#we’re just out here convincing all of the friends to read books

[mercurialskiies]

since finishing vicious a year ago, i have convinced around two-three other people to also pick up the book and read it

spreading the word, as intended

[wildwestdean]

transposition

summary: a spell goes wrong and ends up with you and sam switching bodies. neither of you tell dean, which ends up being the greatest decision you ever made

pairing: dean winchester x witch!reader; best friend!sam winchester x witch!reader (platonic, obvs)

word count: 6.3k+

warnings: swearing, mentions of magic use, misunderstandings, miscommunication, angst, secrets, accidental love confessions, awkward idiots, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, cliches, minor use of [y/n], (female pronouns/descriptors used)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sam grunted under his breath, continuing to powder the contents of your mortar with more force than necessary. “If Dean finds out about this-”

“Dean asked me to do this,” you defended, eyes skimming over the page in front of you before looking up at him. “Okay, maybe not verbatim, but he asked!” you added upon seeing the look on Sam’s face. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m sure he did,” he replied sarcastically, slamming the pestle down with enough force to make you flinch. 

“Would you be fucking careful!” you hissed, glaring at him. “That thing isn’t indestructible and it’s important to me, it was a gift-” 

“From Dean,” he finished for you. “I know. Sorry,” he added, and even though his tone was sincere, you just knew he rolled his eyes anyway; and you chucked the closest thing you could grab at his back in retaliation. 

“Dick,” you muttered, going back to reading the passage before you. 

It wasn’t often that you used your powers - more so when it came down to a last resort option - and when Dean first discovered that you had magic, it wasn’t intentional. The two of you were on a hunt together, and it was - of course - not going to plan. You were on the brink of consciousness, having no choice but to watch defenselessly as Dean became outnumbered by Vamps. The spell came out of nowhere, nothing more than a primal instinct to protect him, and before anyone knew what was happening, the two of you were left alone with nothing but piles of ash where the monsters once stood. Dean first thought that Rowena had somehow stumbled upon them to save the day once more, though once he realized the spell came from you, he damn near lost his mind. You would have rather he yelled at you, smashed things around, anything compared to what he did. Once he made sure you were okay and had you checked out, he simply acted as if you didn’t exist; you were completely frozen out of his life. He never needed to say anything, you could see it in his eyes every time he glanced at you: How could you be a witch? He hated witches, and you knew that- it’s half the reason you never told him in the first place. He only started coming around with Sam’s convincing- and even then, it took an incredibly long time for him to trust you again. Then, one day, he came to realize that no matter what happened, he could never hate you. So, he came to you with an open mind and a peace offering- the exact mortar and pestle you had once told Sam that you wanted, because it reminded you of your mother’s- and the two of you worked on putting the pieces of your friendship back together. 

“Ass,” Sam retorted, turning and walking over to you with the freshly crushed ingredients. 

“You know,” you started, taking it from his hands. “You can’t really be against this all that much, otherwise you wouldn’t be here helping.”

“I’m only here so you don’t get yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on,” you urged with a chuckle. “You love doing this, and you know it.”

He gave you a sarcastic smile before taking the book from you. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the book right back. 

With one final glare at each other, you started the spell. Everything was going well… until it wasn’t. 

You aren’t exactly sure where it went wrong. You don’t know if it was the ingredients, the way you said the spell, or just a mixture of everything, but before you even knew what was happening the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow and sent both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “What the fuck?” you wondered aloud, feeling strange beyond comprehension. 

“What the hell happened?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I don’t know. Something feels wrong,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized why you felt so different. “Sam?” you asked meekly.

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; were they even your hands? 

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; your body? 

“You’re me!” you exclaimed, gesturing between the two of you. 

“You’re me!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, using the wall behind you to help you stand. “God, how do you live like this?”

“Me? What about you? I won’t even be able to reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen!” he countered, flailing his arms around. 

“At least you’ll be able to fit on your bed! My feet are gonna dangle!” you huffed, folding your arms over yourself. 

“You need to fix this,” Sam declared, stepping towards you. You couldn’t help but take a few steps away- this was way too weird. You’ve seen shifters take your image before, but this was actually you. Only it wasn’t you. You felt like your head was about to explode. 

“Gee, you think, Sam?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “I thought we’d just stay like this forever!” 

He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door swinging open. You both flinched, turning to see Dean peering into the room. 

“What the fuck’s with all the yelling?” he asked, glancing around. “The hell is going on?” 

“I- uh-” you tried to answer, but nothing came to mind. 

“Just, uh…. experimenting,” Sam supplied, and you sent him a glare. 

“Experimenting?” Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows at you- or rather, at whom he thought was you. 

“Yeah,” Sam said with a shrug, not sure what else to say. The two of you shared a look, silently agreeing not to breathe a word of what was really going on. 

Dean’s face softened, and he sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re actually doing that spell. Sweetheart, we can get by without it.” 

“We don’t-” you started to argue, before Sam interrupted you with a clearing of his throat. 

Right. Dean wasn’t exactly talking to you right now. 

“Thought it was a good opportunity to practice,” Sam replied, sounding more like he was asking than telling. 

“Right,” Dean said, eyeing your body wearily. 

Oh, god. He was gonna pick up on something being wrong, it was only a matter of time. 

“You can leave any time now,” you spoke up, more irritated than you meant to sound, but you were severely on edge.

Dean turned to you with a look of surprise. “‘Scuse me?”

“I just- you know, we’re in the middle of something,” you continued, doing your best to stand your ground. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he quipped, taking a step towards you. “What the hell were you thinking? Why are you letting her mess around with this stuff? Better yet, why are you helping her mess around with this stuff?” 

“It’s just a simple spell,” you argued, your head swirling with the fact that you were looking down on him, instead of being dwarfed by his frame like you normally would be. 

“A simple spell?” he repeated, fury and irritation dancing in his eyes. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”  

“Last I checked we could make our own decisions, Dean!” you exclaimed, glaring at him. 

“Sure,” he placated with a nod. “So long as they’re not stupid ass decisions!” 

“Can we go ten minutes in this place without a fight happening?” Sam pitched in, already exasperated with the situation. 

“Yeah, sure,” Dean grumbled, glaring at you. “Food’s ready.”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Sam announced, earning a glare from you in return. 

“Don’t you think we should finish-” you tried to ask, but were quickly cut off by Dean. 

“No, you guys are done in here,” he declared, shaking his head. “Let’s go.”

“Dean-” you tried once more, only to be cut off again. 

“Sam,” Dean warned. “I’m not kidding. Whatever you two were doing, it’s done.”

“Fine. We’ll be out in a few minutes,” you relented, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “We need to clean up!” you added upon seeing the look on Dean’s face. 

“Five minutes,” Dean agreed pointedly. “Or I swear, I’ll drag both your asses out of this room.” 

“Yeah, five minutes, got it,” you huffed, watching him as he hesitantly left the room. 

You waited a few moments before hastily making your way over and all but slamming the door, turning to look at Sam with wide eyes. 

“We are so screwed,” he declared, matching your expression. 

“What are we supposed to do? He’s gonna figure out something’s wrong!” you exclaimed, slumping against the door behind you. 

“We just…. I don’t know, pretend?” Sam suggested with a shrug. 

“Pretend?” you repeated incredulously. “Sam, this is insane! We can’t just pretend to be each other!” 

“It’s not like I meant permanently!” he defended, holding out his hands in surrender. “But until we can find a way to fix this, we have to at least play the part in front of Dean.” 

“Fine,” you agreed with a huff. “But I am not going on your crack of dawn jogs.” 

“Oh, come on-” he started to argue, though quickly stopped when met with your glare. “Yeah, okay, that- that’s fine.” 

“Great. Now let’s go before Dean gets even more pissy,” you declared, opening the door with a flourish. 

With a quick nod, he followed you down the hall, the two of you lowly bickering about the situation all the way to the kitchen. 

“I feel like a baby giraffe with this fucking body.”

“You look like a baby giraffe, do you not know how to walk?” 

“Yeah, I know how to walk! I know how to walk with normal legs!”

“Normal? You’re short enough to get in anywhere with a child’s pass!” 

“Keep up with the attitude, Sam. Maybe I’ll go have a really nice salon visit and cut all this hair!” 

“Fine, then maybe I’ll call up that guy from your ‘worst date ever’ and ask to catch up!”

“Fine by me. You’ll be the one he’ll be groping and hitting on the whole time.” 

“Yeah- well-... look, just don’t cut my hair!” 

“What are you two all hush hush about?” Dean asked curiously, eyeing you both as you entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” you both quickly replied, taking a seat at the table. 

Dean stared at you both for a moment before nodding curtly. “If you say so.” 

Choosing not to reply, you both quietly watched as he joined the table, taking his regular seat next to you. Which, of course, meant he was currently next to Sam, and you watched in amusement as he shifted nervously while Dean got too close for his comfort. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you took a bite of the burger that was placed in front of you, only to grimace in response. “What is this?” you asked through a mouthful, meeting Dean’s confused gaze. 

“It’s… the same veggie burger you force me to make you every time I make burgers?” he replied, looking at you as though you lost your head. 

Fucking Sam, you thought bitterly. “Oh, right. Right, it just- it tastes different, I don’t know,” you stammered, sparing a quick glance across at Sam as you hurriedly took another bite. 

“You two are weirder than usual tonight,” Dean muttered to himself before eating his own food. 

The three of you ate in stifling silence, you and Sam both internally trying to find a way out of this mess, before Dean spoke up again and pulled you from your revere. 

“[Y/N], do you want just the usual from the store? I was gonna make a run before our movie night,” he said, turning to look beside him with a soft grin. 

You felt your stomach drop as Sam cleared his throat, looking between you and Dean for a moment. “Movie night?” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. “Like we have every Friday?” 

“Oh, right!” Sam exclaimed, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t realize what day it is, I, uh- I’m actually not… feeling too hot, do you mind if we skip it tonight?” 

“You wanna skip it?” Dean asked quietly, making your heart shatter as you watched the hurt and disappointment flash across his face.

After the two of you made up from your falling out, you started a tradition of spending extra quality time together at least once a week. This resulted in having a movie night every Friday, no matter what. Whether that meant catching a random movie on a motel tv or settling into the Dean Cave, you both always found a way to make it. Knowing you had no choice but to skip out this time almost made you want to tell him what happened right then and there; but you didn’t. 

“Yeah, I just… I think it’s best if I just head to bed, you know? I’d hate for it to get worse,” Sam said sheepishly, playing with the glass in front of him as he met Dean’s gaze halfheartedly. 

You were glad that if you had to mistakenly swap bodies with someone, it was Sam. Given that he became your best friend from just about the moment you met, he had your behaviour down pat; you just hoped you could do the same and make this all a little easier. 

“Well what do you mean, what’s wrong?” Dean asked worriedly.

“I’m just feeling run down is all,” Sam said, shrugging lightly as he stood up, taking his dishes to the sink. “Maybe we can watch something tomorrow,” he added, turning back to Dean with a shy smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed softly, averting his gaze to the beer in his hands. “Don’t worry about it, just get some rest.” 

“Sure. Uh, goodnight, guys,” Sam replied awkwardly, shooting you a pointed look before leaving. 

You stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, studying Dean as he pouted at his bottle. 

“You alright?” you asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, just… first time she’s bailed on me,” he replied indifferently, downing the rest of his beer before heading to get another one. 

“She didn’t bail on you,” you argued firmly. “It’s not like she chose to go bar hopping or something, she’s sick.” 

“Didn’t seem so sick when she was huddled up with you,” Dean said curtly, leaning against the counter as he sent you a cold stare. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked confusedly, shifting in your seat to look at him better. 

He remained silent, lips pursed as he studied you for what felt like hours, before he finally shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Then why say it?” you asked in irritation. 

He remained silent once more, simply raising the beer bottle to his lips and taking a long sip before standing upright. “Night, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” you tried to press, but he only ignored you as he continued across the floor, leaving the kitchen without saying another word. 

You sighed in exasperation, quickly cleaning everything up before heading to your room, catching almost no sleep as you dove deep into researching for a reversal to your mistake.

“You need to shave,” Sam said, staring at you from across the table. 

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the declaration. 

“Your beard - my beard. You need to shave it,” he clarified. “It’s been over a week.”

“And?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him. “I doubt you’re taking care of all my housekeeping.” 

“That’s because I’m doing everything possible to not look at you! Like you asked!” he hissed in return. 

You rolled your eyes in response, returning your attention to the book in front of you. “I have more important things on my mind than shaving your stupid facial hair - which looks fine, by the way.” 

Sam huffed, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, well you can at least take five minutes for me!”

“I don’t even know how to shave a beard, Sam!” you argued, closing the book in exasperation. 

“Then just let me shave it for you!” he begged, leaning over the table. “I’m serious, [Y/N], you can’t just leave me all unkempt.” 

You met his gaze and sighed softly. “Damn, you can even pull off the puppy dog eyes with my face. That’s a talent, Sammy.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, for what felt like the first time since this whole thing happened. “You can do it better than I can,” he chuckled. “At least when it comes to Dean,” he added with a smirk. 

“What does that mean?” you asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get you- me- whatever, all taken care of before Dean gets back with dinner.” 

“Fine,” you begrudgingly agreed, getting up to follow him.

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of him as he sat on the bathroom counter, because: “How else are we supposed to do this? These arms aren’t gonna reach that face comfortably without some help.”

You fell into a comfortable silence as he did what he needed to do, the only words spoken being his occasional nagging for you to quit moving, as you were both lost in your own thoughts about the last few days.

“I’m really sorry, Sammy,” you said suddenly. You weren’t sure whether your voice was so quiet due to the shame you felt, or for the fear of breaking the silence that surrounded you. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said simply, reflexively. 

You sighed, gently shaking your head; which earned another scolding glare from him as he steadied you. “It’s entirely my fault. I fucked up big time, and we both know it.” 

“Look, it was an accident,” he urged, wiping away the remnants of the shave one last time. “Assigning blame isn’t going to change anything.” 

“Why aren’t you mad at me? You should be furious! I practically ruined your life,” you pressed on frantically. 

“Okay, that’s being dramatic,” he chided. “Yeah, this isn't an ideal situation. Though weirdly, it’s also not the weirdest situation I’ve been in. And you know what? It’s not even the first time I’ve been in this situation! Remember when that kid switched bodies with me? Trust me, you’re a much better person to be switched with.” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, chuckling softly. “Still, I’m really sorry.” 

“I know you are,” he said softly. “I also know you’ll find a way to fix this.” 

“You really believe that?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “‘Cause it’s you, and I’ll always have faith in you. You didn’t mean for this to happen, [Y/N]. It’s okay.” 

“No, it-” you started to argue, but he cut you off. 

“Stop,” he urged softly. “I’m not mad at you, okay? Maybe I was at first, but I’m not anymore.” 

“Promise?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise,” he said firmly.

“Okay,” you relented, not fully believing him but not wanting to push the topic any further. 

“Okay,” he repeated, gently wiping away one of your stray tears. 

“Maybe we should just tell Dean,” you suggested hesitantly. 

“Tell me what?” Dean’s voice suddenly cut through the room.

The two of you jumped, and you moved away from the counter as calmly as you could, knowing how the predicament you were in must look to him.

You turned to the doorway and came face to face with Dean staring intently at the two of you, his mind working into an overdrive as he tried to make sense of the scene he just walked in on. 

“Dean, I- when did you get back?” you asked nervously. 

“Tell me what?” he asked again, ignoring your question. 

You and Sam were both at a loss. You spent so much time trying to figure this whole thing out, yet neither of you thought to come up with some kind of story should you be cornered like this. 

“[Y/N]?” Dean asked softly, looking over to where he thought you sat on the counter. 

The look of hurt and confusion that flashed over his face and the waver in his voice all but sent a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

Dean waited impatiently a few moments before shaking his head with a scoff. “Whatever, food’s in the kitchen.”

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned on his heel and left, leaving you and Sam stunned in his wake. 

The dynamic between the three of you began shifting even more ever since that night, and you could feel Dean slipping further and further away from you with each passing day. 

You noticed it every time Dean would catch you and Sam huddled up and whispering low; when he would stand and stare before leaving with a quiet grumble of forgetting why he was there. 

You noticed it when he started spending more time in his room or tinkering with Baby in the garage; finding any and every excuse possible to spend time outside of the bunker and away from you and Sam. 

You and Sam tried to ignore it, promised yourselves that you’d explain everything once you managed to set things right - or, if you discovered you were over your heads and couldn’t fix everything. 

The thing you hated most about this whole thing was that it was becoming easier and easier to lie to Dean; and the worst part about that was not knowing whether you and Sam really became more convincing, or if Dean just didn’t care enough to question you anymore. 

Which is exactly why you found yourself sitting in the war room, waiting for Dean to make his way through to the kitchen, in order to try and talk things out. 

You weren’t expecting him to appear with one duffle bag over his shoulder and another by his side - and he wasn’t expecting to see you, either. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he declared after a moment of hesitation, continuing on his path to the stairs. 

“Where the hell are you going?” you asked hotly, standing from your seat. 

Dean sighed, throwing his head back in frustration as he considered his response. “Donna’s cabin.” 

“What? Why?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together with confusion. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he said tiredly. “I just can’t, okay?” 

“Do what?” you asked wearily, taking a tentative step towards him. “What are you talking about, Dean?” you pressed, feeling your chest tighten with the rising nerves and fear.

“Don’t do that,” he demanded, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You think I don’t know what’s been going on around here?” 

“What-... what’s been going on?” you asked curiously. “The hell are you talking about?”

You weren’t sure if or when he figured out what happened, and you also weren’t sure why it would make him feel the need to leave. 

“I’m talking about you and [Y/N]!” he shouted, throwing his bags down and stepping towards you. 

“Me and [Y/N]?” you wondered, taking a nervous step backwards. 

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” he spat, his jaw ticking. “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I couldn’t figure it out?” 

“Okay, look,” you began, holding out your hands defensively. “I can explain.” 

Dean let out a humourless laugh, running a hand over his mouth before glaring at you once more. “Explain,” he echoed with a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“Why are you so pissed off about this?” you asked in bewilderment. “I mean, I know we kept it from you, but we figure it’d be easier for you.” 

“Easier for me?” he repeated, voice raising. “What about this entire situation makes you think it’d be easy for me?”

“Well because it-... I mean it doesn’t really affect you, Dean,” you replied, unsure of your own words. 

“It doesn’t affect me?” he repeated with perplexion. “Of course it affects me! You know how I feel about her!” he exclaimed, taking yet another step forward. 

“What?” you questioned, thrown off by his response. 

“Don’t “what” me,” he snapped. “I want to be happy for you, Sammy. I really do, but I just-... I don’t think I ever can be.” 

“Okay, I-... I am so lost,” you admitted.

“You stole my girl, Sam!” Dean all but screamed. “You know that I love her. You know I was gonna tell her, and you know how much I want to spend whatever’s left of my god forsaken life with her! You swore you didn’t feel that way about her. You- I mean how to hell could you do this to me, Sammy? I can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” 

You remained silent, staring at him in shock and confusion for what felt like hours. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to formulate a response, but all that came out was a broken whisper of his name. 

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy. Not like I can blame you for falling for her, right? I mean hey, I sure did,” he sassed, smiling sarcastically. “Not surprised she chose you, either. She deserves someone better than me. But I’m not sticking around anymore to see it first hand.” 

You watched in stunned silence as he turned to gather his bags, trying and failing to think of anything to say. What the hell were you supposed to do? The man of your dreams just admitted he felt the exact same way, and you were trapped in his brother's body. Even if you told him the truth right now, would he even believe you? 

“Do me one favour, though,” Dean said from the foot of the stairs, effectively pulling you from your thoughts. “Don’t tell [Y/N]. Don’t tell her anything. I’ll think of something to tell her during the drive and call her tomorrow.” 

“Dean-” you finally began to protest, only to go unheard by him as he started up the steps. 

“Later, Sammy,” he announced with finality, disappearing out of the bunker. 

“You have got to be kidding me. I mean honestly woman, how stupid can you be?” Rowena’s voice rang through the war room as she made her arrival known to you and Sam.

“Did you not get in enough insults over the phone?” you asked in exasperation, not bothering to move from your spot in the library as you watched her approach.  

“I don’t think there are enough insults for this situation, dear,” she said sweetly, smiling innocently. 

“Either be helpful or leave, Rowena,” you replied solemnly. 

It had been three days since Dean left, and over two weeks since the whole debacle happened. You had never been more determined to find a solution, nor had you ever felt more defeated. 

“Alright, fine. No need to be cranky,” Rowena tsked, taking a seat across from you. “Go on, then. Walk me through everything.” 

“Fine,” you sighed, steadying yourself before recounting the situation. 

“Let me get this straight,” Rowena declared, holding a hand up. “You actually let him leave? After what he said?” 

“Is that seriously your only take away from this?” you asked angrily, glaring at her. 

“It’s not my only take away, but it’s certainly a big one,” she said calmly, accompanied by a half shrug. “This is the spell you used?” she asked, looking over the book you gave her during your explanation. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed sheepishly. 

“Well, don’t you worry. We’ll have you and Samuel right as rain in no time, dear,” she comforted, eyes never leaving the pages in front of her.

It took another four days, but ‘No time’ finally came. You were practically itching to get this all over and done with as the three of you finished setting everything up. You didn’t even care about being in your own skin again, all you cared about at this point was getting Dean back in your life. He did everything possible to avoid talking to you or Sam each time either of you tried contacting him, and you were missing him more and more with each passing hour.

“That should do it,” Rowena declared, snapping you back to attention. “You know what you need to do?” 

“Yes,” you said quickly, urging her out of the room; the last thing you needed was for her to be around and have the spell go wrong again, resulting in all three of you being scrambled around. 

“Don’t rush it!” she cautioned. “I know you want him back, but you need to take this slowly. You can’t afford another screw up!” 

Her statement made you pause, and you knew she was right. “Go slow, I got it,” you confirmed, shutting her out of the room. 

“Ready?” Sam asked, looking at you eagerly; albeit nervous beyond belief. 

“More than ever,” you declared, taking your place at the altar. 

You began the spell, doing everything slowly and precisely so there was no room for error. Once you had finished, however, nothing had happened. You were just about ready to scream with all the emotions boiling inside of you when suddenly the bowl before you exploded in a cloud of yellow, sending both you and Sam flying. 

“Oh, god,” you groaned, holding a hand to your head as your ears rang. “This again?” you wondered aloud.

“Did it even work?” Sam croaked out.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said through a fit of coughs. “You?”

“I think so,” you declared, sitting up. It was at that exact moment you realized what happened. “Sam?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” he questioned, sitting up himself. “Wait-” 

“I’m-” you began, unable to finish as you stared at your hands; your own hands.

“You’re….” Sam tried, staring at you then down at his body; his very own body.

“You’re you!” you exclaimed in glee, pointing at him.

“You’re you!” he echoed, scrambling to stand.

You followed suit, taking a moment to steady yourself on your own feet. “I need to go,” you announced, not giving him time to reply before you ran out of the room. 

“You’re welcome!” Rowena called after you, watching you run by. 

“Thank you!” you called back absently, hurrying out to your car. 

The drive took longer than ever before; at least, it felt like it did. You spent the whole time trying to think of what to say, of how to explain, but nothing seemed right. Nothing seemed like enough. All you could hope for was that everything would magically come to you once you stood before him. 

If he ever decided to open the goddamn door. 

“Dammit, Dean! Open the fucking door before I break it down!” you yelled, banging your hand against the wood for the upteenth time. 

You opened your mouth to yell once more, but before you could even make a sound a voice boomed out from behind you. “What are you doing here?” 

You turned with a start, coming face to face with Dean as he stood at the bottom of the steps. “I came to talk to you,” you said simply, taking a few steps forward. 

He quickly averted his gaze, focusing on wiping the grease from his hands with the rag he held. “Coulda just called,” he countered gruffly. 

“Why?” you asked, laughing dryly. “You’d just ignore my calls.” 

He stilled his ministrations for a moment before shrugging, glancing back up at you. “Maybe ‘cause we got nothing to talk about.” 

“Dean-” you tried to argue, though you stopped short when he rolled his eyes and turned away from you. 

“Look, I know all about you and Sam, okay?” he huffed, storming across the drive and to where Baby was parked, hood still open for Dean to continue working on her.  

“Oh, for god’s sake, Dean. There is no me and Sam!” you exclaimed with a groan, quickly following behind him. 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he placated, picking up his previously abandoned ratchet. 

“Just listen to me,” you pleaded, watching his face scrunch with a mix of frustration and concentration as he dove back into his work. 

“You don’t need to explain,” he said distractedly. “I get it. He’s good for you. I just-... you didn’t need to hide it, [Y/N/N]. I thought we were closer than that.” 

“We are! That’s not what we were hiding, just let me explain!” you said desperately, stepping closer to him. 

“You can quit the act, okay?” he snapped, stopping what he was doing as he stood up, finally turning to look at you. “I have eyes, I saw what-” 

“Sam and I fucking switched bodies!” you yelled over him, effectively rendering him speechless. “Alright? When you walked in on us doing that spell the other week… it went wrong, Dean. Sam and I, we just-... we switched!”

“You… switched bodies?” he asked slowly, scepticism starting to present itself on his face as he processed what you said.

“Yes,” you confirmed softly. ”I was Sam, Sam was me.”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as he anxiously tapped his fingers on Baby’s exterior. “Well, isn’t that just a great story,” he muttered, leaning under the hood once more. 

“It’s not a story,” you argued desperately. “It’s what happened.” 

“Then why not tell me?” he challenged, not missing a beat. 

“Because,” you began lamely. “You always have so much on your plate, Dean. We didn’t want to shove this stupid thing on you and add to your worries.” 

“So you lied to me for my own good?” he asked harshly, gaze not straying from his hands as he worked. 

“We didn’t lie, we just-”

“Avoided the truth,” he finished for you. “Same thing, if you ask me.”

“We thought it was for the best,” you admitted quietly. 

“Oh, yeah,�� he agreed sarcastically, throwing his tools down. “Sneaking around, icing me out. Definitely for my best interest, huh?” 

“Dean, please,” you pleaded. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.” 

“Then why did you come, [Y/N]?” he shouted, shutting Baby’s hood. “What did you think was gonna happen here?” 

“Well, I thought-... I just-... I wanted to clear the air,” you stammered. “I wanted to explain.” 

“Well, you explained,” he muttered, busying himself with tidying his mess. 

You watched him silently for a few moments, trying to think of your next move. You decided to ask the question that’s been on your mind since he left: “Were you really planning on actually telling me one day?” 

He let out an irritated sigh, picking up his belongings and moving around to the trunk. “What are you talking about?” 

“Were you really gonna tell me?” you repeated, quickly taking a few steps to meet him at the trunk.  

“Tell you what?” he huffed, irritation oozing off of him as he slammed the toolbox down. 

“How you feel!” you blurted out, taking yet another step towards him. 

“The hell are you talking about?” he questioned, feigning cluelessness. Though the way his body stiffened as he idly messed with the stuff in the trunk betrayed him; he knew what you meant.  

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you replied softly. “Were you?” 

“I don’t know!” he huffed, shutting the trunk. “Maybe,” he added, walking away from you once more. 

“You said-” 

“I know what I said!” he interrupted, clearly irritated. “Can we not relive it? I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Well I do!” you argued, exasperated. “Why the fuck else do you think I’m here, Dean?”

“To clear the air,” he sneered, repeating your earlier words as he made his way back to the cabin. 

“To tell you I love you!” you shouted after him, stopping him in his tracks. “I didn’t choose Sam. How can I choose him when I’ve loved you for years? How can I choose him when my entire world stopped spinning the day you shut me out of your life all those years ago? How can I choose him when I didn’t feel like I could breathe until you finally spoke to me again? How can I choose him, when having to watch you walk away the other day was the most terrifying thing I had to do, because I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back this time? You can put us in any timeline, in any universe, or in any realm, and I will always choose you. I love you.”

You were met with silence for entirely too long, and you watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders as he kept his back to you, standing tense as ever with his head down low. 

“Will you just look at me, please?” you pleaded shakily.

As soon as the words left your mouth he spun on his heel and marched towards you, closing the distance between you two in seconds. He grabbed your face in his hands, letting a moment of hesitation pass by before crashing his lips against yours. It was harsh yet delicate, slow but needy. It was gentle and all consuming. His hands strayed from your face, one sweeping to the back of your head to hold you steady while the other slipped to your waist and pulled you close. Your hands found themselves gliding up his arms, resting on the base of his neck for a moment before settling on his cheeks. 

When the two of you finally pulled away to catch your breath, it seemed like neither of you wanted to go too far; foreheads pressed together and noses brushing as you both giggled quietly, shy smiles on your swollen lips. 

You stood like that for a few minutes, basking in each other's presence in ways you never could before, until your gentle whisper cut through the silence: “Please come home, Dean.” 

“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, planting a delicate kiss to your forehead before completely wrapping you up in his arms, holding you closer than ever. “I am home.”

tagging: @winharry

dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika

[girllblogging777]

𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (best friends, flirting)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.4k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : exploring a haunted house isn’t very pleasant… except when your flirty best friend mattheo is with you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you never should’ve let the boys convince you to sneak out after curfew.

the slytherin common room had been buzzing with energy earlier, filled with laughter and stories about the supposedly haunted house at the border of the forbidden forest. you’d been reading your book, half listening to what your friends were saying as they argued about whether or not they believed in these rumours, or if it was just another one of the castle’s unsolved mysteries.

“it’s not even that far,” theo had said casually, grinning. “we’ll be back before anyone notices.” and of course, you didn’t wanna be the only one to back out. not when you were the only girl in the group, always trying to prove yourself to them. not when you wanted to keep that confident and fierce image you had. and especially not when mattheo riddle was watching you with that usual smirk of his, his dark eyes practically daring you to say no.

✩✩✩✩

so here you were tonight, standing outside some old crumbling building that once had been called a house. the full moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows around you and the boys. the air was colder here too, sending shivers down your back and under the knitted sweater you were wearing. but, of course, you weren’t gonna let anyone know that.

enzo and blaise were already thrilled when they pushed open the door, making plans and chatting excitedly about the little nighttime adventure you were having. draco and theo strode confidently behind them, following them inside and leaving you standing next to mattheo, who was staring at you with crossed arms, looking calmer than you’d even seen him.

“scared yet ?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes and scoffed, pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart rate sped up - from the alluring boy or the frightening house next to you, that you didn’t know. “please. this place is barely standing. the only thing i’m worried about is the roof caving in.”

he chuckled at your answer and leaned closer “don’t worry. if it does, i’ll protect you.”

your stomach flipped, and this time you knew it had nothing to do with whatever ghosts were inside that house. the brunette boy was the only human being who had such an effect on you, and you hated it. “ghosts be damned,” you muttered, shaking your head as you followed the others inside. “i don’t need your protection.”

“that we’ll see, love” mattheo said behind you, barely above a whisper.

inside, the house was somehow creepier than you’d imagined. there was dust everywhere, and when the floor creaked beneath your steps, you understood why all these rumours had been invented in the first place. despite the darkness, you could see the faded paintings on the wall, following you as you walked down the narrow hallway. at some point you could’ve sworn one of the figures on the portraits moved, but when you turned to look at it, nothing.

a couple of feet away, blaise was laughing at something draco had said, but you were too busy scanning the dark corners of the house to listen to their conversation. theo was already taking about splitting up, which of course, only managed to make the anxiety tighten in your chest.

“everyone, make groups !” the boys declared, clearly excited and proud of their idea. “makes it more fun”

before you could protest, mattheo was at your side again. you’d been hyper aware of his presence behind you for the past couple of minutes, and now there he was, grinning down at you as your shoulders brushed. “well, looks like we’re partners, then.” you shot him a look. “convenient.”

“hey, you’ll thank me later,” he said with a wink, and it took everything in you not to make another sarcastic remark. still, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved now, knowing you wouldn’t walk through this scary place alone.

the two of you silently ventured down another hallway, away from where the others were heading. the floorboards creaked with every step you took, the shadows of your tall figures stretching out against the wall as you moved deeper into the house. it was unnervingly quiet, but the sound of mattheo’s steady breaths and confident footsteps reassured you a little.

the brown eyed boy glanced at you, his pupils gleaming with amusement. “you’re quiet, getting nervous ?” you muttered a barely audible “i’m fine” though you couldn’t ignore the quickening of your pulse. you hated haunted places, or even darkness in general, but you’d rather get crucio-ed than admit that to him.

he moved closer, his warm breath hitting your neck, and you found yourself unconsciously leaning towards him when he spoke, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.” you glared at him, grateful the obscurity of the scene hid the blush on your cheek, “in your dreams.”

he laughed softly but he didn’t push it, still, his presence was oddly comforting. it made you feel a little less like something was about to jump out from the shadows, and a little more like you wanted him even closer.

somehow, the air in the house seemed to grow colder the further you walked. every once in a while, you’d hear something : a creak, a whisper, maybe just the wind, but it sets your nerves on edge.

suddenly, a loud bang echoed from one of the rooms down the hall and you jumped, grabbing mattheo’s arm without even thinking. your heart raced, and you cursed under your breath when you realised what had just happened.

“told you” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face as he looked down at where your hand gripped his hand. you scowled, quickly letting go. “that was just instinct.” still smiling, he nodded “sure, sure…” but then his gaze softened, and his voice dropped. “don’t worry, i’ve got you.”

something in his tone made your breath catch, and for a second, you forgot where you were. the haunted house, the cold, the creepy portraits, all of it faded as you stared up at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or if this was more of his usual flirting.

before you could say anything, another loud sound echoed from upstairs. this time, it wasn’t just a bang. it was footsteps. slow, deliberate footsteps moving across the ceiling. you froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you looked up. riddle stepped in front of you, his usual playful expression gone and replaced by something more serious.

“stay close,” he whispered and you nodded as you followed him up the creaky stairs , ignoring the tightening in your throat. each step felt heavier than the previous one and the closer you got to the top floor, the louder the sound became. you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching you.

mattheo’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time you didn’t pull away. you were too focused on the shadows that seemed to move on their own, on the way the cold seemed to press in on you from all sides.

“do you trust me ?” he asked quietly. you looked up at him, surprised by the seriousness in his voice. he’d always been flirty and playful when it came to you, blurring the lines between friendship and more. however, tonight, things felt different. despite everything, you nodded “yeah…”

he squeezed your hand lightly, his hand never leaving yours. “good, because i’m not letting anything happen to you.”

“oi !” theo’s voice echoed through the hall, startling the both of you and shattering the blissful bubble you were in. you quickly dropped mattheo’s hand and stepped back, but it was too late.

theo was grinning, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, looking far too amused for someone in a haunted house, and for your liking. “well, well, well… look at you two getting all cozy up here.” your face heated up immediately, but mattheo just smirked, clearly unfazed. “jealous ?” theo proceeded to snort, “of you ? never.”

he glanced between the two of you, and the teasing look in his eyes made you wanna disappear. “we’re heading back, this place is more boring than we thought it would be. meet us downstairs and don’t get lost… or, you know, distracted.”

with that, he turned around and disappeared back down the dusty stairs, leaving you and mattheo standing there in awkward silence. you could feel your chest thumping as you tried to figure out what to say, looking at the old wallpaper that was falling apart instead of meeting his gaze.

“see ?” he whispered, leaning down just enough for you to hear. “told you i’d protect you. even from theo’s terrible sense of humour.” you groaned and pushed him slightly, the banter between you settling back down, “shut up !”

you may have hated haunted houses, but the truth was, you kind of liked the way his hand felt in yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey ! this is me making my weekly appearance on this app, cause i just HAD to write about this request

please comment and reblog ! tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @reys-letters @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Dedicated to this lil request here 🫶🏽

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It’s no secret that Theodore Nott had a rough childhood

Between witnessing his mother’s death at a young age and having a particularly ruthless father, Theo learned to be quietly reserved early on

1000% Theo is an introvert

Despite being seemingly closed off, he’s extremely observant and good at reading others and picking up on things quickly

While he may not be the best at deciphering his own emotions, he’s able to sort through others’ easily

This makes it easy for him to be rather manipulative because he knows what makes other’s tick and how to go straight for the jugular

He may be distant and off putting in the beginning, but once you get close, he’s a clingy bastard because he doesn’t let many people get close, so once you make it there he’ll basically hold you captive forever

He’s also stupid smart

(Canonically he’s able to re-create an illegal time turner after they were all destroyed in the department of mysteries so//)

And this makes him a bit of an arrogant asshole

Looks down on people he thinks aren’t as smart as him

He definitely thinks that he knows best and can have a “my way or the highway” type mindset

Probably has some type of gifted kid™️ trauma and a crippling fear of failure

Anyway, he’s super intelligent and witty and has the potential to do really well in classes

But he has a nasty habit off skiving off with Mattheo Riddle

Who happens to be his best friend along with Lorenzo Berkshire

A lot of people think Theo is the “mother” of the group, or at least the one with the most impulse control

They’re wrong

Theo is the one that Mattheo goes to with his dumbass ideas and Theo’s response is generally something along the lines of-

“Absolutely not you tosser. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right”

Queue Mattheo’s initial plan- only methodically planned out to cause maximal amounts of emotional trauma for the Hogwarts population

Theo and Mattheo are also a chaotic duo on the quidditch pitch

Theo is a chaser

Making the quidditch team in his third year is one of the only times his father showed a hint of satisfaction with the boy

Being on the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s often labeled a preppy jock

And Mattheo does help him break out of his shell more

But he’s a nerdy lil book worm at heart and likes to be holed up in the library most days

Theo also has quite the reputation of being a ladies man with rumors about his escapades swarming the student body

But really they’re just that- rumors

Lorenzo is more of the openly flirtatious pretty boy, and Mattheo certainly knows how to make his way around which is perhaps why people think Theo would be the same way

But he isn’t one to really form physical attachments- emotional or not

He prefers to fly under the radar

He may have had a fling or two, but isn’t one to kiss and tell

He has a hard time entering a real relationship

Mostly because when he first realizes he’s caught feelings, he’s convinced he’s actually just ill and stays in bed pretending to be sick

But once he comes to terms with things, he’s one determined wizard

Makes sure everyone knows that you’re off limits (possibly before you know yourself)

Definitely goes to Enzo for advice on how to woo you

With varying degrees of success

King of subtle PDA (just enough to mark his territory)

Confident and secure in his relationship, but also still jealous as hell

Will hex the living shit out of someone for breathing at you the wrong way

Finds it amusing when you get jealous though

But will shut it the fuck down as soon as he picks up on you being actually upset (probably embarrassing whoever it is in the process)

Not always the best at communicating his feeling cause he’s emotionally constipated af

But tries because he knows he doesn’t want a relationship like his parent’s

Okayyy I think that’s all for now, but I have a feeling these will grow and evolve with time sooo- ongoing (?) idk

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter six.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: w.i.t.c.h. - devon cole

author's note: some cute soft fluff cause i'm in a tender mood.

In all your years at Hogwarts, you could count the amount of times you’ve attended a quidditch game on one hand and you wouldn't even need to utilize all of your fingers. Needless to say, you weren’t really into the rowdiness and belligerence of sporting events, but a bargain was a bargain. You were just glad to have Luna with you. Even if it meant enduring Pansy Parkinson’s presence. 

“Be nice,” Luna warned as you approached the stands. 

“I won’t bite if she doesn’t,” you murmured back. 

Luna nodded, knowing that it was the closest thing to an agreement she was ever going to get out of you. Despite your surliness, your friend seemed to brighten the minute she spotted Pansy. In a sea of blue and gold, the dark haired witch was the only one clad in green and silver. Your housemates kept exchanging wary glances at the Slytherin in their midst, but they were wise enough to keep their mouths shut. 

You watched quietly as Pansy and Luna exchanged pleasantries. While your friend was generally a bubbly person, she seemed extra giddy as she spoke. There was something about the way that she softened that convinced you to ease up on the scowls. It must have been contagious, because Pansy actually smiled and it wasn’t a derisive sneer or a smug smirk, but a genuine smile. You didn’t even know the witch was capable of it. 

Finally, she seemed to take stock of your presence. The dark haired girl jutted her chin out proudly, her aristocratic features schooled into forced neutrality. It occurred to you that Pansy probably received a similar warning to attempt decency. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Pansy,” you replied. 

The two of you eyed each other. Sizing up your opponent. The eagle versus the snake, claws against teeth. The staredown was purely psychological warfare. 

You squinted. Hurt her and I’ll maim you. 

The silent warning didn’t seem to offend Pansy. Instead, she gave a subtle nod of her chin and made way for you and Luna to sit. You settled in, trying not to peer down at the drop. Heights had never really been your thing. 

Pansy observed you curiously as Luna patted your arm. “Y/N’s not a big fan of heights.” 

“Oh?” Parkinson asked. 

“I generally prefer solid ground. It reduces the chances of me falling and breaking my neck.” The corner of Pansy’s mouth quirked. “What about you, Parkinson? Are you keen on flying?” 

“A bit.” 

Luna brightened. “She’s being modest. Pansy here is a very talented flyer. She’s got an Abraxan named Circe.”

“The most powerful witch to ever live,” you noted. “She used to turn men into swine.” 

“A lost art, really.” 

You smirked. “The classic femme fatale. A personification of the dangers of femininity. They always paint powerful women in a terrible light, don’t they?” 

“Perhaps it makes the men feel better about their own inadequacies.” 

“We’re always making men feel better about their inadequacies,” you answered thoughtfully. “Convenient that the myths fail to mention that Circe was one of the first pharmakis. Modern magic would not be what it is without her extensive knowledge of herbs and plants and yet she’s rarely credited in any potions books we read.”

Pansy nodded, eyeing you in amusement. “I can see why Nott has taken a liking to you.” 

You turned to Luna who immediately shook her head. Pansy laughed. “Don’t worry, Lovegood didn’t tell me a thing. She didn’t have to. Theodore never stops talking about you, you know.” 

There was no hiding the flush that crept up to your cheeks. “We’re both vying for the top spot in Slughorn’s class. I assume he has a lot to say about his competition.” 

“It’s more than that,” Pansy said. “I’ve known Theodore since birth and I’ve never seen him put this much effort into anything. He’s always been naturally talented at potions, given his mum’s background, but you challenge him. For the first time in a long time, he’s found someone who’s actually up to par. I, for one, enjoy watching you put him in his place.” 

You smiled. “I quite enjoy it too.” 

Luna looked at you, then at Pansy before a huge grin graced her lips. It was obvious that she was pleased at the sight of her best friend and her…potential more-than-friend getting along.

The game started not long after. Your comprehension of the rules were rudimentary at best, but Luna made sure to explain as best as she could. From what you gathered, there were four positions: seeker, beater, chaser, and keeper. The chasers attempted to score as many goals as they could by throwing the quaffle through the posts, which the keepers guarded. The beaters used the bludgers to disrupt the other players. The seeker, on the other hand, needed to catch the golden snitch. All while floating on a broom hundreds of feet in the air. 

This match, Pansy explained, had been anticipated to be the most brutal of the season. The enmity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins translated very clearly on the field. While there had always been a divide of support between the other houses, you could tell that the majority of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands were cheering for the Gryffindors. 

You wondered how that made the Slytherins feel. Three houses against one. After the war, Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic droned on and on about the importance of unity and reconciliation. Professor Slughorn even delivered a speech during your first potions class, but the disparity between words and actions were painfully obvious. 

The rest of the school still mistrusted the Slytherins. If any of them cared, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Especially not as they played. The quidditch team was deadly. You watched as green and silver robes whizzed past, familiar names sprawled on the jerseys. Malfoy, Zabini, Riddle, Berkshire, Warrington, Rosier, and Nott. 

Theo winked as he flew past your portion of the stands. You rolled your eyes, but held your breath as he careened towards one of the goal posts. Ron Weasley stood guard, squinting suspiciously at Theo. The flash of the quaffle was too fast for your eyes to follow, but it sliced the air all the same, slipping through an opening above Ron’s shoulder. The redhead cursed as Theo gave him a mocking bow. 

Pansy was the lone witch in your section to cheer for the Slytherins. Luna joined her in solidarity when the crowd grew quiet. Suspicious glances were cast in your direction, which you rebuffed with a menacing glare. They all found something else to look at rather quickly. 

Displeasure rippled over the crowd as the Slytherins kept scoring. Theo was an unstoppable force. Warrington and Riddle flanked him at each side, throwing bludgers at anyone who attempted to thwart his efforts. The other two chasers, Berkshire and Zabini, circled around them in an aerial formation that confused the opposing team. The Gryffindors grew increasingly frustrated when Evangeline Rosier kept rebuffing their attempts to score. 

Both teams played well, but the Slytherins were ruthless, tactical, and efficient. They used the opposing team’s weaknesses against them. The Gryffindors tended to be over reactive and Theo used it to his advantage. He baited them into making rash plays, which left openings for him and the other chasers to exploit. 

By the end of the game, it was Berkshire who scored the winning goal. The discrepancy between the cheers and booing was insurmountable, but Pansy didn’t seem to care. She cheered for the team louder than anyone. As the win was formally announced, you heard murmurs coming from below you. 

“Stupid Death Eater bitch.” 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy tense. Luna’s mouth hung agape as she wheeled around to identify the foul mouthed culprit. You were quicker. 

“What did you just say?” you asked in a deathly quiet voice.

The conversations around you stopped as you faced Romilda Vane. The smug faced witch crossed her arms, her scarlet and gold scarf billowing in the wind as she looked up at the three of you. 

“You heard me,” Romilda said in a haughty voice. “Her father was one of the Dark Lord’s staunchest supporters. As were the Malfoys and Notts. Not to mention Riddle. How he was allowed back at school is a mystery to me. They should all be in Azkaban.” 

Your ears began to ring. The crowd parted as you descended the bleachers, bringing you face to face with Romilda. “I wasn’t aware that you’d recently earned a place in the Wizengamot. For all your prattling, you’d think you were the Chief Warlock.” 

She cowered under your glare, but doubled down as she looked towards her friends. “I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking. As far as I’m concerned, the Slytherins should be punished for their crimes.” 

“I hardly think you’re speaking from any moral high ground, Romilda. Didn’t you try to dose Potter with Amortentia in sixth year?”

Romilda reddened as she sputtered nonsense. The students around you snickered, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug painfully into your palms. If you hadn’t, you might’ve punched that stupid smirk right off of her face. 

But you knew that physical violence was not the answer. There were far more strategic ways to land a blow and you were an expert in this type of warfare. 

“I suppose Harry’s lucky that your potion making is about as incompetent as your critical thinking skills. Now move before I make you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing getting tangled up with all those snakes. They’ll sink their teeth into your back the second you turn it.” 

“One of them is worth ten of you. At least the Slytherins fought to defend the castle instead of running off like a coward. They may have teeth, but at least they know how to use them. You’re all roar and no bite.” 

“You’re a bitch, Y/N.” 

You reared back, baring your teeth. “Oh you have no idea, Vane. But I’d be glad to demonstrate.” 

Romilda held her ground. For a split second, you weighed the consequences of harming a fellow student versus the satisfaction of pummeling Romilda to the ground. Luckily for the idiotic Gryffindor, Luna gently gripped you by the elbow. 

“It’s not worth it, Y/N.” 

You looked at your friend who wore an expression of concern. Beside her, Pansy didn’t say a word. She was utterly silent, almost resigned like she encountered this treatment on a daily basis. We all pay the price, Theo had said. 

Without another word, you nodded and bulldozed through Romilda as you exited the stands. It was only when the three of you reached the ground when you finally realized that you were shaking from anger. 

“Are you alright, Pans?” Luna asked, clasping Parkinson’s hand. 

Pansy shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Luna. If I let the opinion of an airheaded twat affect my day, I’d never have a good one again.” 

“Are you sure—” Luna fretted. 

Pansy smiled gently and squeezed her hand in assurance. “Truly, I’m alright. The only thing upsetting me at the moment is that I’ve left my scarf up there running from those hags. Would you mind getting it for me, Lu?” 

Your friend still looked worried, but she nodded and made the trek back up. You and Pansy stood in silence, watching as the last of the crowd trickled out of the stands. 

“Vane had no right to say that,” you said. It came out harsher than you expected. 

“At least she had the gall to say it to my face,” Parkinson stated with a shrug. “I don’t know if that makes her brave or stupid.” 

“Gryffindors often have trouble making the distinction.” 

The dark haired witch laughed. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. As moronic as she is, Vane is right. She was only voicing the opinion of the masses."

“But you fought in the final battle. I saw you rallying the others against the Death Eaters. Romilda wasn’t even there. She didn’t even fight.”

Pansy sighed. “A lot of good that did. I had to watch my friends duel against their own parents and yet this entire school still mistrusts us. I suppose I can’t blame them. The majority of the Dark Lord’s followers were produced by our house.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad. The world isn’t so black and white,” you said adamantly. “Most of us operate in the gray areas, whether we admit it or not. The only difference is that you lot don’t try to hide it.” 

“Yes, but a snake is a snake. Even when we shed our skin, they still see deception when they look at us.” 

“And you’re willing to just accept that?” 

Parkinson gave you a pointed look. What choice did she have? What choice did any of them have? 

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat. “Are you sure you’re alright? Luna’s worried.” 

“I assure you, being villainized isn’t anything new to me. I suppose that’s why I named my horse after Circe," Pansy mused thoughtfully. "It’s better for them to believe that I’m some sort of evil sorceress than to realize that I am more shackled by my circumstances than I could ever be at Azkaban. My family name is a collar around my neck, waiting to choke me at any moment, but they’re so blinded by their own misconceptions that all they see are my teeth. I prefer it that way.”

“Oderint dum metuant.”

"Let them hate, as long as they fear." A faint smile bloomed on Pansy’s lips. "That’s awfully Slytherin of you to say. Are you sure you’re in the right house, Y/N?”

You chuckled. A beat of silence followed as understanding passed between you. Perhaps you had more in common with Pansy Parkinson than you thought. 

When Luna returned, the two of them tried to convince you to join them at the common room party, but you declined. You weren’t really in the mood to be around people. 

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up later.” 

As the sun set over the school grounds, you found yourself at the Black Lake. Dusk tinged the horizon with pink and purple and the fluffy white clouds hung low enough to kiss the dark water. You settled at the end of the dock and dipped your toes into the lake, watching as the motion made ripples across the surface. Maybe it was unwise to linger here given that the lake was home to the merpeople and the giant squid, but they would be far in the depths and you were honestly too knackered to care. 

Sighing, you pulled out a silver flask from your robes. You had initially brought it for the after party, but it would’ve been a shame to let the firewhisky go to waste. 

“Illegal contraband?” A familiar voice teased just as the wood gave way beside you. Theo bumped his shoulder against yours as he sat. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well maybe your idiotic tendencies are rubbing off on me.” 

“I’d like to rub more than just my tendencies on you.” 

You rolled your eyes and handed him the flask. “Just fucking drink, Theodore.” 

He grinned before taking a swig. You chuckled at the face he made from the burn of the Ogden’s. “That is straight up liquor," Theo remarked through his coughing fit. "You're out of control, diavolina. Should I be concerned?”

“We’re celebrating,” you said. “At least you should be. That was quite a win out there. I didn’t expect you to be so….efficient.” 

“Careful, Y/N. That was almost a compliment.” 

You shrugged. “To be fair, I haven’t been to a game in years. You could’ve been absolutely rubbish and I’d still think it was a feat that you managed to stay seated on that broom.” 

“Well, it is a pretty important component of quidditch. Did you at least attempt to enjoy yourself?” 

“It was a brutal game. There’s a lot more strategy and planning that goes into quidditch than I initially thought. It’s like chess, but you’re allowed to hit people. I had a blast.” 

Theo chuckled. “I should’ve known you’d get a kick out of all that violence.” 

Warmth spread through your body as you took another swig. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating your win at the party?” 

His fingers brushed yours as you handed the flask back to him. “I’m where I want to be.” 

This time, you weren’t sure if it was the firewhisky or Theo’s presence making you flush. The two of you kept drinking in silence as you peered up at the sky. Back home in London, you never would’ve been able to see the stars this clearly. They glittered in the night sky like tiny diamonds etched through the darkness. 

“I heard about what happened earlier,” Theo said after a moment. 

You weren’t surprised. Word traveled fast around this school. “Luna told you?” 

“No. Pansy did.” He shifted, turning over to look at you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you did too. “You did a good thing, Y/N. You stood up for Pansy. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“I was only doing what anyone else would’ve done.” 

“No. You weren’t.” Theo set the flask down. “No one else would’ve come to her defense. Pansy, she’s the strongest one out of all of us. Draco, Mattheo, and I, we can always resort to punches when we’re insulted, but Pansy doesn’t have that option. She just has to sit there and take it. It means a lot that someone spoke up for her.”

“I did the bare minimum.”

“It still meant a lot.” 

“There’s no need to thank me for—”

Theo sighed in exasperation. “For Salazar’s sake, will you just take my gratitude without arguing?”

You bit back a smile. “Fine. I acknowledge your gratitude.” 

You downed the rest of the flask as Theo lit a cigarette. The flame from that curious Zippo flickered in the darkness as smoke filled the air.

“So,” Theo started, taking a deep inhale. “Are you ready for the slug club dinner next week? I’m not even invited to the bloody thing and yet I still know every detail thanks to McLaggen’s incessant prattling. What a twat.” 

“Cormac is kind of a twat, isn’t he?” you asked, giggling as the alcohol started taking its effect. “I heard that he kisses like a fork tongued lizard.” 

Theo’s eyes flashed. “You better not know that firsthand.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “I wouldn’t go near McLaggen’s mouth with a ten foot broom.” 

“Good. I can rest easy that you won’t be replacing me with a reptilian snogger.”

“You can rest easy either way. I’m not going to that dinner.” 

Theo paused, the cigarette hanging haphazardly from between his lips. “What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“It’s a pretty straightforward sentence, Nott. I will not be attending Professor Slughorn’s ridiculous dinner.” 

“You have to go,” he declared firmly. 

“I’m confused. Do you want me to snog the lizard or not?” 

Theo frowned. “Do not snog McLaggen unless you want me to turn him into an actual reptile.” He exhaled and smoke curled around his lips. “You can’t miss that dinner.”

“I have no interest in attending.” 

He stared at you, his gaze fixed with determination. “Is this about what Slughorn said the other day?” 

You picked at your fingers, avoiding his eyes. “It’s probably going to be boring, anyways. Just a pissing contest for us to compare our grades and achievements like we’re puppets on a string.” 

“You should still go.” 

“Why?” you asked, a bit irritated that Theo was pushing for this so hard. You would’ve thought that he of all people would understand your choice. “Why would I subject myself to be part of something that judges people based on prejudice rather than merit?”

Theo’s expression softened. “Because it’ll raise your chances of joining the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. That’s your dream, isn’t it?”

You reeled back in surprise. “How do you know about that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You only talk about it a thousand times a day.” Theo raised his brow in challenge. “Slughorn’s one of the most influential members. If you go to the dinner, it might solidify a formal invitation.” 

Theo was right. You didn’t want him to be, but he was right. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve sabotaged and plotted and schemed for a way in. This was an opportunity to distinguish yourself from your fellow classmates, so why were you hesitating?

You knew why. You were looking right at him.

“I’ll drag you there myself if I have to,” Theo declared. 

You sighed. There was no way he was going to let this go. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” 

Theo smiled triumphantly. You kicked at the water, sending a wave across the still lake. “You know, if Slughorn knew that you were a Marchesi, he’d probably fall all over himself to recruit you. Hell, anyone would. You’re practically guaranteed a place at the Society, too.”

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“I’m serious, Nott. It could open up doors for you.”

He sighed. “That’s exactly why I’ve kept the knowledge to myself. I’m tired of everyone judging me based on my family, good or bad. I want to accomplish something that’s solely mine. Not Nott, not Marchesi. Just Theo.”

“That’s uncharacteristically noble of you.”

“I told you, I’m not just a pretty face. I’m also rich, witty, intelligent, athletic, etc. Honestly, the list goes on and on.”

You snorted. “Just don’t expect humble to be part of that little myriad, Theo.”

Theo paused. The moment of silence swelled between you like an errant wave. Then, a huge smile broke out on his face. 

“What?” you asked. 

“You called me Theo.”

“Well, that is your name. Has quidditch concussed you so severely that you’ve forgotten?

He responded with an eye roll. “I’m perfectly lucid, thank you very much. Well, besides the firewhisky. I’m a little bit sloshed from that, but not sloshed enough to not notice you call me by my actual name. Not Theodore, not Nott, not twat, not oh god—”

“I get it, Theo.”

His grin grew wider. “There it is again. Theo.”

“It’s just a name, nothing special.”

“It is when you’re the one saying it.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

The satisfied smirk on his face refused to budge even as the sky grew darker. The two of you sprawled out on the dock, staring up at the sky and enjoying the comfortable silence. Theo toyed with his lighter, rubbing his thumb over the spark wheel, which caused the flame to flicker on and off.

You stared at the lighter, vision blurring from the alcohol. “Why do you have that thing?”

“I told you, Mattheo’s a little thief.” 

“No, I mean I know the reason. But I just can’t figure out why.” 

Theo scrunched his brows in confusion. “Are you sure you’re not the one concussed?” 

“Would a concussed person be able to do this?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and slightly flipped to the side. The action made your hair come loose. 

“What in Merlin’s name am I supposed to be looking at right now?” 

“I’m obviously doing a cartwheel,” you deadpanned. “Aren’t I?” 

Theo chuckled. “You are one drunk witch, Y/N.” 

“M’not drunk.” He raised a brow. “Fine, maybe I’m a tiny bit bevved, but you’re the one avoiding my question.”

“Sorry,” Theo said rather unapologetically. “I’m a bit distracted at the moment.” 

“By what?” 

“Your hair,” he murmured softly. Theo reached out and toyed with a loose strand, twisting a long lock between his fingers. He swallowed thickly, his voice lower and huskier than it was a minute ago. “You should wear it down more often.” 

“It’s a hassle.” 

He swept it over your shoulder, knuckles brushing your cheek. “It’s beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warmed. Whether from the alcohol or his touch, you couldn’t differentiate. “Stop deflecting, Nott.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Relentless witch. Can’t you see I’m trying to have a moment here?” 

You gave him a pointed look. Theo sighed before handing over his lighter. Up close, you could see that the silver was worn and dented. It looked much older than you initially thought. To your surprise, Theo silently waved his wand and the lighter transformed into a heart shaped locket. 

“When my nonna gave me the grimoire, it came with this. It was Alessandra’s old locket. She treasured it more than the grimoire itself.” 

“What’s so special about it?” 

“Open it.” 

Your fingers stilled. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t get shy now, diavolina. You wanted to know and now I’m telling you.” 

You hesitated for a moment before curiosity got the best of you. The locket popped open easily. Inside was a picture of a dark haired woman standing next to a man with watercolor eyes and thick brown curls. The couple looked at each other with love and adoration in their eyes. 

“That’s Alessandra, obviously. The man was Damiano, her closest friend, the mad scientist of the village, and the cleverest muggle she’d ever met. He helped author the grimoire.” 

“I never knew that Alessandra had help with her inventions.” 

Theo nodded. “As my family intended. They didn’t approve of her relationship with Damiano, but she didn’t care. They fell madly in love and eventually married.” 

“How is it possible that no one knew about him?”

“Damiano was born with a unique illness that was incurable even with magic. Alessandra poured years of her life into finding a cure, but in the end he succumbed to it. She passed away only a year after him. My nonna said that she died of a broken heart.” Theo took the chain and traced his fingers over the picture. “They left behind two young children who were eventually raised by Alessandra’s parents. Their son and daughter grew up not knowing who their father was. The Marchesis did everything in their power to keep the knowledge to themselves. They didn’t want anyone to know that their great bloodline was tainted by a muggle.” 

Theo bowed his head in shame. He avoided your gaze, choosing to look out at the Black Lake instead. “There it is. The secret that my family has guarded for centuries. The sad part is that some of them still hold those bigoted beliefs, so when people assume the worst of me, I can’t blame them. The Marchesis, the Notts, either way you look at it, there’s bad blood coursing through my veins.” 

“That’s not true, Theo,” you said softly. “You know I don’t think that of you, right?” 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Everyone else does.” 

“Well, I don’t,” you said firmly. “You said it earlier. Family isn’t all that a person amounts to. When I look at you, I don’t see a Nott or a Marchesi. I just see Theo.” 

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. The saddest part was that you were sure he meant it. “My great great great grandmother fell in love with a muggle and how did my family repay her for it? They blotted him out of existence.” 

The starlight caressed his forlorn expression with its silver glow, painting a heartbreaking depiction of Theo that you had never seen before. It reminded you of that day in the potions lab when he was talking about his mother. There was such an openness and vulnerability in him then that was present now as well and you realized why he looked at you the way he did that day. 

Theo hadn’t been waiting for you to give him an out. He wanted—no, he needed a friend and you had been too scared to step up then, but you weren’t now. You could be that for him. You wanted to be that for him. A friend. 

Without second guessing yourself, you reached out in the space between you and grabbed hold of his hand. Theo stared at your intertwined fingers in surprise. 

“The love between Damiano and Alessandra lives on,” you said with a small smile. “In their children and their children’s children. In…you.” 

Those watercolor eyes, the very same ones that you had grown so familiar with shone with emotion. Unlike the day in the lab, Theo didn’t put up his mask of cockiness and arrogance and you realized with a start that you didn’t want him to. 

He smiled and squeezed your hand gently. “Yes, I suppose I inherited Damiano’s affinity for cruel, brilliant witches.”

"Affinity is putting it lightly," you said teasingly. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me, Nott."

You blinked as Theo hovered over you. The weight of his body pressed against yours ignited a flame of fiendfyre in your core. He dipped his head down, his curls tickling your nose. "No, not Nott. Not Theodore. Try that again, diavolina."

You wriggled underneath him, but Theo held your hips in place. He brushed his lips against yours and smirked when you tried to kiss him. His low rumble of laughter sent shivers down your spine. "Say it. Say my name again."

"If I say it, will you stop being a tease?"

Theo kissed your neck and laughed when you pouted in response. "Only one way to find out."

"I'll knee you in the crotch if you do that again, Theo."

He grinned. "There's a good girl," Theo said rather suggestively. You fought the urge to squirm at his words. He peppered kisses along your neck, your jaw, and your cheeks while you burst into a fit of drunken giggles. "For the record, I am obsessed with you, but I think you're a little bit obsessed with me too."

"You wish, Theo."

"You're going to be the death of me," he said huskily as he unbuttoned your cardigan. Theo's eyes were full of mischief as he dipped between your breasts, sucking on your flesh and leaving marks in his wake. "But I'm willing to die a happy man, Y/N."

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[papercorgiworld]

The Death Eater Drabbles IV

“This is your second chance, here with me.”

Mattheo, Theo, Enzo, Draco and Blaise

Unspoken feelings can no longer be denied and choices must be made.

You don’t have to read part one, two or three, but it’ll make more sense if you do.

Warning: nope, just some angst and fluff

Personally, I like this one, because there’s so much emotion. This part can be seen as the end of the Death Eater Drabbles or as some kind of season finale, I haven’t decided yet. As always happy readings and feedback is very welcome.

Neither of you would act on it, but you could both feel it in your bones. You loved one another. There was no escaping it. It was in every look, in every silence in every touch. Each morning you would wonder if today was the day you would finally admit the obvious.

What neither of you knew, was that today was your last chance to say it.

“Here you go.” He says holding a warm cup and walking towards you, making you look up from your book. Suddenly you hear the door slam open, but before you can even recognise his voice Harry has already cast a spell that slams the slytherin into the wall. Hermoine follows quickly, binding his hands with one flick of her wand. Harry picks him from the ground holding him by the collar of his shirt. “You better hope Luna’s alive or this will be your last day!” With one harsh move Harry pushes him towards the door. You watch the scene unfold, eyes filled with horror.

Mattheo

Panic shoots through your body and you take a step between Mattheo and your friends. “What’s going on? What are you doing? You can’t take him.” Mattheo’s heart aches at the sound of your voice. This is exactly what he had wanted to avoid. You should’ve never started caring about him. “They have Luna!” Harry yells in your face. Her name rings in your ears. You feel like you can’t breathe as you realize Voldemort has her. “We’re going to try to trade him… for her.” Hermoine’s voice is filled with fear, she obviously doesn’t have much confidence in their plan.

Mattheo can only see your back but he can imagine the painful expression that must be on your face. His own fate worried him as well. Harry’s eyes were set to kill, but honestly death might be the better option since he knew not to expect a warm welcome from his father after getting caught.

Ignoring your still shocked face Ron reached for Mattheo’s arm pulling him towards the door. Harry and Hermoine follow him, leaving you as you process everything that’s happening. Suddenly, you snap out of it and clench your jaw as you reach for your wand. “You’re not taking him.” You tremble, but hold your wand firmly pointed at Harry. They all turn around and are shocked and confused to see you have your wand pointed at them. Except for Mattheo his eyes are filled with pain. I’m not worth the trouble, love. “We need to get Luna back.” Hermoine argues as she takes a step towards you, making you point your wand at her. “We’ll find another way.” She frowns and it’s then that Mattheo decides he cannot let you do this.

He walks towards you and your eyes move to his. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me, love. Think of Luna.” Your eyes get teary as you shake your head. “You won’t be fine. We have to find another way.” With his hands still tied together he reaches for your hand urging you to lower your wand. “This is your second chance, here with me.” You start sobbing and Mattheo closes his eyes hoping it will make the sound go away. With dead, heartbroken eyes Mattheo turns away from you. “We need to go now, we’re wasting precious time.” The only thing he could do for you now was save Luna. Harry, Ron and Hermoine nod, realizing what they just witnessed was pure heartbreak. For a moment you look down at the ground, tears streaming down. This is unfair.

“You must know where they are keeping her.” You whisper looking up at Mattheo’s back. “We could save her and you could stay.” You sound painfully hopeful, but it convinces your friends to consider your suggestion and look at Mattheo. He however turns to you, torn by what you’re asking of him, to betray all he knows. “Malfoy Manor? Someplace in the dark forest?” Hermoine urges, wishing for everyone's sake that he knows and he’ll tell. With dead eyes he looks at you. “There’s a tower near Marunween Lake. That’s where they would take her.” I want my second chance here with you. You rush towards him and grab his face to kiss him, tears still streaming down your cheeks. He chose to save Luna, he chose you.

Theodore

You immediately reach for Theodore’s arm pulling him towards you and away from the door. “What are you doing? He didn’t do anything.” You defend him with worried eyes. Theodore looks over at your figure softly shaking and your hand tightly holding on to the sleeve of his shirt. You were afraid to lose him and he hated to see you like this. Ron steps between you two, forcing you to let go of Theo. “They took Luna, they’ll hurt her.” He argues, putting no thought into Theodore’s fate. Your eyes go wide as you try to remember the last time you saw Luna. “We hope to get Luna back if we give them Nott.” With your thoughts still circling around Luna, Harry moves Theodore away from you and towards the door.

“No. You can’t do this.” You panic when you realize they’re still planning on taking Theodore. Hermoine notices how Theo closes his eyes at the sound of your begging. Harry walks over to you slightly frustrated. “He’s one of them. He’ll be fine and if not, one less death eater to worry about.” His words break your heart. “No-“ You start, but Theo turns towards you. “I am one of them, (y/n). Forget about me. You were never supposed to care in the first place.” It’s like all air leaves the room and it takes every bit of strength for you to breathe and speak. “But I do care!” Your loud voice startles everyone. “We’ll save Luna, just not by sacrificing you.” Slowly your friends catch on about what’s been going on between you two. “This is your second chance, Theo, here with me. You can still get out.”

Stop caring, (y/n), I beg you. Caring hurts. Theodore shakes his head and forces his tortured eyes to look away from you. There is nothing for me here. When you notice him turn away from you, desperation takes over and you grab his shirt pulling him towards you. You crash your lips on his with determination. “We’ll find another way to save Luna, I need you to stay.” Your hands cling to his shirt afraid to let go. Theo just stares at you. He has no words for you. “How?” Hermoine suddenly asks. “How can we save Luna?” Your eyes flicker around the room as you try to come up with something. “I think I know where they would take her.” Theodore’s words remove the heavy air from the room as hope fills everyone's eyes.

Theodore looks at you slowly allowing himself to believe in that second chance you were talking about. A chance with you. “The Marunween Lake tower.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “We’ll save her.” You whisper with determination, still clinging to Theodore. He nods and lets his head rest on yours. We’ll figure it out and I won’t leave.

Enzo

“Don’t.” You say with a stern voice as you take a step to defend Enzo. “Whatever’s going on he has nothing to do with it.” Your firm words startle everyone, but Hermoine is the first to shake it. “We need to save Luna. We need him so we can get her back.” Your eyes widen as it dawns on you. “How? What happened? Where is she?” Enzo wishes he could hold you and comfort you, but instead he’s tied up and should probably be more concerned about what will happen to him. Voldemort barely trusted him before, now he was most likely done for it.

Hermoine understands that you had a million questions, but bluntly pushes you aside to reach Enzo. There was simply no time to be wasted with Luna’s life on the line. “Enzo and I deserve a say in this. Trading him is a shitty plan and you can’t just throw him back out there.” The trio is getting a bit annoyed with you and your concern for their enemy. When Hermoine and Harry continue to guide Enzo towards the door you realize that they won’t listen so you make a drastic move. You point your wand at Ron, who was still standing near you.

“Enzo’s staying.” You say, again your stern voice is back. Hermoine and Harry go pale as they see a horrified Ron with your wand pointed at his face. Enzo panics, he really doesn’t want you to do anything stupid for his sake. “(Y/n), (y/n), don’t do that. Okay, don’t worry. I’ll be alright. I always find a way out of trouble.” Harry lets him walk towards you and as you wrap your arms around Enzo. “You deserve a second chance. You’re not a death eater Enzo.” You squeeze him and he allows himself to enjoy your warmth one last time. “I’ll get my second chance. Now you have to think about Luna.”

Harry, Ron and Hermoine are surprised that Enzo is the one talking reason and calming you. Clearly something had been going on between you two. When Enzo pulls away silent tears start to make their way down and Enzo feels his heart squeeze like it's been hit by a cruciatus curse. “This is your second chance… here with me.” Enzo’s eyes get watery as he presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be fine and I’ll be back. In the meantime just don’t cook and cut your finger again.” He tries to make you smile, but it only lasts for a second and then the tears are back. So, Enzo bites his tongue and turns away, nodding at Harry that it's time to go.

Suddenly, Hermoine’s voice breaks the darkening sadness with a spark of light. “Look Enzo, maybe you can help us save Luna… Do you have any idea where they would keep her?” Enzo frowns, but after a moment he slowly nods. “I’m going to need a map, but I might have an idea.” You gasp as you finally feel like you can breathe again. You undo Hermoine’s spell binding Enzo’s hands and he immediately pulls you into a hug. “We’re going to save Luna and you’re going to stay with me.” You whisper with your head on his chest. Enzo nudges his noses against you demanding you look up and the moment you do his lips are on yours. Now that I have you in my arms I’m not letting you go. Ever.

Draco

“This is insane.” You say as your eyes fix on Draco’s frightened face. “What are you on about? We need to help Luna.” Ron’s agitated voice startles you for a moment and then you finally realize it. “They have Luna?” You whisper and Harry nods with a pained expression, clearly worried about her. Hermoine points her wand at Draco and tilts her head towards the door, but as soon as Draco takes a step towards the door you panic. “No, you can’t just trade him.” You protest, not concerned about what the trio might think of you. Draco’s frightening eyes turn soft. Oh, please (y/n). Go back to thinking of me as the villain. Don’t make things weird with your silly feelings.

“(Y/n)? It’s Malfoy. Why are we even debating this. We need to save Luna.” Harry can’t wrap his head around your concern for Draco. You look at Draco who shakes his head at the sadness in your eyes. “Let me go back to being a death eater.” You feel tears welling up. “I know you don’t want to. I know that if you had a choice you would stay.” Draco clenches his jaw. “If I had a choice I-“ He stops himself from confessing how much he cares about you and how badly he wants to stay with you. It wouldn’t do any good, so he turns cold. “I don’t have a choice. And you should be ashamed of yourself for caring about someone like me.” His icy voice makes the whole room feel cold, but you see through him and shake the coldness. “But I’m not.” You walk up to him and kiss him. With your hand still on the back of his head you pull away and look over at Harry. “You can’t trade Draco. You need to come up with another plan.” Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing and at the same time he knows that arguing with you is pointless.

Draco's gaze is still fixed on you, still not fully believing you just kissed him. “Okay.” Hermoine breathes, really confused and also happy for you, still very confused. “Different plan. Any suggestions?” Ron looks at Hermoine with raised eyebrows, his brain just completely shut down after seeing you kiss Malfoy. “I might have an idea.” Draco whispers, not very excited to betray Voldemort and his family, but also not wanting you to lose Luna. “I think I might know where Voldemort is keeping his prisoners. We could try and get her out.” Harry, Ron and Hermoine exchange debating looks as you stare at Draco with loving eyes. You’re not a villain.

Blaise

Watching Blaise be slammed into the wall and dragged away from hurt you more than you could’ve ever imagined. A single tear rolls over your cheek as you turn to Harry. “Please, don’t do this. A life among death eaters isn’t a life for him. You have to let him stay.” The three friends stare at you in shock, not considering sympathizing with Blaise. He on the other hand can’t help but feel himself fall in love with you more as he watches a second tear roll over your pretty face. “It doesn’t matter, (y/n).” Blaise speaks up and your eyes are almost afraid to meet him. “I got more than I deserved, spending these few weeks with you. But now you should think of your friend, Luna.” As the trio slowly starts to think about Blaise’s fate, you finally realize Luna’s life is in danger.

Blocking out all feelings of humanity for Blaise, Harry grabs his arm to guide him towards the door. Ron and Hermoine follow, starting to feel bad about this whole situation as they leave you behind. “Blaise, help us save Luna and stay with me.” Your voice trembles and is filled with desperation. You friends turn to look at you, but Blaise remains with his back turned towards you. He clenches his jaw and you walk past him to face him. “Stop pretending that you don’t care. I know you. This is your second chance, here with me, don’t let it pass by. Help us save Luna.” He avoids your eyes, but your words sink deep within him. You reach for his tied up hands and wrap yours around his. “Even if I wanted to help, there’s nothing I can do.” Blaise whispers, finally able to look at you.

Starting to sympathise and seeing possibilities, Harry speaks up. “For starters you could tell us where they might be keeping Luna and how we get in.” Blaise closes his eyes as his heart battles over what to do. “You’ll get to stay with (y/n).” Hermoine adds, trying to convince Blaise. He opens his eyes, immediately locking his eyes with you. “I’ll help. I’m pretty sure I know where they’re keeping Luna.” Your smile radiates happiness and Blaise can’t help but smile in return as the enormous weight on his shoulders drops. You can no longer contain your love for him and sling your arm around him, kissing him with indescribable passion. Ron quirks an eyebrow at your joy and Hermoine even lets out a chuckle.

[moog-rt]

GO TO HELL

[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]

➨ Prologue

Next: Chapter One

Premise:

You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.

Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.

Warning(s): blood, future nsfw (possibly?)(not in this chapter)

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

PROLOGUE

You were careful not to puncture the plastic biohazard bag as you struggled to fit it in your backpack. Your friend owed you big time for this one.

You enjoyed your job, but having to stay overtime was not the way you would typically choose to spend the free hours of your day. Unfortunately, one of your overachiever coworkers was closing as well, so you had to wait even longer than expected. She only left after you insisted on taking over her closing duties.

It took some convincing. You had to thoroughly explain how desperate you were to get out of some macho-man movie the guy you were seeing insisted on watching with you. It was a half-truth. You had no plans to spend any amount of time with him that night, but he had been heckling you for the past week about that fucking movie. Regardless, it did the trick since your coworker’s fiancé was obsessed with the same one, and she proceeded to go on a full rant about how much she loathed it.

All that matters is you successfully got her to leave, finished closing in record time, and finally got that damn biohazard bag zipped up safe in your backpack. With that, you were out the door and on your way to help your friend in their “time of need.”

Which basically translated to, “I need materials that are hard to acquire ethically, and if you love me, you’ll help.”

When you asked what on Earth they would ever need such a thing for, they told you they recently decided to dip their toes into the occult. What exactly that meant, you weren’t sure, and you didn’t want to know. You were just eager to drop off the biohazard bag and head home. You could see a nice hot bubble bath in the near future. Maybe a book and a fun little drink as a treat.

The brief walk to your car was surprisingly pleasant. You didn’t feel as though you were heading home in the middle of the night anymore as the days were growing longer. And it was that perfect temperature where you could wear a t-shirt or a sweater and still feel comfortable. Spring was at last beginning to bloom.

The sun was just about to set as you pulled up to your friend’s apartment building, which was thankfully only a short drive away from your workplace. You scaled a few floors until you got to their door. There wasn’t even a chance to knock before it swung open, and you were yanked inside by the collar of your shirt.

The room was dark save for a few dozen pillar candles that were lit around nearly the entire perimeter of the living room. The kitchen countertop was littered with all kinds of spices, some in containers, some in ominous Ziploc baggies, and most just spilled out across the faux granite. Looking closer at the floor in the center of the open room, there was a star with a circle around it drawn out in what looked to be salt or sugar. In the middle of it was a large black candle with a pile of what you assumed were the herbs from the counter surrounding it.

“Do you have it?” Devon asked as they pulled your bag from your hands. “We’re almost out of time. I got as much ready as I could, but this is the longest step.”

“I’m sorry. We? There is no we when you’re trying to sell your soul to the devil or- Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not taking part,” you said as you helped them carefully remove the plastic bag, bringing it to the weird seance circle-thing. You dreaded the moment they opened it. Some of its contents were rather fresh, but some were a week or two old.

“Nobody is selling anybody’s soul,” your friend scoffed, tearing open the plastic after failing to undo your rather tight knot. You were not about to have that shit leaking out onto your personal belongings.

They instantly recoiled. You’ve never seen their face so shriveled up before. You wished you had your phone out to take a picture. They sat there for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching their hand towards the bag’s opening.

You were going to gag.

“Stop! What are you doing?” you shrieked, stepping up to their side to stop them from actually dipping their fingers in. “Don’t you have gloves or something?”

“Did you bring me gloves?”

“You didn’t ask me to bring you gloves.”

“Then no, I don’t have gloves.”

“Can’t you just leave it in the bag?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Sometimes you seriously questioned your taste in friends.

“No, the book says I have to use it to draw these symbols around the pentagram,” they said, sliding you the crustiest, dustiest book you had ever seen in your life. When you picked it up, you were worried it would crumble away from the way it crunched as you gripped the pages. Many of the words were blurred, including a portion of the title, which appeared to be in Latin.

You couldn’t understand it, but you remembered them saying it was something to do with summoning a demon. According to Devon, they can help you out with finances, academics, romance… You couldn’t help but imagine some horned monstrosity threatening your boss into giving you a raise or breaking into your teacher’s office to change your test scores.

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” You carefully handed the book back to them and walked over to their desk where you knew they kept some basic art supplies. A paint brush should work fine so long as they sanitize the living hell out of it afterwards.

You sat down beside Devon and watched them slowly dip the white bristles into the biohazard bag. The paint brush came out nearly black, as if they were painting with tar, but as it was pressed to the apartment floor, it left behind streaks of crimson. You had to lean away from the overwhelming stench of it. Iron and rot.

Devon had explained to you that they were initially going to use whatever blood they could squeeze out of a steak from the supermarket. The only problem was the ritual specifically required it be human. Obviously, that only left them with two options: Prick their own finger (though they doubted that would be enough) or murder.

That was, until they remembered what you did for work.

You landed yourself a job in a medical facility testing blood samples for all sorts of diseases. Sometimes you only had to determine the blood type or whether it would be viable for donation. Once the testing was done, the blood would be discarded.

To Devon, this meant you had unlimited access to such a valuable ingredient in their twisted little plan. It took quite a bit of convincing before you finally agreed. You were worried about the possibility of losing your job. Can you believe that?

The final symbol was drawn out, and you were wondering why you were still there. You told yourself you would be in and out. You wanted nothing to do with this. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity? Never in your life, would you have thought you’d be helping your friend with some demonic ritual.

You decided it was finally time to take your leave as Devon began chanting in Latin. That was enough fuckery for one day. God knows you want no part in whatever their little séance results in.

You were barely able to get to your feet when the lines of salt began to glow an ominous red. The floor within the pentagram started to crumble away into what looked like a void as you noticed your shirt being gently tugged in its direction. You backed away, not taking your eyes off of it.

There was a blinding flash, then the room was filled with a shrill, ear-piercing noise. It was as if a thousand souls were screaming out at once. You’re sure you yelled out in alarm, though you couldn’t hear it. Covering your ears did little to dampen the volume.

You were jerked forward suddenly as the soft pull on your shirt grew fierce. Glowing red chains manifested around your waist with matching pairs of shackles around your wrists and ankles. Your eyes followed them as they led back to the pentagram. Whatever they were attached to on the other side was a mystery.

“Devon!”

Your cry went unanswered, and you spared a glance towards your dear friend. Their eyes appeared to have rolled back in their head, still chanting mindlessly.

The chains around you grew tighter, causing you to whine in discomfort. To your horror, they continued to pull you closer to the void. You tried with all your might to fight against it, throwing your weight back, legs stiffly digging into the plastic wood flooring in front of you. It was all for naught as your socks deprived you of any traction.

You only slid closer and closer to that gaping hole.

You screamed. You fell. You clawed at whatever you could get your hands on.

Then the ground beneath you vanished, and the world went silent.

Next Chapter

[spaceshipellie]

for the ethel cain requests!! i absolutely adore this idea!! can i get one with abby and, "something they all want that only you can have"

in tlou universe! with fluff or angst! (maybe have it set in the stadium or on patrol!)

“something they all want that only you can have”

pairing: abby x reader

summary/warnings: all the girls want to be with abby but she only wants you. tlou au, fluff, flirty tension. this is really short but cute

you couldn’t blame abby for how many girls had a crush on her. or the way they’d stare with stars in their eyes at her in the gym. watching the way the muscles moved in her arms and back when she lifted weights. it was enough to make anyone swoon but that didn’t mean you didn’t get jealous.

it was crazy, really. you weren’t even dating! just very close friends who occasionally flirted and every time you hoped she’d take it a step further, she never did. right as you thought she might lean in and kiss you she’d playfully punch your arm and call you dude or something instead. maybe that was her way of flirting or maybe she just saw you as a friend. either way, you were determined to find out sooner rather than later.

“so, how was your workout earlier?” how was your workout earlier? you couldn’t be any more pathetic if you tried. you strolled alongside abby through the building you were currently investigating on patrol.

“it was good,” she chuckled, shooting you a quick glance as her hand momentarily brushed your side.

“good,” you nodded, not really knowing what you wanted to follow up with.

she spread a large hand over her shoulder and rotated it. “already starting to feel sore though, might have over done it a bit today.”

“yeah, you really seemed to put on a show for the girls,” you half laughed, half mumbled.

“what was that?” she queried but her laugh told you she heard what you said.

you tried to hide your embarrassed smile from her teasing look. “nothing, nothing.”

“you jealous or something?”

“what?! no, no–“

“i’m fucking with you.” she stopped to push a door, holding it open so you could walk in under her arm.

you both searched the new room, finding a stack of dusty books on one of the counters. you wiped some of the dust off with your fingers before wiping your fingers on your jeans.

“hey, don’t you have a copy of this?” you asked, holding up the copy of little women to show abby.

“i do, it’s a good book. you should read it.”

“hm, maybe i’ll take this then.”

she sauntered over to you, taking the copy from your hands and flicking through.

“you can always just borrow mine. besides, this copy is only part one where they’re kids, mine is the complete story,” she mildly bragged, giving you a smirk.

“oh, fancy,” you teased, “okay, i’ll take you up on that.”

her fingers brushed yours and her eye contact lingered as she handed you back the book before you set it down again. you felt yourself growing nervous under her gaze and had a feeling she was enjoying it.

“good.” her voice was low and silky.

you cleared your throat to snap yourself out from her hypnotic trance and looked down at your feet.

“we should probably worry more about infected than literature,” you tried to joke.

“eh i wouldn’t worry, think we’re all alone up here.”

“i see.”

you pretended to keep looking around, trying to find supplies or take an interest in anything that might make it look like you weren’t just burning with the urge to grab her. you spotted something on the top shelf that looked like it could be spare ammo but groaned in annoyance when you couldn’t reach it. as you were about to try climbing onto the counter you felt a warm hand on your back.

“let me,” she said, softly pushing you aside, her hand remaining on you.

you froze on the spot even when she brought the items down to show you, smiling as she then shoved them in her backpack.

“thanks,” your voice cracked.

“s’okay.”

you realised how close you two were and how she wasn’t making any attempt to move away. the urge to lean in was so strong you were convinced your body would do it against your control anyway if you didn’t do something. despite abby’s flirty nature with you, you still weren’t sure if she meant anything by it.

“so, i overheard nora talking about you earlier. coincidentally after you’d just left the gym.”

she chuckled slightly. “and what did she say?”

“she was talking to leah about how she thought you looked hot, and would die if you ever asked her out.” nerves were creeping into your voice.

“oh yeah? that’s… good to know i guess.”

your shy eyes snapped up to meet hers. “so, you would ask her out?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“why not? she clearly likes you.”

“hmm, she’s cute but she’s not really the one i’d want to ask out if i could.”

your heart sunk. she liked someone.

“huh.” your voice was laced with disappointment.

“you okay?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as she leaned in a bit closer.

“yeah, fine. so, why can’t you ask this other girl out?”

“oh i don’t know, might ruin the friendship.”

your breath hitched in your throat. “seeing the way they all look at you, i’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“hmm, maybe… and why are you so convinced it’s one of them? the girls that apparently love to gawk?”

“well, who else would it be?”

“take a guess, babe.”

she was impossibly close now and your insides were twisting into a pile of mush.

“i, i don’t know.”

“oh come on, try for me.”

“um, katie?”

“no.” her fingers brushed your hip.

“dani?”

“nope.” she brushed a piece of hair away from your face.

“ma–“

“i’m going to stop you before you list every girl in the WLF that’s not you.”

WHAT. “what?”

“have i not been making it obvious enough? my apologies.” her tone was sweet and her hand still continued ghosting over your skin, tempting you to lean in to her touch.

“i just thought…” you stopped yourself before you said something embarrassing.

“thought what, sweetheart? tell me.”

“i just thought… out of everyone who wants you, why would you want… me?”

you tried to look away but her hand cupped your face lovingly, making you look at her.

“i can assure you, you’re the only one i want.”

“really?”

she laughed and soaked in the way your pretty eyes scanned her face before she closed the gap and kissed you. she deepened the kiss once she felt you moving closer to her, one of your hands fisting her shirt.

“are you convinced?” she smiled against your lips.

“hmm, maybe one more will do it.”

[anonymousewrites]

Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1) Chapter Fourteen

Platonic! Hazbin Hotel x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Alastor x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Show Goes On

Summary: The Hotel rebuilds and moves on from the fight.

Mouse Note: Thank you for reading Nature of the Human Soul (Book 1)! I hope you all enjoyed because I loved writing this. I'm so excited for Hazbin Hotel to return because I have a lot of ideas for this series, and I'm excited to continue. But for now, thank you for everything! If you like my writing, please check out my other Father Figure series!

           “Noooo!” screamed Lute as Adam fell. She ran to Adam’s side, and (Y/N) backed off, narrowing their eyes in case she tried anything. “Sir! Stay with me, sir! Adam!” He was gone.

           “It’s over,” said Charlie, holding Vaggie to her side protectively.

           Lucifer loomed over Lute, and her eyes widened in fright. “Take your little friends and go home! Please.”

           Lute narrowed her eyes and picked up Adam’s halo. Furious at having no other choice, she glared at the demons before calling out to the exorcists. “Retreat. All exorcists fall back.”

           The angels rose into the air, fleeing back through the portal to heaven.

           Lucifer, pleased, turned to the hotel group. “So…who’s up for pancakes?”

           Everyone, bloody and tired, stared at him.

l

            “Good evening, I’m Katie Killjoy,” said the news report later that night.

            “And I’m—”

            “No one gives a shit who you are, Tom,” said Katie. “Breaking news: extermination day is canceled! Charlie Morningstar managed to fend off the angelic attack with more than just nice words. In an unseen turn of events, our demonic head honcho Lucifer stepped in to save his daughter’s ass in the last moment. We’re also hearing reports that Adam, leader of the Angelic Legions, first man, and totally fuckable bad boy, has been slain by a filthy gardening demon or some shit like that. The kid said, quote, ‘I hate cameras, and TV here sucks, go away’ before threatening our crew! What an asshole! Anyway, congrats to Charlie and her crew for not being totally fucking useless for once.”

l

            Charlie held Keekee as she looked over the rubble that used to be the Hazbin Hotel. They’d lost so much, so many people. “Oh, there, there, it’s…” She sighed. “It’s okay.” She tried to believe it herself, but it was difficult.

            Angel smiled at her as he held Fat Nuggets. Charlie managed to smile back and took a step towards him. She found herself in front of the “Happy First Week!” sign she’d made for Pentious. Her heart ached at his loss. Vaggie put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders comfortingly.

(Charlie) “He did it for us, The ultimate sacrifice. He gave me his trust, And look how we pay the prince.”

            Tears gathered in her eyes. She had failed her friends. Because she hadn’t been strong enough, they had gotten hurt, killed.

(Charlie) “This bloodshed could have been avoided, If I convinced heaven to work together. I took a hotel, and I destroyed it, I know I could have done better, better, Instead of letting you down.”

            Lucifer put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and smiled at her.

(Lucifer) “Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten thousand years, you’re the first one to change this town, You can do this, Now I know it, For your story has just begun, You can’t quit now, Hell, you owe it, There’s still damage to be undone, You’ve changed my mind, You’ve touched their hearts.”

            Charlie looked around as her friends approached with a smile.

(Lucifer) “Found the good in souls gone bad, The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone, But by God Charlie, The show it must go on!”

            Her friends gathered around Charlie.

(Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Angel, Husk, Niffty) “We can do this, We can build it! Best hotel that you’ve ever seen! Twice the bedrooms, We can fill it!” (Lucifer) “With more sinners than you can dream!” (Lucifer and Vaggie) “It starts with you!” (Vaggie, Cherri, (Y/N), Lucifer, Angel, Husk, Niffty) “You know it’s true, Fulfill your destiny!”

            They reached out their hands. Wiping her tears and smiling, Charlie stood and took her father’s hand as the group came together for a hug.

(Charlie) “So long as I’ve got all of you with me!”

            And so, the cleanup and work began. It was tough going, but everyone pitched in, and the hotel began to come together better than before.

(Niffty) “To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber!” (Lucifer) “Good thing we’re in Hell, check out this little magic number.”

            He snapped his fingers, and the supplies appeared.

(Angel) “Start with foundation.” (Lucifer) “A remedial creation for me.”

            The foundation came together in a single spell.

(Niffty, Angel, Lucifer) “It’s as easy as can be!”

            Soon, the hotel was getting decorated, rooms ready to be stayed in.

(Charlie) “No time for cryin’, We got a lot of work to do and, We gotta try and make the best of what’s in ruins.” (Vaggie) “New coat of paint!” (Husk) “New lights across the marquee!” ((Y/N)) “With a little sorcery!”

            They waved a hand, and plants grew up around the hotel, decorating it with nature amongst the barren city that Pride usually was.

            Finally, the hotel was put back together, with a statue of Dazzle outside. Charlie smiled at the painting of Pentious and the Egg Bois going up in the foyer to honor his memory. The memories of who they lost would never be forgotten as a new era of the Hazbin Hotel approached.

(All) “We can do this!” (Charlie) “We can do this!” (All) “We’ll be better!” (Charlie) “We’ll be better!” (All) “Though redemption may take a while.” (Charlie) “Though it may take a while.” (All) “Wayward sinners, clear their ledger!”

            They came together for a hug, and a familiar face popped out of the shadows.

(Alastor) “And we’re doing it with a smile!”

            (Y/N) grinned. He was healed and back with them. He had survived, too.

(Charlie) “We’ll make a difference, wait and see.” (Charlie and Vaggie) “We’re gonna do this, you and me.” (All) “And then tomorrow it will be, A fuckin’ happy day in Hell!”

            The Hazbin Hotel was open for business.

l

            (Y/N) walked through the hotel to the new wing dedicated to Alastor’s broadcasts. Obviously, it was placed on the opposite side from Lucifer’s apple-themed wing. They paused at the door of the radio and knocked.

            “Alastor?” they called out.

            The door was opened by a shadow, and (Y/N) stepped inside. Alastor was standing over the controls of the new radio, examining everything.

            “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N), slightly nervous.

           Yes, they had faced Adam, but this was…different. It was a different type of encounter. With a fight, (Y/N) knew what it felt like to suffer, to go through pain, so they could handle that. With friendship, (Y/N) had very little experience, so they weren’t sure how to deal with it.

           Alastor turned to face them. “It seems Charlie did a good job ensuring this was up to my standards. My broadcasts will be quality, as usual.”

           “Charlie didn’t make it. Well, she helped, but I, uh, I did it,” said (Y/N).

           Alastor paused, and his grin, unbidden, widened. “You did?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “I saw your tower was affected when Adam hurt you, so when we rebuilt the hotel, I made sure there was something for you to come back to.”

           “I hadn’t expected to have a broadcast tower at the hotel,” said Alastor.

           “Do you like it?” asked (Y/N).

           “I do,” said Alastor honestly.

           (Y/N) brightened. “I’m glad! And I’m glad you’re alright. Adam did a lot of damage to the hotel, killed Pentious, and hurt you pretty badly.”

           “It will take more than that to kill the Radio Demon,” said Alastor, but the unfortunate truth was that he had nearly died.

           “I faced him,” said (Y/N) suddenly.

           Alastor paused. “Oh?”

           “Yeah, I fought Adam. It didn’t go that well for me, either.” They grinned at him. “But I killed him. In the end, I killed him.” They stood proud in their strength and determination. Yes, (Y/N) had nearly fallen to Adam and Lucifer had really defeated him, but dealing the killing blow had given (Y/N) so much satisfaction.

           Alastor looked at (Y/N), and he cursed every part of him that still had some humanity since he felt something as they smiled at him. It wasn’t what he felt when Rosie laughed alongside him and teased him, but it held a familiar warmth. Although he had begun by seeing something in (Y/N) that reminded him of himself from oh-so long ago, Alastor couldn’t help but look at (Y/N) and just see them, now. It wasn’t them being like him, even if it still began there, but it was more.

           “I wouldn’t expect anything less of my protégé,” said Alastor, unable to keep the fondness completely out of his voice.

           Alastor was falling victim to all of the weaknesses he wanted to eliminate within himself.

           And (Y/N)? Well, the Nature Demon stood tall. They were growing into all the strength they had ever wished for.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi there, what's your take on Lupin's atitude towards Harry and their relationship

I think that the scene at Grimmauld Place, on deathly hallows is a very cathartic one. Harry is seeing one of his last father figures fall from a pedestal, and for me Harry acted on the right here, what do you think?

Like, their relationship is one that I'm a little weird about. Like, I'm not a big fan of Lupin, as I mentioned here. And I kinda hate when fanon treats him like Harry's cool uncle or similar to Sirius in his treatment of Harry. That is so not the case with Lupin. Like, Lupin is an expert at messing his social life up, so any relationship he's part of can't be simple.

I saw another post once that stated that it's telling that Harry calls the Mauraders: James, Sirius, Lupin, and Wormtail in his head, and yes, that is telling. The fact he keeps calling him Lupin even after Lupin makes him his son's godfather is telling regarding their emotional closeness — or lack thereof.

Harry doesn't trust Lupin the way he trusted Sirius. During 3rd year, he's the one pressing Lupin and chasing him to teach him the Patronus Charm. Lupin never mentions, in all their interactions that he knew Harry's parents. In the movies, Lupin was much more paternal towards Harry than in the books. Book Lupin is having a mental breakdown every time he looks at Harry and sees his dead friend. He lives in a constant state of guilt and I think, in book 3 he has no idea how to even approach Harry and this topic since he knows it'll bring up uncomfortable questions such as: "Where were you for 12 years?" along with digging up memories of his past that Lupin doesn't seem interested in reminiscing about until Sirius forces him to.

“All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me . . . and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me.

(PoA, 356)

He says the above regarding Sirius, but the same is true for anything else in his life. Especially when it comes to his treatment of Harry. He wants to reach out, he wants to say something, but then he gets stuck wondering if he should and ends up not doing anything. He chickens out, basically.

Then Lupin disappears for, like, the entirety of book 4. Harry's in a death tournament? well, Lupin doesn't seem to care. Like, I think he does care, in a general sort of way, but he got wrapped in his own guilt and indecision that he just never makes an appearance. He probably convinced himself Harry would be worse off if Remus was there because that's what he does. He made joint appearances with Sirius and the Order in book 5, where he's clearly saying everything he needs to say to please as many people as possible because he wants to be liked. I do want to note this scene from book 5 that I feel is overlooked:

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OotP, 54)

I hate this passage so much, you don't even know. Like, in my most recent reread of OotP once I read this line I closed the book and took a month-long break from my reread. Like, reading this is chewing glass for me. Because the only question on my mind is: "How could you, Remus?"

Like, I just can't imagine having an ex-student of yours, or even worse, the son of your dead best friend, tell you they don't want to go back home, that their relatives would rather they won't be safe — and all you do is give a cryptic half-assed smile.

Like, if we go with the most generous interpretation of Lupin's character, we can say he does feel awful about it but he, again, is trapped in his own indecision. Dumbledore gave him orders, and according to them Harry must return to the Dursleys, but he also cares about Hary's well-being in a vague sort of way. So, that smile we see here is Lupin trying to be reassuring through his guilt and failing miserably.

Then, of course, we can go with less favorable interpretations of how he, like many other characters, is a product of his society and upbringing. The Wizarding World doesn't really have the concept of social care and they don't really see abuse the way we do. That he honestly thinks Harry is speaking in hyperbole and is smiling because he thinks Harry's being dramatic like James used to be.

I think the truth is somewhere in between these two options, tbh.

Then he has his romance with Tonks, but Harry isn't really privy to most of it and it doesn't really concern him.

Then, we get to book 7 and that scene you mentioned.

Now, obviously, I think Harry is in the right. I think Lupin is, once again, being an indecisive cowered. Something he is very aware of. I think Harry is right in calling him out, although, perhaps it could have been done better. Both Harry and Lupin lost their tempers a bit during this scene and it shows. But, still, Harry is right about everything he says and Lupin knows this. That's why he gets angry enough to actually attack Harry. Because he has no way to argue against the truth.

“Tonks is going to have a baby.” “Oh, how wonderful!” squealed Hermione. “Excellent!” said Ron enthusiastically. “Congratulations,” said Harry. Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, “So . . . do you accept my offer? Will three become four? [...] “Just—just to be clear,” he said. “You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ house and come away with us?” “She’ll be perfectly safe there, they’ll look after her,” said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. “Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.” “Well,” said Harry slowly, “I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.” Lupin’s face drained of color. [...] “You don’t understand,” said Lupin at last. “Explain, then,” said Harry. Lupin swallowed. “I-I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since.” “I see,” said Harry, “so you’re just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?” Lupin sprang to his feet: His chair toppled backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time ever, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. “Don’t you understand what I’ve done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I’ve made her an outcast!” Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned.

(DH, 184)

He knows Harry is right, but he also truly believes marrying Tonks was a mistake for how she and the yet unborn Teddy would have to live their lives with him being a werewolf. He feels guilty and awful and he's trying to do here what Lupin always does — run away from his problems. Except, in the above scene, Harry doesn't let him have a pretty excuse for running off. Because when Lupin runs from his issues, he always makes sure to have an excuse. Somehow the excuse is always: "I'm a werewolf, and I'll make everything worse". I mean, he quit being the DADA teacher before they could fire him. All he does is run before the other shoe drops. Because Lupin is convinced the shoe is there. He lived all his life with this constant fear. The moment Lupin sniffs an uncertain situation he bolts in the other direction.

Like, I know some call Pettigrew the cowardly Maruader, but, really, it's been Lupin all along. (Peter is also a coward, but a very different flavor of coward).

And I think, later in book 7, when Lupin makes Harry Teddy's godfather, that's his way of apologizing for the past 16 years. He's apologizing to Harry for wanting to run away from Tonks, (and Harry, and everything else). This decision is a sort of 'thank you' to Harry for convincing him to stick around and not be a coward for once in his life, and it turned out good. It's also a decision that basically promises Harry Lupin isn't going to disappear from his life again. That, to me, was Lupin's character development and apology. It's him saying he's stopping with his guilt-ridden indecision and that he is settling down. He isn't running anymore and he wants Harry as part of his and his son's lives.

But, we didn't really get to see that happen, if he'll really stick to it or run away again because he died.

[twistedlily]

Crackpot Theory: Five and Viktor are the Beginning and End to Everything

A friend told me months ago to write an essay after hearing my crackpot theory about this show that is my Joker, so here I am, doing just what I was told. (Yes, I know this won't come true. That's why it's a crackpot theory. I'm only writing this for fun and to get this idea out of my head before S4 drops tomorrow. Anyway!)

Disclaimer: I will be using Vanya and she/her pronouns to refer to the comics character, and to the show character in S1 and S2, and Viktor and he/him pronouns for S3. I am doing this for the sake of more easily understanding which seasons in the show I am referring to when I mention my points.

Anyway, without further ado...

I am putting too much faith in the show's writing here and am convinced that the show is hinting that Five and Vanya/Viktor are the key to everything.

Here is why:

In S1, we see quite clearly that Five meant something to Vanya. She tells Pogo in the first episode that "You know what's stupid? I used to leave the lights on for him. ... Every night I'd leave a little snack and make sure the lights were on." Following that, we also see Five return, looking exactly the way he did when he left, and one of the first things he does is make himself a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, which is the very snack that Vanya would continually make for him when he was gone.

Later on in the episode, we see him get attacked by the Temps Commission, and after said attack, the place he goes to for safety is—Vanya’s apartment. There, we get to see her patching him up, get to see them talk and in turn have a better understanding of their particular dynamic. Vanya asks him why he’s at her apartment. He says, “I’ve decided you’re the only one I can trust.” She asks him why he’s opening up to her specifically, and at first, he says, “Because you’re ordinary.” Of course, those words sting with her, and it shows on her face. So he amends his statement shortly thereafter, with a “Because you’ll listen.” The show quickly establishes that Vanya found Five important in her life, and in turn, affirms that he finds her meaningful as well.

Unfortunately, as the first season continues, we don’t get Five and Vanya interacting together as much, if at all. The second episode features Vanya managing to briefly stop Five in his tracks after he declares she’s too young and he made a mistake in trusting her, saying she “hasn’t seen him in a long time” and that she “doesn’t want to lose [him] again.” But then he leaves her apartment, and he makes little to no effort to contact her for the rest of the first season until it becomes apparent that she is far more important to the end of the world than he initially believed.

However, we do see more of their intriguing bond in the moments we’re shown of their shared past and younger years, with how Vanya shaking her head gave him genuine pause before Five’s impulsive decision to leave and perform spatial jumps in defiance of Hargreeves. Additionally, her name was the first Five called after landing in the apocalypse, and as we are made aware in the first episode, he found her book and read it while away. In said book, she writes that he "was [her] sole confidante." He even writes in the book, and continues to do so upon returning to 2019.

(A little note on something I found fascinating that may be something, or may be nothing: when drunk, Five tells Diego that he’s “the Four frickin’ Horsemen.” Traditionally, the Four Horsemen signify the bringing of the Apocalypse to the world, hence the tale of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Now, in the show, if Five is the Four Horsemen, and Vanya is the Apocalypse... does that not mean they’re inextricably connected?

Again, this could mean something, or it could be me seeing things where things were not meant to be seen.)

I will also note that their bond in the show does not, in fact, come from the comics. The comics feature a Vanya who is emotionally linked to Diego, and the Five we see in the comics is far colder than the one in the show. He even tells Vanya outright at the end of the Apocalypse Suite arc that he “never liked [her].” So this shift in relationship dynamics does exist purely in the show, which I personally find works in its favour due to its character-driven nature.

Anyway, let us move onto S2 and how it too shows their bond, and we start off with Five insisting that Elliot search for sound waves as he tries to prevent a second apocalypse via the Cold War, given Vanya’s sound manipulation power. Does that explicitly show their bond at all? Granted, no, but what happens later on when Five manages to find Vanya does—he finds her in a cornfield and gives her a rather soft smile as he introduces himself as her brother. He then proceeds to inform her (over a cup of coffee) of what happened in S1, but notably pauses and swallows when she asks what caused the apocalypse. He then states, “Asteroid impact,” and omits her role entirely, because he cares enough to not want to hurt her, which exists in contrast to how he acts around every other member of their so-called family, i.e. constantly insulting them and threatening to harm them.

This is also seen in how Five firmly insists they "need to stick together," and how he would, most likely, blink into the car when Vanya plans to drive away from him if it were anyone else, but instead takes a breath and knocks on the window to get her attention. It may be because she’s a bomb that he doesn’t want to set off, but given his behaviour around her even in S1 before she’s revealed to have powers, we get to know that he is and always has been patient with her, and impatient with everyone else. He even mumbles to himself later on about how "she'll come around. I know she will."

Also noteworthy is how his old body self learns from Luther that Vanya is the reason for the apocalypse, and in response to this news, all he does is shrug and say, “Fair enough.” It is remarkable how the very thing that he obsessed over for decades upon decades in the apocalypse is set aside with a simple acknowledgement of its cause being his closest adopted sibling.

(Another thing that I find most intriguing is how in the comics, Five’s calculations to return to his timeline and escape the apocalypse are not, in fact, bungled when he finally attempts to jump again. He realises through Dolores that he “forgot to subtract the two from the one” and only fails in his goal when the Temps Aeternalis pulls him out of the time stream against his will. In contrast, the show has Five arguing with his old body self, and the apparent solution to his calculations is a misplaced decimal point—“It’s 0.57, not 5.7!” which may be me reading into it too much, again, but if not, then an argument can be made that Five and Vanya (Number Seven) are meant to work together and stay together, instead of being placed apart due to circumstances beyond their control.)

Moving onto S3, there is the same issue as present in S1 wherein Five and Viktor rarely get to talk to one another. The only instances of their relationship coming into play are when Five runs back to ensure Vanya/Viktor is okay when they’re being attacked by the Sparrows, the easy acceptance of Viktor changing his name and beginning to transition, and of course, the talk they have near the end of the season. The talk in which Five is caring and vulnerable enough in his lecturing about powerful people and ants to tell Viktor, “If you ever need anything, I’m always here for you. But lie to us again... Viktor, I’ll kill you myself.”

There is, too, the fact that they share a long look at the end of the season before walking off in different directions, yet again separated instead of going off together.

The trailer for S4 revealed that this time, Ben is the cause of the end of the world, and it seems the show is gearing up to explore the Jennifer Incident and Ben’s death in detail (which, alongside the Sparrow Academy, the comics have yet to touch upon fully). While I am aware this show emphasizes that this so-called family is stronger together than apart, and I don’t mean to undermine their marketing with this essay, I do find this message does not yet work unless every member of the Academy is willing to work together and stay connected. Obviously, this includes Five and Viktor especially, seeing as Five set out to save the world from the apocalypse at the beginning of the show, and Viktor was the cause then and continues to cause problems for everyone.

In conclusion, I (most likely falsely) believe that the show is pointing at a resolution for its “oh no the world is ending” plot that torments each season via the full reconciliation of Five and Vanya/Viktor’s bond and that ultimately, these two teaming up and properly communicating with each other will be the way to get to a timeline where the world doesn’t end for once and happy lives can be had for all.

If you’ve read all of this, I thank you for sitting through it. If you disagree with it, that's totally fair, and I welcome you to keep scrolling and ignore this post entirely.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part seven

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary:  you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of death, drinking, flashbacks/ptsd

Word Count: ~6k 

A/N: we’re starting to pick up a bit now! some time skips

series masterlist 

Seven days in the castle. You enjoyed breakfasts with Aelin and whatever members of her court were around, evenings with Fenrys and co, more chances to interact with Ceri and her friends, free time to try and figure out your damn way around the city, but you were going crazy. Surrounded by people at all times, even if they were kind, exhausted you. 

As much as you tried, there wasn’t a truly private place in this castle. Maybe it was paranoia, but you knew someone could always be watching - there could always be eyes. 

But, there was a pattern. Halle would be on edge if someone was nearby, if there were prying ears, and she only fell into a deep sleep if it was the two of you - or if it seemed private enough. You trusted her judgment. The judgment of a cat. Then again, she wasn’t an ordinary cat. 

She had her own kind of magic. That’s a secret you decided to keep as long as possible. Even if magic was freely accepted here, her kind could easily make her a target. 

For gods sake she was buddies with fleetfoot. Aelin had been worried in the beginning, but her dog bounded right up to Halle. 

Fleetfoot sniffed, tilted her head, and licked Halle’s face. The cat didn’t hiss or swipe, instead headbutting her. 

Aelin gave you an incredulous look. 

“She’s never met a dog.” 

“Fleetfoot usually doesn’t make friends with cats,” Aelin turned back towards the duo, “you’re special Halle.” A small purr, and yellow eyes stared right at her, as if to say; ‘obviously.’ 

Aelin snorted and shook her head, ‘if Fleetfoot’s on her side, nobody should bother her.” 

‘I’d like to see them try,’ the small hiss said. Seemed to say, you corrected yourself. The two of you couldn’t communicate, but it was easy enough to read her expressions. 

One hand holding up your book, she rested in your lap. Rowan was in the room, sitting across from you, just having finished up Ceri’s bedtime story for the day. Another change over the last week, you’d gotten comfortable being in a room alone with them. Not that it had been necessarily uncomfortable in the past, but you shed some of the fear of perception. If people read into it too much, that was on them. You knew your relationship with them, you knew you were only platonic. Those who paid attention would know that too. 

-

 “There’s something .. off about that cat,” Rowan commented. He’d discreetly observed the two of you over the edge of a few reports he brought with him, intending to finish them as he waited for Ceri to fall asleep. There was only one left, and he figured he might as well get it done now. Abraxos’s story was requested again, and he didn’t have anything new to say. Like hell he’d write to Manon and ask. There would be a set of meetings and a ball hosted in Orynth the week after Beltane, and hopefully he could convince her not to ask during that. He didn’t know the witch well enough to tell how she’d react. Maybe she’d find it amusing, as far as he remembers witches were always protective of young ones. The nations of Erilea, and sometimes contingents from other countries, met once every two years, and it was Orynth’s turn to host this year. It would be interesting, convincing you to attend alongside Ceri. 

Yellow eyes peeked up, Halle’s fur standing up, as if she’d heard the insult and taken it personally. 

“Be nice,” you whispered, running your fingers through her fur. The little demon settled instantly, purring on your lap. There was definitely something off about that cat. Almost like it had purposefully found you. Ceri had seemed a bit put out that the cat liked you more than her. But, with your animal form it was to be expected. He’d never tell you this, not yet at least, but there was a small betting pool running for which form your daughter would take. Avian, or feline. 

On their visit to Antica, he’d met some of the baast cats in the library of the Torre Cesme. More he thought about it, he’d never actually seen your animal form. 

“Can you … talk to her?” 

“Obviously,” you grinned, “I just told her to be nice.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes, you knew what he meant. 

“As a cat,” he drawled, raising a brow at you. 

“Why would I spill our secrets to you?” 

“So you can?” He knows cats communicate with each other in some way, Gods know birds do. Not that he’d ever tell Aelin that, she’d be relentless. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t shifted around her yet.”

“When was the last time you shifted?” 

“Probably too long,” you absentmindedly stroked the little creature. Who looked asleep, but Rowan got the inkling she was faking it. 

Initially, there was a slight fear you’d bring a shifter with you, but he realized quickly you would’ve caught on to that. Above all, he trusted you and your judgment. Rowan trusted you’d never do anything to endanger Ceri, but recognized you’d easily throw yourself into any kind of danger if it meant protecting her. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much you’d sacrificed for her … how much you’d sacrificed for Ceri, and something about it didn’t sit right with him. 

-

Fenrys insisted on a house-warming party. You wanted to call it ridiculous, but you’d never had something like this before, and you gave into his badgering. It didn’t take too much effort on his part, but you let him annoy you about it a bit. That way he’d feel like he accomplished something. 

One month after you moved in, you finally hosted it. 

The party was small, and perfect. Rowan, Aelin, Fenrys, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, who came to surprise Ceri, a friend you’d made, and Ceri’s three closest friends. 

A bit of poking around, a few questions to Aedion, and you learned the three of them were orphans. A piece of your heart shattered. 

Edde and Edie, twins, and their cousin Elias. All Fae, all lived at the castle most of their lives - long enough they didn’t remember anything else. They all wanted to train as warriors, even though they were barely eleven. You and Fenrys, acting like gossiping mothers, had easily figured out why they attached themselves to Ceri. Fae recognize power, and something inside them would’ve drawn them to that wild magic. Ceri was powerful, there was no denying that. Reaching her father’s levels, and maybe passing it one day. Sensing that type of power was right up your alley. 

Fenrys pressed a mug of, you looked down into the cup, catching a drift of the sweet honey - mead, into your hands. You took it with a grateful grin. As much as you loved wine, mead was your favorite. But, it was expensive and sometimes difficult to find. Instead of chugging it, you let yourself savor every drop. 

Ines sidled up next to you as Fenrys walked away. All it took was a drunk night together for you to count her as one of your closest friends. She was in a similar situation to you, a daughter - but her father lived quite a distance away. In Eyllwe. She would spend winters down there, and summers up here. You were excited to meet her. A few years younger than Ceri, but you had an inkling she would take her under her wing. Only time would tell if your daughter was a good or bad influence. 

“You have a beautiful home,” she sighed, swirling her glass in one hand. Halle weaved around your feet, the little kitten had been growing, and fast. She’d been circling the house the entire time, judging all of the new visitors. For some reason, you got the impression she was assessing if they were worthy of being in their presence. A meow. The connection the two of you shared is not something to ponder right now. 

“Yours is just as pretty,” you countered. And it was - an elegant townhouse in the middle of the city. 

She hummed, and emptied her glass, nudging you with her elbow. “So, you and … Fenrys?” She hesitated, forcing herself not to put his title in front of his name. He hated that. 

“Friends,” you nudged her back. “And that's it,” you hoped you emphasized the last word enough. 

“I’m wounded,” the male said, before switching his gaze to Ines. “But yes, we are just friends.” 

Where had he come from? Either way, you were glad he came and backed you up. Otherwise, she may never have believed you.

Rowan, Aelin, and the others were currently being treated to prime entertainment by the four hellions. Probably just for the night, the cousins had shed their shy skin for the night, now re-enacting … some sort of game they played earlier. Evangeline was just as taken with the others as she’d been with Ani, and you watched how they already were latching onto her like an older sister. 

Another small pain in your chest, one another sip of mead washed away for the night. 

Now was as good of a time as any to pull out a little creation you’d been working on. Gods, you’d started this project nearly a year ago, and just now you’d finally gotten it right. 

-

Rowan watched as you quickly slipped out of the room, and debated following you. But, you returned quickly. A type of crystal now in your hand. Round, with a flat bottom, and … no, it was glass, encasing several different kinds of crystals, all carefully arranged to form symbols. And it swirled with magic, practically a beacon to anyone who knew what to look for. Apparently, it attracted his wife because she was at your side within moments, peering down at it curiously. 

“It can only play one long track,” you admitted. 

A track? Music? 

Placing it on a table, he watched as your eyes focused on it, fingers pressing against the glass. Normally you could do these types of things with just a thought, but maybe this one needed touch to work. 

Sure enough, a tune started playing through the room, and caught everyone’s attention. You turned red, the attention flustering you, but you quietly explained what it did. It captures and plays back music. Only one long track, this one about four hours before it would repeat. You’ve only made the one. 

The last statement, your left thumb and forefinger pressed together. One of your tells, you lied. Interesting. Something he could ask about later. Calling you out on bullshit was always amusing to him, as long as it was relatively harmless, of course.

“Took me over a year to get right,” he heard you tell Aelin. 

The music was from Antica - he knew that much. 

Aelin caught his eye, no dancing, he said quickly - anticipating her next question. 

A large sigh and roll of her eyes, but she turned back to you instead. 

-

The party went well, as well as you could’ve predicted. By eight, it began to split up. The three “E’s,” as they’d been nicknamed that night, and Evangeline would spend the night. There was plenty of room, and you liked a full house. 

Rowan, Aelin, and Fenrys stuck around as the others left. Lysandra promised to get your drunk friend home in one piece. Now, you all splayed out on the couches. Fenrys shared one with you, your legs currently thrown over his lap as you stretched out. One hand rested on your shin, and the other propped up behind his head. The portrait of casual arrogance. 

“This was fun,” you commented, stealing a glance at Aelin and Rowan. Their positions nearly mirrored your own, Aelin stretched out like a cat on the other couch, but with Rowan’s hand resting on the inside of her knee. 

“Oh absolutely. We should do it again.” 

“I do not want to move houses anytime soon,” you groaned. 

Fenrys poked you, “not every party has to be a housewarming one.” He caught your ankle as you brought your leg back to try and kick him. “Slow,” he tutted, and you rolled your eyes, accepting the failure. 

It’s true, the alcohol and fatigue was delaying all of your reactions. 

“A question, for you, y/n,” the look in his eyes promised trouble. 

“Oh no.” 

-

“Find anyone to warm your bed this winter?” Fenrys teased. That comment caught Aelin and Rowan’s attention. Rowan was proud you managed to land a kick on him, even if he didn’t react, he fought the urge to glare at Fenrys. “Ines is quite pretty,” he added.  

“It’s none of your business,” you rolled your eyes, “but no, I haven’t, and Ines is just a friend, with no interest in women or females.” Rowan shouldn’t have felt that relieved, the relief flew out the window with what she said next. “I suppose it’s never too late.” 

“That’s more like it,” Fenrys grinned - ignoring Aelin’s frown. He tried very hard to keep his face neutral. 

“I don’t think I’ll get involved with anyone until Ceri’s a bit more grown up. At least seriously.” 

“You’re really going to be single for that long?” Fenrys countered. 

“We’re immortal,” she huffed. “Can we not talk about this?” If Rowan didn’t know better, he’d think you were avoiding looking at the two of them. Actually, looking anywhere but at them. 

“I’m trying to be helpful. You look like you need a good fuck.” 

“Fenrys. Shut. Up,” Aelin looked ready to throw a fiery dagger at him, and he only shrugged. 

“Just pointing out the obvious.” 

Even if a very drunk Aelin, who didn’t remember it the next day, admitted she really liked you, you were off-limits. Painfully off-limits, and not shown a hint of interest in them. He’d settle for - no, it wasn’t settling if there was no interest there on his end. He’d be your friend. Rowan liked being your friend. Friends were good, and friends was safe. The last thing he needed was for this to get messy. 

-

“There’s going to be a ball, around beltane,” Aelin commented casually, carefully watching your reaction. 

“Do we need to go dress shopping for Ceri?” 

“For you and Ceri.” You paled, and she heard your heartbeat quicken. Your mouth parted, before closing again. Of all the things to make you speechless, it was this. “We’d like for both of you to come,” she added gently. 

“Who … who will be there?” 

“Every two years, the countries on Erilea meet for meetings. Sometimes countries too, and there’s always a ball. Music, food, dancing.” 

Your entire arm began to shake. She held on tightly to your hand, felt your palm beginning to sweat. Your eyes glazed, and Aelin began to panic. The door swung open, revealing Rowan. He looked between the two of you, and crossed the room. Slowly, he knelt in front of you, taking your hand, disentangling Aelin’s fingers from yours. He called your name, over and over again. 

“You’re in Terrasen. You’re in Orynth.” 

“What triggered it?” He met Aelin’s eyes, not releasing his grip on your hands. 

“I asked about the ball.” 

Rowan swore lightly under his breath. 

You were still shaking, eyes still glazed over, lips starting to turn blue. He gathered both of your hands in one, the other gripping your chin, squeezing enough so your lips parted. She felt his magic swirling, forcing air into your lungs. 

You jolted, as if you were transported back to your body. Rowan hadn’t released his grip on your hands, and good thing because you looked ready to swing at him. Shaking, but eyes now clear, you looked around the room, studied their faces. 

“I should go,” you murmured. 

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re feeling better.” 

Narrowed eyes stared at Rowan, and he stared right back. You didn’t argue, perhaps sensing this was a fight you wouldn’t win. 

She felt the instincts flaring in him, in herself, the instinct to protect someone they claimed as their own. Friend or other, if someone was defenseless, vulnerable … it was normal amongst Fae to feel this. She had before for friends, but maybe not to this level. 

-

“It happened once, when we were together,” Rowan said, after you’d fallen asleep - curled up right on their couch. Your eyes started drooping, falling quickly into sleep, and Rowan showed no inclination of wanting to move you back to your rooms, instead they carefully arranged you into a more comfortable position, tucking a blanket over you. 

Like before, you weren’t able to give a solid reason why. He’d ask again tomorrow, and maybe things would be a bit clearer for you. 

Rowan knew this happened before, and he was running through the circumstances, trying to pick out similarities. 

“A friend invited me to a ball,” you commented absentmindedly. He knew you weren’t fishing for jealousy, you were just bringing up something going on in your life - something on your mind. 

“Oh?” Rowan ran his hand up and down your bare back. “Are you going?” 

“I’m not sure. I’m not the best person to bring to those.” 

Rowan doubted that, and called it. “Bullshit.” 

He felt more than saw your scowl. “I don’t like them.” 

“That’s better,” he teased. “Why?” 

“Bad memories.” 

That peaked his interest. You rarely mentioned the past, and he always wanted to know more - maybe because of that, you were somewhat of a mystery. “Want to share?” He asked. You froze. 

The only similarities were the ball. 

Rowan cursed under his breath as you shook in your sleep. 

-

A ball! It was magical, and beautiful. Males and females dressed up, and your mother had made you a pretty blue dress for it. Everyone’s attention was on your father, but you didn’t mind - it gave you time to observe everyone. 

You were still thinking about it as you all trotted up towards your house, still in Fae form. You’d set off too early in your opinion, but it was smart to travel by daylight. You were glad you’re old enough to travel in Fae form. Carriages were much less fun.

You still carried your pack on your back as you shifted back, dumping it in your bedroom before hurrying back for breakfast. The dagger you got for your birthday was still strapped to your thigh, but you didn’t mind now. 

Their faces were grave, and your mother crouched before you, gripping your shoulders. “I need you to run for the hills. Leave, do not look back.” 

“But -,” looking out the window - the wards were strong, but hundreds and hundreds of soldiers were quickly descending, as if they’d been hiding and waiting for your return. It was easy enough to sense out who they were. Mortal soldiers, without magic. “I can help,” you insisted. 

“If you die too,” the first tears left your cheeks, “then they win. Do you understand?” 

You shook your head. 

“They want to kill us, to kill your father and wipe our bloodline. To wipe our magic out.” 

Her eyes said; you’re the only hope, you’re our legacy.

A few more convincing words from both of your parents, and you ran for the hills. As soon as you tried to turn back, the wards were melded around you. To keep you away from any threats. 

Absolutely useless, but you forced yourself to watch as it happened. As they finally fell, as their heads were staked on the fence posts. The soldiers remained, but you could out wait them. You could memorize their faces, memorize the way they spoke, commit it to memory and find your vengeance one day. 

“Terrasen,” a familiar voice interrupted, “You’re in Orynth.” 

“Safe,” another said. Female. 

A memory, that’s what it was. You weren’t trapped in that moment, you could come back to the present. There was nothing holding you here, not now. 

“Good,” the male voice coaxed as your body relaxed, as you leaned into the sensations around you. Blanket, hands gripping yours, pine, snow, jasmine, and lemon verbena, the feeling of ancient magic - of fire, ice, wind, and a hint of water. Eventually, you managed to open your eyes. 

“I need you to tell us where you went,” Rowan said, even adding, “please, y/n.” 

How often had he said your names? How often does he say please? Words were effort, but when he asked so nicely, you could share. Trust, you reminded yourself. The small thread, a sign of the Goddess who watched over you, tugged and encouraged you. 

“The night before my parents died,” your voice was hoarse, your throat aching - like something dry had been shoved down it. “We were at a ball. We arrived home that morning, and they were waiting for us. Surrounded.” 

“When your parents died?” Aelin asked quietly. 

It hurt, gods it hurt so fucking much, but you told her the story - as much as you could manage, and she listened intently. Thankfully, there was no pity in her eyes - understanding, instead. That was much more palpable. 

-

Rowan thought he experienced the same thing as Aelin. When you shared the story about the dagger, but this time it was directed towards him. The entire time you shared, your eyes never drifted from him. 

A show of trust to him, and he’d take that gift and hold it close. Your trust was difficult to earn, and relatively easy to break. He’d treat it with caution, like he would any treasure. 

He was glad Aelin didn’t give away that he’d already told her the story. His wife was a good actress, and it shoved. The small bit of trust you showed him made him feel like a hypocrite. At the time, telling Aelin about your past felt essential, but now it resembled something of a betrayal. 

-

“How are you going to explain my presence?” 

Rowan and Aelin exchanged a glance, one that told you they’d already discussed this. Not surprising. 

“Even without the ball,” he emphasized, “we considered asking if you’d like to be an advisor to the court.” He held up a hand as your lips parted, and damn you, your mouth shut on instinct. At least he didn’t seem to gloat about it. “The wards around Orynth could use another look, and you have unique skills and expertise.” 

They actually value your opinion, you reminded yourself.  

“You swear it, without the ball you still would’ve?” You’re not sure why, but it really mattered to you. 

“I swear it.” 

Rowan’s promises are as good as gold when it comes to him, so you gave your agreement. Then started to plan what you’d do about the castle and city wards. Of course, you’d already had time to think about it. 

The ball would occur a week after beltane this year, when the last of the snow was predicted to abate, making travel tolerable.  

Time passed quicker than you thought was possible. Ceri turned eleven, her birthday falling on the spring equinox this year. As her present, you let her pick out her chickens, and you and Rowan teamed up to start teaching her how to shift. An argument wouldn’t be right, but you did have a few disagreements over teaching styles. At least Aelin was on your side for that. 

Then, it was beltane. Early that morning, you and Ceri went out to leave some gifts for the little folk at the crosspaths near your home. She’d spent a good portion of the previous day helping you craft them. Surprisingly patient and focused. Maypoles had been raised, hawthorn bushes decorated, and piles of wood gathering on the field before the city, waiting to be set alight. 

You didn’t walk out with the Queen and King, by the time you arrived the fires were already burning. Ceri’s friends had come over before, for an early dinner, and now trailed together in a small pack. 

“You know your signal?” You murmured to your daughter. A burst of magic, one to let you know if she needed you, with three different levels of urgency. 

“Yes,” she grinned up at you. Ceri was quite proud of herself for mastering that - as she should be. 

“Go on, then.” 

The four raced off, weaving in and out of the fires, brief flashes of silver hair were like a beacon. Heads would turn as she passed, followed by small whispers. Ceri had adapted easily to those, thrilled by the attention, it was you that needed adjustment. Needed to stop giving a death stare to anyone who watched a few seconds too long.  

Fenrys found you first, hanging out towards the edge of the fires, fully content to observe and watch. 

He was not content with that, instead he dragged you right into the heart of the celebrations. 

Thankfully, Aelin and Rowan didn’t try to drag you into anything. It was a time for the people to speak with their Queen and King, and you had plenty of exposure to the pair. 

“How did you escape doing all of that?” You jerked your chin towards where they were speaking with another group. 

“I came early,” he shot you a grin. His attention wavered, and you knew exactly who was making her way across the field. 

Ines, all auburn hair, freckled skin, and bright green eyes, strode for both of you - cheeks already flushed. You didn’t miss how her heart rate picked up when she spotted who was next to you. 

“Do I need to give you two a moment?” You murmured under your breath. 

“We’ve had plenty of those.” 

You groaned. Suspicion is fine, but you didn’t need confirmation. 

Ines gripped your hand, “we’re jumping over one of them,” she announced, “for luck.” 

“I know what it’s for,” you let her drag you anyway. When was the last time you’d done this? Maybe the year before Ceri was born. 

Picking a medium low fire, the two of you gathered your skirts in one hand, still holding onto each other, and kicked your shoes away. 

“One,” She grinned at you. 

“Two,” you shot one back at her, eyes lighting up. 

“Three.” 

With surprising coordination, you both launched yourself over. Heat skimmed the bottom of your bare feet, but you made it over without any burns. Ines, thankfully, did as well. 

Laughing, arms wrapped around each other, it took you longer than you cared to admit to locate your shoes again. 

-

Rowan watched you jump over the fire with your friend, his mouth turning up at the corners. 

Of course, you had to pretend you didn’t know each other, but you’d been at the same beltane celebration before, and he had the pleasure of watching you jump over fires. At least you remembered to hold your skirts up. He had to suffocate the flames last time. 

Aelin tapped his shoulder, “I’d give her a seven out of ten.” 

A genuine laugh left him, and she wound her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder. He never took these moments, these reminders of the peace they fought for. 

Neither did everyone gathered around them. 

-

The celebration lasted into early hours of the morning, and it was near three when the fires finally died down. You’d trusted Evangeline to escort Ceri and her friends back to the castle, and mentally prepared yourself to head home. There were plenty others flooding through the streets, so it shouldn’t be any issue. 

Somehow, you found yourself roped into going into the castle. Fenrys informed you that their Majesty and Highness wanted to see you, and him - of course. Aedion and Lysandra joined you - a few bottles of wine each, Rowan and Aelin coming shortly after. Gods, you could drink, but northerners were on another level. 

-

“Stay the night,” Aelin insisted. “There’s no need for you to traipse through the streets after dark.”

“Are you certain?” 

“Yes,” Rowan huffed, like it was ridiculous you were asking for confirmation. It really was, they wouldn’t have offered if they didn’t mean it. 

This was nice. Aelin never took these nights for granted. The beltane celebrations, seeing her people at peace, out and enjoying the traditions squashed by Adarlan for a decade. She loved that you were here now, that you’d been brought into their lives. Now, she could count you as one of the people closest to her, and gods she hoped you felt the same. 

They might not have convinced you to live in the castle, but having you spend a few nights here - she’d take it over nothing. Just having you in Orynth was heaven. 

Aelin decided the little bit of wine she had could explain these thoughts. Very inappropriate thoughts about you, about the mother of her mate’s child. She hated herself for reducing you to that, rejected the thought as soon as it drifted inside her mind. You were more than just a mother, even if you didn’t always see it that way. 

A foot nudged her leg, tracking her back to the present. 

“You’re staring,” Rowan murmured. You were caught up in conversation with Aedion, but Fenrys kept shooting Aelin wary looks. She didn’t bother trying to stare him down, only looking at Rowan, her eyes saying; sorry. 

Why? 

She’s very pretty, came out. She hadn’t had enough wine to blame these thoughts on. These were the thoughts of sober Aelin, just flowing more freely this time. 

His eyebrows flicked up in amusement, I’m aware. 

Right, he did put a baby in her. The thought didn’t make Aelin jealous, she almost wished she was there … 

“It’s so weird when the two of you do that,” Aedion’s voice cut her off. 

“Deal with it,” Rowan growled, before turning back to her. You should do something about that little crush of yours. 

Maybe I will. 

-

Rowan cut off the wine after another bottle, all but kicking Fenrys, Aedion, and Lysandra out. It was nearing five in the morning now, and even with nothing planned in the morning, it was getting late. Besides, he and Aelin wanted you in here - alone with them. When you rose to leave, Aelin grabbed onto your hand, tugging you back down. 

“Stay a while,” she insisted, squeezing your hand. Rowan carefully monitored your every reaction. Aelin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into her side like she usually did. He didn’t think it was entirely romantic on your part, at least that you knew, but he saw how you practically purred with the touch, how much you loved it - acted like you needed it. Everything was going to plan. 

-

Aelin pulled away, and you frowned - instantly missing the warmth of her body. But, her hand trailed up your arm, stopping to cup your jaw. When you didn’t pull away, she wound another arm around your waist, tugging you closer, her eyes scanning your face. 

“Fuck it,” she muttered, and her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers. 

At first, you froze. But when she didn’t stop, you followed her lead, falling into her rhythm for a few moments before reality caught up to you. With a gasp, you pulled away from her. 

She had a hungry look in her eyes, watching like she was waiting for a moment to pounce again, to take you back and claim you. No, no, no. You found Rowan’s eyes, an apology right on your lips, but a shake of his head stopped you as he stood, crossing the room to sit on your other side. His finger pressed against your cheek, turning you to face him. Even as he had your attention, he didn’t move his hand, only sliding it to cup your jaw. An intimate touch. Aelin’s arm was still wrapped around your waist. 

“Are you going to deny her, deny Aelin, what she wants?” This question felt like a trap. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Rowan’s eyes lit with amusement - and something else, something familiar. Familiar enough it terrified you. 

Aelin twisted you, now so you faced Rowan, her other hand twining itself in your hair, tilting your head to the side. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing up the side. Your head fell, granting her more access, a small whimper slipping past your lips. She didn’t bite, but nipped at the skin - right where your neck met your shoulder. Did she know how significant that was? Apparently so, because she chuckled behind you. 

She was purposefully holding you here. Keeping you where you’d lock eyes with Rowan, where he could watch the two of you. His knuckle grazed your cheekbone, a small ‘this is fine,’ and cemented it with a small nod. 

That was all you needed, before you twisted back around, letting Aelin’s lips meet your own. 

-

Aelin decided, first, that she’s very glad she did something about her ‘little crush.’ Next, she decided you were a fantastic kisser, and she needed to figure out how to repeat this experience. Preferably as often as possible. 

When you finally pulled away, desperately sucking in air, she took the chance to glance at Rowan. 

She’s good. His brows flicked, but he didn’t comment. Isn’t this the part where it’s your turn?

Aelin ran her thumb over your lips, keeping your attention on her while she waited for Rowan’s response. 

What do you think? She hadn’t heard him this unsure in a while. It was rather endearing, to see him caught off guard. 

Aelin looked back down to you - to your puffy lips and bright eyes, and lowered her voice. “Rowan wants to kiss you,” she said, and watched for your reaction. First, your eyes widened, and then you glanced over your shoulder quickly, before turning back to her. You wanted her permission. Maybe for her to make the choice for you. Something Aelin could easily do. 

“Are you going to deny him?” She teased, copying Rowan’s earlier words. A snort from behind her, but sure enough you were pulled away. Even Rowan had limits to his patience. 

Watching the two of you, how his hand gripped the back of your head, the other cupping your jaw, your arms hesitantly resting on his shoulders, Aelin realized she might be something of a voyeur. At least with the two of you. 

He took control, tilting your head exactly where he wanted you, and you easily followed. Seamlessly, effortlessly. Aelin felt like she was viewing a memory, something from deep in the past, and didn’t find herself jealous. 

You pulled away, “I think… I think that’s all I can handle for tonight.” 

Lips bruised, hair messed, and cheeks flushed, Aelin wanted to keep you here, but she wouldn’t push. 

-

Rowan ended up walking you back to your rooms, taking a step inside before closing the door gently. 

He gripped both of your shoulders, making sure your eyes were on him. “Don’t overthink it.” 

“Easier said than done.”

Arms wrapped around you, tugging you right into a hard and warm chest. Easily, you wrapped your arms around him. This was familiar, this was safe. 

“We both wanted it,” he rubbed circles into your back. Maybe he sensed you needed reassurance. 

“Let me guess, you made a plan?” You joked. 

Rowan didn’t answer, and you tilted your head to look up at him. He had an unapologetic grin on his face. Eyes rolling, a laugh came from your chest. Brushing hair away from your face, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Don’t run away in the morning,” he said and you dropped your arms. Taking a step back, keeping his eyes on you, he gripped the doorknob. Another smile, and he slipped out the door. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you called down the hallway. 

-

Thirty minutes later, you paced inside of your rooms, the haze fading, and traced your finger over your now bruised and puffy lips. Had that really happened? Had you imagined it? 

Definitely not. 

Are you going to deny her? Are you going to deny him?

Oh fuck. 

Bracing your hands on the counter, you took a deep breath before looking in the mirror. Facing you, was a female with flushed cheeks, messed hair, bruised lips, and a glow. A female who looked free. 

It’s a shame freedom has its costs, because this couldn’t happen again. 

taglist: @holb32 @fussel9913 @moonlightttfae @cassianswh0reeee, @reidishh 

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 8

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

Following the council meeting and Norm's reassignment, the two of you are enjoying a quiet evening together when a single question threatens to dredge up a whirlwind of emotions.

Part 1 Here. Part 6 Here Part 12 Here

Part 2 Here Part 7 Here

Part 3 Here Part 9 Here

Part 4 Here Part 10 Here

Part 5 Here Part 11 Here

Norm was convinced you thought he was a lunatic. 

 One minute, the two of you were relaxing on the sofa. Norm‘s head resting against your lap while you read. The occasional brush of your fingers through his hair threatens to lull him to sleep. The next, he found himself unable to stop ranting and raving, all because of a simple question. How did everything go today? The book you were reading was long since discarded to the side as you gave him your full attention. He went on detailing the events of his day, from his “reassignment” at the council meeting to his first interaction with the raiders locked in the vault reading room. You didn’t interrupt, though he wasn’t sure he could have stopped even if you had. His frustrations with the council and whatever happened in the Vaults were not subtle. Norm always appreciated the candor you two shared when it came to communication. Still, he couldn’t help feeling some unease divulging all of these feelings, unsure of how you’d respond. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, putting his hand on his forehead and moving to sit upright. “Seeing how we treated them today, with food and kindness, just sent me over the edge.” Nothing about this situation with the Raiders felt right to him. Four square meals a day and a soft bed weren’t exactly punishment; how was no one else seeing it? 

“Cause it feels like the opposite of justice…” you validated after listening to everything he had to say about his punishment from the council and the situation he experienced with the Raiders. 

“Yes,” his tone laced with utmost seriousness. “We watched people commit some of the most heinous acts we could imagine, and now we’re expected to be the bigger person and move on?” 

You felt the weight of the shared resentment settles between you, the reality of the situation pressing heavily on your shoulders. Memories of recent events resurfaced with a vengeance, emotions that had been buried away over the last few days trying to escape. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the feelings of pain and anger were already seeping out uncontrolled. 

“For god’s sake, I had to kill a man with a pipe wrench the other day, and the council just wants to…” you stopped short, your words hanging before you like a poison in the air. You had avoided saying it out loud since that night, hopeful it would help you forget having to come to terms with the actions you took. 

Norm’s eyes widened with surprise. You had implied what had happened after the two of you were separated down Vault 32’s corridor, but he never pressed you for details you weren’t ready to share. He figured you were still processing your actions from the night of the raid but taking another life to save your own- a decision forced on you because of someone else's actions. He knew this was your nightmare scenario. Of course, you both had been reeling this entire time; how had he not noticed until now? He copied your gesture from the days before, offering his hand and intertwining it with yours with a squeeze. You took another deep breath, your eyes locking with Norm’s, raw with shared pain and anger. 

“You shouldn’t have been there alone, and I’ll always hate that part of myself for that.” 

“Don’t, you know full well how rushing into that situation would have gone. We’re here now.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against Norm’s, a gesture of solidarity and unspoken promise. “We’ll get through this, Norm. One step at a time, together.”

The two of you continued this way throughout the evening, seamlessly shifting between playful banter and serious discussions. There were moments of shared laughter and tears, with deep emotions surfacing. As the hours passed, you both gradually moved from the couch to sprawling across the living room floor. Norm ended up lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, while you found a comfortable spot on your stomach.

“Your turn,” Norm says, encouraging another round of the question game you’ve been playing.

“Hmmm, if you could go back to before and experience one thing, what would it be?”

“Come on,” Norm groans, “there’s no point in...”

“Oh, please. At least try to be a little fun,” you tease.

He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.” He couldn’t help but give in to you. Norm ponders for a minute. “Maybe getting to experience an arcade or comic shop in their heyday, the way they’re portrayed in movies at least. Atomic Command on the Pip-Boy is only so entertaining; something new would be fun. Plus a day to do something I enjoy, with no obligations, maybe meet people who like the same things as me. What about you?”

“The national parks,” you answer immediately, without needing to think. “All of them, any one of them, wouldn’t matter. Even just sitting there to experience them with all my senses, that would be my day,” you say, conjuring up images from the picture books you read as a kid.” It’s heartbreaking seeing how we just squandered... never mind, we don’t need to end tonight on a sour note.”

Norm nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Yeah, well, at least we’ve got these moments now. I guess that counts for something.”

You smile, feeling a sense of connection. “Yeah, it really does.”  You stretch and move to stand while announcing, “It’s getting late; I should probably head out.”

“I’ll walk you you back.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you gush, heading out the door. Norm laughs. “I think that’s a sentiment only you and my mom would share.” 

“Well, your mom and I have excellent taste,” you reply with a wink. “Aside from your wit and charm, you’re incredibly thoughtful and caring, Norm. One of the many reasons I enjoy spending time with you.”

He grins a hint of bashfulness in his eyes. “Thanks. You know, you’re pretty amazing yourself. You have this way of making even the simplest moments feel special.”

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. “That means a lot, Norm.” 

As you both reach the door of your living quarters, you turn to face Norm, a smile resting on your lips.

“Well, here we are,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” Norm replies, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Can I... can I kiss you?”

Your heart flutters at his question. “I’d like that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Norm steps closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Seeing none, he gently cups your face with his hands and leans in. The world seems to slow down as his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It's soft and sweet, filled with the promise of more shared moments.

As you pull back, you both smile, your foreheads resting against each other for the second time this evening. “That was nice,” you say, your voice filled with warmth.

“Yeah, it was,” Norm agrees, his eyes shining with happiness. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Norm,” you reply, feeling a contented glow as you watch him walk away. 

—------------------------

Norm is lost in thought, walking home with a faint smile on his face. He rounds the corner of the hallway leading back to his living quarters and nearly collides with Betty Pearson.

“Whoa, Norm! Didn’t see you there,” Betty exclaims, steadying herself.

“Sorry, Betty,” Norm replies, snapping back to reality. “I didn’t see you either.”

She raises an eyebrow and glances at her Pip-Boy. “It’s pretty late to be out for a walk, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I was just, uh, walking a friend home,” Norm says, trying to sound casual as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks.

Betty’s eyes narrow slightly, a knowing look crossing her face. “I’ve noticed you and (Y/N)  have been spending quite a bit of time together lately.”

Norm shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to reveal too much. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out. She’s good company.”

Betty smiles, but there’s a hint of something more in her expression. “That’s nice to hear. It’s important to find good company these days. Just remember, people are always watching. It’s easy to lose track of time when you’re with someone special.”

“Thanks, Betty. I’ll keep that in mind,” Norm replies, feeling a bit uneasy as he continues down the hallway, Betty’s words lingering in his mind.

[newtonsheffield]

Awww I love author Anthony! When does Kate find out he carries that photo around? Can we get a snippet of that night it was taken?

Let’s see Kate’s point of view

She’s not even really sure how she ended up here. They’d been in the pub, surrounded by their friends with empty glasses strewn on the table around them and Anthony had scoffed.

“Oh, of course you think Frankenstein is trash. Of course you do!”

Kate raised her eyebrows while the rest of the table groaned.

“No! No, we’re having a nice night! Please don’t start arguing.”

Kate smiled and leaned across the table at Anthony, his stupid handsome face making something flutter in her chest. “Convince me, Bridgerton. Convince me that Victor Frankenstein isn’t a complete dickhead who got in over his head.”

“If you don’t understand the metaphor for the fact that we are eventually all brought down by our own hubris, then I can’t explain it to you, Sharma. You’re hopeless.”

“Sounds like you’re scared to convince me. Almost like you… know you can’t.”

His laughter was so beautiful. She hated how nice that sound was. Warm and happy. He ran his hair through his already messy hair. “Katie Kat I could convince you to do so many things.”

God, she wanted him to. She’d thought they’d never be friends the first time they met, and she definitely didn’t think she’d be where she is now, with her heart fluttering in her chest every time she saw him. And she didn’t think when he looked at her through his lashes, a lit cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling between him that she’d say yes so easily.

“I thought you were giving up smoking.”

Anthony sighed, looking wistfully at it, “I know, I know. You hate smokers. I just miss the smell when I’m a few pints deep. Makes me feel like a tortured artist.” He stamped it out on the side of the bin, tossing the cigarette in the ashtray unsmoked. “Are you heading somewhere?”

Kate raised her eyebrows, “Just… back to my dorm.”

Anthony nodded, stepping closer and putting his hands in his pockets, the scarf his mum had made him for Christmas wrapped around his neck. “Are you actually up for a friendly literary debate back at mine?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Their breath had frosting in the air between them as they made their way back to his flat, laughing and giggling about one thing or another. And here they were now.

Kate had pulled off her boots and their coats were abandoned on the floor by the kitchen, empty bottles between them as they sat on the rug in front of the fire, the only light in the room. Anthony’s wire rimmed glasses slid down his nose as he shook his head.

“You are ridiculous!”

“I’m not ridiculous! Angus, Thongs, and full frontal Snogging is a fucking great book for its demographic! I still love that book!”

“I am… obsessed with this confidence.” Anthony grinned, “I’m obsessed with you.”

He doesn’t mean it like that. Kate sighed to herself, taking another long drag from her drink. He would make a move if he wanted to. He’s slept with a quarter of the girls on our course.

“Oh and what were you reading at 12? Were you composing a modern version of Beowulf?”

Anthony flushed, “There was some epic poetry involved, yes.”

Kate laughed, ruffling his hair, “You’re so stupid.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“If you’re so obsessed with me,” She snatched his brother’s Polaroid camera off the coffee table, “Take a picture so it’ll last longer.”

Anthony rolled his eyes at the challenge, “Well strike a pose for me then. Something worth capturing, please madam.”

She waited for the flash and the square of film to shoot out the bottom of the camera and their body’s swayed closer as she peered down at it. “Fuck, you better put that in your wallet, Bridgerton. A memento of this glorious night when we got along. When I looked pretty as hell”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Come on, you’re always fucking beautiful. You know that.”

She could sense the shift in the air. She felt her breath caught in her chest and she was suddenly too aware of how close her body was to his and the heat of the fire radiating between them. She was too aware of how easy it would be for him to close the distance between them, tilt her chin up and claim her lips for himself.

“Do I know that?”

“You should.” His eyes flicked down to her lips and his teeth bit his own, seconds slipping by. “I’m… having a nice time with you.”

“Yeah me too.”

Anthony took a shuddering breath and leaned backwards, slapping his hands against his thighs before he stood, his feet slipping on the floor in his socks. “Another drink while you prepare you Wuthering heights is the worst arguments?”

“Yeah.” Kate cleared her throat, hoping the firelight would distract from her own embarrassment as she pushed it down, “And I know you hate it too so don’t pretend!”

“Maybe I just want to hear your arguments!”

“You’re such a glutton for punishment.”

“Remind me to never bloody let you read my manuscript.”

“No promises there.”