himself with your aid; made of dark iron and with powerful spells engraved on them.

Adar was the master of your ceremony. He had stayed by your side after Morgoth's defeat and Mairon had promoted him to the rank of Lieutenant because you two needed smart and loyal people – especially if they had a whole army of the Orcs following their every order.

You could sense your marriage pact with Marion was making Adar a little uncomfortable. He was watching you carefully throughout the ceremony and also during the feast where he was sitting nearby.

Mairon's behaviour was surprising you a little. Never before he had been so open with the amount of his devotion towards you. And now, despite the audience of the Orcs and the fallen Elves, he was all over you, kissing your neck between the sweet nothings whispered into your pointed ear as his fingers intertwined with yours under the table to squeeze your hand.

He was like a dog, you thought, but you could not blame him. He had admired you from the very beginning of his service to Morgoth and now he had you as his spouse. You allowed him to enjoy himself because it was the day of your wedding.

For you, it was more of a transaction. You cared about Mairon to some extent and your flesh enjoyed to fuck his but there was nothing in this world that you would love more than power.

"My Lady, can we talk?" Adar approached you when you were left alone for a moment.

You looked up, surprised, but the seriousness of his expression was making it obvious that the matter was rather important.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" You asked him as you followed him to the dark corner of the room where you could hide in the shadows together.

"I am a bearer of the bad news, I am afraid," Adar started and you furrowed your brows.

"Did Elven armies find our fortress?" You asked.

"No. Not the bad news of this kind," he lowered his voice even more and he glanced at Mairon from the corner of his eye.

You looked at your husband, too. He was talking to some of the fallen Elves and his excitement was revealing that he probably discussed his plans for the future.

"Do continue," you nodded at Adar, looking back at him with curiosity.

"Mairon does not plan to share anything with you," he informed you. "He re-fired Morgoth's crown to fit himself."

Your blood turned cold at the revelation. Morgoth's crown was supposed to be melted and turned into two smaller but equal crowns. That was the deal between you and Mairon – two spouses, two crowns, two Rings, one kingdom.

You glanced once more at your husband. How innocent he seemed at the moment, how devoted to you. And yet…

Your own student outsmarted you in the art of cunning treachery, so it seemed. You gritted your teeth.

"How do you know?" You asked Adar just to make sure.

"I was there," he answered with a hint of smirk, knowing very well that his delay of bringing you the news created a new problem for you.

"And you are telling me this only now? After I am bound to him forever?" Your jaw clenched out of anger as you realised.

"I have been a loyal servant to your husband and it still pains me to betray him by telling you the truth but I must think of my children first and at this very feast I overheard his plans for the Uruk. I cannot let this happen," he revealed and you sighed. You knew what plans he was talking about.

Mairon had never considered the Orcs to be smart creatures, therefore he often was speaking freely and openly about what he planned to do with them or what he was thinking of them because he thought they would not even understand.

Perhaps they would not but their Lord Father would.

"I have never been fond of your children either, Adar," you reminded him.

"Yet you make a better ally than he. I know you can give up on enslaving the Uruk if I helped you to rule over Middle-earth with their army in return. Alone. A Queen with no King," he whispered and his tempting words sent a shiver down your spine.

After a very short moment of hesitation – which surprised you to exist at all – you nodded at Adar.

“Say no more,” you whispered.

And when Mairon informed you a few weeks after your wedding that he wanted to be crowned soon and that he wished for you to be the one to put Morgoth’s crown onto his head, you agreed with a sweet smile that should have made him realise how false it was. But he was too relieved with the fact that you seemed to have no problem at all with giving him the most important title, therefore he did not notice the coldness of your gaze.

"My dear," he kneeled in front of you while you were sitting on the edge of your bed and he held your hands softly in his as he leaned in to kiss them. "It brings me so much joy to know it will be you to lay the crown onto my head. I do not wish for anyone else to bless me for I would not be here if it was not for you."

"Indeed, my sweet Mairon," was all you said with a scolding gaze but, once again, he chose not to see it. “My King,” you added with irony – one more time the tone of your voice remained ignored.

Sometimes, he would use his illusions to fool even himself. And that very thing would turn out to be his demise.

“You will be my right hand, my Queen, my goddess,” he kept assuring you and kissing the palms of your hands as you kept gritting your teeth.

His right hand, he dared to say. You were supposed to be one body, one soul. His Queen and yet she would bear no crown – not the same as his at least. His goddess but his devotion was a lie. He loved power more than he loved you.

But you loved power more than you loved him as well, so it was only fair.

And how else could you repay for his betrayal if not with a betrayal in return?

You already had a whole plan formed with Adar and all you had to do now was to patiently wait for the day of the coronation. You truly hoped that Morgoth's crown was powerful enough to kill your husband, so he could exist no more and so would the bond of blood magic between you be broken forever.

You were wearing beautiful, matching robes with your husband and your only audience were the Orcs and Adar, who was holding Morgoth’s crown as Mairon decided to give a speech to his new army.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept glancing at the re-fired and re-shaped crown with a bitter and sour expression.

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again. Morgoth is gone,” your husband announced to the Orcs. “Leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and you exchanged a meaningful look with Adar at the sight of Mairon’s fingers fidgeting nervously. “Under me. Your new master. Sauron.��

It should have been you. Giving the speech. Being crowned. And you would be. Soon. Very soon.

However, you loved the dramatics as much as your husband. And you would gladly allow him to make a fool out of himself first.

“And with a new age, I bring a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest. For I seek a new kind of power,” Mairon raised his right hand as he spoke, posing to be some sort of a sage sharing his wisdom. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will.”

The Orcs seemed to be content with his words and for that one thing you admired him, actually – the way he always knew what to say to make people follow him and be enamoured with his visions.

You knew that he did not care about what the Orcs wanted and the words he was using now were nothing but a temptation for them to obey his orders. But it was them he wanted enslaved, not the others. The others were meant to be healed.

“Many Orcs will die,” Mairon added and you felt Adar moving uncomfortably. The Orcs did not seem to be as happy as before and you could not blame them. You glanced at your husband with a raised eyebrow.

Sometimes, even the ones most graced with a gift of the golden speech, would say a sentence too many.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon smiled, excitedly and you rolled your eyes. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but he was overdoing himself, it was too much and the Orcs were not as stupid as he believed them to be.

You could sense their nervousness and you could hear their whispers in the Black Speech: “Sauron lies”.

It brought you lots of satisfaction as you smirked to yourself, however you had to hide that smile quickly because your husband’s eyes desperately seeked for yours. He needed your comfort and your encouragement, so pathetically. So desperate to prove his worth as he had always been.

You nodded at him with a sympathetic smile, playing a role of a dutiful and supportive wife.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he began once more but his voice slightly weakened as he did so and then he clasped his hands while his voice suddenly turned darker. He decided to use a different tactic. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

Perhaps you were not as skilled as he was with your speeches but you knew that this was not the way to lure the Orcs. It was not the way to lure anyone. Mairon was losing control – even the fact his hands were clasped was only trying to hide how shaky they had become.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” he continued as the Orcs began to growl. In that moment, you were glad you had your pact with Adar, because otherwise you would not feel safe amongst them.

Suddenly, one of the Orcs standing closest to Mairon attacked him with his blade, making an assassination attempt. Your husband swiftly defended himself and slit his throat, for which you were glad.

You would kill that Orc yourself if he maimed Mairon before you could lay your hands on him. He was yours to slaughter.

As the creature dropped down to his knees and continued choking on his own blood, you watched Mairon pull the Orc even closer and watch his suffering with the same fascinated expression as you had used to watch him when he had been reshaped by Morgoth.

And then, he finished the assassin off with his own blade being put into the Orc’s skull. Over and over again as Adar flinched at the sight of his son being treated this way and the Orcs kept growling in anger.

And you, in that moment – for a short while – actually considered following your husband like you had once followed Morgoth. To forgive him his betrayal and to play along the role of a dutiful wife.

His cruelty spurred you on as you watched and watched, refusing to look away until the Orc’s body hit the floor and Mairon threw away the blade to fix his ginger hair that had gotten messy from the fight.

You could sense his frustration. His blood was now flowing in your veins just like yours was flowing in his.

“I am your only future and my path is your only path!” He yelled at the Orcs, fury and rage filling him whole and causing the veins of his face to fill up and swell with his thick and black blood.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. The admiration you had felt not even a minute earlier was all gone now and once again you felt ashamed of your husband.

Morgoth had never yelled desperately like that to get respect. He had never threatened – not so openly. His very presence had been enough to follow him out of fear.

“Who among you dare say otherwise?” Mairon asked, more calmly now.

Soon, he would find out who exactly dared.

But so far, he still trusted you. He turned his head around and nodded at you, his eyes filled with faith.

You nodded back and took Morgoth’s crown from Adar’s hands. It was heavy and powerful as its dark magic vibrated from it all throughout your body when you carried it towards the crowd.

The Orcs were snarling at you when you raised your hands with the crown, not pleased at all that you were about to lay it upon your husband’s head.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord.”

The Orcs hesitated but they followed what their Lord Father said.

“All hail!” They chanted and you walked away to your husband, who had just kneeled for you.

Like in the old days, before all the battles Morgoth had been sending him to. Mairon would kneel and you would bless him with your sword.

You raised your hands once more as a thrill of excitement went through your body. Mairon looked up at you through the crown placed above his head and you could spot the hint of doubt. Your bond worked both ways and he could sense something disturbing about you but you soothed him with a soft and fake smile.

Unsurely, he lowered his head once more and looked down, waiting for you to grace his head with the burden of the crown.

And the crown was a burden indeed. So full of dark and powerful magic that you knew already it was most certainly enough to kill a spirit like your husband.

You turned it around in a swift movement and lowered it with all your strength to stab him in the back of his neck as the crown’s poison infected his veins and made him move back out of the sudden pain.

You took the crown away from him and took a few steps back to stand next to Adar as the Orcs began screaming and approaching you all. Mairon’s eyes were full of surprise and disappointment and he kept them only on you as you graced him with the same soft smile you had been giving him for weeks now; for him to finally realise how false it was all this time.

“You could have kept your promise, my pet,” you told him in the Quenya language.

Your words angered him and he tried to stand up with his weakened limbs to fight you but in that very moment a group of Orcs attacked him all at once, stabbing his flesh continuously as you watched. He was making an attempt to fight them back and for the state he was in, he was truly doing well, but they were too many and he was alone.

And even if some part of you would truly mourn for your husband, the dark item in your hand with his blood dripping down on the floor from its iron spikes was enough to bring your mind back on the right path.

And as the Orcs kept stabbing his body, which was laying now in the puddle of dark and sticky blood, you raised the crown once more and put it on your own head, feeling Mairon’s blood dripping from it onto your face.

You licked your lips to get the taste. For the one last time you tasted him as you smirked.

You turned your head around to nod at Adar and he nodded back at you.

All hail the New Dark Lady.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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toxycodone · 1 month ago

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Monster Fucker's Journal : Introduction

ship. laios touden x reader, reader x various monsters

chapter content: nsfw, masturbation + desc of monster sexual organs. reader is gender neutral but there is references to a clit and getting wet.

read on ao3 | click here for masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!)

Holding the wooden bowl up to your lips, you take the last sip of the broth, savoring the taste on your tongue.

Goddamn. Monster food is tasty. Never in your life did you think you'd be trying Giant Scorpion hot pot, but you're thanking every deity watching from above you're now able to say you tried it.

This is much better than Laios's odd first attempt at cooking these creatures. Despite his amassment of knowledge, cooking does not seem to be one of them.

Despite Marcille's claims of food poisoning and incessant whining, you still decided to give the meal Senshi prepared a taste, and you're glad you did. The flavor was rich, yet earthy...reminding you of the nice soup served at that tavern on the surface.

But this one was better. Much better. It's actually made from monsters! How fascinating!

Laios Touden thought he was the only monster lover around, often regarding himself as an outcast. That is, until he met you. You started out as a usual recruit--someone experienced enough to hold their own but green enough to not punish his wallet. The longer you spent alongside the blonde, the more his interests started to grow on you. The most prominent being monsters.

He seemed to grow quite fond of you as well, sharing his thoughts and theories with you in the little amount of spare time you shared during rest hours and between missions. Listening to him speak about the creatures always lifted the burden of the day off your shoulders. Laios is always so passionate when you get him going. His eyes glimmer with interest, tone so full of ardent affection--you can't help but watch with a lovesick grin.

You wonder if he could feel the same type of way for a person. That person hopefully being you.

Nearby, Laios sits on his bedroll. His large hands slap against the broad midriff of his armor, cauisng the sound of hollow metal to resonate in your ears. It snaps you out of your thoughts.

"That was good!"

His face is curled into a smile, a light flush on his face. You take a moment to appreciate the view. From the corner of your eye, you spot Chilchuck peering at you with a raised brow. Your eyes dart away, focusing elsewhere.

There's a nudge at your shoulder.

"Hey." Laios regards you with wide, curious smile. "How'd you like it? Good, right?"

You nod your head, then explain how different--yet delicious, the food was. In the back of your mind, you always wondered how monsters tasted, or hell, if they were even edible. Today, you can mark that off your bucket list.

His smile spreads from ear to ear now. If anything could radiate pure sunshine, it would be this man.

"Glad to hear it! You know..." He pulls a notebook from below the collar of his armor. It's comical enough to make you snort lightly. "I should take some notes."

Laios begins to scribble down what he's learned so far about the anatomy of walking mushrooms, giant scorpions, and of course--how to prepare them for consumption.

That journal...

Its cover is frayed, edges worn from overuse. There's a plethora of dog eared pages that sport tears and colorful tabs alike. Each page is covered top to bottom in notes you've been dying to read.

Laios promised a while ago let you take a look at it. However, he always seems to be too busy writing to ever give you the chance. Just looking at it makes you sigh. Oh, how you'd kill to get a peek into his mind. You're sure there's quite a bit of knowledge to be found perusing those pages.

The scribbling stops. The man shuts his book, before setting it back into its resting place inside its armor.

"Well, we should check out the path ahead. The first floor might not be too dangerous, but one should always take dungeon crawling seriously." Laios stands up, stretching a bit. The other party members move with him, but he holds out a hand.

"You guys stay here. Let your food disgest. It shouldn't take too long for me to check the path ahead."

The smile on his face is gentle, genuine. You don't understand how others have grown to ostracize the man. He's the most caring person you've met since arriving on the island.

Chilchuck and Marcille seem more relieved than anything. The two gorged themselves on monster food, so the rest is likely well needed. That speaks especially for the elf. Her stamina isn't the best, so traversing the dungeon right away on a full stomach seems like a recipe for disaster. Senshi gives a gentle nod and moves instead to pack his cooking supplies.

Laios picks up his sword and moves to the exit. You stand up too now, grabbing your things and following after him.

"Hm?" Laios, unsuspecting of your presence, is surprised. "Don't you want to stay with the others? I can handle this alone."

You shake your head. Despite his claims, you're not letting Laios venture out by himself. Plus, what if he spots a cool monster? If you can't peek at his journal, then you're gonna gather just as much firsthand experience as he has.

And the blonde doesn't fight you on the topic. Unbeknownst to you, your presence is always a welcome one to him. You both venture into the corridor leading to the second floor.

No matter how much time passes, it's always difficult to get used to the dim lighting within the dungeon. Gentle torchlight illuminates your path, which you're thankful for, but also a bit miffed about. Couldn't they have picked something larger? Brighter? If you were the Dungeon Lord, you would've replaced them with something different by now.

Wait...who the hell is lighting all those things in the first place?

Wait. Not important.

Instead, you focus on following in Laios's heavy footsteps. His leather boots tread lightly on the stone floor, barely echoing along the similarly crafted walls. There's a little tinkering noise from his breastplate, which you can only assume is the journal moving around in his armor. Thank goodness you're on a higher floor. That noise would be a dead giveaway for a monster.

This is probably the least dangerous hallway in the dungeon, no traps or other dangers to be found beside the occasional slime or walking mushroom. However, your party leader always feels the need to tread safely.

The familiar stale air surrounds your senses. To others, it's sickening. To you, it's homey. You're in your element now.

Laios halts, almost causing you to bump into him. Before you can ask a question, he turns to face you.

"I'm gonna head down the staircase real quick, then our little expedition should be over."

You nod. It's a cramped space. There's no need for you to both go down. If he needs any backup, you'll only be a shout away.

Before descending, he reaches in his armor, then pulls out the journal. Laios rests it in your hands.

"Can you take care of this?" He asks, almost bashfully. "I don't wanna make too much noise going down to the second floor. Or risk getting it damaged if a monster is waiting by the entrance..."

God, his expression is cute. He cases so much about this personal journal...why is he so adorable? Of course you'll protect it.

With an expression of gratitude, Laios takes off down the staircase, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Its a bit of a bummer. You've been down this corridor without any sight of a monster. Hell, the entire first floor had more action. What's the deal with this place...?

Then, you're reminded of the book in your hand.

Now, you know you should be keeping a watchful eye for monsters and listening out for a distress call from Laios...but things have been so boring. There's no harm in a little light reading, right? Just while you're on your lonesome…

You thumb through the pages, starting off at his first real notes on monsters. First is walking mushrooms. You can tell these don’t interest him too much, the notes are lacking. Which is unsurprising. Laios tends to enjoy more complicated monsters. These bumbling creatures have never seemed to truly catch his interest like others. There appears to be a few notes about him theorizing their anatomy–wondering if they reproduce via spores and if said spores are dangerous. It’s interesting to think about in itself. Maybe these monsters could actually be scary if given those attributes. Laios might be onto something here.

The next page is about slimes. Some of the ink is smudged and weathered due to age. However, there’s new notes on the page in fresh ink. They document Senshi’s explanation of slime anatomy and how to cook them. There’s simple fun facts that Laios has shared with you thrice before, and the reminder makes you smile. Most of your reading is spent reminiscing on these factoids, before you hit the section titled “Reproduction”.

It’s childish, but heat rises to your face as you press on.

The things about slimes seem to be lacking in solid truth. It’s mainly just Laios’s personal theories of their breeding habits. Asexual reproducing is one. Then there’s something about an exchange of genetic material between slimes. Apparently, Laios once found what appeared to be slime eggs in the remains of a heated bathhouse. It appears they search for a place warm and damp to lay their eggs. They likely have some sort of appendage used to lay their eggs in a safe place like this, similar to a snail.

Another note follows, something you wonder if Laios wanted to keep private?

‘What if they lay their eggs in live hosts?’

The thought makes you rub your thighs together. This is wrong. Weird. You should not feel wet at the thought of this. But you persist, letting a hand climb under your waistband. What Laios doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

‘It would explain their behavior. Slimes would grow docile as they look for a host to incubate their eggs. Ideal places to lay are rare in the dungeon, but other creatures (including adventurers), are plenty…”

Your fingers circle over your clit. You knew you liked monsters, but not to this extent…the idea of this being odd steadily starts to fade as you stroke yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve had a proper orgasm. Your body is desperate for anything at this point.

‘They likely function similar to other monsters that accommodate their prey (i.e.: “man eating” plants). Slime secretions have been used as various forms of lubrication. Perhaps during their breeding season, they contain elements that heighten arousal. That would inspire potential vessels to be more willing to their intrusion.’

It’s enthralling. The idea of a creature helping you reach a peak of ecstasy you never considered before. Your movements pick up the pace as you read on, driving you closer and closer to orgasm. As much as you wish you could make noise, you’d rather be caught dead than let Laios witness you getting off to his journal.

Would the creature treat you gently? Teasing you before eventually coaxing an intense orgasm out of you? Or would it relentlessly pound away, trying to stretch you out to accommodate its eggs and leave you a sloppy mess?

You haven't felt this hot in a long time. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re about to cum in your pants over something so vile.

Maybe it would cover your whole body in secretions, making your body feel fuzzy with delight, before toying with your clit. Sucking, teasing, running over the flesh until–

A wet, sticky drop lands on your head.

You’d be terribly grossed out if the dungeon hadn’t jaded you already. If anything, you’re more shocked to be snapped out of your lust induced haze. Your peer up at the ceiling to be greeted by an all too familiar monster.

This slime isn't like the one that attacked Marcille earlier at all. It's larger. And an odd color. Why is it pink....?

Your thoughts linger to Laios's journal. Didn't he make a note about this?

‘During certain times become more docile and take on a pinkish hues. It’s theorized this may be due to a breeding season. It is unclear how slimes reproduce.’

You have an idea.

A gross, unorthodox one. But it’s an idea nonetheless.

You have to coax the slime down here. You jump up, then wave at it, but the creature doesn’t seem to notice, causing you sigh out in frustration.

Another droplet lands on your head. You grit your teeth. This is your one chance to accomplish your newfound dream. And you’re not gonna let it go to waste. But how the hell are you gonna get this thing down without startling it into attacking you?

Wait...what exactly did that dwarf say? Slimes are attracted to noise, right? They can see your exhale, and attack when you exhale....

So you shout.

"LAIOS!"

And the slime drops from the ceiling, landing on your foot.

Just as planned, your knight in scathed, dull armor comes rushing down the hall, calling your name.

"Are you alri--?" Laios's golden eyes widen when he spots the slime. His weapon is unsheathed in a quick movement, ready to defend you against the monster with Senshi's prior slaying instructions fresh on his mind.

"Wait!"

Before Laios can bring his blade down on the creature, you hold out your hand. He ceases, confusion settling on his features.

"It's not harming me. I-if it wanted to kill me, it would've gone for my head to suffocate me, right?"

Rationalizing this seems impossible. But if anyone were to listen to your desire to fuck monsters, it had to be Laios Touden. So you're putting all your faith in him now. You've yet to judge him, so you hope he holds the same regard for you.

"I...guess." The sword in his hands lowers ever so slightly. It scrapes a shallow mark in the ground as the man steps closer. His head tilts to the side, brows furrowing as he studies the situation at hand. "So you don't want me to kill it?"

You're certain Laios will just take this as you having a healthy respect for monsters, then shoo it away to forgo violence. It takes a lot of mental fortitude, but you swallow the lump in your throat and continue.

"It's interesting behavior....you know, it is breeding season. Which is why they're more active as of late."

The slime starts to creep up your pant leg. Something appendage-like sticks out from its front, prodding at your calves and inner thighs as it makes it's way further.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is really happening.

Laios seems to notice what's going on. A hint of pink tints his pale cheeks, hands making their way to raise his sword once more.

"Laios."

He ceases his movements once more. And you seize your chance.

"Why don't we just let this happen?"

a/n. hey!! if you made it to the end thanks for reading <3 I'm really excited for this series and I hope you enjoyed it!

please consider liking/reblogging/leaving a comment *prayer hands emojis* engagement feeds me (along with other writers! so pls show some love <3)

#laios touden #laios x reader #laios touden x reader #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #my writing

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alpaca-clouds · 1 year ago

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The Punk-Factor of Punkpunk Genre

So, when I posted my history of Solarpunk, someone (probably not in good faith) asked: “So, what about the punk in all the other punk genres?!” towards my request to put the punk back into Solarpunk. And given that my autistic brain obviously cannot just let that stand… You know what? Let me talk about the other punk genre and in how far they are “punk”. I tried to be as exhaustive as possible, though there is a good chance, that I might have missed some of the punkpunk genre. So feel free to add.

Trying to judge the punkiness I do not assume punk as simple counter culture, but a specific ideology. Quote from Wikipedia:

[Punk ideology] is primarily concerned with concepts such as mutual aid, against selling out, hierarchy, white supremacy, authoritarianism, anti-consumerism, anti-corporatism, anti-war, imperialism, conservatism, anti-globalization, gentrification, anti-racism, anti-sexism, class and classism, gender equality, racial equality, eugenics, animal rights, free-thought and non-conformity

Most of the artwork here has been taken from concept art of either of the examples listed.

Sorted from most futuristic to pre(historic). Yes, the list is long.

Cyberpunk

We start with the OG punk genre, the one after which all other punk genre were named. Yes, you could argue that in fact the two genre following are more futuristic – but Cyberpunk kinda just had to start the list.

As a genre: Given that Cyberpunk had its start completely in literature it is the best defined in this regard. Taking place in a late stage capitalist dystopian world in which most is owned by megacorps who don’t follow anyone’s laws but their own, the protagonists usually are social outcasts fighting against their own oppression, trying to keep themselves alive in a world hostile to them. With cybernetics always being a core of the genre, it also tends to deal with the question of humanity in a “ship of Theseus” sort of way. How much can the human body be altered, before the human vanishes?

As an aesthetic: Cyberpunk is the most punk in terms of aesthetics, really. There is a lot of punk and grunge going on in terms of character design. Neon hair colors, fishnets and thorn up jeans jackets can be found here. As well as of course cybernetics on the characters. The world usually is a megacity with a stark divide between rich and poor, tons of neon signs, a slight Japanese influence, flying cars and somehow a constant downpour of rain.

Punk-Factor: Cyberpunk is the one punk genre, where the “punk” was chosen very knowingly as a name. Usually the protagonists are “punks” fighting for their place in the world against a suppressive capitalist system. (Also, they usually fit the punk aesthetic, if they don’t wear leather dusters.) It should be noted however, that especially in newer western Cyberpunk often the punkiness vanishes more and more – for the same reason we have so little Solarpunk: media that outright confronts the problems of capitalism is just less supported.

Examples: Neuromancer (1984), Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology (1986), Snow Crash (1992), The Matrix (1999), Dredd (2012)

Biopunk

As a genre: As a genre biopunk is still fairly ill defined, as it mostly shows up as a subsection of Cyberpunk. Rather than the characters having cybernetic implants (or additionally to it) they are augmented on a genetic level. This can be all sorts of augmentations, changing anything from appearance to giving characters higher strength and agility, giving them claws or night vision, or in some cases even “magic” powers. Usually the genre tends to be set in worlds similar to Cyberpunk. In fact it might well be set in a cyberpunk world, only that characters with bioaugmentations exist parallel to those with cybernetics. Additionally, though, there is a subsection of this genre, that concerns reproductive rights.

As an aesthetic: Ironically biopunk is even less defined as an aesthetic. There is not a lot of biopunk art out there and most that exists can go in different directions. As such it often mixes elements from other punk aesthetics – like Cyberpunk, Steampunk or Dieselpunk – with an assortment of bodyhorror elements.

Punk-Factor: It is hard to define the “punkiness” of a genre, that barely exists for the most part. Usually, when it is set against a Cyberpunk backdrop, it might be very punky, but in other settings those punk elements vanish.

Examples: Ribofunk (1995), Altered Carbon (2002), Bioshock (2007), The Windup Girl (2009)

Nanopunk

As a genre: Like Biopunk Nanopunk mostly exists as a subsubgenre to Cyberpunk, often being set in a mostly Cyberpunk world, only that instead of or additionally to Cybernetics, the technology used to alter the human body is nanites. These serve the same function as the genetic manipulation in Biopunk, giving the human in question more strength and agility and at times more or less magical abilities. There is one common plot that comes up again and again, with an AI or megacorp turning the nanites against the people they inhabit or trying to control them.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically Nanopunk does not have much in terms of its own identity. Most artworks relating to Nanopunk feature a similar aesthetic to Cyberpunk, with megacities and lots of neon.

Punk-Factor: This genre is so small, that it is kinda hard to judge the exact punkiness.

Examples: The Diamond Age (1995), Prey (2002)

Solarpunk

As a genre: Being another genre, that started as such, Solarpunk is a bit better defined. Solarpunk usually takes place in a world post-strive. It is post-capitalist and decolonial in its settings, usually featuring a world that has either formed against the backdrop of preventing climate collapse or in the aftermath of it. A lot of it features people rebuilding – or alternatively building communities. It always features elements about living in harmony with nature or trying to do so. So far, the genre is mostly defined by short stories, partly because there is still disagreements within the movement, how far a conflict can be taken to still qualify as Solarpunk.

As an aesthetic: Solarpunk has a very strong aesthetic definition, mostly featuring all sorts of cities and urban areas, that incorporate natural elements into the urbanity, with greenery growing on roofs and concrete car-centric streets being replaced with more natural, walkable areas. The character design aesthetic is not quite as clearly defined, but usually features natural materials and patterns usually seen within indigenous art.

Punk-Factor: Contrary to what many say, Solarpunk is fairly punk, as it very much embraces the entire anti-hierarchical, anti-capitalist mentality. With the big difference, that the punk mentality is no longer counter culture, but the mainstream culture.

Examples: The Dispossessed (1974), Nausicaä (1984), Laputa – Castle in the Sky (1986), Princess Mononoke (1997), The Summer Prince (2013)

Lunarpunk

As a genre: Lunarpunk is pretty much a subsubgenre of Solarpunk, just as Nanopunk and Biopunk are sprung off from Cyberpunk. It is so far ill-defined as a genre, but the general consensus is, that it is set in solarpunk-esque worlds, but with a heavier focus on mysticism or spiritualism, at times outright including magic. It also tends to feature a lot darker places, being set in underwater or underground settings – or alternatively at night.

As an aesthetic: Lunarpunk is far more of an aesthetic than a genre so far. It features dark places, often with bioluminescent elements in it. Often featuring a mixture of black and dark blue with lighter blue, violet or light green elements shining in the middle of it. Mushrooms – especially glowing mushrooms – feature repeatedly in artwork.

Punk-Factor: Given that Lunarpunk is barely defined as a genre it is hard to estimate the punkiness in it. If it gets more stories, will those still feature the anti-capitalist and anti-hierarchical messaging we see in Solarpunk? This should be the defining factor. Some of the artworks use little aesthetics from the punk scene, but nothing much more.

Examples: Bioluminescent: A Lunarpunk Anthology (2023)

Hopepunk

Honestly, I had no idea where to put this one, given that it might technically be set at any time and place.

As a genre: Hopepunk is very much a genre, not an aesthetic. It has been defined as the opposite of grimdark by its “inventor/name-giver” Alexandra Rowland. The basic idea is to create fiction that instead of taking a dystopian, defeatist and violent approach, takes one defined by hope and to some degree pacifism. As such the genre can be set in any setting, real or fantastic. It mostly is defined by the protagonists taking opposition to cruelty and violence, fighting for a better world and, crucially, also partly archiving it. Other than in usual Cyberpunk, where the best possible ending, tends to be, that the protagonists get to live a somewhat better life themselves, Hopepunk aims to better the life at least for groups of people.

As an aesthetic: Being fully a genre, Hopepunk has no aesthetic associated with it.

Punk-Factor: Hopepunk is punk less in the sense of the protagonists or things happening within the story, which might or might not be punk, but was named such rather because it is considered counter cultural towards the gross of media at the moment, that often strives for a “realistic, gritty, grimdark” outlook on the world. Basically it is saying: “Hope is punk.” I will not make any judgement on whether or not this is true.

Examples: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (2014), Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), The Good Place (2016)

Mythpunk

As a genre: Another one, that does not really fit into a temporal sorting system, because once again it can be set anywhere between the stone age and the far future. The basic idea is, that the story interweaves postmodern storytelling with elements from mythology or folklore. This can mean mythological, genre-traversing retellings, but it can also mean, that mythology seeps into any given story bit by bit. As such the genre with probably the most media in the subgenre is Urban Fantasy, which often borrows from mythology and incorporates these elements.

As an aesthetic: Mythpunk as an aesthetic is a bit strange. There is definitely a mythpunk aesthetic that exists, often mixing familiar elements with elements from mythology and folklore (at times also including quasi-folkloric works of literature, such as Alice in Wonderland and the Wizard of Oz). Often just a bit dark and twisted.

Punk-Factor: To be perfectly frank, for the most part, there is not a lot of punk to be found in this genre. While there have been definitely punky stories told within the genre, this is more a story decision than something inherent to the genre.

Examples: Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Over the Garden Wall (2014), Inscryption (2016)

Dustpunk / Rustpunk / Desertpunk

As a genre: Kinda grouping those above all together, because people argue about what they might entail and in some interpretations they kinda are similar: Post-apocalyptic stories set in a world of sand and rust. Often featuring a loner character, having to go up against everyone to ensure his own survival – and at times being forced to learn, that the lonerness might not win him (and most often it is a him) anything.

As an aesthetic: Aesthetically this tends to be very much post-apocalyptic, maybe in some cases with some more classical punk elements added to characters and surroundings.

Punk-Factor: Given that there is neither a system to rage against – nor a new, less hierarchical system – usually there is not that much punk outside of some aesthetic choices. Neither tend those stories go into constructing worlds of mutual aid or working against oppression.

Examples: Anything Mad Max should count for this.

Atompunk

As a genre: Atompunk usually deals with themes connected to the cold war – in some cases directly, in some indirectly. Often it overplays the American ideals that were pushed for during the cold war era and portrays scenarios in which American Exceptionalism slowly reveals itself as the dystopia most punks already know it to be. Outside of this vague idea for the setting, the genre is less described, as there is less of a clear script an Atompunk story might follow. So, little description of who might be the protagonist and what their role is.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Atompunk borrows heavily from the Raygun Gothic aesthetic. So, futurism, as it was imagined in the 1950s and 1960s, with heavy influences from late pulp age science fiction art.

Punk-Factor: The aesthetic in this is definitely not punk. The stories often have some vague punk ideas of recognizing how fucked up the world has become, but given the genre is fairly wide in terms of stories, it is hard to give a definite answer to how “punk” it is. One can definitely tell punk stories within this genre, though.

Examples: Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (1978), Fallout (1997), Futurama (1999)

Dieselpunk

As a genre: Dieselpunk is once again an example of “strong aesthetic, but no clear genre identity”. Generally, Dieselpunk is concerned with the interwar period, but might cover either of the world wars. In some cases the genre features alternate timelines, in which one war happened and not the other, or in which another faction won, with the technological development being influenced by this as well. But as a genre it is not much defined. A lot of stories building on Lovecraft’s legacy feature Dieselpunk in some regards. And there is definitely a subsection of Dieselpunk stories centered around “what if Nazis won” or “what if Nazis somehow went underground and did their own technological development after the war”. Also, there are a lot of stories about pilots of war planes in this genre.

As an aesthetic: As an aesthetic Dieselpunk is more clearly defined. A lot of bare metal and the sorts of technology you would expect from this era, often with retro-futurist and art noveau elements in between. A lot of the fashion within the genre is defined by pilot and military clothing of the times, but at times also dipping into “roaring 20s” fashion styles.

Punk-Factor: In this genre I would generally say: “If the story involves punching Nazis, you might get a couple punk points – but otherwise this is not really punk.”

Examples: The Iron Dream (1972), Brazil (1985), Dark City (1998), Iron Sky (2012), Bitter Seeds (2010)

Teslapunk

As a genre: Yet another one of these, that exists mostly as a vague idea, with no clear definition. The basic idea is a world, that works on Tesla’s inventions. And as those of you, who watched Doctor Who, might know, Tesla sorta, kinda already invented the internet or had an idea of what it could be and how it could work. So a Teslapunk world is based in an alternate timeline, but might in fact go into light futurism. There is not much in this genre though with a unique thematic identity, as stories that use Teslapunk as a backdrop rarely have coherent themes.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Teslapunk is basically “Steampunk, but with Tesla-coils and electricity”. Which is not a big surprise given that Tesla came from the same era that would also be the inspiration for Steampunk. So, we have a lot of Victorian fashion, maybe some light augmentation, airships, and – again – all the tesla coils you can muster.

Punk-Factor: As, again, I think punk is more about themes than aesthetic, this is once more not really possible to judge, because there do not seem coherent themes within the genre so far.

Examples: The Prestige (2006), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), Bioshock Infinite (2013)

Arcanepunk

Another one of those that do not neatly fit into the timeline…

As a genre: Arcanepunk takes place in a world, where both magic and technology have developed. In some cases both developed side by side, in others, we might have a technological world, that suddenly discovers magic by some happenstance. The fact is, though, that both exist parallel to each other or might at times be intertwined, with technology being powered by magic. This can exist at different technological stages, usually featuring settings inspired by the late 19th or early 20th century. But usually futuristic stuff that includes magic might be considered Arcanepunk, just as might stories that mix 18th century technology with magic. While also a vague genre, there is a repeating theme of magic being hoarded by those in powers and the poor and downtrodden finding ways to still use it in their own advantage.

As an aesthetic: Given that Arcanepunk’s setting is defined by the co-existence of magic and technology, rather than a specific technology, Arcanepunk has less of a defined aesthetic. Never the less, we have a part of punk aesthetics that often come up, as a surprising amount of Arcanepunk features characters with neon colored hair.

Punk-Factor: Another genre that is rather thin, yet, there is a surprising amount of stories featuring some punk ideas of fighting against an oppressive system and being counter culture to a main culture build around suppression.

Examples: Too Many Magicians (1966), Shadowrun (1989), Bartimaeus (2003), Arcane (2021) duh

Steampunk

Steampunk was the second genre to pick up the “punk” suffix and hence is as much responsible for the punk-punk as Cyberpunk as the originator.

As a genre: Being named as early as it has been, Steampunk kinda suffers the same issue as Cyberpunk itself. There is a lot of ideas there, but some are only vaguely defined. In general, though Steampunk always takes place in a world where the steam engine became the defining technology and was never replaced with the combustion engine. As such cultural aspects from the steam era, especially Victorian England and the Belle Epoche, still carry over for longer, than they did. So often we will see noble households based around similar values as the puritan Victorian English families, while the very poor are made to work in workhouses. At times we might also see themes of colonialism here. In some cases magic might exist in these worlds, as might electricity for some aspects. There is often a heavy inspiration from Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. Though it is still hard to define the “stereotypical steampunk story”, given that Steampunk offers a wide variety of stories, from adventure stories and romances, over to stories where people rise up against the Victorian-esque society.

As an aesthetic: Steampunk as an aesthetic is very much influenced by Victorian aesthetics and the time period of the late 19th century, mostly in the USA, Great Britain and France. But as all other punk genres it knows very well: “If it is worth doing, it is worth overdoing,” so steam-related elements are added to everything. Could

Punk-Factor: In the original idea for Steampunk was a lot of punk. “What if we took Cyberpunks ‘rage against the unjust system’ and made it 19th century” they asked. But given that the genre branched out so much, it is not necessarily there in all the stories. There is a ton of stories where people rage against that steam powered Victorian machine – but also a ton in which the Victorian world gets idealized and romanticized.

Examples: Thief (1998), The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (1999), Wild Wild West (1999), Clockwork Century (2008) – also half of all Sherlock Holmes adaption made after 2000 in any medium usually use Steampunk elements

Silkpunk

As a genre: Silkpunk is hard to define, despite there being a clear definition. The reason for this is, that the person who coined the term – Ken Liu – had a very specific idea in mind. He explains that the idea is of a world that has technology as language. In which form is as important as function, is made to speak a language all of its own. Inspired by ideas from W. Brian Arthur and Chinese philosophy. However, what the wider Science Fiction and Fantasy community made from it was “Steampunk but East Asian!” But given he coined the term (and also the alternative feels vaguely racist) I am going to go with Ken Liu for this. While Silkpunk will usually be set in an East Asian inspired world, the central idea is about the duality of technology, which will also be addressed within the stories.

As an aesthetic: As said above, the idea Liu had for it was a world that features some technology, but technology that is as much about form and communication through it, as it is about function. So the technology here has strong visual ideas. At least that was, how Liu intended it. Once again, the wider community made “Steampunk, but East Asian” out of it.

Punk-Factor: There is not a lot of stuff in this genre for now – however so far I do not manage to see a lot of punk ideas in it, even though some of Liu’s stories definitely feature the concept of challenging a higher power.

Examples: Dandelion Dynasty (2015), The Black Tides of Heaven (2018), The Tea Master and the Detective (2019)

Clockpunk

As a genre: Once again storytelling in this genre is not really defined, but the worlds diverge a bit before the wide adaption of steam, instead featuring mechanical devices powered by coils and springs and somehow kept alive, often at least implied through some form of arcane magic that gives “live” to these mechanical inventions. Most examples of Clockpunk, however, tend to show up as settings for parts of fantasy stories. Any fantasy world might have this “Clockpunk” area, where protagonists might travel. Especially games tend to feature this. While there is definitely a trope of the “mad inventor” often going along with this, few other tropes stand out.

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Clockpunk tends to take some inspiration from the early 19th century, but tends to add a lot of gears to everything, with even city wide gear constructions keeping things working. We often will find mechatronic characters, such as wind up soldiers or wind up dancers.

Punk-Factor: Once more, there are so few stories told, that it is kinda hard to speak about how punk this is. Most stories told so far, however, do not feature punk elements.

Examples: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Hugo (2011), Clockwork Planet (2017)

Whalepunk

Please note: This is one of those genre, I would love to see more in, though so far it is barely explored.

As a genre: And you might ask: “Why do you even name those genre, that exist mostly in theory?”, to which I might answer: “Because I am a nerd.” As all these retrofuturists genre, Whalepunk imagines mostly an alternate historical timeline, where the technology that became defining was based around whale oil. This means that in Whalepunk often whalers or harbors play a big role, though as the genre is again very thinly spread, it is hard to say what “THE whalepunk” formular is. It seems there is a tendency, to mix some mysticism or magic into the genre, though, as the idea of hunting sea monsters often plays into it as well. Good chance that it could at some point merge with Cthulupunk (which I did not name separately, because most of it is either covered in Whalepunk or Dieselpunk).

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic of Whalepunk is basically “Steampunk, but with more sailors, ships and sea monsters”. There is definitely a bit of Oceanpunk mixed into it as well, with some aesthetics being somewhere between Steampunk and Dieselpunk. (Which is kinda ironic, because whale oil was mostly used in the early 19th century.)

Punk-Factor: And again. There so far is not a lot of connective thematic tissue within that genre, so exploring themes is kinda hard.

Examples: Dishonored (2012), Dredge (2023)

Oceanpunk / Piratepunk

As a genre: It really is hard to divide the Piratepunk out of the Oceanpunk, though some might call it different. The idea here is that this genre features stories mostly set on the ocean and often more heavily leaning into fantasy, than science fiction. While the worlds might feature technological elements, they will almost certainly feature magical elements of some sort. The characters will usually be seafaring one way or another and stories might involve any sort of adventure. There might be a storyline, though, about one company or nation trying to control the seas – often times through magical means – with the characters often unwillingly being made to oppose them. This genre might also take place in a post-apocalyptic setting with a flooded planet.

As an aesthetic: While the aesthetic is not clearly defined, there is a good chance that it borrows heavily from the late 17th and early 18th century and the golden age of piracy, when it comes to both ships and fashion sensibilities.

Punk-Factor: Pirates, at least as far as modern media imagines them, tend to be very punk, as they tend to inherently oppose any sort of government and what not. While the punk is not there in all of the stories, a lot of the most popular stories from the genre will feature at least lightly punky elements.

Examples: One Piece (1997), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003), Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (2013)

Dungeonpunk

As a genre: So, the idea of the genre is basically “What if Cyberpunk, but Dungeons & Dragons?” Usually set in a vaguely medieval world, this world still shows the same corporate corruption as your usual Cyberpunk world. Adventurers are just another resource to be exploited by the system, their day job involving going on yet another dungeon crawl. For this there might be some technology entirely powered by magic, with those magic items taking over the same functions technology might have in a Cyberpunk world. And yes, indeed some brave dwarf, elf or halfling might rise up and challenge the corporate dungeon syndicate. (As you might sense: Yes, this genre tends to be at least partly a bit of a parody of the punkpunk idea. Though it also can be played straight as “Cyberpunk conflicts, just that all technology is somehow magic.”)

As an aesthetic: This is once again one of the examples, where there is a clear idea behind it – but absolutely no clear aesthetic, as this genre might cover anything from medieval settings to a lot more modern stuff.

Punk-Factor: The base idea, being heavily inspired by the base idea of Cyberpunk, just from a very different perspective. But too many people read the genre as “Magic Technology, yay”, in which case, no, it is not punk.

Examples: Dungeons & Dragons can be played this way, also Final Fantasy VI – XIII definitely counts.

Sandalpunk

As a genre: I mostly include this for the sake of it, because this genre tends to boil down to “fantasy set in ancient Greece or Rome, but with vaguely anachronistic elements”. It might also include alternate history stories (even going so far as Science Fiction) based on the idea “What if Ancient Rome/Ancient Greece never fell?” There is no real overarching themes, even though I could imagine some interesting way one could build those up. So far, though, it is mostly a vague gesture towards: “SciFi Fantasy, but with more ancient civilizations.”

As an aesthetic: The aesthetic is usually just Ancient Rome or Ancient Greece, but with more magic or anachronistic elements.

Punk-Factor: Given the super vague nature of the genre and the fact that it seems more like a genre of hindsight (with most media being declared this having been released even before 2000)… Nobody wrote those stories to be punk. The one punk thing I can see about several of these stories is people challenging Gods, but… That’s about it.Examples: Hercules: Legendary Journeys (1995), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995), God of War (2005)

Stonepunk

As a genre: The basic idea of Stonepunk is, that it is set in a stone age world, but with the technology being pressed towards a very anachronistic end, which is often played for laughs. Basically it gives stone age people a modern seeming world, though not really. Often enough this is used to make a point about the modern world and parody it in some regard. An argument can be made for stories, that feature stone age technology people being somehow subjected to modern technology (for example through time travel or space travel) also possibly falling into this genre.

As an aesthetic: Usually the aesthetic of Stonepunk is one of an overplayed stone age setting. The clothing characters might wear are not what we know is historically more accurate but really just “everyone wears a pelt around their shoulders”. Meanwhile stone age tools get spun to be used as all sorts of modern technologies.

Punk-Factor: The genre does usually not feature punk themes. However, the nature of parodying and challenging the modern world tends to be punk in its own merit, I assume?

Examples: The Flintstones (1960), The Croods (2013), Horizon: Zero Dawn (2017)

That's it. That's the list.

Feel free to add to it.

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