#and the numerous upside down houses | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ppomumgranatum · 6 months ago

Text

the dance of love's sweet potion.

also available on Ao3

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

tags: fluff, one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader, jealousy, protective

word count: 5.3k

Warnings: MAJOR HEADCANNON, the books and the potions are all in my head just for the sake of this story, characters are in their 7th year, I finally caved and wrote the cliche protective and jealous seb and i fucking love it

Summary: When a potion meant to repel backfired, it became a mishap that turned your world upside down.

Notes: I was craving some fluff, so a fluff was created ❤️

Revulsaroma is a powerful potion that demands careful handling and discretion. Designed for specific situations where deterring unwanted advances or repelling individuals is necessary, its potency requires utmost caution. Ingredients: • 3 drops of essence of skunk cabbage • 2 crushed doxy wings • 1 teaspoon of powdered Boomslang skin • 4 ounces of extract from a Devil's Snare vine • 1 pinch of powdered Basilisk fang • Hair from the person brewing the potion

You carefully traced your finger along the intricate words laid out in the book you had kept from your parents’ dusty collection on potion making and meticulously followed the instructions. Taking advantage of the quiet after hours, you used the station at potion class to get on with your mission.

You’re not a pro in potion making per se, but the way you precisely measure out ingredients, stirring the potion with such poise, you feel as skilled as Professor Sharp– if he was plagued with a horrible disease of a red-haired boy goes by the name of Leander Prewett.

For weeks, Leander had been following you around so relentlessly and constantly asking you out. It was cute at first but now it was starting to feel like pure harassment. Despite numerous rejection, it didn't seem like he’s the type of guy who understood the concept of boundaries and your patience was wearing extremely thin.

You remembered an old potion you once came across when you were younger– Revulsaroma, a repelling potion. You figured it was time to revisit those pages since you’re in a dire need for a solution.

You stirred the components inside of your cauldron with a pinch of determination, distress, and a lot of rage. The earthy and putrid notes filled the air and it was probably going to stick with you for a while but you surely hoped this was going to be worth it.

When the potion finally came to completion, you carefully transferred it to a pumpkin juice bottle to trick Leander into drinking it.

“Alright, that looks good.” You sighed in relief as you put the bottle down and stared at the securely stored dark liquid with pride, knowing that soon you’d be able to take a break from the unwanted attention. At least for a while just until you could figure out a permanent way to stop him,

You proceeded to clean up your station and returned some tools that you took from the inventory room, making sure that everything was back in its rightful spot. Because Merlin knew that you couldn’t take another chide from Professor Sharp about the importance of being responsible and organised.

Just when everything was about to be restored to its pristine state, you heard a loud retching coming from the other room. When you rushed outside, you saw your bestfriend, hands desperately grasping the edge of your station, body racked with violent gagging, and breath ragged in a grave attempt to gasp for air.

“Sebastian?” You exclaimed while rushing to his side, “Are you alright?”

“Came to—bleughh—look for you,” Sebastian managed to say in between his guttural heaves.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice trailed off when you saw your pumpkin juice bottle collapsed and empty. Right at that moment, your eyes widened at the realisation that Sebastian just drank your Revulsaroma. “No, no, no. You bloody, bloody idiot!”

Quickly, you summoned water from an empty jar that you found nearby and gave it to Sebastian who was still fighting the disgusting taste stuck in his throat.

Gulping down the entire water in a matter of milliseconds, Sebastian attempted to catch his breath, “Your pumpkin juice— is expired, by the way.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Sebastian!” You ran your fingers through your hair in distress. What was already a pretty stressful situation just got a whole lot worse.

“What?” He was truly not getting your frustration. He gagged once more, recoiling whatever last bit of that disgusting liquid he's tasting.

“That’s not pumpkin juice!” You scowled and gestured abruptly.

“What is it, then? Poison?” Every muscle on his face seemed to tensed up, still.

“Why would you fucking drink that? It was meant for Leander.” You grunted.

His grimace was then taken over by disbelief for a moment, “Gods, killing Leander is a bit extreme, don’t you think? Even for me.”

“No—ugh,” You sighed heavily, feeling totally overwhelmed. Slumping on your station, you rested your head on it "This is bad. It's really bad."

“You're freaking me out. What is it?”

You lifted your head from the table, meeting his concerned gaze with a weary expression.

“It’s a potion called Revulsaroma. It is supposed to repel whoever drinks it.” You admitted.

Sebastian was still focused on getting the foul taste out of his tongue, but his eyes were quickly narrowed in the scrutiny of your last sentence, “And why exactly are you trying to repel Leander?”

Catching Sebastian's look, a twinge of guilt pricked at you. You winced inwardly, realising you'd never really spilled the beans to Sebastian about the whole Leander debacle. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea and thinking that there was anything romantic going on between you and the Gryffindor boy.

The line on your relationship with Sebastian had always been blurry, if you could be honest. You’re obviously friends—best friends—but at the same time, the chemistry between the two of you would be such a waste to stay as friends.

You’d occasionally exchange innocent flirting, teasing each other and bantering in a way that felt more than platonic. You couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach that fluttered every time he smiled at you and the way you felt when he complimented you.

Things had been going very well lately, and you'd like to think you had a shot to turn it into something more.

But now, he’s consumed the one thing that was going to seal the chance you have with him. Because whatever feeling he was going to feel, the potion was supposed to make him feel it so strongly.

The thought of losing Sebastian terrified you.

“That’s not what we’re supposed to be focusing on.” You diverted the topic and reached out to your book, checking for things to look out for. Your eyes trailed the ink that explains the detail of the potion.

You noticed Sebastian had shifted his weight from the corner of your eye, moving somewhat uncomfortable in his feet.

"But what does that mean for me?" he asked.

You sighed, trying to collect your thoughts. "According to the potion's effects, you're supposed to start feeling aversions towards me," you explained, gesturing towards the brewing cauldron with a frustrated gesture. "and I have no idea how to reverse it.”

Your voice was heavy with disappointment. The same emotion was written all over Sebastian's face. There was silence as you both processed the fact that there was no quick fix to this mess.

“So, I’m supposed to hate you? Just like that?”

“That’s kind of the whole point of the potion.”

Sebastian's eyes scanned the cluttered laboratory, a look of resignation settling over his features. "Well, this is just great," he muttered under his breath. Sebastian's complexion turned paler, a nauseous expression crossing his features, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Sebastian stood there, his hand pressed against his stomach, unsure if the wave of nausea washing over him was solely due to the potion's effects or the unsettling thought of hating you.

But then he felt his body teetering on the brink of collapse. You grappled his arm to provide support but his condition worsened in an instant and he started to fall backwards. Using every ounce of your strength, you were struggling to keep him upright because damn this boy was heavy. And when his weight eventually bore you down, you lowered him down gently.

There was no response even after you called out his name and shook his body. His breathing was laboured and you were panicking. You didn’t know the potion would be this strong.

Spotting a group of students who were passing by outside of the classroom, you called out to them for assistance. Sebastian was then taken to the infirmary and was given proper treatment by Nurse Blainey.

You had to awkwardly explain what caused the brunette to lose his consciousness. Given the fact that you were practising and using potions for non-study purposes, disciplinary action was necessary and you were required to attend detention tomorrow.

When you returned to your room that night, all you did was shift around in your bed. Spending the entire night thinking about Sebastian and how he will wake up in the morning hating you.

But for now, all you could do was wait.

When the sun rose, you were quick to get back on your feet and head towards the infirmary to check on Sebastian before breakfast started. But to your surprise, he was no longer there. Nurse Blainey said he woke up all energetic and there were no signs of any disturbance so she allowed him to get on with school.

You were slightly relieved to know that Sebastian was feeling better. Although the question of his feelings towards you remained unknown.

So you ventured on, heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. Moving along with a crowd of students who were also making their way to the venue you suddenly bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry.” You glanced up to see it was no other than Sebastian, “Hey, I was looking for you.”

You’ve caused some traffic considering you abruptly stopped in the middle of a walkaway crowd. Some were bumping into you and muttered under their breaths in annoyance. It was a horrible time to be upsetting people—hungry and grumpy people.

So Sebastian dragged you away from the crowd. You were caught a little bit off guard at the sudden tug on your elbow. Your feet were almost stumbling around trying to catch up to Sebastian’s pace.

“Are you insane?” Was the first thing he said when you found a quiet little corner away from the bustling people.

Your stomach clenched.

This was it.

The memories you shared for the past two years dramatically flashed before your eyes— the adventures, the late night studies, the stupid unfunny jokes he made but you laughed at them anyway— fuck.

This was it.. he hated you.

“Why would you tell Nurse Blainey the truth about everything?” He sounded quite aggravated. Unexpectedly, it was not for the reason you thought it would be— albeit he should be angry towards you for no reason at all considering the potion.

Your mouth gaped open but you were struggling to find the words.

"You could've just said it was a bad batch for our assignment," He explained. "You didn't have to get detention for it."

“What?” You finally managed to sputter out.

“Blainey said she gave you detention.” He added, “I feel bad.”

You can’t feel bad for someone you hate unless they fall into lava and viciously die or something. Because to feel bad meant having empathy, and to feel empathy meant he cared, which meant he didn’t hate you and the potion never worked.

Right?

“So you don’t hate me?” You asked carefully.

His tensed brows gradually softened as realisation dawned on him. He was so focused on you that he never really thought of what the potion was supposed to make him feel.

“I don’t, actually.” He sounded relieved and as were you upon hearing his confirmation, “I guess the potion never worked after all.”

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze on a hot day. Though you started wondering if the potion didn’t work on Sebastian, it might’ve not worked on Leander either. Which meant you were back to square one, trying to figure out how to deal with his annoying arse.

But it was a problem you didn’t want to think about too much at the moment. You were just glad your friendship with Sebastian remained intact despite the unfortunate mishap.

“So what did Blainey assign you to do?”

“She said Scribner has been fussing over some organising issues.” You grumbled, “She told me to give her some assistance after classes.”

“Yikes.” Sebastian said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” You retorted, “Are you really feeling alright?”

“As normal as I can be.” He smiled reassuringly, “Though, you still haven’t told me why you were trying to repel Leander.”

“He just..” You hesitated for a moment, annoys me.”

Technically, you didn’t lie. Leander’s entire antics had been nothing but annoying to you. Sebastian only pursed his lips and nodded. Be that as it may, his eyes were looking at you rather dubiously. But he didn’t pry further.

–

After breakfast, you had some time to kill before class started. You found yourself seeking solace in the quiet lounge area near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. With a book on Revulsaroma in hand, you sought answers in its pages that you might have missed. It explained further about its history and the past research on this potion. As you delved deeper, a particular section caught your eye that described a crucial detail—

The Revulsaroma potion's effectiveness in repelling a drinker is contingent upon the absence of strong positive emotions towards the potion-maker. If the drinker harbours genuine affection for the potion-maker, the potion's repelling properties may be nullified or significantly weakened. This phenomenon is attributed to the potent influence of positive emotions, which can act as a counterforce against the potion's intended repulsion.

Before you could dwell on it further, Leander plopped beside you out of nowhere and casually draped his arm around your shoulder, interrupting your thoughts.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He greeted you with a smile so charming if he wasn’t so pushy about it you could see yourself giving in to his cheesy escapades. You subtly shifted away from the sudden proximity, hoping he would take the hint some time.

“Good morning, Leander.” You replied politely.

He seemed to be undeterred by your subtle attempt because he leaned in closer, “So, I was thinking, with the weather getting nicer and all, let’s take a trip around the highlands.” He sounded so enthusiastic for a suggestion that’s so inappropriate, “We could explore the beautiful scenery. My family has this cosy little cottage just outside of Keenbridge that we can use. What do you think?”

You scrunched up your nose because it sounded bloody ridiculous, “A bit intimate, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of intimacy?”

“Nothing wrong with it, of course. If you’re a couple.”

“Oh, come on. You’ll love it.” Leander’s enthusiasm didn’t waver, if anything he sounded even more excited.

“It’s too much—”

He interrupted you with a tone so persuasive, “Okay fine, how about just a simple Hogsmeade date, then?”

You sighed at his persistence. It’s really getting too much.

“Leander, it’s really sweet but—”

Suddenly, your conversation was interrupted by a looming shadow casted over the both of you. Glancing up, you saw Sebastian standing there with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“I’m going to count to three, Prewett, and you are going to stand up and get your arse the fuck out of here.” He demanded.

“What are you going to do about it if I don’t?” He was annoyed by Sebastian's sudden intervention.

The brunette’s gaze was focused on the way Leander had his arms wrapped around your shoulder and the way his hand was caressing your arm at the same time. Then he stared dead into Leander's eyes, “You don’t want to find out.”

Somehow you found yourself caught in the middle of the sudden hostility.

“Sebastian.” You warned him softly.

“Ignore him.” Leander didn't care for the threat. But Sebastian wasn’t having it and when Leander was ready to ignore him and continue his conversation with you, Sebastian grabbed him by his collar that it forced Leander to stand up, and he dragged the red haired boy away and slammed his back into a nearby pillar.

“I told you to fucking stand up and get out of here.” Sebastian scowled.

“Get your filthy hands off of me.” Leander attempted to shrug off Sebastian’s grip but it only grew tighter.

“Then you better get yours away from her.” His voice was so low and menacing. You had no idea what possessed him, because as aggressive as Sebastian could get he wouldn’t be so quick to resort to anything so recklessly physical unless it’s necessary— at least not anymore.

“Are you both out of your minds?” You stood beside the conflicting boys, “Stop being children or you will get into trouble.” The confrontation was drawing more attention from onlookers, and you could sense the tension rising.

A crowd started gathering around to see what the fuss was about. Students nearby paused and turned their heads, curious about the commotion. Whispers and side conversations began to buzz through the group as they watched the confrontation unfold.

You felt a bit awkward with the sudden attention. The whole thing was getting more dramatic than you'd anticipated, and you just wanted to find a way to sort it out before it got worse.

“What is your problem, Sallow?”

“You are the problem, Prewett. Can’t you take the hint?”

“It’s none of your business.” The Gryffindor boy was defensive— as anyone would be if someone just randomly shoved you into the wall and told you what to do.

“It becomes my business when you decide to harass her.”

“You are making a scene. Stop it.” You warned them, hoping they would steer away from the conflict. But they were still too busy with each other.

“Trying to be a big hero, aren’t you? Protecting her?” Leander was clearly taunting him. Sebastian wouldn’t usually allow himself to be bothered by whatever nonsense Leander would do. But this time was different, “She doesn’t need you. She can make her own decision.”

“And she did, when she said no.” Sebastian retorted sharply, “So back off.”

“If you are so worried about me taking her out then you should’ve asked her first. Don’t come here and act all heroic because you missed your chance.” Leander fired back, “If you weren’t such a coward—-”

There went the last cell of Sebastian’s brain that allowed him to think rationally when he decided to punch Leander in the face, sending the red-haired boy stumbling and his nose bleeding.

“Sebastian!” You stepped in between them, trying to push Sebastian back behind the line he just crossed. His eyes were glaring and breaths were rather ragged from the anger, “What the fuck are you doing?”

After being punched unexpectedly, Leander's pride and dignity were hurt. He wouldn't tolerate being attacked without retaliating. He mustered all of his anger and frustration to punch Sebastian with all of his force.

But before he could, Sebastian struck again, landing a second punch on his face. Leander stumbled backwards again, but this time he was quicker to get back on his feet and lunged forward, swinging his fists wildly.

Sebastian was able to dodge a few of his blows, but Leander managed to land a couple of powerful punches on Sebastian's cheek.

Sebastian stepped back, his face red from pain and anger. Now the two of them had no choice but to fight, and you had no choice but to look for some help. Luckily, it wasn’t long for you to reach Professor Hecat, because when you returned to the brawl, Leander was already pinned to the floor with Sebastian on top of him, landing more punches.

Professor Hecat swiftly casted a spell that immediately shoved both of them away from each other.

The two boys stood there with battered faces and were later sent to the same detention as you.

You had no desire in conversing with idiots, so when the three of you shared the space on one of the library aisle, organising books, you gave all your might to ignore them, especially Sebastian.

You thought he’d left his impetuous behaviour back in the catacombs two years ago, but clearly you were wrong. The way you aggressively shoved books into places allowed Sebastian to notice that you were furious.

“I know you’re angry at me.” He said, breaking the silence.

“Oh really? Didn’t think you’d notice. I was being subtle.” You replied sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had gotten into me.” His voice was soft but outright, “You know I don't fight muggle-style.”

You remained cold. There was nothing about his apology that made you feel better. So you continued to ignore him and he tried to speak up again.

“Can we talk?” He pleaded but you ignored him. You picked up a stack of books and moved to the next aisle to shelve them in their proper places.

Sebastian followed you behind, not backing down, “I’m really, really, sorry.”

He seemed genuinely apologetic, but you were reluctant to give in. After all, his actions had caused this entire mess and resulted in the two boys getting detention.

You didn’t want to argue with him, but you couldn’t resist making a point.

“Tell that to Leander and his broken nose.”

Sebastian let out a scoff, “I’m not sorry about that.”

“Seriously Sebastian? You hit him first. He just reacted.” You turned to face him this time.

"He was harassing you," Sebastian defended himself, "I had to do something."

"Did you have to punch him in the face? Repeatedly?”

“Why are you defending him?” His tone was rising, "What do you expect me to do? Just stand by and let him flirt with you?"

“What is so wrong with that?”

“Because—” Then he stopped himself. Eyes flustered and flicked between yours like he was trying to gather his own thoughts. Then he let out a frustrated sigh, “Leander is a self-oriented, self-indulgent, arrogant, selfish, insufferable jerk.”

You shook your head in disbelief and stared dead at him in the eye, “Well, right now it sounds like you were just describing yourself, Sebastian.”

Before you could say anything else, you left him alone in the aisle and this time he didn’t follow you.

—

It was Saturday morning, and while you had no classes to attend, you were still stuck with detention for a portion of the day. Not only did this eat into your weekend leisure time, but you also had to spend it without talking to Sebastian.

You sighed as you placed books somewhere in the corner of the library right where they belonged.

Couldn’t help but think that spending your weekend somewhere in the castle, perhaps the undercroft, reading books and being alone together with Sebastian was where you belonged.

Time sure felt lonely without his presence.

Then as if he could read your mind from miles away he showed up, “Do you like Leander?”

Shocked and confused by the sudden question you turned to find Sebastian standing at the end of the aisle.

His face was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, a visible reminder of the fight he had gotten into with Leander. A purplish bruise marred his cheek, and a small cut above his eyebrow was still fresh. Despite his battered appearance, his eyes were focused intently on you, filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“What?” You asked.

“I spent the entire night thinking about you. I thought maybe you like Leander, because why did you defend him so much yesterday?” He rambled.

You opened your mouth to say something but Sebastian wasn’t finished.

“But then I thought, if you liked him, why did you want to repel him with the potion?” He continued, “And why did you reject him when he asked you out? Five times, over the past month.”

You opened your mouth again, but this time every single word you have learned seemed to have fallen over your head because not a single thing came to your mind.

There were two things that surprised you.

One, Sebastian spent the entire night thinking about you.

Two, Sebastian knew that Leander had been asking you out.

And your brain did not know which one to stress about first.

“You knew about Leander?” You finally said.

“We share every class everyday. You don’t think I’d notice?” He replied with another question, “He wasn’t subtle about it either. Was I not supposed to know?”

You fell quiet, unsure of what to say next. The more you opened your mouth, the more you found yourself with nothing to say.

Sebastian waited for your response, but when it did not come, he continued, “Why did you keep rejecting him?”

You shrugged, slightly flustered, “Simply because I don’t want to go out with him.”

“Why did you not tell me about him, then?”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” you replied, avoiding his gaze.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sebastian stared at you, as if he couldn’t believe your answer.

“It was pointless,” Your tone was rising slightly, “It’s not like I would ever date Leander. I wasn’t even giving him a second thought. So It doesn’t matter.”

Sebastian was silent for a beat before he spoke again. “It matters to me.”

Your pulse raced, and the air suddenly felt tighter.

Sebastian was staring at you, his eyes intent and penetrating. The silence stretched on, and you had to force yourself to look him in the eye

“Everything about you matters to me. You’re my best friend. We’re supposed to share everything, right?” He added, “Isn’t that what best friends do?”

As you stood there, guilt was eating you inside out. Your decision to leave him in the dark unexpectedly hurt him more than you thought. The look in his eyes was so unfamiliar you couldn’t pinpoint his emotion.

He took a step closer.

“Why do you care so much? It’s just Leander.”

“Don’t you get it?” He said softly, “It’s not about Leander. It’s about the fact that he’s been asking you out, flirting with you relentlessly, being so close with you.. in a way that is supposed to be only for me.”

You stood there, stunned. His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and you felt a mix of shock and confusion wash over you.

Sebastian took another step towards you, his gaze steady and unbreaking, and it was piercing through your soul.

“It’s supposed to be just for me” He repeated the phrase as if he was talking to himself. The look in his eyes was intense, and you could feel how important this was to him.

A moment passed until you realised that you should respond. The longer you stayed silent, the worse it felt. So you spoke up, “Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He simply replied.

His response set your body ablaze. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat.

“I was supposed to hate you, but instead I woke up that morning in the infirmary and I couldn’t be more sure that I am utterly and completely in love with you.” His voice dropped, “And when I saw you with Leander and hearing all the things that he said, I meant it when I told you I had no idea what had gotten into me but all I knew was every single cell in my body was on fire.”

You thought for sure your heart would explode as all of this sunk in. You had expected anything but a confession. Your heart was beating so fast and hard that you had to concentrate on breathing, or else it felt like you couldn't breathe.

“I spent the entire night thinking about all of the time we've spent.” He added, “I can't stop thinking about the sound of your laughter. The way you'd still genuinely laugh at the most unfunny joke I would tell. Or how your usual bright eyes would fall into a deep immersion when you read. And the way your delicate finger hovers over the edge of a page, turning it over.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Sebastian's lips as he recalled every little detail about you that only he would care about. The beat of your heart went faster with each syllable that came out of his mouth and every nerve in your body was shaking.

“I always wonder how the touch of those fingertips would feel on my skin,” There were so many things he wanted to say to you. Every detail of you that made him so desperately in love, “and how perfect your fingers would be intertwining with mine.”

For a moment, you were one-hundred percent sure this was all a dream. Because everything around you seemed so blurry and all of the sudden everything felt surreal. But when Sebastian took another step closer, and another until he was close enough to grab your hands and intertwine your fingers together, the haze dissipated. The way his touch alerted every single nerve in your body, you knew that this was real— he was real and he was in love with you.

The two of you stood there, inches apart, staring at each other with your emotions overflowing.

“We belong together.” You could see that his intensity and raw emotion was getting the better of him. His words were coming out quick and sudden, “I should’ve asked you out long before Leander did. Just another stupid mistake I made.”

He inched closer and closer until you felt Sebastian's breath on your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation. You took a deep breath and let yourself fall into the moment.

“You could’ve been too late, you know?” You whispered.

“Am I?”

You shook your head and smiled against his lips, “No, you’re not. I’ve been stupidly waiting for you.”

Sebastian's voice was soft and tender as he spoke again, “I’m glad we’re both stupid enough, then. And for many other things that make me glad you're finally mine."

“Even the potion?” You smirked.

“Especially the damn potion.” A smile spread across Sebastian's face.

Your breaths were laced with desire, and your thoughts went to the first kiss between the two of you were going to share. It felt surreal to have arrived at this moment that you had both anticipated for so long.

Your lips were close enough to touch. Your hearts were beating so loudly. And in this moment, it felt like a moment out of time.

When his lips met yours, the world seemed to melt away and everything else faded into the background. It was everything it had built up to be—hot and passionate and exciting.

You kissed him deeply and all was right with the world. Sebastian's hands wrapped around your back, and yours around his neck.

Your senses were all focused on Sebastian, on the kiss and the way he made you feel. This was what you had been waiting for, and it was everything you dreamed of and more.

When you pulled away, your eyes were locked and you found yourselves smiling uncontrollably. There was nothing left to feel awkward or unsure of, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted.

Sebastian brushed his fingers through your hair. You were finally getting your happiness.

"I love you," He whispered against your lips.

“I love you, too.” you replied softly, brushing your noses together.

You spent the rest of the day making out in the deepest corner of the library, neglecting your detention. And when Madam Scribner found the two of you some time later, all dishevelled, you were granted another detention time.

But neither of you cared. Because it was all worth it.

In an extremely rare case, the Revulsaroma potion could have an unprecedented effect, completely opposite to its intended repelling nature. Rather than nullifying or weakening, the potion might paradoxically amplify and reinforce any existing strong positive feelings that the drinker harboured towards the potion-maker. Due to genuine and deep-seated love for the maker, the drinker might experience a surge of intense emotions that can be both overwhelming and consuming, such as, jealousy, protectiveness, and overwhelming affection.

#hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #slytherin #gryffindor #fluff fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fluff

513 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 6 months ago

Text

On top of the world

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, prompt 'graduation' | 616 words | tags: fix it, Steve is a sweetheart and takes care of Eddie, first kiss

Before March 21st, Eddie would have said not graduating again was the worst thing that could happen to him. Now, Eddie knows better.

Nothing like almost dying to put things into perspective, right?

He misses the days when his biggest worry was convincing old witch O'Donnell to give him a "D" and let him leave Hawkins High. Now that he knows what a real hellhole looks like, he thinks he could survive another year under Higgins' thumb.

Still, he doesn't exactly mind when Nancy comes over to his and Wayne's new house—part of the government deal the kids cut for him while he was in a coma—to tell him that he's going to graduate with his class.

He doesn't question it either, just whoops enthusiastically enough to almost pull his stitches, which hurts but has the added bonus of Steve putting his big hands all over him to check his numerous healing wounds.

A week on the run and fighting interdimensional monsters with the guy has changed Eddie's perspective on what’s the best thing that could happen to him as well.

On graduation day, he walks across the stage with a cane for support, something he hadn’t thought possible. It was Steve who had made that happen, even if he refused to accept Eddie's praise. The moment Eddie had muttered under his breath after Nancy had left, ‘But how am I supposed to walk the fucking stage if I can't even go to the bathroom without taking a break?' Steve was a man on a mission.

They practiced every day, before or after Steve's work helping out at the hospital. They needed every helping hand they could get after the damage Vecna and the Upside Down monsters had caused. Eddie could attest to how wonderful Steve's hands were at helping. In fact, he could write songs about it once his hands stopped shaking whenever he held a pencil (or anything, really) for too long.

Eddie wondered if every one of Steve's patients was as in love with him as he was.

As Eddie snags his diploma from Higgins, who looks like he bit into a particularly bitter lemon, Eddie marvels that flipping him the bird isn’t as exhilarating as expected.

Maybe that’s because of last night and the way Steve’s lips felt on his. Every moment since then simply pales in comparison.

Steve had come over after another shift at the hospital, probably sore and exhausted, but giving Eddie one of his dazzling smiles that always made him weak in the knees. Which was kind of counterproductive, considering what they were trying to accomplish here.

They were both trying so hard but Eddie’s legs just wouldn’t cooperate. No matter what Steve tried, they buckled after a few steps, forcing Eddie to sit down or fall down. He had made progress, the muscles in his legs slowly coming back, but three weeks had been too short.

Or so he thought.

Eddie doesn’t know how or why, but this time, Steve had simply positioned himself as far away from Eddie as possible and spread his arms as wide as his smile. “I got you, Eds. I’ll never let you fall. If you can’t trust in yourself just yet, trust in me.”

He had, believing that those strong arms would wrap around him if he stumbled.

He didn’t stumble, didn’t fall, but wrap around him they did anyway. Steve had picked him up and twirled him around, and then he’d kissed him, grinning mouth to grinning mouth.

Eddie might not have graduated top of his class, but he sure feels like he’s on top of the world when he catches Steve’s eye among the cheering group of his friends.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing

412 notes · View notes

toournextadventure · 5 months ago

Text

everyone but her pt.42

Summary: While Wednesday is busy worrying about you, an unwelcome guests shows their face at the Addams Mansion. Wednesday is starting to wish you would lose your morals again.

Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: swearing, mentioned child abuse, racism against Outcasts, smut at the end (18+) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

The Addams Mansion was louder than usual with its new guests. Much to her surprise, Wednesday almost found it comforting. If you had asked her even just two years ago if she would have enjoyed the newfound sounds in the mansion, she would have thought the notion preposterous. Absurd even. Of course she wouldn’t have enjoyed the sounds, the mansion was her home. It was a sacred place that should be left untouched.

However, with your family around… at least they treated the old home as it deserved.

Even the youngest were respectful of the knick-knacks and artefacts around the mansion. They had only needed to be told once, and everything settled again. Sure, they would point out the ones they liked, but their hands stayed far away. Rooms that were off-limits to guests remained closed, and everyone was respectful of the… unusual habits of the Addams family.

The only one that remained unusual was you.

If Wednesday was being honest with herself, she was rather concerned about you. She hadn’t heard you say much after that night. By all accounts, you were more similar to Lurch in your communication; doing little more than grunting in acknowledgement of whatever was being said. You hadn’t even talked to Weems, who had shown up not even a day after the event to check on everyone. It was rather disturbing. And not in a good way.

At least there was an upside to the whole situation. Grandmama Addams had healed your arm with little more than a light scar over the skin. It was clearly a burn; that was impossible to erase. But there had been no need to go into a medical centre like the original EMT had mentioned. An Addams knew tricks no normie could comprehend.

There was nothing comfortable about talking about feelings, Wednesday knew all about that. She had trouble talking about her own, and you certainly felt the same. It didn’t take a genius to know that. But she wished you would talk with her. Share your thoughts, what you were feeling at the moment. Or at the very least what you were thinking for the past few weeks, seeing as you still had yet to tell her how you had known the house was going to catch fire.

“Would you pass the sugar, dear?” Mother asked you.

You grumbled and nodded once before pushing it over with your scarred hand. It was a stiff movement, and your brows moved ever so slightly at the effort. So, Wednesday thought, you weren’t entirely healed. You made no other indication of your discomfort and turned the page of your book.

“Daniel seemed quite interested in the atrium,” Mother continued. You hummed for her to continue. “He’s asked numerous times about specific plants.”

You still said nothing in return.

Mother looked at Wednesday over the lip of her teacup. If you wouldn’t even answer her small talk, how would they ever get you to speak? Even if you were having a small spat with Wednesday, you would always talk with Mother. Yet now, she was talking of your brother, and you wouldn’t even answer? It was borderline rude.

You were never rude to Mother.

“There you all are,” Weems said as she entered the reading room. “Everyone was a bit too quiet.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Mother said with a smile.

She did just that. Even you looked up from your book for just long enough to watch Weems sit down with her own cup of tea. It seemed everyone was indulging in caffeine. Everyone except for you, that was. You had opted for nothing more than a glass of water that sat untouched on the small side table.

Everyone resumed their activities; Mother and Weems were talking, and you were reading. Wednesday had her own book in her lap, but the words eluded her. How could she focus on a book when she was so concerned about you? How could you focus on your book? Were you not going absolutely mad?

She needed you to be okay. There was very little she could do to help, but she needed you to be okay. Perhaps you wouldn’t talk with her, but that wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? No, she could survive you not talking about your worries with her, as long as you allowed her to attempt to help.

A word of advice from Yoko appeared in her head. She looked over at you and watched you for a moment. There was very little emotion on your face, but she noticed you blinking a little longer than normal every time your burned hand turned the page.

She gave herself no time to doubt herself before reaching over and grabbing your good hand. It stiffened, but when she linked her fingers with yours, you quickly relaxed. Before she looked back down at her book, she noticed the slightest pull at the corner of your mouth.

Good. That was progress.

Wednesday was acutely aware of Mother and Weems’ hesitation before continuing their conversation. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach to know they were watching you both. Showing outward displays of affection was becoming less agonising, but there was something unsettling about knowing her mother and your mother figure were watching.

The prickling spiders were starting to crawl across her skin when something knocked on the front door. You didn’t look up, but Mother and Weems shared a look before Weems stood up from her chair.

“Shall I?” She asked even though she had already started walking toward the front door.

“Thank you,” Mother said with a small smile.

No one else paid any attention to what was happening. Everyone simply went back to what they were doing. What would it matter anyway? You were all aware that people only came to the Addams Mansion either based on a dare or had been invited.

“I don’t believe it’s wise for you to be here.”

Your attention was captured by Weems’ words. Wednesday would admit hers were too. There was a certain tone to the words, something that she didn’t think she had heard before. No, that wasn’t true, she had heard that warning tone before.

At Nevermore immediately after Nicky had died.

Wednesday’s mind was running rampant when you pulled your hand away from hers. There was almost no time for her to grab it again before you stood up. Mother sent a concerned look her way. It was a lucky thing Wednesday hadn’t had any tea, or she would have spilled it when she stood up.

Your body stiffened when you looked out the front door.

“I was hoping you would be here.”

That voice sent a shiver down every inch of Wednesday’s skin. By the slight shake in your hand, you felt the same. The closer she got, the more nervous she was. It was a complicated feeling for her. Very few things, and even fewer people, made her feel that way. She didn’t like it.

There was something comparable between your mother and hers. They both held themselves with confidence; something that you appeared to lack until you were in your mother’s presence again. However, there was a rather large difference between the two women.

Your mother always looked like she was out for blood.

“I was hoping to talk with you about something,” your mother said directly to you.

“I don’t believe that would-”

“-Alone,” she interrupted Weems with a venomous smile.

Very few people spoke to Weems in such a way, apparent by the way everyone stiffened at the harshness of the word. But that very reality was what seemed to get you out of whatever stupor you had drowned in. Behind you, your wings puffed up enough to make themselves known as you looked at Weems.

“I’ve got it,” you said in a soft yet confident voice. It was certainly a surprise to Wednesday, who had assumed you would sound weak after a large amount of silence.

Weems looked at you for another moment more. “Morticia and I will be in the study,” she finally said.

“As I said,” your mother said with the same sickening smile, “this is private.”

“Anything involving me involves Wednesday,” you said.

You and your mother stared at each other silently, and Wednesday felt like she was intruding on something. There was a history with you two that she knew very little about, but she knew enough. To stand there, watching your silent battle with nothing to say, was torture.

“Of course it does,” your mother finally said. She looked inside the mansion for a moment. “Won’t you be a dear and invite me in?”

“No.” You straightened back up and crossed your arms over your chest. “Say your piece and leave.”

Your mother opened her mouth to argue - she had stunning teeth, Wednesday noted - but quickly closed it once seeing the look on your face. Or rather, the lack of a look. Fear was the predominant look in your eyes when your parents were involved, but this? There was no reaction. You simply existed in her presence.

It was a wonderful look on you.

“Very well,” your mother finally said with a sigh. “I would like you to attend an event with me this weekend.”

“No,” you said quickly.

Your mother stood tall. “You will hear me out, Y/N.”

Fear flashed behind your eyes at the use of your full name.

“It’s a charity gala,” she continued. “For those with your…” she gestured vaguely between both you and Wednesday, “affliction.”

“We’re Outcasts,” you said, “not lepers.”

“Semantics, dear,” she said with a dismissive wave.

At that, you reached out and grabbed Wednesday’s hand. Hard. An ache spread through the bones of her hand as they were squeezed together unnaturally. The skin on your hand was tough, feeling closer to leather than skin. Truly a fascinating thing.

She squeezed your hand back to the best of her ability.

“After all the shit you’ve done, you want me to go with you to a gala?” You asked. “Just to make you look good?”

There was a red tint to your cheeks. Wednesday could hear all the words you weren’t saying. You killed my brother. You had me arrested. You abandoned me. Though she didn’t wish for a fight, she did wish for you to finally speak your mind. Let her know the hurt she had caused you all these years.

You didn’t continue.

“Your father is away, so you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with the restraining order,” your mother continued as if you were being nothing more than a petulant child.

“You’re not listening,” you said. “I’m not going.”

The tone underlying your words was all Wednesday needed to hear to know your next move. Your grip had loosened enough to ease the ache in her hand, but it stayed firm. Though she wouldn’t blame you, she knew you were done with the conversation. Nothing good could come from continuing to talk with your mother.

You turned around and started to pull Wednesday along with you.

“I heard about the fire,” your mother called after you.

You froze.

“Entire house burned to ash,” she continued. “A shame.” Your chest was heaving. “No longer having a home to call their own.”

The warmth of your hand in hers quickly disappeared as you turned on your heel. Wednesday’s feet stayed rooted to the spot even as she watched you walk up to your mother and stand over her. For the first time, she realised you were a decent amount taller than your mother. You could properly look down on her as she had no doubt you always wished you could.

In the background, the children could be heard playing in an unknown room.

“Don’t pretend you care,” you said quietly. Harshly.

“Oh darling,” your mother said with a smile that didn’t match her tone, “I couldn’t care less.”

“Then don’t talk about them.”

“I just assumed, perhaps wrongfully, that you would wish for them to have a home again,” she continued. The look in her eye was similar to yours. “A gift, if you will.”

You looked down at your mother silently. Oh, how Wednesday wished she could see the look on your face. She so very much adored when you were angry. There was a fire behind your eyes that lit something within her.

Then she started to think about the implications of your mother’s words. Would you allow her to offer such a thing? The reminder of your debt would follow you for the rest of your life. After all, you were still feeling indebted to her parents for the pendant you constantly wore around your neck. But with a home? She couldn’t even imagine the feelings it would invoke within you.

“Shall I continue?” Your mother asked.

You hesitated. Then gave a single, slow nod.

“If you accompany me to the gala, we will pay for the restoration of your little,” she hesitated, “family.” There was almost a sneer on her face, if Wednesday was reading her correctly.

“Are you blackmailing me?” You asked.

“Oh dear,” she laughed, “I’m not that dense.” Your jaw clenched. “It’s an incentive. A rather generous one.”

Your mother then stayed silent. A tactic, no doubt. It would give you time to consider her offer. Even Wednesday would admit it was a tempting offer. She and her parents had offered your family the same thing knowing they didn’t have the means to rebuild quickly on their own. It had been a quick rejection.

When it came to your mother, however…

“You’ll pay for the entirety of a new house,” you confirmed.

Your mother nodded in response. “Large enough for them all, in fact.”

“With the barn and stables.”

“Of course.”

“And nothing will ever need to be repaid?”

“It will be an act of charity.”

“And I can get that in writing?” You asked.

Oh. Oh, Wednesday could see the gears turning in your head. Once again, as she so often found herself doing, she thought back to those years she had believed you to be daft. Oblivious would perhaps have been the better word for it. Acting as if you were unaware of everything going on around you. On the rare occasion, even going so far as to act unaware of even the most basic aspects of life.

She used to believe you. After all, you were rather adept at playing off your intelligence. If she hadn’t been so tragically enamoured with you, life would have become far different than it currently was. She wouldn’t have had the pleasure of calling you hers.

However, she knew better. She could see the ideas forming behind your eyes. No, they weren’t simply ideas, they were full-fledged plans. Wednesday desperately wished to have the ability to read your mind. What plan were you meticulously concocting?

“You may have it in writing,” your mother finally said. “I’ll draft it when I get home.”

“Oh no,” you said quickly, “I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

Finally, for the first time since your mother had appeared at the front door, you turned and looked at Wednesday. There was a fire in your eyes reminiscent of the burning house she had been forced to watch you run into. It was thrilling.

It was terrifying.

“Would you call Señor Moreno?” You asked with a smile that made you look just like your mother. “Mrs. Smith would like to draft an agreement.”

—---

Your discomfort was clear, but Wednesday rather enjoyed you in your current state. There had been few times she had seen you dressed well, fewer times since it had been a happy occasion. This was neither happy nor unhappy, so she took it as a positive. You looked rather stunning, aside from your wings resting uncomfortably underneath your clothes.

Not for the first time, her chest ached when you removed your hand from hers.

Listening to your mother fill you in on who was who was not on Wednesday’s to-do list. No, she didn’t truly care who these people were. What she truly cared about was the feel of your warmth beside her, enveloping her in something she had learned to crave. Something she could only receive from you.

“Come on,” you said softly, far closer than Wednesday had believed. It was unsettling.

She loved when you were unsettling.

With her arm looped through yours, she walked with you around the overly crowded room. A ballroom of sorts, she supposed, not too unlike the one in her own house. The difference was this one was bright and filled with straight-laced professionals. Her house was more often than not filled with criminals and unsightly characters for miles to come.

This was a far more concerning environment.

Every beat of Wednesday’s heart grew stronger the longer she watched you in what would have been your natural habitat. Try as you might to deny it, you were rather skilled at talking up those that could owe you favours. For example, the senator’s wife. Though Wednesday despised it, you had her laughing and getting closer the entire conversation.

You were lucky Wednesday had promised to behave.

She was lucky you had promised to behave.

The longer she stayed by your side throughout the evening, the more she realised there was a side to you she rarely if ever got to see. The part of you that could be serious and prepared for business. It was fascinating to watch your expressions and tone match whoever you were talking with. Almost like a mimic, if she had to put a word to it.

Sometimes, if your mother was around, she noticed the most subtle accent to your words. You sounded just like her.

She would never tell you.

“This is Wednesday Addams.”

Your voice pulled Wednesday back into the moment. There was a man in front of you both that she didn’t care to know. With his horrific toupee and pathetic mustache, she mentally placed him as a wannabe politician. His black tuxedo was slightly dishevelled around the collar, and his buttons were off by one. How peculiar.

“Addams, you say?” He asked with a voice that betrayed him more than the pipe hanging out of his mouth. “I believe I know of your father.”

“How so?” She asked even though she had no interest in hearing his answer.

“We met at a ball many years ago, if my recollection is correct,” he said. A puff of smoke left his mouth. “He’s doing well, I presume?”

“Quite,” she said shortly. Perhaps if she made it clear she wasn’t interested in small talk, he would leave her be.

No such luck.

“Perhaps he would appreciate an invitation to our next ball,” the man said. “He can get proper connections in place for when you take over.”

Your hand on the small of Wednesday’s back twitched. Nothing serious, a minuscule movement. It was enough. Out of the corner of your eye, she saw the slight frown on your face. Nothing overtly noticeable. Not that it would have mattered, the man you were both talking to couldn’t be bothered enough to notice the change.

“The Addamses are old money,” you chimed in, “there’s no need to take over.”

“Of course, of course,” he mumbled. A puff of smoke escaped from between his lips. “In that case, you must take that advice,” he said as he gestured toward you with his head. “You’ll need the good graces.”

Your hand twitched again.

“I’m not sure I understand,” you said with a slight tilt of your head.

“When you take over your father’s company,” he explained. Your nails dug into Wednesday’s back. “After dear Nicholas passed - rest his soul - you became the beneficiary of the company.” He chuckled. “Perhaps they were keeping it a surprise until you came of proper age.” A wink. “Don’t let them know I told you.”

You pulled your hand away from her back. Quickly. You could not have made it any more obvious that you were deliberately putting space between yourself and everyone else. If you could have turned and ran, Wednesday was convinced you would have.

She couldn’t begin to imagine the things running through your mind. Not only had he mentioned Nicky - which she had learned would always be a sore spot no matter how much time had passed - but he had also told you something you undoubtedly had never wished to know. You looked like you had grabbed an electric wire and hadn’t let go.

“Are you alright?” The man asked in a tone that indicated he couldn’t have cared less what your answer was. Wednesday could appreciate the indifference.

“Quite,” you said quickly. “Just thinking.”

“Ah, of course, I could tell,” he said with a nod, “I’ve seen that face before.” Another puff of his pipe. “You look just like your father.”

That.

That was the final straw.

Wednesday could practically hear your sanity break at that simple sentence. Any semblance of control you had maintained throughout the evening vanished. Before, you had acted like you had been shot by the words. You would close off, become solemn in the wake of the conversation. Being told those words almost hurt you more than losing your brother.

But not this time. No, now you were furious. If you clenched your jaw any tighter, Wednesday was convinced the bones would have shattered. Her eyes fell to your hands before you managed to shove them into your pockets. They were balled into fists.

She wondered if it pained your superficially healed burns.

“I believe I need a drink,” you choked out. “If you’ll excuse me.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking off where Wednesday could no longer see you.

She was mortified.

How dare you leave her with people that, not only did she not know, but she didn’t care about? She had only agreed to accompany you because it would be a sleight against your mother. Not once had she agreed to be left alone with these people. Did you not know that she was not going to be good for your image? If anything, she would damage it more than it already was.

“I hope our dear Y/N is alright.”

She knew better. Wednesday really, truly knew better. But she couldn’t help herself. With a small exhale, she turned to face your mother. A polite smile was on her face and she looked rather nice, if Wednesday wished to say something positive about the woman. Not that she deserved it, but that wasn’t necessarily important.

You had her nose.

“Oh she’s splendid,” the man said, “just stewing on some thoughts. Right, Miss Addams?” He winked at Wednesday.

She felt the rare twinge of disgust in her stomach.

“I presumed,” your mother said. “Would you mind if I stole Miss Addams from you?”

“Not at all,” he said. He bowed his head, let out a puff of smoke, and turned around to start a conversation with whatever unlucky soul happened to be nearest him.

“Walk with me,” your mother commanded.

Silence was Wednesday’s best friend as she followed the older woman. She would admit, she had never believed she would find herself in this situation. Walking side by side with your mother - not the woman who raised you, but who brought you to life. It had seemed like a far-fetched dream, if not a full-blown nightmare.

She was ashamed to admit that she was… uncertain of how to act.

“You’re a rather brave young thing,” your mother said as she continued to meander through the party, waving to people when she saw fit. “Has our darling Y/N ever told you that?”

“I’m aware of my own strengths,” Wednesday answered. She reconsidered for a moment. “Yes she has.”

“Then we raised her properly.”

Wednesday opted to stay silent. It had only been a few moments of conversation, but she could fully understand why you felt a certain way about your parents. Was she aware of the ridiculous things she was saying? Did she truly believe that they had raised you? A foolish notion at best.

It was beyond clear that your true family had raised you. If she extended the definition of the word, Weems had even raised you more than the woman she was walking beside. You even called Weems a mother, which was evidence enough. Wednesday wasn’t one to get overly emotional, but she knew the difference between what your family had done to raise you and what your mother had done. The difference was glaringly obvious.

While you hadn’t told Wednesday much about your upbringing, she knew enough. Your mother had never been there when you cried. She hadn’t helped you with your homework, or encouraged your hobbies. It would be of no surprise to anyone if she didn’t know of your passion for climbing or boxing. She had left you to cope alone after not only a crippling car accident, but the figurative and, eventually literal, loss of your brother.

No, they hadn’t raised you, and even someone as emotionally stunted as Wednesday was painfully aware of it.

“I’m sure she’s told you rather horrid things about Marcus and myself,” your mother said, coaxing Wednesday out of her thoughts. “But everything we did was for her own good.”

Wednesday understood the anger you harboured for them. She herself was feeling that same anger well up within her chest. Not quite threatening to burst forward, but making itself known. Subtle, creeping into her veins slowly, like waves gently breaking on the shore. All it would take was one wrong move and those waves would turn violent.

“I believe you truly think so,” was all she said.

“Everyone she loves gets hurt,” your mother said. She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to face Wednesday. “Or dies.”

“That’s improbable at best,” she said.

“You’d be wise to leave before you fall victim to that curse of hers.”

Something cold and damp settled into the bottom of Wednesday’s heart. It was… difficult to describe. Was your mother warning her, or threatening? She was unsure. The words themself were threatening, but her tone… she hadn’t prepared to hear that tone from such a woman. Not after what she had come to know about her.

“Not everything you hear can be taken as truth, love,” your mother said softly, far too soft for her own words. She was ignoring Wednesday’s silence. Or simply not caring. “From what I’ve read about you, you know that painfully well.”

Wednesday turned to silence once again. She had nothing to say, which was a rather unusual experience. So far, she couldn’t properly think of a time she had been left without words. Or, quite frankly, even any thoughts. Skepticism was her friend, and your mother would not break her of such habits.

“There’s two sides to every story,” your mother continued. She looked out toward the crowd of people, and Wednesday followed suit. “This curse prevailed long before Nicholas.”

You had never told Wednesday of any incidents before Nicky. Though, if your mother knew about it, then perhaps you didn’t remember. Or you weren’t even aware in the first place. It indicated something that she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about.

Something that mixed together with everything she had seen as of late.

“We should get together one evening,” your mother said as she looked back at Wednesday. “Doubtless you have questions.”

She did. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she had numerous questions that continued to pile up with each second that ticked by. With how much your mother hated Outcasts, was her implication of a curse figurative or literal? If literal, were you truly cursed? Who had done it? At the very least, who had been injured or killed when you were too young to even remember?

Would you hate her if she agreed? There had been a few times you had mentioned, in passing of course, about regretting knowing little about your childhood. Whether from young age or potential trauma, you remembered less than you liked. If she had a chance to find those things out for you, would you be appreciative? Or would you be upset with her for talking with your mother so casually?

Would you hate her?

Her mind was running through every scenario possible. She wanted to tell your mother something; of what, she wasn’t quite sure. Wednesday’s lips parted in an effort to buy herself some more time when someone’s arm brushed against her shoulder. Just the lightest of touches, otherwise unnoticeable. It had been quite a while since she had last felt that electric shock spiderwebbing across her skin.

This was different.

Fire raced through her veins, creating an inferno in her chest that she desperately wished to smother. She could taste the smoke rising up from her lungs, scorching the back of her throat before settling into little more than a tickle. When her eyes opened, she saw vague shapes of the forest.

She was getting rather tired of the forest.

The birds were silent, and even the bugs had ceased to make their high-pitched calls. It was as silent as the grave. After witnessing the fire, this very setting rested heavy in her stomach. The only saving grace was the two familiar figures she saw standing underneath one of the outlines of a tree.

When they turned to face her, all comfort fled. Their faces were nothing less than mangled. Blood fell freely down their chins to the already-soaked dirt below their feet. Wednesday wanted to cry, to scream, to warn them of the creature looming behind them, but she couldn’t. She was silent.

Just like you on that fated night.

She blinked once. When her eyes opened again, the forest was gone, instead replaced by a house that she could recognise even from her single visit. Wednesday had never been downstairs in your parents house, instead only exploring a few rooms upstairs when she came with you, but she recognised the tile. The entire building smelled like you, in some odd way.

The dining table was huge, accentuated by the measly five plates that sat around the perimeter of the stunning wood. Only five. Two seats were empty, and two more were filled with sights that Wednesday didn’t think she could have imagined even in her most demented nightmares. In the fifth seat, Wednesday saw the near-perfect reflection of herself.

She had never imagined what her corpse would look like.

“I said don’t touch her.”

Your voice. That was your voice, which meant she was out of her vision. Her throat ached like she had been screaming for years. There was a dull throbbing ache in her stomach where one of the wounds on her corpse had been. But your arms were around her, holding her close.

The ache would subside.

“It might be wise to seek medical attention,” your mother said.

“This happened while she was with you,” you practically spat. Wednesday still hadn’t opened her eyes, but she could imagine the fury on your face. “I can be forgiven for not taking your advice.”

“I’d advise you not to make a scene, dear.”

Your mother’s tone left Wednesday feeling cold. Her own mother had never talked to her in such a way, even out of fear. It wasn’t a way a parent should ever talk to their child. Yet, your mother did it shamelessly in front of an entire crowd of people that had no doubt found their way around the three of you.

Her eyes opened quickly. Far too quickly, the lights from the room hammered nails into her brain. But all the pain and discomfort faded away when she met your soft eyes looking down at her in concern. You were rather beautiful, and just the thought brought a smile to her lips.

A smile?

Perhaps she had hit her head on the way down.

“Can you stand?” You asked softly.

Wednesday nodded once.

You kept your hands on her as you helped her to her feet. The floor felt a bit uneven at first, but with your arm wrapped securely around her waist, she felt no concern. Her trust in you was unwavering. You wouldn’t let her fall.

“You should take her somewhere quiet,” your mother said, against everyone’s better judgement. “It will help.”

You shot her a look, but otherwise stayed silent as you guided Wednesday through the crowd. Everyone parted, looking away in some form of almost-shame. They didn’t truly care. Elites cared for little outside of their own interests. And at that moment, getting the gossip firsthand was in their best interest.

There was no telling where exactly you were taking her. She didn’t care to know. If you were taking her somewhere, it would be safe. You had never intentionally led her into harm, and she knew you never would. You cared too much, and though it often got you in trouble, she loved it about you.

…

She had definitely hit her head.

When you opened the door and led her inside the darkened room, she didn’t initially check her surroundings. Wednesday was no fool, she would know if something was unsafe. But when you flipped the switch and illuminated the space, she was overcome with… confusion.

“The coat closet?” She asked, turning quickly to face you.

You were already pacing back and forth in the small - well, small for a room, rather large for a coat closet - space. Each step was harsh, purposeful. Behind you, your hands were clasped terribly tight, as if you were trying to prevent yourself from doing something foolish.

Perhaps you were.

“Did she hurt you?” You asked without looking.

“No,” Wednesday said softly.

You scoffed. “Probably the only thing she didn’t do.” The carpet was becoming worn into a path from your feet. “We never should’ve come to this stupid party.”

There were a few things Wednesday could have said, but she remained silent. It wasn’t often you would find yourself pacing, let alone in a closet. On those rare occasions, she had learned it best to stay quiet. Once you had gotten your thoughts and emotions out, you were lighter and could move on.

“I can’t do this,” you continued without prompting. “I don’t want to do this.” A turn on your heels. “I didn’t even want their name, let alone their fucking company.” The muscles in your arms tensed. “And apparently everyone is preparing for it. What happens when they find out I’m a fucking Outcast?” You readjusted your jaw. “He told me we shouldn’t have come.”

Wednesday perked up.

“Who told you?”

There was no sudden freeze of your movements, as was usual. No, your pace slowed until coming to a graceful stop. Each breath you took was calculated, steady. Strange. She had seen enough of your panics to know this was different. Wrong somehow.

“No one,” you said without looking at her. “Just… just a thought.” You turned slowly. “The voice in my head.”

“Your conscience?” She clarified.

You didn’t answer.

Wednesday didn’t like when you didn’t answer her. It left a gross feeling she couldn’t quite describe. The best description she could conjure was mud sitting at the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down. She didn’t like the feeling. It made her… well, almost sad.

It was possible you noticed her discomfort because, almost instantly, you walked over to where she was standing. Her entire body relaxed - for the first time that night - when your hands cupped her cheeks. There was something pleasant about your touch that never failed to ease any negative feelings trapped within her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked in a far softer voice. It was gentle and comforting.

She placed her hands on top of yours and nodded once.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” you continued. “We should’ve just had a nice night at home.”

Wednesday didn’t disagree. There were many more things she would have preferred to do than come to some gala that no one seemed to care about. You had come under the premise of a gala for Outcasts, but she felt it was a farce. None of those people cared about Outcasts, and they never would. It would have been a much better use of both of your time to do something else, something far more enjoyable.

An idea formed in her mind and she quickly looked up to meet your eyes.

“We can still have a nice night,” she said slowly.

“Wednesday,” you said with a tilt of your head. “You fainted and I’m plotting the death of my mother. You’d have to come up with something pretty… uh…”

Your voice trailed off once she guided your hands down her neck. There was almost a humorous joy to the way you went slack jawed at any indication of activities less than professional. And when she continued, fighting a shiver as your fingers brushed the side of her clothed breasts, you stared with wide eyes until your hands rested on her waist.

“Wednesday,” you whispered. Her name always slid off your tongue with a certain grace that she couldn’t find anywhere else.

“You need a distraction,” she said, “as do I.”

“Please don’t feel like you have to-”

“-I would like to,” she said quickly.

She knew where your mind was going and, in any other situation, she would have agreed. You had both agreed long ago that this wasn’t something frivolous; it meant far too much to the both of you. It shouldn’t be used for inappropriate reasons and, under normal circumstances, this would be an inappropriate reason.

Even though it was surprising to her as well, she genuinely wanted this.

“We’re in a coat closet,” you said with a slight squeeze of your hands. It felt nice.

“I don’t believe it would be our most unusual interaction,” she said with the slightest tilt of her head.

You bit back a laugh. It was a beautiful sound. “Please don’t call it an interaction, it sounds… dirty.”

She felt herself moving backwards. Whether you were guiding her or she was leading, she couldn’t tell. All she could focus on was your fingers rubbing light circles on her hips and your face getting closer to hers. If she simply leaned up on her toes, she could kiss you.

“I can call it intercourse instead,” she offered.

The both of you stopped when her back pressed against the wall.

“I think that’s worse,” you said, your breath fanning across her lips.

She waited for the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

A rhetorical question at that point, you knew the answer. You had always known the answer. Wednesday reached forward to wrap her arms around your neck and pulled you down into a kiss. It was soft and clumsy. After all this time, you were still clumsy for the first few kisses. Before you, she would have found it ridiculous.

Now, she enjoyed it.

Outside the door, the sounds of footsteps on the tile came and went. It didn’t stop either one of you, quite the contrary, it made the situation all the more thrilling. Wednesday knew the joy you would find in it; she could practically hear your words. Two Outcasts fucking around their personal belongings? Sexy.

Her breath hitched lightly when you slipped your hands underneath her dress. It wasn’t salacious; it was rather decent, if she was being honest. You didn’t hike her dress up over her hips and take her right then and there. Rather, you kept her covered, the only indication of something going on being your hands underneath the fabric.

“I’m sorry, mi vida,” you said softly against her skin as you pressed kisses across her jaw. “This will have to be quick unless you want to get caught.”

Wednesday was never a fan of what you and Enid - and clearly the rest of the world - called “quickies.” She was so selective of when and where she was willing to have sex that the thought had never appealed to her. Why dedicate such a short amount of time to something that required much longer? How was it enjoyable? Or even tolerable?

But, as she had noted throughout the night, she wasn’t particularly picky at that moment.

She nodded quickly. More footsteps could be heard outside the door. You were correct; she didn’t wish to be caught. The thrill was arousing, yes, but if it actually happened? There was no doubt in her mind that, though she wouldn’t care about their opinions, she would be mortified.

Your teeth pressed lightly against the pulse point of her neck as you smiled. If Wednesday stretched her neck just a little further, perhaps she could entice you to bite. There was something delectable about the feel of your teeth on her skin. As if you could read her mind, you lightly nipped at her collarbone.

It was a good thing you hadn’t completely enraptured her, or she would have made a surprised noise when you hoisted her up from the ground. Your hands held her by the back of her thighs until you pressed closer, leaving her trapped securely between your body and the wall.

Oh, she rather liked that.

Your unscarred hand moved, sliding softly against her inner thigh before brushing against her underwear. Her body shivered at the slightest of touches. It was humiliating. What was more humiliating was the smile on your face that she desperately wished would vanish.

“You’re already wet,” you noted.

She could kill you.

“The stoic Wednesday Addams is wet,” you said. Your fingers slipped underneath the flimsy fabric and she had to bite her tongue. “From a little makeout session in a coat closet.”

Out of all the times you could be condescending, you had chosen the worst moment. You chose the moment she was already going out of her comfort zone, but also, quite frankly, desperate. She finally understood the pleasure in quickies; it gave less time for words.

Wednesday would have told you to shut up right then and there. She would have stopped you simply out of spite. But her chance was ruined when you slipped two fingers into her with ease. Her head fell back against the wall as those fingers moved at a dangerously quick pace.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to finish. It was truly disgraceful how worked up she was. Had you known? Because she hadn’t. Wednesday had never anticipated ever being so close to a release with such little time. Perhaps it was you. You and your deceptively soft kisses on her neck. You and your nimble fingers that had learned long ago exactly what she loved. You and your damned thumb that never left her clit until she was so sensitive she could almost cry.

That warm feeling in her core didn’t build softly. It formed quickly with each swipe of your thumb, each thrust of your fingers that had her biting her tongue so hard she could taste blood. She managed to lift her head right when you pulled your own mouth away. Perfect.

Her lips pressed against yours before that feeling erupted inside her. It was different from all the other times. It was more intense, hitting her rather quickly instead of slowly cascading over the edge. Her nails dug into the back of your neck, but you didn’t seem to care. You simply held her closer, keeping your fingers moving in rhythm with her body until she could relax in your arms.

Footsteps came closer.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered against your lips, “I know it was fast, we can take our time at home.”

Wednesday didn’t have an answer just yet. She was still out of breath, trying to recover from the wave of bliss that had left her unable to properly function. But she could give you some form of answer; a soft kiss, nothing like what you had just done to her.

She felt you smile against her lips.

“Here,” you said softly as you lowered her back to the ground on shaky legs. “I’ll grab our coats, you take a moment.”

The moment you were gone, she felt cold. It wasn’t something she had ever admitted out loud, but she despised when you left her even if momentarily. She was fond of the warmth you gave her, both internally and externally. There was something special about it that evaded her verbiage. All she knew was she enjoyed it.

When she opened her eyes, she froze.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a husky voice.

You thumbed through the cash in the wallet. “I’m stealing.” You grabbed the wad of cash and placed the empty wallet back into the coat before moving on to the next one. “If I’m going to run a company one day, I should start getting used to it.”

Wednesday walked up to you slowly and waited for you to finish with what was currently in your hands. Once you paused, she pulled you down into a kiss. Slow, soft, good. You pulled back ever so slightly with a small smile on your face, and she just looked at you.

“I love you,” she said softly.

You leaned down to kiss her again.

“I love you too.”

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega

369 notes · View notes

sweet-s0rr0w · 1 year ago

Text

Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues!

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride.

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him.

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

#drarry #fic recs #vintage drarry fics #loved putting this together #blast from the past

755 notes · View notes

shady-tavern · 30 days ago

Text

Preview for "Haunted House" the November Short Story

(warnings ahead for implied/mentioned domestic and child abuse, please be sure to take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

The building looked just like the rumors said it would, haunted and decrepit. Like a prop for a horror movie.

The tooth of time had clearly found it's favorite chew toy and while you could see attempts at repairing things here and there, it hadn't been enough to combat the building's slow decay or to chase away the strangely unsettling feeling that surrounded this place.

The only upside was that it was so cheap it was ridiculous and after getting away from your old home, leaving a terrible relationship behind, you could not afford to be picky.

It was just for a little while, you told yourself as you dragged your suitcase up the stairs, your duffle bag so heavy it's strap across your shoulder dug in painfully.

The stairs had chipped edges and stains you didn't even want an explanation for and the same went for the hallway, the floor there looking like it had sustained some sort of damage over the years and was in dire need of some professional cleaning and renovating.

You'd just stay here long enough until you got back on your feet so you could move on to a home that didn't look like it might carry diseases from forgotten times.

You had read plenty of rumors online about this place, on the site where you had seen the ad for available apartments. People had ripped this building to shreds in the comment section, talking about moaning and screeching at night, at feeling stalked and watched, at things vanishing and reappearing elsewhere.

They talked about bloody footprints left outside in the hallways, a neighbor gone, never to be seen again while all their belongings were left behind. Some also complained that the landlord didn't bother to fix anything unless someone hounded him relentlessly beforehand.

When you had called the man, asking if any apartments were still available, the landlord had been downright ecstatic, reassuring you that you had numerous apartments to choose from, since there were almost no residents.

It seemed people only came here if they were down on their luck and even the desperate ones didn't stay long.

There also wasn't an elevator, because this building was really damn old and had never gotten any sort of significant overhaul. Those who couldn't take the stairs chose one of the apartments on the first floor.

You reached your apartment and dug out the key your landlord had given you upon arrival. It looked a little bit rusted around the edges, faint scratches covering the surface. It smelled strongly of wet iron despite being dry.

Unlocking the door, you were braced for mold in the corners and for the smell of damp oldness or something worse, only to pause.

The inside looked surprisingly...fine. Nothing fancy and there were discolorations along the walls where clearly no one had bothered to give it a new coat of paint in a couple of years at the very least, but there was no mold, no rot, no water damage and it didn't smell bad. You had expected far worse, if you were being honest.

The floorboards creaked under your feet as you set down your luggage by the door, but as you cautiously explored your new home you were pleasantly surprised to find that everything worked as intended. Sure the faucet squeaked like it had never gotten oiled and the water rushing through the pipes was loud, but the light bulbs didn't flicker and the little oven and stove in the kitchen worked just fine.

It was, all in all, not as bad as you had expected.

It didn't take long at all, however, until you felt it. A presence in the air, invisible and unseen and yet you swore someone, something, was there. You stood still, your suitcase and duffle bag just set down in the empty living room and you downright held your breath as you waited.

But nothing happened and so you slowly started to move again, cautiously and stiffly, like you were trying to avoid provoking something bigger and far, far more dangerous than anyone could ever hope to be. It felt like razor sharp teeth were holding your entire apartment between their jaws, debating if you should be crushed or not.

Before long you started to play some music over your phone, trying to combat the oppressive silence.

It worked, to a degree. The presence didn't vanish, but it seemed to...settle, for lack of a better word, like it was listening. It almost felt like having someone in the apartment with you, in another room and neither of you were speaking. Someone who, you knew down to your very core, could shred you like flimsy paper.

It wasn't quite as...bad, after a while. Unsettling and creepy, sure, but you'd rather endure this chilling presence than go back to your ex. Your life would only turn into a guaranteed hell if you did.

Since this place had a small if very old kitchen installed, you left briefly to get some groceries and you bought an air mattress on a discounter a few streets away, along with some blankets and paper plates to tide you over. You had left only with your most important possessions and savings, your life squished into your luggage until nothing else had fit inside anymore.

You ate a cold, quick dinner, eyeing the sinking sun worriedly. In the slowly spreading darkness of the approaching night the creepiness of the whole building grew, like dark paint getting poured over an untouched canvas.

At night things really did get worse. You could hear it, the scratching and moaning outside your apartment, the creaking as doors opened and then slammed closed and you swore you heard something move in the hallway right outside your bedroom door.

You curled up tight under your blankets and you played the music on your phone a little louder and slowly, as the hours passed, the apartment building seemed to settle again, the noise growing softer until you could pretend it was just an annoying neighbor banging around their cabinets and generally being noisy.

Your sleep was fitful and restless as you barely dared to doze off. You were exhausted when your alarm rang and you dragged yourself out of bed, your head aching. You blearily got ready for the job interview you had today and by the time you were good to go you had managed to wake yourself up enough that you felt as ready as you could be.

You took a calming breath and then you felt it again, a little bit of a chill in the air and that presence creeping through your apartment once more.

You stared at yourself in the spotty mirror left behind by a previous tenant and you told yourself that you hadn't gotten away from one horror only to cower at the feet of another. However, you also weren't foolish enough to think that you could actually chase away whatever lived here.

This thing had been here before you and it was something...otherworldly. You had no idea if it was a ghost or some kind of eldritch creature or whatever else.

"There's crackers in the cupboard if you want any," you said, putting on a brave facade as you talked to the air around you. "I'd appreciate it if we could get along, if you don't mind. I'll be off to find work now, wish me luck."

It felt like the presence had paused and you felt watched all the way out of the apartment and that sensation only vanished when you walked down the street and around a corner, disappearing from sight.

You were indeed lucky, for the interview went very well and to your relieved surprise, you were hired right away. Not many people moved into this area, however, and you were willing to bet that it had to do with the creepy apartment building that seemed to drench the entire street with it's presence, spine chilling and shiver inducing.

You were very relieved about your success when you returned to your new home, a small, celebratory dinner bought with some of your savings.

As you entered the apartment, that presence was in the air once more, almost anticipatory, lurking above and around you all at once.

"I got lucky," you told your apartment and a small, hesitant smile appeared at your face despite the prickle of unease that tickled at your neck. "You must be my good luck charm."

As you entered the kitchen you saw the empty cracker box in the trash and blinked in surprise. Huh, whatever was here it already had more manners than your rotten ex did.

"Thanks for cleaning up after yourself," you told the apartment and you started to get your dinner ready. You hesitated for a moment, before setting aside an extra serving. "For you, if you like."

By the time you finished eating, the extra food had vanished and you blinked when you saw the paper plate in the trash. You hadn't even heard anything. You cleaned up after yourself, talking to the air about your day, both to combat the unease that still clung to you, that made you feel small and squishy and like prey and because you hadn't really had anyone listen to you for a long while.

Your ex boyfriend had managed to isolate you completely from your friends and family and you were too ashamed to try and reach out to them again. A part of you was also convinced that they wouldn't want to hear from you again, that you had caused them enough grief already.

You fell quiet at that thought and you silently went into the bathroom to wash the stress of the day and night away, the stress of leaving your old life behind, only to immediately decide that there was no way you were going to take a bath without thoroughly cleaning everything.

"Be back in a bit," you told the apartment as you left, heading to the very same store that had just hired you to buy cleaning products. Returning with your small haul, you set to scrubbing every inch of the bathroom and you felt the presence hover over your shoulder all the while.

"I will not risk getting sick," you told the air as you scrubbed the bathtub. "Do you know how long it takes to get rid of foot fungus? I am absolutely not risking that."

Once you were done cleaning to your satisfaction, you were covered in sweat and exhausted and you realized that you'd have to ask the presence to leave. You did not want to bathe while feeling watched.

"Would you mind waiting outside?" you asked the air. "I want to do this in private."

There was a long, heavy second of stillness, as though something around you was thinking and then you felt the presence pull back and you only realized how tense you had been when your breath rushed out of you with relief.

"Thank you," you called with a raised voice, only to jump when you heard scratching down the outside of the bathroom door.

You scrubbed down swiftly only to realize that you hadn't brought a change of clothes.

"Uh, would you mind not looking as I get dressed?" you called out into the hallway and weirdly enough, you got the impression that something was turning away from you. Still there but not paying you any attention.

You scurried down the hall to get dressed and as soon as you called out that you were done, the feeling of something looming over your shoulder was back.

"Want to watch something on my phone with me?" you asked after a long moment of heavy silence that ended up feeling a little awkward and quiet tense.

You settled down on the air mattress and you swore the shadows around you darkened and when, from the corner of your eye, it looked like some sort of large, clawed shadow hand was creeping over the edge of your mattress, you resolutely ignored it, even as your stomach clenched uneasily.

Your exhaustion caught up to you halfway through the third movie and you woke up to moaning and scratching and doors creaking open and banging closed again.

"What's wrong?" you blearily asked the air around you, still hazy with sleep and the noise quieted for a moment, before it felt like something was leaning over you, all darkness and numerous eyes and razor sharp teeth and you didn't dare open your own eyes to look back at it.

It seemed to stare and wait until you fitfully fell asleep again and while you jerked awake a few times throughout the night, the unsettling noise was distant, like a drunk neighbor two doors down acting like a dick.

In the morning you got ready for your first shift and you told the creature, that this place absolutely belonged to more than the landlord, that you'd be gone for a while and you'd bring back dinner.

While you had hoped to find distraction at work, it seemed as though everyone knew you lived in the haunted building and everyone wanted to talk about it. It seemed you couldn't get away from the thing you shared your home with even now.

Where you had been unsettled but not completely frightened before, now you heard more stories about people turning up dead in that building. Most died in very bloody, gruesome ways.

"A man was torn to shreds just last month," an older woman told you as you bagged her purchase and she sighed, "You look after yourself, that's no way to die."

Indeed not, but it wasn't like you could go anywhere else either. Your savings wouldn't allow for anything better and you were not going to go back. In the end, that thing in your new home wasn't worse than your ex. Not yet, at least.

You bought the food you had promised to bring after your shift and you grabbed one of the cheap books set up on the side as well. The kind that your grandpa had referred to as dime novels, smiling in victory whenever he had found something for your grandma, who loved them to bits. The cheesier the better.

You really missed them.

You felt the presence settle around you the moment you set foot onto the property, the apartment building looming ahead and you returned to your dingy little flat, finding it undisturbed. Nothing had vanished and nothing had gotten broken.

You cooked another meal for yourself and whatever monster lived here and you set down the novel beside the extra serving you had plated.

"In case you get bored," you told it and you looked away for just a moment, but the food and novel were both gone when you glanced back, the paper plate once more neatly put into the trash.

As you ate you thought that your unexpected companion was a bearable houseguest. Sure, it's night time manners were atrocious, but otherwise...it could have been worse.

Especially since you couldn't get rid of it anyway, you might as well figure out how to live with it instead.

*.*.*

If you want to read more, be sure to check out my patreon, my ko-fi or give the masterpost a whirl!

#preview #my writing #short story #monster love #monster lover #eldrich horror #romance #dark romance #hope you'll like this one!#but also I am serious about those warnings

54 notes · View notes

amomentsescape · 1 year ago

Text

A Lonely Escape

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: Reader seeks a change in her normal routine, and the city's vigilante seems to be just what she asked for.

Warnings: Minor cussing, violence, slight angst, loneliness

Word Count: 1,041

A/N: I'm not sure Eric quite constitutes as a slasher, but I really just wanted an excuse to write for him. He is criminally underrated, and it's upsetting how few fics there are for him.

The air was cold, and you could practically feel the night's wind blow right through you. But you honestly didn't care in this moment. You just wanted, needed to feel something.

Living alone had its benefits for sure. Setting your own schedule, a strong sense of independence, and not having to deal with anyone's expectations were enjoyable at first. But when you didn't even have one goddamn friend in a giant city like this, it began to feel so lonely.

The past couple of weeks had left you internally numb. Each day was the same and all of the hours you spent at home or at work began to blur together. You felt like a side character in your own life.

So you had to get out of your apartment and try to feel something, anything.

This city was way too dangerous for someone like you to be walking alone in. You realized this firsthand not even a month ago while heading home after a late shift.

Grimy hands had grabbed at your collar and shoved you into a cold brick wall, your figure being hidden in some disgusting alleyway.

"Your bag, now," the man spat at you.

A small glint in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you knew that the man's blade was going to end up somewhere inside you if you didn't do what he asked.

Your body shook as you nodded, trying to pull the strap off of you.

However, a loud cawing sound caused both of you to turn and spot a black crow staring intently at the scene.

The man whipped back to you and lifted the knife, pointing it close to your face.

"Hurry up!" he screamed.

His anger was soon turned into fear when someone else bashed him upside the head with a piece of rusty metal.

The man fell onto his side as he reached up to try and cover the now gushing wound on his head.

The figure was quick to shove him onto his back however, and all you could see were flashes of rusty silver as the man's skull was caved into nothing.

The figure dropped the metal suddenly and stood up, his body turning towards you in the dark.

It only took a moment for you to realize it was the city's one and only vigilante. A man who had saved numerous innocent lives since he arrived.

"Thank you," you spoke quickly.

You knew what this man was capable of, yet you felt no fear.

The man looked around the alley until his gaze rested back on you.

"You should never walk alone this late at night. You're going to get yourself killed."

He spoke a little abrasively, but it didn't really upset you.

"May I ask what your name is? You just saved my life, and I would like to know the name of my hero," you let out a nervous laugh.

He tilted his head down in an almost bashful way.

"I'm no hero," he started, "but it's Eric."

"Thank you, Eric."

He gave you a small nod before motioning you to follow him.

He stayed by your side all the way to your house. He didn't even leave until you made it inside. But by the time you peered out the window, he was already gone.

Since then, the only real communication you've had with anyone was at your crummy job.

This was your first time out so late since that fateful night meeting Eric, and you knew that you were putting yourself at risk once again. But any normal worry you'd have was currently hidden away by the pure indifference you felt.

Your heartbeat picked up as you realized that the same alley you almost got robbed in was only a few meters away from you. A chill made its way down your spine at this.

"Are you asking for a death wish?"

You spun around at the voice and saw the familiar man in front of you, the crow perched on his shoulder.

You couldn't help but smile a bit. You weren't sure you were ever going to see him again.

"Death doesn't scare me," you responded.

His eyes seemed to glaze over at this.

"It should."

He walked up to you and tilted his head, looking at you intently.

"You should head home. You already know how dangerous this area can be at this time."

You shook your head.

"I'm not worried since you're here."

His expression was unreadable as he continued to take you in. It was honestly a crime that a killer like him could be as handsome as he was.

Your resolve disappeared after a few moments of no response. Everything was much too quiet.

You finally sighed and broke eye contact with him.

"Do you ever just feel so... alone?" you asked quietly. You weren't sure if you had even spoken loud enough for him to hear.

But he must have since your question was followed by a slow nod.

"All the time," he responded just as softly.

You shook your head as you fought with your own thoughts.

"I-I just couldn't spend another night alone in that apartment," you began. "All I'm met with is silence, and I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts for that long."

You finally looked back up to him and noticed that he was only a few feet away now.

He was close enough that you could take in the features of his face.

And a murderer had never look so heavenly.

"I just... needed to clear my head," you finished.

His lips tightened into a line as he took in what you said.

"There's a place I like to go when it all becomes too much," he finally spoke.

His brows were furrowed in slight irritation, almost like he was fighting with whether he should be sharing this with you or not.

After a few more moments of silent contemplation, he finally sighed.

He reached his hand out to you.

"Come with me."

You looked down at his open palm and then back up to his face. His eyes were soft as he stared back at you.

"Okay," you answered, taking his cold hand into yours.

#eric draven x reader #eric draven #the crow 1994 #the crow movie #slashers x reader #slasher summer

216 notes · View notes

phoenixcatch7 · 10 months ago

Text

I thought up that Saiki/Billy/Danny poll on a lol but honestly I keep thinking about it. They're all so interesting as comparisons to each other.

Billy, aka captain marvel: young orphan boy with a heart of gold and a strong sense of justice getting into trouble for it. Sweet darling angel with huge authority issues and Will Fight And Lie over it. Wants to be a hero more than anything else but didn't really get a choice in becoming one. Destiny is strong with this one. Uses his newfound powers to save others and help everyone around him, preferring to talk his enemies down or outwit them but very good with violence. Keenly aware of how easy it would be to turn evil (with Adam) and refuses to ever follow that path. Would be in huge trouble if the government ever got him and he knows it.

Saiki: seemingly apathetic teenager with a heart of gold getting into trouble for it. Sarcastic and pithy, he prefers solitude and privacy but keeps getting semi willingly roped into doing 'friendship' stuff with his 'buddies' (who he'd die for). Easily bribed. Acts polite and obedient to fly under the radar but does not even slightly respect authority given his circumstances with his normal family and the numerous kidnapping and experimentation attempts from governments (and his older brother) since he was very young. Was born with his ever growing powers and every attempt to reduce or remove them has failed with the exception of his limiters, he doesn't want them but didn't really get a choice. Very avoidant or passive of conflict, preferring to save his rare world saving heroics for when he can't be discovered, he doesn't have a hero persona. But he's also very capable of great violence on massive scales when necessary. An unreliable narrator with a slight god complex despite his desperation for a normal human life. Conscious of how easy it would be to turn evil and determined to never follow that path. Would be in massive trouble if the government ever caught him and he's keenly aware.

Danny: sassy and punny teenager with a heart of gold getting into trouble for it. The fluke accident turning him part ghost also released the ghosts onto the town, and he feels it's his responsibility to stop them, before either side gets hurt or worse. A typical teenager with annoying teachers and parents who want to rip him molecule from molecule has left him with very little respect for authority (but it's better than the other two - just). Didn't really want to be a hero with powers but didn't really have a choice. Will sass people into making bad decisions (that usually ends with him upside down in a wall) and generally ready to throw down the second he senses a ghost (or a vlad). His encounters have left him with an iron clad set of morals and he's keenly aware of how easy it would be for him to turn evil, despite how much he refuses to become his worst nightmare. If the government ever got their hands on him he'd be deeply screwed and he knows it.

I'd honestly love to see the three teenage power houses meet, even if just to gripe and find understanding XD. They'd be such an interesting dynamic.

Saiki: *sipping a drink as the other two crash and wheel wildly overhead in a landscape destroying spar, mercilessly critiquing them both like he could do any better*

Billy: *desperately trying to stop his new friends from conning a conman in revenge for getting conned so easily themselves despite his warnings*

Danny: *deeply morbid humour about the fragility of life as he blasts music to the beat of the video game he's crushing the other two at until saiki blows up the TV*

Honestly these three would bring out the blackest humour in each other, it'd be so bad.

Billy would be the extrovert golden boy face of the group despite being just as ready to play dirty as them, Danny the one dragging them everywhere and daring them to do stupid things, and saiki the guy in the back acting above it all like he's not the easiest to provoke into dumb stuff. MENACES, the lot of them.

But I kind of like how their wildly abnormal childhoods and lives would find so many points of understanding with the others. They'd all benefit hugely from having others their age like them.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #captain marvel #shazam #danny phantom #danny fenton #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki k #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k #tdlosk #kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo #crossover

67 notes · View notes

megxplryxb · 1 year ago

Text

Unfaithful

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Angst, Angst and more Angst! Cheating, mentions of drug and alcohol use (very minor)

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

The sound of heavy rain crashing against the motel window breaks the tranquil silence that had filled the room for the last half an hour. The Indian summer, Indiana had been experiencing for the past several weeks, seemed like it was well and truly in the rear view mirror as darkness began to swallow the sky, taking the sun along with it. The soft glimmer from the the dated bedside lamp was the only thing saving the room from suffering the same fate and you were thankful to be inside, lying in a warm bed next to the man beside you.

“What time is it?” You whisper, lying across his toned chest, bodies still sweaty, faces flushed, legs tangled together as his fingers danced lightly over the parts of your bare skin that weren't covered by the thin white bedsheet. He groans, kissing your cheek before reluctantly rolling to the other side of the mattress to grab his watch and it's hard not to notice the frown on his face when he places it back down, realising it was almost time for you to part ways again.

“Just after seven” He mutters, pulling you close as you nuzzle back in to his neck, inhaling the scent of his cedar wood cologne. The same cologne you had bought him for his birthday a couple of months ago, the cologne he was wearing when you both succumbed to temptation for the first time, the cologne you hoped Eddie wouldn't smell on you when he got home later on tonight, cause the man lying beside you wasn't your boyfriend, it was Steve, who you'd been having an illicit affair with for the past several months.

Steve had been your best friend ever since your parents had moved in to the house next to his when you were eleven years old. You could still remember the first time you met him, god, he was even perfect back then with his pretty smile and a boyish charm that sent butterflies straight to your stomach as he ran towards you to ask if you needed help with your boxes. He'd introduced you to most of the neighbourhood kids by lunch time and by that evening, he was eating take out pizza with your family around the kitchen table. You'd become inseparable, spending the hot summer days hanging in his pool and the cooler nights in your living room watching movies in your sleeping bags, sharing bowls of popcorn, talking until you both fell asleep. Those days were easy, effortless and innocent - before high school, before feelings, before relationships and definitely before the god damn Upside Down.

You drifted from each other in High School during his King Steve phase, only reconnecting on Halloween night a couple of years ago when Nancy Wheeler broke his heart, calling their relationship "bullshit" before leaving the party with Jonathan Byers. He climbed through your bedroom window that night, lost and lonely, needing to see a friendly face, yours and although you were still mad at him for the way your friendship had ended, you let him stay with you, trying not to smile when you heard him drunkenly mumble how much he missed you before falling asleep on your bedroom floor.

It was no secret that you were in love with Steve Harrington back then, but you knew his heart belonged to Nancy and that he only saw you as a friend, it was something you had long accepted, no matter how painful it had been. Over the years that followed, your friendship went from strength to strength, finding yourselves battling creatures from another dimension, trying your best to protect each other and the six kids Steve had seemingly adopted in the process. He never wanted you to be involved in the supernatural events that occurred in your little town but you had refused to leave his side back at that Junkyard and you'd been a part of it ever since. After the battle in Starcourt, you decided to stay in Hawkins despite the numerous college offers you received, not wanting to leave after everything that had happened to you and your friends for the past two years. So instead, you took up classes at the community college while continuing to look after the young teenagers, picking them up and dropping them to school or Hellfire Club and that's when you met Eddie Munson.

He was sweet and funny and kind and completely smitten with you from the very beginning. He flirted with you for weeks before asking you on a proper date, only doing so once he had gotten permission from Dustin and the others and you'd been together ever since. Sadly, your relationship with Eddie had put a slight strain on your friendship with Steve as he couldn't hide his dislike for the metalhead, stating on more than one occasion that you deserved better than some low end drug dealer, living in a trailer park with his Uncle. You didn't understand then, why Steve couldn't accept your choice of boyfriend and when Eddie tried to tell you it was because your best friend was "totally in love with you", you laughed it off, claiming Steve never felt that way about you and that he had nothing to worry about. However, their jealous rivalry was quickly put to the side when Chrissy Cunningham and Fred Benson were both mysteriously killed and Hawkins was once again in a code red situation.

It was out on the lake when you realised your feelings for Steve were still very much alive, heart beating out of your chest as you watched him get pulled under the water and back to the Upside Down. He looked at you before he disappeared, fear apparent in his eyes as you tried to grab his hand but it was too late. Before you knew it, you’d dove in after him, not thinking to look back at Eddie or the others first, getting to Steve was all you think about because you couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. He was on the ground when you finally found him, bloody and gasping for air, being bitten and choked by a swarm of bats. You picked up the first thing you could find, eliminating them one by one as Steve eventually managed to get to his feet, taking out the rest. Relief filled his battered body as he saw your face, seeing it was you who had saved him from the brink of death and suddenly his lips were on yours in a frantic embrace, panicked and desperate as you clung to each other, never wanting to let go. It was only when you heard the voice of your friends and Eddie in the distance that you broke away from each other, guilt immediately taking over as your boyfriend ran to you, sweeping you off your feet, wanting to make sure you weren’t hurt.

Once Vecna had been defeated and things began to return to normal, you argued over why you had kissed, insisting it had been a big mistake, that it was just two friends caught up in the heat of the moment and nothing more. It was a lie neither of you actually believed but Steve cared too much about your friendship to tell you how he really felt, too afraid to lose you altogether. So, you did your best to move on and forget about it, determined to make things work with Eddie who was struggling after everything he had witnessed and been through. He pushed you away, refused to talk and instead, turned to drugs and alcohol to try and forget.

That's how you wound up at Steve's house, having had another fight with Eddie, tired of being treated like an emotional punching bag when you yourself were still traumatised from years of battling monsters. So you turned to your best friend for comfort, sharing a couple of drinks, talking about everything that Eddie refused to acknowledge and when Steve mentioned the kiss you shared in the Upside Down, you both finally admitted that it wasn't exactly a mistake like you'd said it was and suddenly, years of hidden feelings were out in the open, no longer being buried deep beneath the surface. That was the first night you slept with Steve, the first of many nights spent together, meeting in motel rooms miles from Hawkins where no one knew either of you and for the first time in four years, you felt something other than fear.

“I gotta go soon.” You mumble, untangling yourself from Steve to sit on the edge of the bed, scanning the room for pieces of your clothing which had been quickly removed from you once Steve had gotten you inside. Your jeans were laying in a mess on the floor by the doorway, your lace panties discarded in the bathroom where Steve had removed them before burying his head between your legs and your matching bra draped over the faded leather couch you’d fucked him on less than an hour ago.

“Yeah, me too." He sighs, crawling behind you, sneaking his hands under your arms to wrap around your stomach, leaving wet kisses along your shoulder blade as you leaned in to his toned body.

"You got other plans tonight, Harrington?” You tease, raising a brow as Steve shrugs his shoulders nervously and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"Uh yeah, actually…I'm meeting Robin and Vickie at the bowling alley. Vickie's got a friend that she wants to introduce me to." He reveals, swearing he felt your body stiffen around his hold.

"Oh, so it's like a double date kind of thing?" You question, trying to sound unbothered as you force yourself from the bed and from him, still wrapped up in the white bedsheet. It’s not like you didn’t know it was coming, Steve was single after all, he was entitled to go on dates but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

"I don't know, maybe? Robin's been on my ass to get back out and meet someone and she seems nice...I guess." Steve admits, trying to read your expression but you weren’t giving too much away.

"Well, I know Robin has a sick sense of humour sometimes but honestly, I don't think she'd let Vickie set you up with someone who wasn't nice, she's not that cruel." You joke, trying to hide your real feelings because Steve didn't need to know that your heart was breaking thinking about him with some other girl, he deserved to be happy and you wanted that for him, even if it wasn’t going to be with you.

"Yeah, I guess you're right and hey, maybe she could be the woman of my dreams right?" He half laughs already knowing that it didn't matter how nice the girl was or how good looking she might be, she wasn't going to be you.

"You never know." You replied, walking quickly towards the bathroom trying not to crumble into pieces in front of him.

"Hey, are you ok?" He asks with a look of concern on his face, taking your hand in his.

"Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You force a smile, pulling away from him to shut the bathroom door as tears began to trickle down your cheeks, quickly turning on the shower to hide your cries. The warm water was a welcome feeling on your skin as it began to wash away the evidence of Steve from your body. It didn’t however, cleanse you of the guilt you felt for betraying Eddie once again and sometimes, you didn't even recognise yourself anymore. Never being the type of girl to cheat in a relationship, here you were crying over the fact that your best friend and lover was going on a date immediately after you departed from the motel and you hated how angry that made you feel.

As you finished washing your hair, you hear a gentle knock as the creaky bathroom door begins to open and see Steve standing there in nothing but a towel, hanging low on his hips. "Can I come in?" He asks innocently and you nod, moving out of the way to let him in to the shower beside you. You try to turn away from him but it's already too late as he instantly notices your puffy eyes, cupping your face to try and wipe the tears away with his thumbs.

"Honey, why are you crying?" He questions as you keep your head down, avoiding all eye contact with him.

"It's nothing, really, I'm just being stupid." You whisper, wiping away the last of your tears but Steve knows you better than that.

"Baby, come on, you know you can-"

"Don't. Don't call me that Steve.…” You whimper, shaking your head as he takes a step back.

"M'sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, fuck, I shouldn’t have…that's the last thing I-"

“It's fine, like I said, I'm just being stupid." You reassure him, stepping out of the shower.

“Don’t go yet, just a few more minutes?” Steve begs, hoping you’ll join him again but you grab a towel and wrap yourself in it.

“No, I need to get ready, Eddie's going to be home soon." You admit, seeing the change in Steve's demeanour at the mention of your boyfriend’s name before you exit the bathroom, leaving him alone. Eddie had been away on tour with his band for the past three weeks, leaving you and Steve with plenty of time to spend together, making it easier to sneak around.

By the time Steve reappears, you're fully dressed having picked up your trail of clothes from all around the room. Hair in a messy bun as you stuff the last of your things into a bag. You try your best not to think about how good he looks in his crisp white t-shirt and new levi jeans, hair perfectly in place as he makes his way back in to the room but knowing he's dressed like that to impress another girl makes you a little more than envious.

"Aren't you a little dressed up for bowling?" You spit, cursing at yourself for not being able to bite your tongue.

"Well, we're not just going bowling, we're going for drinks too." He explains in a defensive tone.

"Oh. You didn't mention that before." You say, turning your back to him again, both of you feeling the rising tension between you.

"I didn't know I had to."

"You didn't."

"What’s going on with you, why are you so pissed off all of a sudden?" He questions, already knowing the answer but he needed to hear you say it.

"I'm not!" You argue as Steve folds his arms. "You’re a shitty liar, you know that right?”

"Ok, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect you to be going on a date with some girl when you were literally inside me an hour ago, that's all." You huff as Steve scoffs, shaking his head. "Wow, thats rich."

"Excuse me?" You demand, as he begins to laugh sarcastically.

"Are you honestly giving me shit for going on a date, when you’re about to go home to Munson right now?." He questions, placing his hands on his hips.

"That’s completely different, Steve!" You argue as he starts to walk closer towards you.

"Yeah it is, cause I'm not planning to fuck that girl at the end of the night but I’m sure you’ll give your boyfriend a real nice welcome home later on." Steve fires back, putting an irritated hand through his hair and that’s when you realise why he’s so angry. He’s jealous. Jealous of Eddie.

"That is so fucking unfair, Steve!”

"No! What’s unfair is you, thinking you have a right to be pissed at me for going on a god damn date when I have to watch you leave and go back to him every single night after we’ve been together! I have to sit there and pretend that it doesn't bother me when he touches you, when he kisses you, when he tells you he loves you…” Steve lets out a sigh before continuing. "And yeah, I know, I know you're his girl and I have no right to feel the way that I do, but- it fucking kills me." Steve admits, holding his face in his hands.

“It kills you?” You snicker, letting out a heavy sigh as Steve looks at you confused. “For years I watched the boy I loved flirt with other girls, date the majority of the female population of Hawkins High, fall in love with Nancy Wheeler……while I waited on the fucking sidelines for him to finally wake up and see what was always right in front of him!” You shout as Steve’s face begins to soften. “Honey, I didn’t..”

"No Steve! I have loved you since we were eleven years old, I loved you before you ever grew out your perfect hair, I loved you before you were ever the "King" of Hawkins fucking High and when I finally moved on from you with someone who actually does love me, you fucking go and kiss me!" You yell, shoving him backwards. "And I let you.... I let you kiss me, I let you fuck me and I stupidly let you make me think that maybe this time, you actually did love me." You cry, trying to wipe your tears as he grabs your arms.

"You think I don't....That I could just fuck you for months and feel nothing?" He asks with a hurt look on his face. "You think I'd do that to you?"

"Why not? You've done it with every other gir-"

"You're not just any fucking girl! Jesus Christ, I'm not that guy anymore, you know that! I've never been that guy, not with you. How could you think that after all we've been through together since then?" Steve questions, looking at you with sheer desperation.

"What do you expect me to think, Steve? You're literally leaving here to go on a date!"

"Yeah, a date I don't even want to go on cause the girl I'm in love with is standing right in front of me!" He shouts with wide hazel eyes, hand covering his mouth as you freeze.

"What did you say?" You whisper, choking on your tears as he moves closer to you, cupping your face as your breath hitches with his soft touch. “I said, I'm in love with you, honey."

“Steve, don’t say it if you don’t-” You whimper as he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“Hey, I mean it, of course I do, how could I not? m’just sorry it took me so long to figure it out, that this is the way it came out.” He huffs, gazing at you as you stand in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest.

“What about the date? That girl?” You asked as he lightly laughs. “M’not gonna go obviously, I’ll call Rob and cancel.”

“What are you gonna say?” You ask as he shrugs his shoulders. “The truth, I guess, that I’m not interested….that I’m love with someone else.” He smirks as you playfully push him. “Steve…”

“I’m kidding, but it’s not like Robin doesn’t know anyway.” He reveals as your eyes widen in shock.

“Robin knows about us?”

“Oh, no, of course not. But she does know that I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” Steve smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I think I always knew, y’know? That you were the one…but I was an idiot back then.”

“You were.” You tease and he chuckles.

“I thought I was going to die that night in the Upside Down and all I could think about was you, how I was never going to see your face again, how I was never going to be able to tell you that I loved you…I had so many regrets.” Steve swallowed hard, beginning to choke up.

“Then I saw you, taking out those bats, all bloody and bruised and still so damn beautiful, I’m not sure how you managed that.” He joked as you let out a small laugh. “You saved me, just like you did when we were eleven years old, the first time I met you.” He whispered as you held his face, keeping the tears away.

“I need to end things with Eddie, I can’t keep doing this to him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.” You sigh as he nods in agreement.

“I wanna be with you. I want us to be together properly, no more sneaking around.” He admits as you nod your head, entwining your fingers with his. “I mean, if that’s what you want?”

“Of course that’s what I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You admit, as he pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours.

“So, we’re really doing this, me and you?” He asks as you place your forehead on his. “Me and you.”

“When do you want to speak to Munson?” He asks as you bite your lip, stomach already feeling sick with the thoughts of having to break your boyfriend’s heart.

“I think I should do it tonight, I don’t want to lie to him anymore. I just don’t want to break his heart, Steve and I know that’s what’s going to happen and it’s all my fault because I fell in love with you and I never should have started something with him when I always knew it was you.” You choke, falling into Steve’s chest as he holds you.

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok.” He shushes as you continue to sob. “I just wish things were different, I wish I had done things differently.”

“I know honey, but we didn’t mean for this to happen and I don’t regret loving you, not for a damn second but if it makes it easier, we can hold off on being official for a while, if it means not hurting Eddie more than he’s already going to be.” Steve says as you look up at him.

“So I break up with him tonight and then we wait for a couple of months before telling people about us?”

“I mean, yeah? If that’s what you want, if it makes things easier?” Steve asks as you bite your lip, considering his option.

“And you don’t mind us being a secret for another couple of months?” You question as he nods his head, kissing your nose.

“Not if means I get to be with you forever afterwards.” He smiles as you melt into his touch again. “I’m only ever gonna be yours, Steve Harrington.” You say as you both embrace in a passionate kiss before grabbing your things to leave the motel room. Steve carries your bag, placing it in the trunk as you kiss him goodbye before getting into your car to make your way back to Hawkins and to Eddie’s trailer, neither of you being aware of the van parked a few spaces away, with a seething Eddie Munson in the drivers seat.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #king steve #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve x eddie #stranger things smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fandom #steve x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader

144 notes · View notes

renegade-diamonds · 8 months ago

Note

Ronance cuddling headcanons?

Ooooohhhhhh, the fluffy headcanon ask? Don't mind if I do......

Robin's usually the little spoon, but they switch often depending on the type of affection either of them needs.

Nancy loves skin-to-skin contact when cuddling. She adores the little humming sounds Robin makes when Nancy traces her numerous freckles lightly with her fingertips.

Robin really likes the smell of Nancy's shampoo, so she often falls asleep while cuddling with her face buried in Nancy's hair.

At first, it was normally Nancy who initiated cuddling, but as Robin became more comfortable and confident with their relationship, she started initiating waayyyy more than Nancy.

Neither of them can ever turn down cuddles, no matter the circumstances. One time, they even pulled off the road while driving to cuddle in the backseat. They were both pmsing at the time, and a really sad song came on the radio and upset them.

At first, most of their cuddling sessions are spent at Nancy's house. She has a lock on her door, and her parents are usually very good at giving them their privacy. Ted's clueless about their relationship, but Karen's known since before they even got together, and she's the MVP at letting them have their space.

They start having sleepovers at Robin's house since her parents work night shifts; Nancy's convinced that Robin's bed is the most comfortable surface in the world, and they spend a lot of time happily curled up together under the blankets.

Every once in a while, Max, El, and Erica comes over to the Wheeler house for a girl's night sleep over in the basement. All three of them sleep cuddled up between Nancy and Robin. Nancy's always the last one to fall asleep during these sleepovers; she spends a lot of time watching over the girls, grateful for how peaceful they look after all the crazy shit that's happened with the Upside Down. Robin will usually stir, her Nancy-sense can detect when her gf is brooding, and she'll lure the uptight girl to sleep by softly singing the little lullaby from Nancy's music box. Needless to say, Nancy falls for it every time.

#ronance headcanons #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley

22 notes · View notes

valentinedaughtler · 1 year ago

Text

Tainted Opal (Part 2)

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1

2 - Hand-stitched Crimson Roses

T/Ws: violence, romantic feelings, blood, mild spice scenes sometimes, fem!reader and she/her pronouns, sexual abuse/trauma (not explicit)

Synopsis: You meet up with Kaz for a meeting on the down-low at the Crow Club, but your vulnerability slips.

REQUESTS: OPEN✅

____________________________________________

As I reached the alleyway from earlier that night, my eyes fell upon a figure. They seemed to materialize from nothing.

"Hello," I greeted her with a small smile, my eyes sultry and enticing. I made note of her features, making it easier to notice her in the future. Her eyes were dark, with flecks of deep brown, like shards of tinted glass. A deep blue cloth wrapped around her head and face, but her sleek, black hair poured down her back. Her caramel skin glinted in the moonlight, but the light reflected more off of her numerous knives that were pocketed in her clothes.

"I assumed Brekker would not come himself, smart move," I added while the woman stared at me. "I have the money, darling." With a few swipes of my hands my dress's many layers warped into a large purse, strapped to my belted waist.

"You're a tailor," the woman whispered, her gaze as piercing as her knives. I handed her the embroidered purse. Mouse skeletons and crimson roses were stitched onto the fabric.

As I began to alter my dress once more, the girl vanished. I looked up in surprise, but it was quickly replaced by appreciation. I always admire a woman of her craft. My eyes dropped to the dirty stone path under me, a paper lay where the girl had stood. My joints cracked as I kneeled down to grab the note.

The Crow Club; 2 a.m. sharp

"Well, these meeting sure are getting tiresome," I mumble, making my way back to my estate. I knew I'd need to pack, assuming my deal is accepted.

I make it to the front steps of my home where large, ornate doors greet me. I've made a name for myself, it's hard to believe that three years ago I was-

"Well, a little lady is here....all alone, missy?" My thoughts are cut off by the slurred speech of a middle-aged man. He stumbles over to me, reeking of alcohol and grease. I narrow my eyes, frustrated. Saints damn it all. My eyes become inviting, my smile sweetening the deal, I look so innocent. I look my age now.

"Oh? Well I guess I am all alone," I add in an extra laugh to really tie the act together. I saunter a bit closer to the drunken man, picking up my dress to reveal my ankles. Though I really just don't want this skirt to get wet from rain-soaked pathways. Men like this will believe anything if you play the part. I get to keep some morality, even if I live in a place like Ketterdam, so I play the age old card, "Though, sir, I am only seventeen, so I should get going-"

"Little missy, that's even better, I like my women young... and unused," his grin shows his disgusting teeth, while his hands reach out to grab my wrist. I've given up trying to reason with men like this. Attempting to give them a second chance. I unsheathe my floral umbrella from my dress, as it's a gown full of surprises, and use the sharp prod to stab the man in the upper arm. My soft expression is still plastered on my face as I smack his upside the head with it.

"You bitch," he wails as blood blots his shirt sleeve. He stumbles away quickly, cursing out my existence whist doing so.

I unlocked my front door and opened with with both hands. Antique decor was scattered in an organized manner throughout the house; books spilled out of shelves, and house plants coiled around anything the could grab ahold of.

Time to get packing.

✵ ♣ ✵

The Crow Club was loud, the stretch of liquor wafted through the air, and jukebox music mixed in with the booming voices coming from all sides.

I noticed a pair of eyes on me, belonging to a young man with dark skin and buzzed hair. Two pistols were pocketed on either side of his waist and a smirk played on his lips when I looked at him. Another man to stab with an umbrella... at least he seems to be my age. I was pretty exhausted and not in the mood for this.

He made his way towards me, and his smile grew larger when he was in speaking distance from me.

"You must be Miss l/n," his voice is springy, a sense of humor bubbling in it. My left eyebrow cocks as he says this, though I guess everyone in Ketterdam knows everyone in Ketterdam. The voices carry.

"Guilty as charged," I joke with a smirk, maintaining composure. "And you are...?"

"Jesper Fahey, one million kruge was counted, so Kaz has decided to agree to your deal," he explains. "If you follow me, I will bring you to his office." Jesper turns and begins to walk towards a hall in the back of the bar.

I follow behind him but grip the weapons stashed in the layers of my dress. We walk up a stairwell towards a wooden door. Jesper knocks and enters without waiting for a response.

The room before us is a dimly lit office, a large, open window blows in cool, night air. There is a bookcase and a shelf of rum in the right corner, behind them is peeled wallpaper, which reveals knotted wood paneling. My gaze glazes past the bags of cash haphazardly spread across the floor to Kaz, at his makeshift desk. It seems to be a door sat atop wooden crates.

The scar-faced boy looks up from his papers, he gestures for me to come sit in the chair across from his desk, while Jesper leans against the entrance door.

"Have you accepted my deal, or was Jesper just getting my hopes up?" I ask with soft curiosity in my voice. He leans against his desk, clasping his gloved hands.

"You're known for your deception, Mrs. l/n, how can we trust you?" Kaz's voice makes me shiver, but I like the feeling it brings afterwards. I'm not sure how much information I should give up to him, but my desperation clouds my better judgement.

"That's all I have left," I blurt out. I nod at the purse overflowing with kruge on the desk, "that's the rest of my money in my bank account, and my secret stash. My well-being is on the line for this deal." I wonder if I look slightly manic; if I resemble the panic I feel. Kaz eyes me, most likely analyzing my face with a blank expression. He turns to the open window, where the girl from before separates herself from the shadows. "Inej, go to Ketterdam's bank and see if her story checks out," He instructs. As soon as the girl—Inej, -was there, she was gone again, a part of the night.

After a while of silence in the dreary office, Inej returned. She gracefully hopped down from the windowsill and whispered to Kaz. He shifted his gaze to me, nodding.

"You said you have a boat?" He asked, my eyes fixated on his scarred lips as he articulated his question.

"Yes, I just need a crew," as I said such he looked confused.

"Are you implying you will be accompanying us on the heist?"

"I will. Do you have a crew?"

Kaz thought for a moment. He nodded.

"We have a skilled spy of sorts, a gunslinger, an explosions... expert, a heartrender and a former Fjerdian Drüskelle." He lists the crew members, not breaking eye contact.

"And a tailor," I hear Inej add. I nod at her comment and smile.

"We leave tomorrow morning at Sunrise," with that Kaz gets up, gesturing for Inej and Jesper to leave.

As they slip out of the room from various entry points, kaz makes his way over to a map tacked to the wall, his cane tapping against the floorboards. I follow him and watch as he draws two black dots, one over Ketterdam, the other on the Little Palace of Ravka. He turned to me, parting his lips to speak,

"Ever charted a map before?"

______________

Word Count: 1385

______________

Prepare yourself for the hell of a heist,

-Valentine

#inej ghafa #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #matthias helvar #nina zenik #opalring #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #seductress #shadow and bone #soc #six of crows #fanfic #fem reader #fem!reader #pirates

53 notes · View notes

displacedbias · 3 months ago

Text

[pre-gala]

Ted couldn't help but envy his twin sometimes. He was pretty lucky in ways Felix never even seemed to notice. Lucky in other ways? No, that would be an outright lie. But in his sense of fashion, his taste for higher class clothing, and etiquette, and language, and... all that other stuff Ted personally found boring-- were all things Fe absolutely thrived in. Ted only barely managed to learn it just because he was going to inherit their father's company, and even then, he'd hated every second. Felix on the other hand, had no reason to learn it better than Ted ever could, but he did. He had a real talent for it. And it was probably another case of doing it in the hopes he'd earn their dad's favour for once, but Ted could tell Felix did actually enjoy that stuff too.

The kindergala again... Ted shifted himself on the couch he was sitting on. --Well, 'sitting' was the wrong word. He never liked sitting still for too long with the restless energy he had, and now he was hanging upside down, back draping over the cushions, legs up on the backrest.

It was a shame that Penny couldn't come this time. Something about being busy with the numerous afterschool stuff she'd begun taking up, and Ted understood. After all, he had MMA, music lessons, and business classes, but that was enough to juggle with the gala going on too. Besides, he could probably plan some other date with Penny, just the two of them. That'd be nice. But he was really hoping he could go on a double date, now that Felix was finally ready to ask someone out this time. No matter; he was gonna wingman the heck outta him and Ozzy, and hopefully they'd have as great of a time as Penny and himself had. ...The last thing he wanted was to see his twin sad. Yeah, no, Ted had already decided this gala was gonna be fun no matter what!!!

But still, Ted didn't entirely want to come alone either. It was a masquerade party this time around, wasn't it? ...It was kind of a no brainer as to which one of his friends would enjoy that the most.

Calling up Alice to invite her turned into a nice conversation, which turned into Ted immediately setting off to go to her house. She was such a creative person, always bursting with ideas he'd never even thought of. All he did was complain about the dress code, how much he hated wearing stiff, fancy tuxes and suits. He had plenty of those in his closet, thanks to the typical Huxley dinner parties and company balls that Ted was forced to attend as the son that Mr. Huxley had put all his hopes on since the moment of his birth. Eugh. But he really liked Alice's ideas-- much preferred them, really-- And she mentioned having some clothing in her possession that might work.

"Why not wear something else?" Alice had suggested during the phone call, "If you don't enjoy wearing formal clothing, then don't. It is a masquerade, yes? Masks are an important part of the attire, indeed, but that's just one component of it. Costumes are another big part of it. Actual costumes, not just suits and ties; although there is a lot of that in the modern day."

Ted blinked. That was news to him. "Like, Halloween costumes?"

"...Hm, well, somewhat?" Ted could hear Alice's voice teetering on how to answer that, "Sure, I suppose. Like Halloween costumes, but with a level of decorum."

"So no dressing in Spongebob foam suits?"

"I suppose you could. I don't see why anyone would stop you, but traditionally, no." Alice rejected solemnly, not even a hint of getting out of character, refined and composed, "Regrettably, Spongebob was not invented long 'til the eve of the 20th century. But I am sure aristocrats would have loved to have Spongebob costumes as their main mode of dress for masquerades, had that materialized in their time." Ted stifled a laugh as he listened to Alice continue on, "No, no, I have a proposal which should find you leagues better."

"Oh?" Ted asked, moving to sit right-side up on top of the couch's back, trying to see if he could fit in between the space between the couch and the wall (He could not). "I'm all ears!"

He could practically hear the way Alice's eyes sparkled when she got really into her fantasy, fae court, riddling, bone god roleplay kinds of scenarios she'd get super into. Especially when other people played along. "I beseech that you should don yourself a rogue of yore. One who is stealthy, perceptive, and skilled. Agile, cunning, and quick-witted-- Such a role is what would contend best to the likes of you, Theodore Huxley."

Even after knowing Alice since kindergarten four years ago, he still sometimes struggled to understand her fancy-speak. This however, actually wasn't too bad this time. "A rogue? I know what that is! Those are, like, the thief guys in D&D, right?" Ted thought about it some more, nodding to himself, "I bet they dress pretty comfy, 'cause they gotta move around a lot, too. Yeah! That sounds perfect for me! ...Uh, so, how do they dress anyway? Are they fancy enough for the gala?"

"I can exert my magic, if you wish it, to add some ‘fancy’ elements necessary. Depart for my dwelling, and you shall be bestowed garments fit for Robin Hood himself. Certainly, I have something in here to spare. Some old costuming from plays, and whatnot." Alice paused for a second, "...And you've already set off, haven't you? The wind whispers so."

Oh. She could hear the wind through his cellphone. "Right, sorry. It is pretty windy today, huh...? That's distracting. Tell you what, we can just talk more when I get to your place! See you then!"

"Then I await your presence. Godspeed." Alice hung up. And Ted was already on his way, glad he finally didn't have to wear some stupid stuffy Huxley outfit to a fancy party for once.

#kindergala #kindergarten 2 #kindergarten 3 #kindergarten game #kindergarten roleswap #kindergarten fanfic #kindergarten ted #kindergarten alice #ted ic;#alice ic;#ted #alice #writing.#fun fact: there were so many directions this could've gone but it was getting too long for what i wanted #so i cut out a lot of things. like i was gonna have ted run into felix and ozzy after the previous fic #and then they were all gonna head for alice's house together :'D and try on outfits there #and it was gonna be fun and cute; but again it was getting too long for the scene so i guess i might make a part 3 later #alice's dialogue is so fun but i also sometimes think maybe it'd be easier to write her if i got drunk (<- only ever had 1 glass of alcohol #in my whole entire life)#i just want her to come off as whimsical and fantastical as i imagine and i am soooo out of practice with getting her dialogue right :''')#i could've gone Way into making her completely unintelligible but i thought i'd spare u guys for now <3

8 notes · View notes

atmilliways · 1 year ago

Text

Wrong On The Money (33)

part 33 of ?? | 1085 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

“It’s not like you have to leave or make yourself scarce or anything,” Eddie had said, obviously trying to cushion the harsh truth. “You live here too, man.” Right. Like Eddie is going to want someone like him around all his older Hellfire buddies.

Just so y'all know, I have written up through part 40 and I do not think I will be able to wrap up the story by 42, as my heart of hearts wishes I could.

Anyway, cheers to Steve being so insecure that he kind of doesn't notice Eddie defending him with flowery prose.

33.

“It’s not like you have to leave or make yourself scarce or anything,” Eddie had said, obviously trying to cushion the harsh truth. “You live here too, man.”

Right. Like Eddie is going to want someone like him around all his older Hellfire buddies. These aren’t the kids. They have no reason to like him, and he doesn’t even understand the game; Steve has no right to butt in.

But he doesn’t have a shift today, and Robin is hanging out with Vickie, and he doesn’t feel like going anywhere. He wakes up early out of sheer restlessness and tries to recreate the technique for cooking bacon that Mrs. Wheeler had shown him over Spring Break. So much had been going on then, but it had been good bacon, and the first hearty breakfast he’d had in a while. Every time he’d said so she’d beamed and flipped another fresh-off-the-griddle pancake onto his plate; after a while he’d asked for the recipe out of habit.

At least he hadn't gone into the Upside Down on an empty stomach.

He makes breakfast, doing okay on the bacon. (He’ll have to keep practicing.) Wayne eats with him before his shift at the plant—part time these days, with the government money to help things along, and all day shifts now. There’s no pressure for small talk, and Steve appreciates that. He keeps his eyes down, sipping his coffee and bringing the fork to his mouth until his plate is empty. Before heading out Wayne claps a hand on his shoulder, leaving him buzzing with an unfamiliar feeling of approval.

So he wraps the leftovers in tin foil so they’ll still be warm-ish for when Eddie wakes up, and bakes cookies, too. Why the hell not? There’s a bag of chocolate chips in one of the cupboards and the recipe is right there on the bag. Steve follows it to the letter; he’s good at following instructions.

The cookies are out of the oven and cooling by the time that Eddie shuffles in, and Steve. . . . God, Steve should not feel as gooey on the inside as he does over the guy’s epic bed head. He wants to run his fingers through it until all the tangles are gone and the curls spill across Eddie’s shoulders instead of frizzing out in complete defiance of gravity.

He passes Eddie a clean mug for coffee—the Garfield one that Steve knows is his favorite—and escapes the kitchen without a word.

Steve doesn’t know if they’re playing D&D or what, but whatever they’re doing out there is loud. Eddie had mentioned that two of them were coming back to town for this. . . . Maybe they have a lot of catching up to do, so as a courtesy Steve doesn’t put music on to drown them out. Instead, he pulls out a deck of cards and starts playing.

It’s been a while. He used to do this a lot as a kid, when his parents were home throwing a grown up party where they didn’t want him underfoot, or alone and shouting at each other. Steve had never learned how to shuffle a deck the right way, first because his hands were too small and later because he’d devised his own ways. He plays the way farmers rotate their crops, going from solitaire games that put the suits together in numerical order to 52 card pickup to playing both sides of a game of War to randomize the deck again. Just killing time.

Because this house isn’t like the one Steve grew up in. It’s one story and there aren’t half as many extra rooms to soak up and hollow out sounds, so he hears every arrival and most of the exclamations over the cookies he'd never put away. (Which is fine, he bakes when he knows people will be around to eat the results.)

But he can’t make out actual words, not until he reaches the point where he can’t ignore his bladder any longer. With a mental middle finger flipped at his past self for drinking so much coffee earlier, Steve slips out of his room in time to hear—

“So what’s with Steve living with you, man?”

He’s pretty sure that’s what’s-his-name. . . . Not Gary. . . . Gareth? That sounds right.

“Yeah,” someone else pipes up through a mouthful of cookie . Steve doesn’t remember his name, but it’s not Gareth or Jeff. (He wonders if Eddie bothered to mention who made them.) “I mean, talk about your typical douchebag jock. That guy was the king of ‘em, why’d you even let him in the door?”

Someone else, the only girl at this little reunion of nerds, scoffs. “For fuck’s sake, you idiots are so stuck in high school.”

“I concur, Margaret.” That’s Eddie, and he sounds annoyed. “That’s a rude fucking question, Gare-bear. Do you know of him doing anything downright objectionable in the past year since he graduated? Granted, I only recently escaped the hallowed halls of our mutually beloathed—”

“Not a word,” several people object at once, like it's an inside joke.

“—Our mutually beloathed Hawkins High,” Eddie says, loud and powering through, “but it comes with different social structures and adaptation requirements. It is, if you’ll excuse the phrase, a whole different ball game—”

“Fuck, the exposure is already getting to him.”

And yeah, Steve is pretty sure he’s said something like that in the past week or so. It was about getting the kids to listen during emergency Upside Down situations versus normal times, but still. Oops.

“I said pardon the phrase, Frank.”

“Eddie’s right,” Margaret cuts in. “Popularity, or freakhood, doesn’t transfer directly from high school to college. It’s a social reset, like going from being the oldest kids at middle school to bottom of the barrel freshman in high school. From high school to working can’t be that much different.”

“So you’re saying that King Steve is at the bottom of the barrel?” Gareth asks, audibly skeptical.

“Nope, pretty sure that’s still me,” Eddie replies, with a brightness so fake it sets Steve’s teeth on edge. There’s something raw to it that he can’t begin to understand. Maybe Robin was right, and there is something bothering Eddie.

Maybe something like . . . a housemate who listens in on his conversations?

There’s no way he could know, but Steve still winces and hurries to the bathroom. Sticking around for a possible debate about his worth to society or whatever wouldn’t be all that great a time, no matter which way it goes.

#steddie blackmail fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #jeff (stranger things)#gareth (stranger things)#unnamed freak (stranger things)#steddie #steddie fic #my fanfic

54 notes · View notes

headcanonandburn · 2 years ago

Text

HP headcanons i found on reddit part 2

Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint end up on the same Quidditch team, get into a fight in the locker room when they find out they're on the same team, and then kiss because they actually have a shit ton of sexual tension.

The curse on the Defense position was anchored to Ravenclaw's Diadem.

Harry is Master of Death (when it fits).

Parselmouths have an affinity toward healing magic and that's why Voldemort is never seen using Parseltonue spells because he has no inclination toward healing.

Harry is still a Parselmouth after he dies.

Astronomy is mandatory for all students until fifth year because it is intermingled in almost all other pursuits of magic. Certain potions need to be brewed during this time of the year or this phase of the moon, certain ingredients (for both potions and herbology) are supposed to be gathered during a full moon or new moon, arithmancy takes into account star positions or whatever which helps with runes and spell creation, and all of this other shit that I don't feel like typing out.

Harry has rights to both the Slytherin and Gryffindor name. Gryffindor shares a lot of characteristics with Lily (the red hair and green eyes) and Harry conquered the last heir of Slytherin, making him the new heir of Slytherin via magic.

Luna isn't actually "loony" and the Quibbler is supposed to be read upside down with those glasses she's always wearing. The Quibbler spouts nonsense most of the time to hide the fact that they're actually publishing stories that contradict the government. Not necessarily my headcanon, but something I picked up after reading a fanfiction and full-heartedly agree with.

The Potters are technically a Most Ancient and Noble House but aren't a part of the Sacred 28 because their last name is a common Muggle name. They're descended from the Peverells, who were very powerful in their own right.

The Potters and Longbottoms have been allies for years.

Neville's Mum was Alice Smith, the last heir of Hufflepuff from a straight line, making Neville the heir to Hufflepuff. Hermione is from a Squib line from Dagworth-Granger and she is the heir to Ravenclaw. Harry is the heir to Slytherin or Gryffindor (or both) via his mum or dad (or both). Or Ron is the heir to Gryffindor (because he's a true Gryffindor in personality) and his brothers aren't the heir because all of the heirs must be in the same Hogwarts year because why the hell not?

Snape's hair is super greasy because of potions fumes.

Dean and Seamus are totally fucking. Same with Sirius and Remus.

Voldemort is batshit insane because he split his would numerous times until there was only a little sliver left. Bellatrix is insane because she's done a shit ton of Dark Arts and they corrupted her.

Wizards used to celebrate the "Old Ways" or Pagan holidays, but Dumbledore voted on pro-Muggleborns and he thought that it was rude to have Muggleborns accept non-Christian holidays so he removed the celebrations from Hogwarts, instead incorporating Christian holidays to make the Muggleborns "feel welcome" and having all of the "dark" families celebrate the holidays in their own time. Dumbledore tried to get Muggleborns and Purebloods to accept each other, but since he's not a politician, he went about it the wrong way. Instead of having them all accept one another, he said that purebloods must accept Muggleborns (by incorporating Muggle Studies and removing wizarding holidays) instead of teaching Muggleborns about the wizarding world. The result is that the Ministry now believes the Old Ways are dark but the rest of Europe celebrates pagan holidays and that's why there's the traditional Yule ball (that was celebrated before Dumbledore voted to remove pagan holidays after Grindlewald or Voldemort's first reign) instead of a Christmas ball.

Harry is not completely "light" because he is very good at Dark spells. Sectumsempra is a dark spell that he mastered on the first try.

Harry joins the Auror corp for a few years to find the rest of the Death Eaters before retiring to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.

#luna lovegood headcanons #Neville Longbottom headcanon #lord voldemort #flintwood #deamus #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon #potter family #Longbottom family #anti dumbledore

85 notes · View notes

redshoes-blues · 2 years ago

Text

Let's Talk About Clocks, Baby

Something is off with the timeline, emotions alter time, Mike is in danger, and it'll be up to Will Byers to fix this whole mess.

I'll be taking a look at some of the most prominent clocks and time references in Stranger Things to see if we can learn anything from them. At the heart of this analysis is the idea that Will is the antidote to the time fuckery. Oh, and also emotions have the power to alter the movement of time. Aka emotionsgate?! And gay love will save the day. This is a long one, so I hope you enjoy your read! :)

"We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

We've all been talking about the time shenanigans going on in Stranger Things, lately, so in my current rewatch of ST3, I've been looking out for any possible hints that could have been foreshadowing for ST4. I've found a couple.

First, let's bring in the Starcourt Mall clock.

This is the clock used in the Russian code. You know, the part that goes "when blue meets yellow in the west"? Yeah, that clue is inside a CLOCK

We all know about colour theory, how the Russian code has a possible ST4/byler meaning and how certain characters are coded with colours (blue = Mike, yellow = Will), so that bit is obvious. And yeah, colour theory is a bit overdone, but hear me out!

The fact that clocks are Vecna’s symbol and that’s the thing the blue and yellow part of the code has been applied to?! Wild.

The obvious main clock symbol is the grandfather clock at the Creel house that appears in the visions of Vecna’s victims. In the visions, the same clock rings four times (meaning four gates). It's even this very clock that orchestrates the fall of Hawkins. But clocks also appear behind Max before we learn that she’s the next target. This is massive foreshadowing!

So all of this got me thinking of clocks and time, and all of the theories floating around that show how important time is going to be in ST5. The whole plot of the final season is going to be about defeating Vecna, who is associated with clocks, and dealing with Upside-Down-Hawkins. This last bit is extra interesting since we know the Upside Down is set in the past.

And for a long time my main theory has been that Will is the key to finally defeating Vecna. Which I still think will be true, but I also think it’ll have more to do with the time shenanigans than I originally suspected.

I mean, Dustin isn't far off when he says this in ST4:

Will's connection with Vecna is special. From the parallels between him and Henry to Will the Wise and the numerous hints that he has untapped powers. And especially the fact that he's the one who realizes the Mind Flayer and Vecna are still alive (in ST3/ST4, respectively).

So, because Vecna is associated with clocks, I've been looking out for other clocks during my rewatch. Which brings me back to this:

The Starcourt Mall clock is specifically mentioned in the text. In fact, it's part of the Russian code. It isn't just a prop, but a piece of the plot. That's what made me do a triple-take while watching, this time around. It isn't just a random clock.

So, if Will is yellow and the key to defeating Vecna (more on that shortly), then what does the clock say about all this?

If I allow myself to get extra meta with the visual analysis, the fact that the clock’s hands play into colour theory could be a clue. It's the hands that are yellow and blue: the active parts of the clocks which have the ability to move through time. The hands of a clock show time moving. As we know, time in the Upside Down has stopped for some reason. It's stuck in a loop related to Will's disappearance.

Entering the UD is a bit like time travelling. And as El said at the start of ST4, we're all time travellers.

In fact, we know that Henry’s powers have some effect on time. Or at least on the Creel clock. Because when Henry first taps into his powers, the grandfather clock's hands start to move backwards. It’s implied that Henry is making this happen.

The same thing happens later in the season, when Vecna is showing Nancy the vision of Hawkins’ future. It includes this clip of the Creel clock with its hands turning backwards:

So, in a way, Vecna is altering time. We aren’t sure how or why yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it has something to do with emotions or trauma (which I'll get into soon). Especially because Vecna's attacks have to do with trauma, and the antidote so far has been positive emotions and memories that are brought to the surface through music.

Clock Magic?

Another thing to take into consideration is how the Creel clock is connected to Henry's powers, and also seems to possess power of its own. We see this when Max "dies" and the fourth gate is created. The Creel clock chimes four times, and then the Upside Down begins to leak into Hawkins. We can see this in the two GIFs below (shit quality, sorry about that!):

The clock chimes four times and then there is a "frenzied ticking" which builds throughout the scene as Hawkins falls to Vecna. The scene implies that the clock itself has something to do with this.

What does this mean for the timeline in ST5?

We know the Upside Down is in the past. Specifically, the day Will vanishes (November 6, 1983). It seems likely that it works as a time loop, with the same day on repeat until the cycle is broken. Or maybe there are several days which repeat themselves until it resets at the point Will enters the UD. We really don't know for sure. But we do know that it's definitely the past.

What does this mean for Hawkins? Is Hawkins becoming stuck in time as well? Will it be cut off from the outside world because of this? Is the clock slowing down time, ensuring Hawkins remains stuck in its current state because emotions (we'll get there, don't worry)? I definitely don't have the answers yet, but please let me know if you have any ideas how this could be working. It's all so fascinating!

But however it works, there's definitely some time fuckery going on. Whether it's related to the Creel clock itself or Vecna's powers, or whatever Will has done that made the UD shape to himself — well, again, who knows! Not me, but I wanted to point it out because it's clearly going to be a massive part of ST5.

Will is the Antidote

Season 5 is going to be about defeating Vecna (obviously).

But first: in order to stop a villain, you need an antidote to their powers. Right now, El and Vecna share most of the same powers. She hasn't been able to defeat him yet, even though her powers are the strongest they have ever been. There's a missing piece there.

We see this illustrated in the D&D game at the start of ST4, which serves as foreshadowing for the events that happen in the season. An 11 is rolled, but it's a miss. It isn't until Erica (an unlikely hero and outsider in the game) rolls a 20 that Vecna is defeated. And then that exact thing plays out in Hawkins when El isn't able to defeat Vecna.

We have yet to see what the IRL 20 will be, because Vecna "wins" at the end of ST4. He gets what he wanted when the four gates are created and Hawkins falls. But my guess is that it'll have to do with Will. Everything began with Will, and it will end with him too.

Which brings me back to Will and the clock. Because Will serves as a foil for Vecna as a character. They are both sensitive and different (read: gay) and have an abusive parent who tries to make them fit into societal expectations — to no avail. They both draw. They both have close connections with the UD and Mind Flayer. But here we're getting a bit of a Star Wars light side / dark side of the force parallel, where Will has chosen to be good and Vecna has become the villain.

One character is trying their best to work through their trauma, and the other is lashing out in anger.

All of this is to say that I think the Starcourt Mall clock could be a bit of foreshadowing for ST4 and the role Will plays moving forward into ST5. Just as Henry is able to stop time in the UD, Will will be able to move it forward again.

This could happen in any number of ways, and I'm still not sure how the weird time shenanigans will play out, but what I am certain of is that Will is the key to solving everything. And it will likely come down to emotions and healing his traumatic past.

Time and Emotions

At the very start of ST4, El quotes something Joyce tells her about time. She says that emotions slow time down, but they also speed it back up. She then directly mentions time travel in relation to our emotions.

"Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

Given this line about time travel being related to emotions, I think that emotions/feelings/love are going to be the thing that allows Will to fix the UD and defeat Vecna.

This bit about emotions is huge. Because we see that the UD is shaped by Henry, and is later shaped around Will’s vanishing. Emotional and traumatic memories for the both of them. In Will’s case, did time in the UD dimension slow down because he left an emotional imprint on the landscape, via his trauma?

And if this really is the case, then it only seems natural that the process of saving Hawkins will be wrapped up with Will healing his trauma. Just like how Vecna's victims can be saved through music and positive memories/emotions.

Like the cleric he plays in D&D, Will is going to save Hawkins, healing his own trauma and dealing with his emotions in order to move forward.

How?

Realizing the power within himself in both a literal and metaphorical sense. Harnessing the powers he has and his connection to the MF/Vecna, yes, but also by learning that he is a valuable person who doesn't have to make himself smaller for the benefit of other people's happiness.

Confronting his trauma relating to the Upside Down, maybe by helping to close it off once and for all; or by restoring it to its pre-Vecna state. Healing that dimension so the leakage of Henry Creel's trauma doesn't seep into Hawkins any longer. And in doing so, healing the trauma within himself.

Accepting his own queerness and learning that being different doesn't make him a mistake. Realizing that he is loved and deserves to feel this love. Part of this will be related to coming out, and I think another piece will be related to requited love.

All of these have to do with his emotions, and they will be the way he’s able to save Hawkins.

Because when we look at Vecna and his victims, what he represents as a metaphor in the show, we're dealing in the area of emotions and trauma. For Max, she is dealing with complicated feelings after Billy's death. But she also represses those feelings and doesn't open up to her friends until it's almost too late.

If we look at Patrick, Lucas suspected he was dealing with abuse at home, but Patrick never talked about it with anyone. Same with Fred's guilt about the hit-and-run. He's terrified of the idea that he'll be found out. In the case of Chrissy, her own boyfriend has no idea about what she's going through.

So not only are Vecna's victims dealing with trauma, mental health issues, and complex emotions, but they are also actively repressing these emotions.

Not to get too psychoanalytic here, but healing from trauma and dealing with your emotions properly requires you to be open, rather than repressing what you feel. I think this is one reason why music is used as the antidote to getting Vecna'd. Because music allows us to deal with our emotions in a more positive way. It also connects us to positive memories, like Running Up That Hill does for Max, or Should I Stay Or Should I Go does for Will.

In Will's case, a large piece in his character arc is learning to accept that he's gay and has feelings for Mike. Really, this has been most of his arc for ST3 and ST4. This isn't resolved yet, so he'll be continuing to deal with this self-acceptance (and eventual coming out process) in ST5.

To bring it back to that Starcourt Mall clock: Will is the yellow hand on the clock, but it isn't just him that's implicated in all of this. This is yellow meeting blue that we're talking about!

The blue hand. What is Mike's role in all of this?

So if clocks = Vecna, and Will is going to be the antidote to healing Hawkins, then Mike has his own important role to play as the other hand on the clock (and also as the boy Will is in love with, and a main character who is repressing a lot of his own issues).

If Vecna has another target, it's going to be Mike.

[GIF doesn't belong to me! You can find it here]

I feel so strongly about this. For SO many reasons.

Here's a bulleted list of some of them:

Mike has displayed feelings of self-loathing over the course of the show (cliff scene, I'm looking you right in the eye)

He represses his emotions, both to his loved ones and the audience — and potentially with himself

The above GIF is a very ominous parallel between Mike and Max which suggests Mike may be about to get a Vecna vision. HOWEVER, the scene is from Will's POV, so we don't see what Mike sees

Which is its own point: we haven't seen what Mike sees in all of ST4 (except briefly in the couch scene, which I analyzed here), as well as most of ST3. His inner world is deliberately hidden

If Mike is gay and/or in love with Will like I believe he is, there will be a lot of unresolved feelings to deal with there. The kind of micro-trauma queer folks deal with, especially during the 1980s

The tense relationship between Mike and both of his parents, but especially Ted. This point doubles when you contextualize it with Ted being a Reagan supporter (aka a rampant homophobe whose disgusting treatment of queer men in the 80s led to thousands of deaths)...who knows what kind of shit he's said to Mike that we haven't been shown

The whole trauma of having his best friend "die" and then turn up alive, as well as the similar trauma of believing El was still out there even though everyone assumed she died

Probably other shit I'm forgetting. But mostly how weird he's been acting, and especially how terrified he looks on that couch

I know lots of people assume Will is Vecna's #1 target, but I actually don't think he's a target at all. Will is more akin to a Luke Skywalker type figure who Vecna wants to team up with, turning him to the "dark side" because he sees Will as similar to him. There's a reason Vecna didn't have Will killed like everyone else.

As we’ve learned: emotions can speed up time or slow it down. I’m thinking there’s probably a metaphorical thing with positive vs. negative feelings as well. Like: not dealing with our trauma and repressing our negative feelings leads to a person being stuck in the past. In a literal way with the Upside Down, but also a metaphorical way. Positive emotions work in the opposite way, allowing us to let go of the past and move into the future.

Emotions can turn back the clock. They can slow down time. Emotions = time travel

The above scene is from the end of ST3, when Hopper's letter is being read out as the Byers move away. Hopper is describing how he was afraid of change (the future, El growing up, things changing), so he tried to stop that change. He tried to TURN BACK THE CLOCK. And look at who the camera pans to when he says this...

In a scene which directly mirrors the hug between Karen and Mike when Mike runs home believing Will is dead.

Both scenes have Heroes playing in the background, by the way. A song which summarizes all of the queer themes in the show, which I did an analysis of here.

Mike is a character who we don’t know anything about the internal world of. Which I think is a massive red (green?) flag for his chances of getting the Vecna treatment, given that he’s really the only main character who we don’t hear from in this way. The only time it even appears like we might be hearing from him, he’s just parroting what Will tells him to say to El.

So, for me, the blue hand (Mike) in the clock (Vecna) is foreshadowing for the fact that he may be targeted by Vecna in ST5. Maybe he's already been targeted and we just haven't seen it from his POV, yet. I actually think this will be the reason Will stops repressing his powers and learns how to use them (whatever they are). Or learns to use his connection to the UD in order to save the love of his life.

Because if all of this time stuff comes down to emotion, Will needs to accept that his feelings for Mike don’t make him a mistake. He needs to learn to accept himself. And is there any better catalyst to enact that change than Mike being in danger? We saw how a life or death scenario made Max open up a bit more to her friends, and I feel the same will happen with Mike and Will.

So, to recap:

Clocks represent Vecna and also play into the weird time shenanigans that ST5 will definitely deal with

The Starcourt Mall clock has yellow (Will) and blue (Mike) hands to indicate that those two will play a key role in defeating Vecna

Will: is the antidote/positive opposite to Vecna; who Henry could have been if he healed from his trauma -> this means Will is the only one who can stop Vecna for good

Mike: prime target for a Vecna'ing in ST5 due to his whole aura, and this will probably be the catalyst for Will kicking into gear and solving shit

There's some funky stuff going on with the timeline/possible time travel stuff that is way too detailed for this analysis, and it's definitely an essential part of ST5 that we'll be dealing with

Emotions alter time and may even play into how time travel and the speeding up / slowing down of time works in the show

Healing trauma, dealing with emotions, and accepting yourself are all going to be major themes in ST5, and this will be the way that Vecna is defeated: the power of love?! I love to see it

Also: the Creel house clock might have some power of its own?

Author's Note

Well, that's it! The power of gay love saves the day. Truly iconic, if you ask me.

This analysis has been so fun to put together over the last week, and I hope you all have fun reading it as well! Originally it was meant to be a breakdown of the Starcourt Mall clock, but then I remembered the quote about emotions and time travel and it kind of had me gnawing at my screen because hyperfixations, so there's that.

As always, I love to hear people's thoughts on these analysis posts, so if you have any ideas that go along with this, feel free to add onto it. Or you can send me an ask if you have any questions! I'd love to hear what you think! :)

—Em

#this is like 3000 words lmao #and I think I still have more to say about it - especially the emotions/time stuff #anyways clocks are fun let’s talk about clocks. and emotions. and trauma. and gay love #oh and time travel!#st5 theory #mike you’re in danger! run!#byler #will byers is a hero and henry creel deserved a better childhood #what the FUCK is going on with that creek clock btw - I can’t figure that but out #byler analysis #byler meta #stranger things analysis #st5 theories #stranger things theory #stranger things meta #vecna #the upside down

109 notes · View notes