#but i think sometimes he gets cast as well he had a late start in comparison | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supernovafics · 1 year

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𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: college!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k words

summary: in which a plethora of coincidences keep pushing you and steve toward each other and you kind of hate it

warnings: slight!fuckboy steve, explicit language, angst, some fluff

author’s note: hope y’all enjoy<3333 (full folklore series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You didn’t know his name, but you saw him almost everywhere.

Actually, you did know his name, Steve, but you didn’t really know him.

What you did know was that he had been a shitty group partner to have last semester for a history class, and that he had an on-again/off-again, more so off-again, relationship with your roommate who you had a polite but surface-level friendship with. He also frequented the diner you worked at a few minutes off campus with his basketball friends and dates; and you couldn’t help but notice that it was always a different girl each time.

Even though there were a bunch of opportunities for something to happen between you two, you’d never had an actual conversation with him. Not that you necessarily wanted to. But, after having the plethora of instances where you could’ve talked to one another, it sometimes surprised you that you didn’t at least have some sort of a friendship with this guy you’d see way too often.

You chalked it up to the fact that even though you two would share passing glances every so often with one another, you’d never been in a one-on-one situation with him.

Until you finally were, and it was in perhaps one of the worst and weirdest ways possible.

You were walking down a random aisle on the fourth floor of the campus library when you bumped into Steve. Well, “bumped” is a bit of an understatement because you quite literally tripped over him.

For some reason, he was sleeping in the middle of the aisle, and you didn’t notice until it was too late since your eyes were solely trained on the shelves as you searched for one book in particular.

“Jesus Christ,” You yelped as you tumbled to the ground, glad that your brain thought quick enough to put your hands out so that you didn’t completely faceplant.

When you looked at what caused you to fall and saw Steve leaning against a bookshelf with his legs out, you inwardly groaned because, of course, it was him.

“Ouch,” He said with a small yawn as he rubbed the leg that you tripped over. “Weird wake-up call.”

“Why the hell are you sleeping here?” You asked as you started to get up.

“I was trying to study for a test and then I got tired,” He shrugged and then finally looked at you. “Hey, you look crazy familiar.”

You almost laughed at that and thought about simply walking away from him, but decided against it. The universe clearly wanted you two to have a conversation with one another, so you decided to finally give it what it wanted.

“We were in the same group for a history project last semester,” You answered.

“Oh yeah,” He said and his eyes cast downward. “Sorry about that. I know I was probably the worst person in that group.”

“Very, very true,” You nodded, although you were no longer upset about that whole situation. Not that you were ever truly mad, anyway. “Also, you had, or maybe still have, some sort of fling going on with my roommate. Lissa.”

“That is definitely a past tense thing,” He responded with so much certainty that you silently wondered what happened between them. You weren’t close enough with Lissa to talk to her about that sort of thing, though.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere else though, too,” Steve said and then thought for a moment. “Oh, you work at that diner, right?”

“Yup, mostly weekends but some weeknights too.”

Steve nodded at your words. “Huh, surprised we never talked before.”

You didn’t tell him that you had been thinking the same thing and instead decided to sit down across from him putting your legs out as well. “What class are you studying for?”

“Psychology,” He answered and then showed you the textbook next to him, which looked eerily familiar.

“With Dr. Brooke?”

Steve nodded and you fought the urge to look around to see if you were on some sort of elaborate prank show. Because it didn’t fully make sense to you how all of these fucking coincidences were happening.

“I’m in that class too,” You responded after a brief stint of silence.

In this case, it kind of made sense that you didn’t know he was also in that class because it was huge, with at least a hundred fifty people in that auditorium-type room.

“Wow,” Steve verbalized the surprise you were inwardly feeling. “Weird.”

You couldn’t help but finally let out a small laugh. “‘Wow’ and ‘weird’ are probably the understatements of the century.” You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them. “I think we kind of have to be friends now. These coincidences are too fucking insane to not be.”

He smiled at you and there was something about it that made you fully understand why he so easily had a new girl to bring to the diner every week.

“What if I take you on a date?”

A part of you immediately felt surprised by his question and how abrupt it was. However, the other part of you sort of saw it coming because it made a little bit of sense. Case in point, the fact that you would frequently see him with a new girl. Asking someone out was probably equivalent to breathing for him.

“No,” You answered simply before standing up.

You didn’t notice the immediate confused look on his face as he followed suit and abruptly stood as well.

“Why not?”

There were a lot of reasons you could’ve given him as the answer to that question. Such as how he’d been with your roommate, and although you weren’t best friends with Lissa, something about it still felt at least a little wrong. Or the fact that the thought of being added to his list of conquests made you feel physically ill.

“I’d just rather not,” You ultimately answered with a small shrug and then started walking away. You quickly pushed away your lingering thought that told you that if the circumstances were different you would’ve fully considered saying yes to him.

Steve didn’t follow you as you walked away. Instead, the wheels in his brain started turning as he thought about how he could get you to go out with him, something told him that you would be harder to get than the majority of girls he’d been with before.

However, he never shied away from a challenge. In fact, there was a part of him that loved them.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs. were there clues i didn't see?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow through the hordes of people, Steve managed to find you the next day in your shared psychology class, and he sat right next to you.

“Hi, friend,” You said when you noticed him and smiled.

Before he could say anything in response, class started and the professor started speaking, almost immediately jumping into the lecture; and he was very intense about his no talking policy. As you half-listened to him discuss the final chapter that would be on the test next week and tried to take somewhat useful notes, you were interrupted by Steve bumping your elbow with his and sliding his notebook over to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the action before you read what was written in the margin.

Do you like pizza?

You almost laughed at the randomness of the question. You met his curious gaze for a brief moment and then wrote your response.

Obviously. I’m not a psycho

You pushed the notebook back to Steve and then went back to paying attention to the lecture. Moments later, he slid it back toward you.

Wanna get some tonight? I know a really good place a few minutes off campus

If it’s just a friendly hangout then yes

No. Date?

You rolled your eyes at the question and moved the notebook back toward him without saying anything. You could see in your peripheral that he was adding something else before pushing the notebook to you.

Please?

You crossed out that question and his previous words, and then under it drew a tic-tac-toe board, putting an X in the middle.

You watched as Steve made his move, an O in the top left corner, and then wrote something else.

If I win, will you say yes?

Your one worded response was immediate.

No.

And then you made your move, putting an X under his O.

He didn’t write anything else, which you were actually surprised about, and instead just continued playing tic-tac-toe. You won the first game, and then he won the next two, and you were close to starting another one with him, because you wanted to redeem yourself, but you forced yourself to listen to the end of the lecture.

“So pizza date tonight? I’ll pick you up at 8?” Steve asked when class was over, and the both of you started packing your things.

You laughed a bit. “I think we have very different memories of the conversation that just took place in your notebook.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you were glad when he was bombarded by a few of his basketball friends. You used that opportunity to slip away and out of the room without having to say anything else to him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“gave me the blues and then purple pink skies. and it's cool, baby, with me.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Surprisingly enough, when Friday night rolled around, Steve showed up at the diner alone; for the first time probably ever.

You didn’t say anything to him aside from giving him a small wave, which he returned with a smile.

You weren’t the waitress taking care of him that night, and you could tell that Casey, who you worked with most nights, was also surprised to see him by himself because just like you, she was used to seeing him with girl after girl.

Toward the end of your shift, you slid into Steve’s booth, sitting across from him. “You’re probably bored out of your mind being here alone, aren’t you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly and then took a bite from one of the few stray fries left on his plate. “I’d rather be alone if it’s not gonna be you sitting across from me.”

You pretended as if his words had no affect on you, even though they slightly pulled at your heart. You had to remind yourself of his track record, most of which you’d seen firsthand. And because of that, you also reminded yourself that you could only be friends with him.

“Very smooth,” You said and then slid back out of the booth. “But, also probably the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the truth.” You heard him say as you walked away, and you couldn’t help but smile as you rolled your eyes.

Barely ten minutes later, he went up to where you stood behind the counter putting napkins in a dispenser. His bill was paid and you had expected him to leave at any moment, and you hated that the thought of him leaving made you feel a little bit sad.

“What time are you done here?”

You met his gaze. “In exactly five minutes, actually.”

“Can we do something after?” He asked and when you tilted your head at him, he followed up with, “I promise I only have the friendliest of intentions.”

“I finally brought you to the friendship side?”

“No, but for this instance, yes.”

That managed to make you smile a bit. “Can we go to that pizza place you were talking about? If they’re still open?”

“Yeah, it is. They close at three because the stoner crowd usually shows up around one and that’s peak business.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “I don’t drive, so I’ll meet you at your car.”

A confused look crossed Steve’s face. “You don’t drive? How do you get here?”

“I walk from my dorm, it’s only about ten minutes,” You answered with a small shrug.

“Oh, okay,” He responded, and didn't say it aloud to you, but he now knew that he would make it his mission to pick you up at the end of your shifts so that you wouldn’t have to walk alone in the dark anymore. “I’ll meet you outside.”

When you stepped out of the diner, a minute earlier than expected, you were quick to get in Steve’s car.

“Do you have a sweater or something I could wear? I left my jacket at home,” You asked, not really thinking too much of the question because you hated wearing the baby blue dress that was your uniform anywhere other than the diner.

Steve reached into the backseat and handed you a hoodie, which you immediately slipped over your head. The hoodie swallowed you whole and made it look as if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, but it felt so comfortable that you couldn’t even bring yourself to care.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“hell was the journey but it brought me heaven.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked when you both finally decided to leave the pizza place around two in the morning. He had walked you to the passenger side of his car, but before you opened the door to get inside, you turned around to face him and you didn’t say anything as you met his eyes, which was what prompted his previous question.

There was a lot that you were thinking right then, and most of the thoughts surrounded the fact that you had thoroughly enjoyed yourself on this “non-date” with Steve. He was genuinely nice and funny, and such a fucking charmer that it made you want to roll your eyes while giggling at his words. And he was being honest about keeping things friendly for the most part, although you had a feeling that not being a least a little flirty was impossible for him.

And it was all of that put together, that made one thought sit heavily at the forefront of your mind.

“I think I wanna kiss you,” You finally answered, and you were surprisingly not scared by your complete honesty.

He smiled at that and his hands found your hips as he moved the tiniest bit closer to you and his next two words came out softly. “Do it.”

You had to pull your eyes away from his because you were so close to listening to him.

“I can’t.” Your voice was quiet.

“Why not?”

“Because I really just want us to be friends.”

“We can still just be friends even if you kiss me right now,” Steve told you, and although you were unsure if you fully believed him, you still decided to take his word for it and you pushed yourself up on your toes a bit to press your lips against his.

You could tell he was initially surprised by the abruptness of it, but he kissed you back almost immediately. Your arms came up to wind around the nape of his neck to steady yourself as your back was pressed into the side of the car.

It felt almost surreal how much better this was than you thought it would be. Your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this was already something that had happened a million times before.

You expected to be able to kiss Steve once as a way to sort of get the attraction you felt toward him out of your system so that you could then let things become completely normal and solely friendly between you two. But, right then– with his lips against yours, and one hand on your waist and the other cupping your cheek– you were hit with the sudden thought that you would need this to happen so many more times.

You didn’t necessarily want to pull away from Steve at that moment, but you had to because you were completely out of breath.

“That was— That was really good.” Your lips were still tingly as you licked them and you felt slightly light-headed, but in a good way, if that was possible.

Steve pressed a chaste kiss against your cheek. “You sure you wanna still be just friends?”

That was the question that you now were unsure of the answer to.

However, a small “yes” was what you responded with after what felt like a year’s worth of silence, and you could hear exactly how unconvincing you sounded.

Steve nodded and you could tell that he was pretending to believe you. “Okay.”

He was about to finally pull away from you, but you stopped him. “What if…What if we are just friends, but we can kiss and maybe do other things,” Your mouth was moving much quicker than your mind could fully process the words you were saying. And you weren’t entirely sure how you felt about what you were proposing, but most of it seemed really good to you. “But, you shouldn’t date people, and I won’t either.”

“Okay,” Steve responded, smiling amusingly at your words. “But, this is starting to sound a lot different from a friendship.”

“Shh,” You said as you slotted your lips against his again. You knew how all of that sounded, but it made you feel a little better about the situation you were putting yourself in because you convinced yourself that you couldn’t get hurt this way. And aside from kissing Steve, not getting hurt was all that really mattered to you right then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“one single thread of gold tied me to you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #joe keery x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut

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aboxofcereales · 8 months

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Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.

Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.

Last update - 10 April 2024.

Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's in fact 24 & Neutral Good. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.

Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 35 & True Neutral. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.

Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command.According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she' 48 & Lawful Neutral. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.

Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's 30 & Chaotic Good. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.

Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 & Lawful Evil. Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.

Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 263, which doesnt seem right, & Neutral Evil. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.

Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.

#bg3 spoilers #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #wyll ravengard #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #laezel #astarion #karlach #gods I’ll be adding stuff up.#I have so many thoughts #another reason to love wyll - HE BASICALLY TELLS YOU HOW OLD IS HE UNLIKE OTHERS #expt halsin

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songbirdseung · 8 months

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sleeping / en- maknae line 🤍

sunoo

Heeseung tiptoed into the living room, careful not to make a sound. The dim glow of the table lamp cast a warm, golden hue across the room, revealing the peaceful scene before him. There, sprawled across the couch, was Sunoo fast asleep. What caught Heeseung off guard, however, was the sight of you curled up beside him.

You had been visiting for the weekend, and it seemed like a late-night movie marathon had taken its toll on both of you. Sunoo was now snuggled up with you, his head resting on your shoulder and a content smile playing on his lips while he's sleeping. As if he was having a dream with you in it.

Heeseung couldn't help but smile at the sight. Sunoo and you had been dating for a while now, and the relationship was a heartwarming blend of laughter and affection. As Heeseung approached the couch, he noticed you were still awake, your eyes fixed on Sunoo's sleeping face, fingers gently brushing through his hair.

"Hey," Heeseung whispered, causing you to jump slightly.

"Oh, Heeseung," You whispered back, eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and relief. "You scared me. I thought you were asleep."

Heeseung shook his head, chuckling softly. "Nah, I was just in the kitchen. I wanted to grab a snack, but I didn't want to disturb you two. You guys look adorable together."

You blushed, your cheeks taking on a faint rosy hue. "Thank you," you murmured. "I can't help but watch him sleep sometimes. He's just so peaceful."

Heeseung nodded in understanding. "I get it. He's a bundle of energy during the day, but he looks like an angel when he's asleep."

Jungwon

After a long and exhausting day at school, you finally return home, feeling drained both physically and mentally. The weight of your backpack feels heavier with each step you take, and all you can think about is getting into your comfortable pajamas and starting your nightly routine.

As you quietly enter your bedroom, you're startled by an unexpected sight. There, peacefully asleep on your bed, lies your boyfriend Jungwon. His usually vibrant and energetic self is now peacefully nestled under your cozy blankets, looking completely worn out. You can't help but smile at the surprise.

You tiptoe closer to your bed, careful not to wake him. Gently, you reach out and tuck the stray strands of hair away from his peaceful face, admiring the way his eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks.

With the utmost care, you pull the covers up to his shoulders, making sure he's snug and comfortable. A small, contented sigh escapes his lips, and you can't help but find it endearing.

You decide to go the extra mile to make sure he's comfortable. You fetch a glass of water and place it on your bedside table, just within his reach when he wakes up.

Before you leave him to rest, you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Sleep well, my love," you whisper, your voice full of tenderness. Jungwon shifts slightly but remains blissfully asleep.

With that, you finally go about your nightly routine. You change into your comfiest pajamas, wash your face, and start winding down from the busy day. You can't help but glance back at Jungwon from time to time, feeling grateful for his surprise visit.

Ni-Ki

"Y/N, are you sure I can't sleep on the couch?" Ni-ki asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"Ni-ki, you don't have to sleep on the couch. I promise the bed is big enough for both of us. Besides, I'd rather have you here with me."

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The idea of sharing a bed made his heart race, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. "Are you sure it's okay? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You reached out and gently took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Ni-ki, it's more than okay. I want you here with me. We can sleep comfortably together."

Ni-ki finally relented, a grateful smile crossing his face. "Alright, if you're sure."

You led him to your bedroom, where the soft glow of a bedside lamp filled the room with a warm and cozy ambiance. The two of you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed. As you settled under the covers, Ni-ki lay down hesitantly on his side of the bed.

But as the minutes passed, you noticed him shifting uncomfortably. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his adorable shyness. "Ni-ki," you whispered, "you don't have to be so far away. Come closer if you want."

His eyes met yours, and he seemed relieved by your words. Slowly, he edged closer until he was lying beside you, his arm tentatively draping over your waist. You could feel the tension in his body start to ease as he got used to the idea of sharing the bed.

As you both settled in, the warmth of his presence next to you was comforting. You turned to face him, and he met your gaze with a soft, affectionate smile. Without a word, he snuggled closer, his head resting on your shoulder, and you wrapped your arm around him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #jungwon #sunoo #ni_ki #riki #yang jungwon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #enha maknae line #niki #niki x reader

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newfallstrangeleaves · 9 months

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Yandere in the Apocalypse Nightly visit

M!Yandere X F!reader. Warnings: Stalking, NSFW, masterbastion, dub-con, giving a hand-job while asleep. (Please tell me if I missed something) Summary: You have a yandere following you around in a end of the world. He sneaks into where you sleep and getts a little too bold and end up using your hand to get off.

The world we used to know has officially ended, survival has become dire as monsters lurk around every corner. But do you know what else lurks just around the corner? Your very own yandere!

Aaron, who has been following you and your group for some time now. Mostly to make sure that you are well taken care of. That you get enough food and that danger doesn't get too close to you. If he deems it necessary he will leave some food for you and he will take out undetected creatures so you never have to face them. All happening without your knowledge, but he is there, hiding in the shadows.

He stays close just for the reason to see you, to hear you and sometimes if he is really lucky, feel you.

It was late, way past midnight and the young boy that Aaron never seemed to remember the name of had just fallen asleep on watch duty. Aaron couldn't decide whether he disliked the boy for being so irresponsible or like him for giving him such a wonderful opportunity.

The apartment that your group has decided to rest in is dusty and things scattered everywhere. Some of the windows have been left open or just chattered, either way it makes an easy entrance.

Aaron climbs into what he thinks must have been someone's gamer room. In one corner stands the desk, trashed and broken and the floor has multiple crushed computer screens. He makes sure not to step on any of the plastic or the glass pieces, to make as little noise as possible.

The rush he feels as he makes his way through the apartment. He is so close he can hear breathing and snores coming from just around the corner. He can practically feel his blood pumping through his veins.

You and your group have all gathered in what used to be the living room. Dragged in mattresses and pillows, just anything that could make a fairly good sleeping situation. All of you knocked out on the floor or on the sofa. Over at the window sits the boy with his head resting on his hands softly snoring.

But Aaron couldn't really blame him for his recklessness. All of you have had a rough couple of days. Forced to leave the area you were in with no food or water. With more than just the monsters out there to fear, all of you have been lacking sleep.

Aaron too has started to feel the exhaustion of the circumstances. But he can't sleep tonight. Not when the boy is sleeping on duty, anything could happen. And the extra adrenaline he feels sneaking in to see you is enough to keep him awake if only for now.

He takes a few quiet and quick steps over a few legs to reach you. As he moves closer he can feel excitement bubble up in his chest, he will get to see you up close for once. Not from a bush, behind a recycling bin or up a tree.

He stops right above your body, his towering over you cast a shadow in the moonlit night. He stands there for a moment taking in the scene. You look so peaceful, the worry that has been glued to your face these couple of days is gone. For the moment at least.

He lays down, positioning himself in between you and a friend of yours. He lays on his side, prompting up his head on his elbow. You two are so close your noses are barely touching. He brings up a hand and gently strokes your cheek. Never has he felt anything so soft and when you sigh in your sleep it takes everything inside him not to make a sound or to grab hold of you, kiss you, take you with him…

But a part of him knows that you would fear, maybe even hate him, if he did and he can't handle that. It's better to stick to the plan, infiltrate the group and take them out one by one until it's only you two left. In a world like this murder is easy to cover up.

All he has to do is wait for the right moment to swoop in. Save the day and make you fall just as hard in love with him as he has to you.

But that might take some time.

So tonight he allows his thumb to swipe over your lips. They are slightly parted and he can feel your soft breath. He wonders what they would feel like, what it would be like to kiss you. How he would hold on to you, hold you close. Then when your shirt rides up he will worm his way under your shirt and bra. Cup your boobs, he would be gentle, just to feel how warm and soft they are.

What sounds would you make when he lets his hands wander?

As the thoughts of you are tainting his mind he can feel something stir awake. He contemplates for a moment whether now is the right time to do something about it. But you look so cute and he has had a hard time lately. He deserves some relief.

He removes his hand from your face and places it on top of his pants, he palms himself a few times through his jeans before he undoes them and pulls out his aching cock. He has gone far too long without time to touch himself and to do it now, in your presence, feels like heaven.

He imagines how your soft hand would replace his, how you would move up and down his length…

He lays down on his back and takes a few ragged breaths as he can feel his cock throbbing. He looks over at you, deep asleep. Exhausted from the day. Not even a bomb would wake you.

Perhaps it's the lust that is clouding his mind, or the excitement but tonight he feels bold. Everything has gone well so far. Why shouldn't he enjoy himself?

So he carefully grabs your arm and pulls it closer to him.

"Please baby. Just this once." He whispers as he wraps your limp hand around his length. He places his hand around yours, squeezing it in place.

He bites down on his lower lip so hard he almost draws blood. All to make sure he stays quiet. His face is contorted in pain as if touching him would set his whole body on fire.

Though he is leaking pre cum, it's not wet enough. So he brings one of his hands to his mouth and spits in his hand. Then he carefully rubs it in the palm of yours. He uses your hand to spread the saliva and the pre cum mixture all over his cock.

He takes a grounding breath before he runs your hand up and down on his length. The pace is slow. Sweat is trickling down his brow as his hips move in sync with your pumping. It takes everything inside of him not to bust too quickly. He wants to savor this moment. He may not know when he will get the chance again.

It's when you let out a faint sigh in your sleep he can't hold it back anymore.

He once more bites down on his lip and swallows a loud moan as he cums. Positions his load on the floor tho he would have preferred elsewhere, cuming on you might raise suspicion when you wake up.

“You don't know how much I love you and how much it hurts that you don't know that I am here. But I am.” He whispers. “You know, I keep telling myself that one day we will share a moment like this, but I can't wait. It takes so long. I hate seeing you with them and not me. Everyday I see you, I wish you would see me too.”

A snore and movement from the otherside in the room brings him back to reality.

“I should go before anyone wakes up and notices I am here.” He tells you with a sigh.

He fixes his pants and then moves your hand up to his mouth. Carefully he licks up the mess he made on you. Sucking your fingers one by one. You start to stir in your sleep. His licking must be tickling your palm and he smiles at your cute motions.

Then he stands back up. Though he is feeling not entirely satisfied over the encounter, he is grateful for the time he got with you this time. It's just as much a reminder how you two are kept apart. He can already feel the jealousy he will have in the morning when one of these scums is the one to wake up by your side.

He casts a last glance at your sleeping form. He whispers an almost inaudible “Soon” before he just as quietly as he came is gone again.

Back down on the street he looks up at the window the boy sits at. He still hasn't moved. Aaron picks up a small rock and balances it in his hand before he throws it at the window. The boy jolts awake at the sound and as Aaron walks away he shakes his head.

"Bunch of lowlifes." He mutters before he disappears down an alley.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x you #post apocalyptic #male yandere

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repentarium · 9 months

Text

a waste of paint

read on ao3

“Just do your middle finger, Stevie, it’ll be, like, punk rock.”

“Right, because he is a beacon to anarchists all over the state of Indiana.” Max rolls her eyes, but Eddie is already tossing a tiny bottle to Steve. He tosses it back without looking at it.

“You’re being a real spoilsport.” Eddie tsks at him and walks on his knees to sit at Steve’s feet. After a brief tug of war, he’s got Steve’s left hand secured and is using his teeth to unscrew the top of the bottle.

“Waste of paint, man. I’m just gonna scrub it off.”

Eddie frowns at him smally, a tug down at the corners like he’s Thinking, like maybe he’s gonna shuffle back over to the girls, and Steve changes his mind with a sigh and shoves his hand closer to Eddie.

El and Max are still over near the coffee table. Max is painting something rich and blue onto El’s fingertips and they’re chatting casually. Steve thinks it’s important they have this, something a little normal. El’s hair has grown out some since spring break, enough that she’s clipped a piece of bright plastic into it to keep it from falling across her face. She gets these headaches sometimes, and Max has glasses to help with her vision and a walking cast still on her left leg, but they’re here and they’re okay and they’re painting their nails.

By the time he looks back down at Eddie, he’s finished a layer of golden yellow paint and his lips are pursed to blow gently across it. He looks up at him through his lashes and catches Steve looking back and smiles, and every part of Steve’s body is like electric-shock levels of tense.

And look, that’s normal , at least lately, at least for Steve. Normal to have to pull your eyes away from your pal, then look back as he starts painting again, the tip of his tongue poking at the corner of his lips just so in concentration.

All on the up and up, very above the board and even boring, maybe. A normal bodily reaction. Not a big deal. Cool as a cucumber.

He’s talked to Robin about it - well, he’s talked around it in Robin’s general direction, he hasn’t jumped off the diving board per se, which is fine because there’s nothing weird here. Anyway, he told Robin that he thought Eddie was really cool is what happened if you want to know the exact details, and Robin said ‘Yeah, I think so too!’. So that was like proof that it was normal, you know. Everyone thought Eddie was cool.

Steve is a liar. He is lying to himself. He does that sometimes, and he’s trying to get better about it, but it’s easier to not understand something than to dig into all the messy feelings. So the nail polish? He could have removed it, he maybe should have, but it’s like a physical something-or-other, and looking at it, or catching it on accident from the corner of his eye, gives him that same electric jolt he gets when he catches Eddie looking at him from across the room, or when he realizes the bell over the Family Video door ringing is actually heralding his loitering presence.

Anyway, he’s a liar, mostly to himself, mostly for convenience, but this whole nail polish thing is wrecking it, it’s making it harder and harder to lie about it, even in the comfort of his own thoughts.

He went on a few dates with Marie Thomas the summer before sophomore year, and she was like a vampire. She’d latch onto his throat and chew and it wasn’t like he wasn’t into it, but the real secret thrill was that he’d then catch the little bruises she left on his neck when he passed by the mirror. He hadn’t really thought he should cover it up, didn’t get why it was weird or whatever until Carol noticed on a Monday and started calling him a slut. He’d just liked that it was a physical and visual reminder that he had felt something, that he’d had a connection with another person. He liked pressing his thumb against a bruise and feeling the little bit of pain and he liked the way the purple bled out past the collar of his shirt as it healed. He and Marie didn’t last much into the school year, but he thought about the bruises sometimes.

So looking at the yellow of the polish on his finger for the next few days and feeling that same thrill, like some kind of weird neon sign that flashed and told him ‘Eddie was kneeling at your feet the other day, remember? He was looking up with big eyes through his bangs and blowing gently on your finger and he was real and it happened’ as if some sort of hot and heavy backseat-at-the-drive-in action happened when it was truly something boring in a room full of people in his mom’s living room?

It’s almost the same thing, really, and that feeling makes it harder to lie .

By the time the golden-sunshine-yellow paint is chipping off the tip of his finger, he’s spiraling into a real conundrum of truths. It’s a Wednesday, and he is late to pick up Robin for work because he honestly truthfully spent ten minutes looking at the fresh chip in his paint. He’d been wondering if that was Eddie’s little bottle, if he’d had yellow fingertips like this before, or if this was from the girls’ collection. He’d been wondering if, if he went to the trailer park, Eddie would give him a touch up. If he’d sit at his knees while he did, or if they’d sit across from each other on his bed at the new government trailer, legs crossed and hands held like highschool girls holding a seance.

It took the phone ringing to shake him out of it, Robin yelling at him for not being there yet.

So it was toeing into his shoes, snatching his keys off the counter, and speeding to Robin’s and then to open the store. Busy with his body but his brain still whirring around with honest-to-god honesty. He liked Eddie, sure, but he also likes Eddie, the way he’d liked Marie Thomas or Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls he’d gotten handsy with. Pants feelings.

And, maybe scarier, heart feelings. His terrible idiot of a heart whispers to him about how brave Eddie actually was and how kind he actually was and how good he actually was, how he treated the kids and how he nearly died to save the town that hated him and how he’d carefully held his hand and taken the time to do two coats of paint and to blow across the tip so that the sunny color looked Just Right and smooth even though Steve had (out of his mind, maybe) said he’d just wash it off. Like he’d been painting something special, maybe one of the tiny creatures for his game, instead of an ungrateful little jerk of a guy.

It all has him itchy, tapping one hand on the counter and staring at the other, the truthy yellow of it all, while Robin complains about the shitty movie she’d chosen to throw on the tv. He knows that she knows that he’s in his head about something, they basically share the same head, and he’s grateful she’s keeping it light and surface level so he can dwell and hiccup over all the sticky stuff.

The bell over the door rings, and Steve’s head snaps up (with hope, he recognizes the fluttery little wings of it and it’s like a carrier pigeon with a notarized message, the contents inside enough to make him gulp) and of course it’s Eddie, he’s always around, especially on Wednesdays when the store is at its emptiest. Steve swallows again when he sees him, forces out a ‘Hey, man!’ and holds his hands steady on the counter, palms to the glass.

Eddie looks good, of course he does, eyes and teeth bright and sparkling and his hair backlit by the late morning light so it’s like a halo. He’s fizzy with energy, like he always is, and he comes up to lean against the counter directly across from Steve. Close, like always. In Steve’s personal space, like always .

“Hey yourself, man .” Eddie smiles at him and raps his knuckles against the glass.

“Thank GOD you’re here, Munson, my brain is leaking out of my ears and Steve has been brooding and just so boring all morning.”

“Unfortunately, my dear Buckley, I’m on a mission today. I’ve gotta go out of town to get something for Wayne’s truck, so I can’t stay. Just wanted to check in with my adoring masses, a tough tour, you know how it is.” He raps again, and Steve’s eyes fall to their hands, Eddie’s rings clacking together and Steve’s sweaty palms pressed into the glass just an inch or so away. “Broody, huh? Run out of your fancy-boy hair gel?”

Eddie frowns with pomp and drama and tucks his head down to make Steve look into his eyes, and he’s looking through his lashes again, just like when he was painting his nails. It makes him clear his throat, and clear it again, and think about Marie’s bruise on his neck, wonder if Eddie would bruise him like that, if he would rather Steve mark him up, and then he’s looking at the long line of his neck and the way it slides into the curve of his shoulder before it disappears into the stretched-out collar of his once-black shirt. He clears his throat again , and then, as if Eddie can read his mind (God no, please), he looks down at Steve’s hand and taps at the nail polish.

“You need a touch-up, Stevie, that yellow is just falling apart. It’s called Sun Day, you know, that color. Two words: Sun Day.”

Steve hums at him and looks back at his hands again. Feels the ghost of the little tap he’d touched against his nail.

“ Anyway , my friends and fellow freaks, I am a little overdue on this old thing.” He struggles into some hidden pocket under the flannel tied around his waist, turning his shoulders enough that Steve feels like whatever spell he’d cast is maybe broken and he can breathe again.

He presses the plastic case onto the counter with what Steve just knows he thinks is his most winningest grin, but it only works because it’s created this silly stretched-out grimace that Steve finds charming, okay, it’s silly and it’s charming.

“Fine! Okay, fine, you got it, what fees?” Steve shakes his head at him, one hand finally lifting from the counter to run through his hair and the other finding home on his own hip. He hopes there isn’t some sort of sweaty mark on the counter but he can’t look to check without showing his cards.

“My everlasting thanks, sweet Stevie.” Eddie bows low and backs up a few steps, turns around as Robin says goodbye, taps the top of the door frame as he leaves and shoots a wink over his shoulder back at Steve. Steve stares too long, raises his hand in a wave after Eddie is already out of sight.

Robin is snapping up Eddie’s returned VHS to rewind it; you’d think with his friends cutting him so much slack with the rentals he’d be-kind-rewind them at least, but he never does, and the worst part is that Steve doesn’t even care. He’s fully complained to many a customer with his arms crossed pissily about rewinding their spoils, but for some reason Eddie’s disregard is just another Cool Thing about his Cool Guy Persona.

Something about that’s the final straw. When it crosses his mind, he crosses to the front of the store and flips the closed sign, locks the door, and turns off the display lights. By the time he’s turned around again, hands in his hair and his heart pounding in his throat, Robin is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t seem panicked, but Steve is starting to feel panicked, so he comes around the counter to lean next to Robin and then slides down to sit on the floor. It feels right. It feels even more right when Robin slides down the wall across from him and kicks her scuffed up Converse against his sneaker.

She’s quiet and watching him with big eyes. It’s uncanny.

He has a few false starts, big breaths and an open mouth before reeling in whatever he was going to say and snapping his jaw closed again.

Finally, after minutes of Robin just Looking and Steve floundering and feeling warm, he looks at his painted nail for courage and just spits it out.

“I like Eddie. Like I think I want to kiss him and hear about his day and touch his butt and stuff.”

“God,” says Robin, “of course you do. Have you seen the two of you dancing around each other? It’s like you pinball from middle school crush to old married couple and back again.”

Steve sputters. “You knew ? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like that wouldn’t have totally freaked you out. You had to figure it out in your own time.” Steve would bet she thinks she looks wise, but to him she just looks constipated.

“Well so. So what do I do? What now?” He’s chewing on the skin of his thumb, not the one who is neighbors with the Sun Day, he’s got enough presence of mind for that .

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighs in frustration and then his hands are tugging at his hair again, elbows balanced on his knees. “Is he even. Does he. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if he does ?”

“Breathe, Steve. He definitely likes you, he just thinks you’re straight ‘cause of, you know.” She gestures vaguely at him.

“So did I.”

“Yeah, uh. Are you, like, freaking out?”

“I… don’t know. It snuck up on me. I just. He painted my fingernail.” Steve flips Robin off to show off the sad and chipped polish.

“Yeah you showed me. Multiple times.” She has a pretty unimpressed expression on her face for someone who is supposed to be helping him. “ That’s what made you realize you liked his dork ass?”

“I mean, it was a series of things, I guess. I don’t know.” He’s looking at his silly fingernail again. “He’s really good. Like better than anyone maybe.”

Robin is gawking at him. “That’s not how you talk about girls, Steve. You haven’t mentioned his boobies like, at all.”

Steve groans and slides sideways to lay on the floor, sprawled out and looking at the cobwebs fighting to cover the overhead lights. Gross.

“I’m sure his boobies are lovely, Robs, I just… wanna spend time with him, and listen to his weird stories and his weird music and look at his eyes when he talks about all the things he likes. And. Maybe he’ll like me like that too, you know? Like maybe he’ll feel the same way one day and I’ll be able to look at him and just know .”

“Ew, you suck, Steve.” But her face when he looks is soft and caring.

“Should I like. Talk to him? No. I don’t even know if he’s. You know.”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him, but I wouldn’t encourage you to talk to him if I didn’t think he was safe. And also like completely obsessed with you. But even if he wasn’t! He’s a good guy and he’s a good friend, you know. He’s not gonna be weird about it.”

“Hmm.”

Robin puts a hand on his knee and shakes it side to side. “Look at us ! You basically said you loved me and I’m still here, and we’re even closer than ever.”

Steve frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. Eddie’s a good guy, that’s the whole point.

“I guess I’m gonna talk to him.” Even saying it out loud to Robin like this makes him nauseous, makes his pulse pound, but she smiles at him in encouragement.

“Yes! A great idea. You can turn on the old Harrington Charm, maybe-”

A pounding at the closed door and a muffled voice interrupts her. They both scramble to their feet, and Steve sees old Mrs. Burke pressing her face to the door, talking through the glass and shielding her eyes from the glare.

“Coming!” Robin yells and darts to the door, lets her in and flips everything to open again.

“You’re supposed to be open!” Mrs. Burke gripes.

Steve mutters a ‘yeah, yeah’ and lets Robin take over. He’s usually fed to the Mad Old Lady Wolves but Robin loves him and lets him go sit in the breakroom for five minutes while she helps her find whatever romantic comedy she needs so badly.

That means he gets to sit on the ratty old sofa and stare at the walls and wring his hands because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s as easy as flipping on some sort of charm switch. He’s got indigestion thinking about it, actually.

And okay, the whole ‘King Steve “the Hair” Harrington, Master of Charm and Suavity’ was… a little bit of a farce, actually. It worked for him, but from an outside perspective, especially lately? Let’s just say it’s a little lackluster. Nancy told him one time, giggling in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, that the reason he was charming was because he wasn’t charming, just sincere. That was after he successfully(?) charmed her with shotgunning the beer by the pool and before the big breakup, so that means something, right?

When the bell over the door rings again (Steve’s ears are trained to recognize it) he gets to barge out into the main room and say “Robin, do you really think I’m charming or are you joking?”

Luckily there’s no one in the store again, and he just finds Robin between the aisles pausing her restock to look at him with wide eyes.

“I’m being serious, I’m having a crisis.” he continues when she doesn’t immediately respond.

“Steve, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You’re a total dweeb.” It’s delivered with the gravitas of a doctor giving a horrible diagnosis, and it feels that way to Steve. “But!” she continues quickly when his face definitely flashes with the fall and the crash, “I have incredible news for you! I personally mean that as a term of endearment and, maybe even better, everyone you know is a dweeb, and ? Best of all? One Eddie Munson is maybe the biggest dweeb that’s ever existed”

Steve is still frowning. It’s kind of a lot to absorb, that the common perception of yourself is so… unsmooth.

“You’re very sweet, Steve, and everyone likes you. Well, mostly.” Robin stiffly pats his shoulder.

“Should I like, buy a leather jacket or something?”

“Steve it’s June. Also I don’t think you need to pull a Sandy Dee. Actually, please don’t. Just, you’ve got your whole… thing… and it’s maybe a little uptight? But it’s your thing ! You don’t wanna change for a person, you know, you’d tell me the same thing.”

“I want him to like me. Suddenly. Very badly.”

“That’s the nature of a crush, Steve-o. It’s evil.”

“I need to go lay down for a few days. Maybe this’ll blow over, like…” he thinks and snaps his fingers, “temporary insanity.”

“Oh, honey. It’s been a while I guess, what with the world always ending, but I don’t know if you can sleep this kinda thing off. You probably have to talk to him.”

He stands and stares and thinks while Robin putters around doing menial movie store tasks around him. It’s hard work, standing and staring and thinking, especially when he’s interrupted to take care of customers, so really it takes him the rest of the afternoon and all the way up through quitting time.

It’s like he blinks and he’s pulling into his driveway, no memory of dropping Robin off. He shakes himself and turns the engine off, stumbles up his steps and through the front doors with legs that feel asleep and a brain that’s still all fogged up.

It’s not even an Eddie is a boy and this makes him Different kind of freak out; that’s not it at all, he’s somehow leapt straight past that like hurdles in track and is standing facing a brick wall of but he’s Good and maybe you Don’t Deserve This .

Steve knows he’s a lot, see, and he falls hard and fast, and Eddie is fun and light and not weighed down with all the guilt and anxiety and bullshit Steve’s dealing with; Eddie has his band and his game and his friends and he’s going to community college and working part time at a garage in town and figuring his shit out. Steve is working at Family Video (still), floundering his 20s away with no hopes or dreams or friends older than teens, and he also almost got a significant percentage of them, including Eddie , killed. Very recently, actually.

Like Eddie is a glowing light and Steve is a cold dark box that puts lights out. Like he’s become his shitty, empty house.

He’s still standing in his dark entryway, breath kicking up into something that’s sure to be a real doozy of a panic attack, when there’s a firm and rhythmic knock at the front door. He eyes the bat leaning against the wall (in case of emergencies), then flicks on the lights and opens the doors to find Eddie standing there, arms weighed down with bags and a hand raised to knock again.

“Hey Stevie!”

“H-hey? Hey, Eddie! What’s, um. What’s going on?” He tries to channel coolness, suavity, leans against the wall next to the open door and doesn’t almost fall.

Eddie pushes past Steve without being invited in, typical behavior, and slides his wares onto the counter in the kitchen.

“I brought us a feast.”

“A feast?” Steve’s stomach grumbles, reminds him he skipped breakfast and lunch, only split marked-out snacks with Robin all day. “What’s the occasion?”

“Kinda you are.” Eddie is unloading takeout containers from what smells like some Italian place.

“I’m… confused.”

“Your birthday!”

“It’s definitely not my birthday, Eddie.”

“No, but we’re celebrating it today because I don’t know when it is.”

“That doesn’t make, like, any sense, man, my birthday was in April.”

“No, that’s perfect! I was probably recovering from the whole near-death then, so. Birthday.” He grins cheesily at him and Steve feels like all of his insides are scrambling to leave his body via a new pathway up his throat. “I hope you like pasta!”

“I love pasta.” Steve manages to mumble, and his feet move him towards Eddie on their own, his eyes snoop on their own, his hands pull out a stool on their own. It’s like he’s haunting his own body. Eddie is mumbling song lyrics and pulling out plates and dishing out pasta and salad like he belongs in his kitchen, like he’s more at home there than Steve has pretty much ever felt, and that combined with his day of Thinking and the snare of the stupid yellow polish on his nail that has him still feeling breathless when he says, watery and all in a jumble: “Eddie I think I really like you. Please don’t make fun of me.”

He feels the panic on his own face as he just pauses. He didn’t mean to just say that, and now Eddie’s stopped, still as hell and facing away from him, carton of breadsticks lowered to the counter. He tries to school his face (cool, suave) as Eddie slowly, so slowly, turns around and leans against the edge of the counter, as he crosses his arms in front of him, but he just knows he looks like he’s seen a ghost or like he’s on fire because he still kinda feels that way.

“You okay Stevie? You look a little. Well, you look a little freaked out.”

“I just, ah. I just mean.” He sinks fully into the stool, grateful it has a back to catch him because otherwise he’d end up on the floor for sure. His knees are basically on strike. He’s so warm. He keeps clearing his throat.

Eddie is still looking at him with worry making the line between his brows creep below his bangs. He turns again to run some water into a glass and slide it across the island to Steve, who grabs it and makes himself sip mostly for something to do with his hands. But now Eddie is leaning across the whole island, pushed up onto his toes for sure, pushing into Steve’s space just enough that he knows he’s blushing. It makes him feel ridiculous because this is just Eddie, his friend, one of his best friends. Eddie who, god bless him, has never had a firm grasp on personal space and it’s never really been an issue before right exactly now.

Steve’s talking into the glass and avoiding Eddie’s eyes when he says, “I mean. It’s. I don’t think. I just. You don’t have to say anything. I’m, like, working through something.”

“Hmm. Did you mean it, Steve?”

Steve gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, I mean. I do. Like you. Like more than a normal amount. And it’s okay if you don’t, and I’m sorry if that’s not…”

“Stevie, breathe.”

Steve can hear the chuckle in his voice and it finally makes him look up, which was a terrible idea, actually, because now he’s stuck again, caught on looking into Eddie’s stupid beautiful eyes as he laughs at him. “Please don’t laugh at me. This is. A lot.” Steve feels small and tiny and miniscule and he wants to go hide under the covers like when he was a kid and his parents were yelling.

“Sweetheart. I am not laughing at you.” Eddie’s voice is firm through the grin that’s still there, and he reaches out slowly like Steve is a startled horse and lightly - lightly - touches the side of his face. It’s like walking through a spider web in the park if the spider web was cotton candy instead. “Oh my god. Steve Harrington, you’re such a dweeb.”

“That’s what they say.”

Slowly, to keep from startling him any more, he’s sure, Eddie leans further across the island, hand still on Steve’s face, and presses a gentle, feather-soft kiss against his lips. It’s nothing, really, not even close to the kinds of kisses that led to hands or bruises, but it’s like fireworks catching on all his nerves and he can feel all his hair stand up. It’s like superpowers and swimming and drowning, and he knows a little about all that.

Before he can get his brain on the same channel, Eddie is pulling away with a soft pat to Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a very sad noise at the back of his throat and he knows he’s pouting but Eddie has turned away already, is humming again and grabbing plates and saying “Let’s eat some pasta, babe. I’m starving.”

He watches as Eddie grabs plates, balances a box of breadsticks on an arm, asks him to grab the Cokes. Steve grabs the bottles on autopilot, cracks the caps open on the counter the way his mother would kill him for, and follows Eddie into the living room where he’s seated on the sofa, plate in his lap and pasta in his mouth.

He’s got a numb almost-feeling as he clinks a Coke down in front of Eddie and takes his plate, sits stiffly. His brain is sloshing around as he eats his spaghetti.

“How are you normal?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his Coke bottle. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I just mean. I guess I don’t know what to think. Usually people say something when you say you, well. Say you have feelings for them. Or…”

Eddie puts all his things down on the coffee table, no coasters, and curls his legs up onto the couch.

“Stevie, I’m sittin’ right here with you. You don’t have to say or do anything, you know? I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can eat dinner, we can talk about it.” He shrugs a shoulder, totally not bothered.

They’re words, just words, and they shouldn’t strike him so hard, but his face feels warm and he still feels like his brain is spinning around, like he’s at sea. Eddie frowns at him. He seems to see how lost he is suddenly because in the next breath he’s taking everything away from Steve to put it next to his own stuff. He grabs his hands and tells him to breathe. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“You are freaking out. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just.”

“It’s okay not to be fine. I think you’ve given this all a little more thought than I thought.”

“I’m serious, I was serious. I even told Robin. I think I, well, I know… I like you a lot. Like in a way I don’t usually like guys.”

“Oh. Wow.” Eddie is looking at him, and now he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Hands gripped, seance-style. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, I kinda thought you were just trying to say I was your… pal.”

“So you kissed me on the lips.”

“Pals kiss! And okay, cards on the table I guess, I know I feel a certain way about you , that’s not news to me. I wanted to do that for years, since even before you saved my life. I just don’t exactly expect any kind of… reciprocity.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re not gonna look at me and see me the way I see you .” By the end of the sentence his voice has fallen to a whisper.

And, well. Now Eddie is looking away and blushing and Steve feels a little more balanced, feels like this is something he can participate in. Not so much confidence, but familiarity, a comfortable sweater. “It depends how you see me, I guess, but I’m a little obsessed with you.”

Eddie lets out a loud laugh in surprise and tries to pull his hands back but Steve flips them around so he’s grabbing Eddie’s hands and keeping them safe. It’s like holding small birds.

“No, stop. I mean it.” He’s picking up steam, pulling out the things he was turning over in his head all day. He mirrors Eddie, knees touching knees. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Robin’s tired of hearing about it. Being around you is easy, you make things easy, like it gets quiet even though you’re loud as hell.”

“Shut up, man.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like, joking with me right? Because that happened sometimes in the hallowed halls of Hawkins High and gotta tell ya, not a fan. I’m not a good fighter and I like you too much to wanna hit you but I would be very sad , and-”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke.”

“-like, I just wanted to bring you dinner because it looked like you were having a bad day and we all know how that goes, and this is all feeling very weird actually-”

“You were so cool a minute ago, it made me think I was losing it-”

“-maybe I got into a horrible car accident and died and this is like the last firing of my synapses or whatever.”

“-but this is actually more of an Eddie response. Is this okay?” Steve is ecstatic, actually, this is going so well, way better than he thought, and he can feel the smile on his face as he reels Eddie in closer to him, as he plans to redo that kiss in the kitchen.

“God, yes.” Eddie laughs, and then he shuts up as Steve presses his lips against his.

And okay, it’s more teeth than it should be, what with all the smiling, and it’s a little garlicky from the pasta, but it’s Good in the way that all first kisses are but it’s Better because it’s with Eddie.

By the time they get back to their pasta it’s cold but they’re still smiling and the little worried line between Eddie’s brows is gone completely.

They’re laughing as they eat, and they’re laughing as they clean up, and they’re laughing as Steve stops Eddie at the door to pull him into another kiss, and it’s easy .

When he goes to bed that night, he runs his thumb over the chipped yellow polish in the dark and he thinks wow, Robin was right , and he thinks oh no, Robin is going to be so annoying , but he falls asleep with a smile anyway. He has incredible dreams for a change, dreams where everything is all Sun Day Golden Yellow and cotton-candy-sweet and he has this dork of a guy next to him holding his hand.

It’s all pretty punk rock.

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i have been on several work trips and am in the process of moving so i have been s l a c k i n g, esp here and on my longer fics, but i haven't abandoned them! This is an older short lil story i edited and posted when i couldn't sleep

xoxo

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine

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milo-manheim-luver · 11 months

Text

Girls Weekend- Drew Starkey x Fem!reader

summary: in which reader has her high school best friends come and visit her new place in Charleston and they finally find about about her secret lover.

warnings: angst? lots of fluff, and a bit of implied sexual content/comments. ENJOY! 😽

A/N: i’m def basing the two besties off of my besties hehehe 🤭 also, i suck at writing so please be nice 😭 ps this is my first drew starkey fic so feedback is defs welcomed 🫶🏻

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it was a late tuesday night in the beach town of charleston, south carolina when Y/N phone had started to buzz lightly. she was curled up on the couch, lamp on, reading one of her boyfriends many books he had acquired throughout the years. she found a stopping point in her (drew’s) book and placed the marker in it, before picking her phone up. she had a few texts from the ‘hometown girlies’ groupchat, immediately smiling, at the thought of her lifelong best friends.

ophelia: hey luvs, so martha and i were thinking maybe we could fly out to see you and your new place sometime soon?

ophelia: like maybe make it a girls weekend?!

martha: we miss you so much! we haven’t seen you in almost a year!

martha: just let us know when would work best for you! <3 xoxo

Y/N: omg! hi my babes!

Y/N: miss you girlies so fucking much it hurts 😢

Y/N: let me look at my schedule real quick! i’ll get back to you in about 20!

“hey, babe, my girlfriends from back home wanna come out and visit sometime soon, like have a girls weekend. are you still going to your mom’s the first week of may?” Y/N asked her boyfriend, drew, who sat close beside her, book in one hand, and his other gently rubbing his thumb across her shin, as she had her legs laying across his lap.

“uh, i believe so, unless someone cancels. why? am i not allowed to be there for girls weekend? oh wait! is this like where girls spill their darkest secrets?” drew rambled on as he looked up from his book, now intrigued by Y/N question.

“well, it’s not that i don’t want you here. it’s just they don’t know about us and i wanted to keep it that way. only the cast knows, and not even all of them know” Y/N let a sigh escape her plump lips. she wanted her best friends to know, yes, but at the same time she really liked the secrecy. not even her family knew about her and drew and that’s how she wanted to keep it, at least for now that is.

“i know i know. i will let you know if it gets canceled. but seriously what do girls do and talk about during a girls weekend?” drew asked with a confused expression plastered onto his face.

“that’s for us girls to know and you men to never find out. also thank you for always being so understanding and caring like all the time. i love you hunny” she cooed to her boyfriend who sat close to her on their shared couch.

“i love you too, angel” the tall, muscular man spoke as he leant over and planted a soft and gentle kiss to his girlfriend’s plump lips.

it had been three long weeks, of pure excitement and no patience. Y/N had just picked her two high school best friends, ophelia and martha, up from the airport and was headed back to her and her lovers’ place.

“i can’t believe you live in south carolina. like don’t you miss good old nebraska?” martha asked her best friend she hadn’t seen in almost a year.

“uh no, not really. i feel like i’m thriving here. i have a good job, a nice place, some friends. but don’t worry they won’t replace you two babes” Y/N giggled as she smiled.

“i mean, yeah you’re totally thriving here. wait! did you ever learn how to surf like you’ve always wanted to? or golf?” ophelia, who had been sitting in the passenger seat the whole ride back, spoke with pure curiosity.

“uh, yeah? kinda. one of my friends, chase, actually taught me how to surf. the guy knows how to do pretty much anything. i mean he grew up along the coast so he’s been doing it for awhile now. and as for golf, i definitely have had some lessons by another friend but he’s not the best teacher out there. like he ge-“ Y/N was cut off by her phone buzzing, notifying her that she had received a text.

without even thinking twice she then asked “hey ophelia, can you tell me who just texted me? i don’t wanna look while i’m driving because this traffic is horrible” she softly spoke.

“yeah, well it only has the name, woah who’s ‘joseph WITH A SWOONING EMOJI?!”

“DID YOU GET A LOVER FINALLY?!” martha screamed from the back seat of Y/N car.

“okay, for starters chill out. like bring down the volume i’m trying to drive here. and also, no that’s just my friend who i work with. the emoji is an inside joke. he’s actually the one who’s been trying to teach me how to golf. like i said he sucks at teaching” Y/N spat out about her secret lover.

“wait what do you do again? how do i not remember this?” martha asked, embarrassed she couldn’t remember what her best friend did for a living.

“dude she’s a makeup artist for some netflix show, right?” ophelia asked Y/N for confirmation, who hummed in response.

the three girls had just pulled into Y/N and drew’s apartment complex, which was near the beach per Y/N request as she had always loved the beach and longed to live near one at some point in her life. she just got lucky to, living with her soulmate near the beach. it’s everything she could’ve asked for and more.

ophelia and martha grabbed their carryons as Y/N tried to help the two women she’d called her best friends for over five years with their luggage. but her best friends of course declined the offer for help. once ophelia and martha gathered their luggage Y/N locked her car, and lead the way up the stairs to her and her lovers’ humble abode.

“the apartment is on the third floor, so my apologies for how tired you two will be when we finally make it to my floor. but hey, at least the view is great!” Y/N exclaimed, beaming with pure joy at the thought of spending the weekend with two women she’d been friends with the longest.

“are we almost there yet” martha huffed out as she trudged her way up the last set of staircases. she was tired already and just wanted to take a seat in a chair or on a couch. it didn’t matter which one at this point.

“yes, marti, it’s right here” the young makeup artist beamed as she unlocked the apartment door, pushing the door open, letting her friends go in first. they made a bit of noise, rolling their luggage on the wood floor as they entered the place, notifying a certain someone, that his lover was finally home.

“babe, you’re back! i tried texting you, anyways i’m about to head out to go shoot some hoops with J.D. an- uh hi?” drew spoke from your guys’ bedroom, as he entered the living room and kitchen area, only to met with three sets of eyes instead of one. as soon as he entered he finished pulling his shirt on, a light blush filling his cheeks as he had not expected to see two extra pair of eyes on him.

“joseph andrew! what the hell are you still doing here? i thought you were visiting your mom this weekend?” Y/N huffed out shakily, not really prepared to be interrogated by her two hometown girlfriends. she looked down at her feet as she felt her lovers’ and best friends’ eyes on her, wanting answers.

“first off, not a ‘hello, my love’ and yeah i texted you, told you my mom had to cancel because she had to work. something about wrapping up for the school year. i’m not really sure. plus, she wanted you to come as well” drew smirked as he walked past his girls’ best friends, lifting her chin up to look into his bright blue eyes. he could tell she was nervous. “why are you so nervous?” he spoke softly, as her friends looked at her.

“um… what’s going on here? WAIT! is THIS the guy who texted you earlier?” martha exclaimed in excitement.

“OH MY GOSH THIS IS THE GUY WHO TRIED TEACHING YOU HOW TO PLAY GOLF!” ophelia belted out with the realization who the guy had texted Y/N earlier was.

“u-uh y-yeah. guys this is m-my boyfriend? drew i’d like you to meet my best friends from back home, ophelia and martha. martha, ophelia, meet my lover, drew” Y/N stuttered out, feeling drew squeeze her hand, in a comforting way to let her know it’d be okay. he knew she didn’t want to tell them yet, but here she was, spilling her biggest secret to her girls. “and yeah, this is the guy who can’t teach me golf to save his life” she chuckled out lightheartedly, trying to lighten the mood.

“it’s not my fault you wear a short skirt every single time” drew mumbled out louder than he’d thought, as Y/N swatted his chest and her two friend chuckled lightly.

“whatever you say. now go play basketball with J.D. because i don’t wanna be blamed for you being late. i’ll never hear the end of it on set” Y/N smiled sweetly up at her lover, who’d bent down and pecked her lips softly, briskly walking out the door. “love you!” drew shouted from behind her” “love you too dumbass!” Y/N hollered back. and with that, drew was gone for the next few hours, leaving Y/N with ophelia and martha.

“i’m utterly speechless!” ophelia exclaimed loudly, not being able to control herself anymore. she’s waited for the day her best friend would find her significant other. and in all honesty, she was worried she never would. mainly because Y/N had a hard time opening up to men and trusting them with everything.

“you know we’re gonna get the dirt about everything out of you later tonight, right?” martha quizzed Y/N as she just giggled in return shaking her head in disbelief.

as the three girls got done eating and slightly catching up with each others lives, the front door opened, revealing none other than a shirtless, sweaty drew. the door opening had brought all three women’s attention to who had just entered. “drew, put a shirt on, better yet go take a shower. you smell. i can smell you from here babe. ew. what did you and J.D. do, run suicides?” Y/N scrunched her nose up as her boyfriend came closer to her, wafting his sweaty-smelling self to her.

“actually we didn’t do that. we just played a one-on-one game of basketball. and J.D. was losing per usual and came up with the dumbest rules that aren’t even real! i mean come on, i would know if those rules were real or not. mans a sore loser for sure” drew rambled on, ignoring his girlfriend’s statement to put a shirt on or take a shower request.

“okay, drew, so do you like know every sport or?” martha questioned her best friends boyfriend, eyebrows crunching up with the questioning look she’d given him.

“well, martha, if you’d like to know. i don’t know every sport. i try to act like i do but i typically just stick to mainly basketball and golf because that’s what i’m familiar with. however, i do think i’m a basketball pro” drew grinned cockily, as he rested his hands on Y/N shoulders from behind as he’d been standing behind her dining room chair.

“don’t even” she sighed, letting a giggle escape her mouth, as she spoke to her two friends. it was more of a warning to them, as drew could go on for hours about basketball and all the rules. “babe, go shower please. you smell like a sweaty pig” Y/N bellowed out again to her boyfriend once more.

“fine” drew puffed out, kissing her cheek and walking into their shared bedroom, shutting the door.

“okay i think we need to play for the girls card game and hope we get all the dirt out of you about mr dreamy and you!” ophelia let out, walking to her suitcase and digging the card game out.

“i can make the cocktails while you set up, if you don’t mind showing me where everything is!” martha told Y/N sweetly with a big smile that happened to be very contagious.

“okay fine, the alcohol is in the top right cabinet as well as the glasses. let me clean up the table and we can get started i guess” Y/N smiled nervously as she knew they wouldn’t stop until they knew each detail.

as soon as the three girls sat at the table, the game began. of course Y/N got picked first, picking up the card which was a truth.

“have you ever sexted someone? if so, who?” Y/N read out before continuing “what’s considered sexting?” she blushed lightly as her two best friend started to lightly freak out.

“really? if you have to ask then you totally have. actually it’s you we’re talking about you’ve never talked about doing sexual things through text” ophelia giggled as martha nodded her head in agreement.

“so NOT true. the answer is yes, and as for who, that smelly man is taking a shower. now it’s your turn ms ophelia” Y/N stated matter of factly, leaving her two friends with gaping mouths.

“shut up! no way! wait real quick how old is he again?” martha asked bewildered.

“well i’m 22 and he’s 7 years older than me so that makes him 29” Y/N stated in a smartass tone, sassily.

“WAIT! he’s almost THIRTY?! the guy doesn’t look a day over 24!” ophelia spat out to her girlfriend.

“tell me about it. i thought he was in his mid twenties and was flabbergasted when i found out hes almost thirty” Y/N chuckled out as she ushered ophelia to draw a card.

“give this card to the most likely to have had the most hookups. whelp, looks like i’m keeping this card. i’ll admit it!” ophelia sheepishly shrugged her shoulders. next it was martha’s turn, who had picked up a dare.

“dare. text your partner and tell them you’re pregnant. oh fuck. chad is not gonna like this. hell i don’t even like this” martha huffed out as she texted her boyfriend back home that she was pregnant. now it was a waiting game. “okay your turn ms innocent” martha gestured to Y/N who sat next to her.

“i’m telling you right now, if i get another stupid fucking truth i’m gonna lose it” Y/N grumbled as drew opened their bedroom door, walking out, freshly cleaned and with a fresh set of clothes. he had on his coors lite tshirt that hugged his biceps just right and a pair of blue jeans. it’s almost like the guy couldn’t go anywhere without a pair on. even if he was just chillin in the comfort of his own home.

“language m’lady!” he chirped to Y/N as she got done complaining about what kind of card she’d pick up next. “did you save me any of your homemade cooking?” drew asked her sweetly as he came up from behind Y/N chair again, softly massaging her shoulders, her leaning her head on his right arm in return.

“mmm of course i did my love. it’s in the microwave. hey before you go will you make me another cocktail? maybe a hurricane?” Y/N tilted her head back to look up at her extremely tall boyfriend, with a buzz cut still on show. she really did like that buzzcut and she hated to admit it, but it did things to her. she gently put her left hand on his right which was still sat on her shoulder, running her fingers across the cold metal that adorned them. “hey, you put your rings back on” she mumbled to herself as she played with them some more, waiting for an answer from drew about her cocktail.

“of course i’ll make you a hurricane. anything for you, quite literally” he smirked, bending down and planting a chaste kiss to her jaw, picking up her empty glass.

“Y/N girl pick up the card already” ophelia urged Y/N to pick up the next card. Y/N was praying it wouldn’t be another stupid truth, but of course the gods didn’t listen to her pleads.

“ugh! you’ve got to be kidding me! another truth. oh god. didn’t want to give this out” she huffed and puffed as she kept rereading her card. drew on the other hand wasn’t listening, minding his own business. he’d opened himself a beer, and began making Y/N her cocktail.

“read it!” martha started chanting to her now south carolina native best friend.

“are you a virgin? if not tell about your first time” Y/N mumbled out, getting drew’s attention, as he spat his beer out of his mouth all over the counter. he started to cough in the process, suppressing a laugh. he knew the whole story because he was the one who took it from her. and boy what a story that was.

“you gonna answer it? actually we both know the answer already” ophelia giggled because Y/N had always said she wouldn’t give it up til marriage.

“not true, also drew babe you good?” Y/N blurted out before she could even process her own words, leaving her two best friends utterly shocked.

“i’m peachy. just choked on my beer because i was definitely not expecting this to be that kind of game you girls play on a girls night weekend whatever it is. but yeah, not true” drew winked to his girlfriend’s two best friends.

“spill. answer the card. do it. right now” martha pressured Y/N to spill the details.

“ugh! okay fine. no i’m not a virgin anymore okay?” she blushed profusely, as drew walked over to the table with her freshly made cocktail in hand. he gently sat it down in front of her, going back to grab his dinner from the microwave as it went off.

“okay and? you gotta answer all the questions babes!” ophelia squealed out, taking a sip from her mimosa.

“like was it everything you dreamed of and more?” martha questioned seriously.

“ahh, don’t you even think about it!” drew warned his girlfriend from telling the somewhat embarrassing story of their first time as he sat down at the island near the table.

“hey mr party pooper it’s the rules of the game!” martha blurted out to drew from across the way. drew just laughed lightly, knowing she was right.

“this is awkward. i don’t like that drew’s staring at me! babe stop looking at me with those stupid fucking ocean blue eyes of yours!” Y/N screeched as she giggled, feeling tipsy already.

“babe, i’m just waiting for you to answer the question. that’s all” he chuckled with a smirk plastered on his face as he continued to eat his dinner.

“ugh so it was probably i don’t know 7 months ago. we had just wrapped up filming and we’re all partying. i kinda got a bit tipsy but don’t worry drew was too so don’t go hounding him on this. anyways we went back to his place he’d been sharing with austin, another costar and long story short we thought we were alone but turns out austin had come back early from partying and was actually trying to sleep in the next room over. also don’t worry drew kept asking me if i was sure and blah blah blah. very annoying by the way because i said i was sure and you kept on asking!” Y/N spoke out with hardly any breath left over, glancing at drew who cringed at the thought of his roommate hearing the both of them making love to one another.

“hey now, sorry for trying to make sure you wanted to” drew jokes back to Y/N who just smiled sweetly at him from across the way. “also, all i’m saying is if you weren’t so vocal he wouldn’t have known” drew smirked cockily at you, standing up, carrying his dirty dish to the sink.

“JOSEPH ANDREW STARKEY SHUT UP!” Y/N yelled playfully at him as she walked over to him, smacking his chest, making him let out the biggest laugh of the night.

“drew come draw one card!” martha urged her best friends boyfriend to play one round of their game.

“ugh, fine” he chuckled as he picked up a card, laughing when he read it in his head, before he began to read it out loud. “never have i ever had sex in public…”

“so? have you?” ophelia started to grill not only drew but her best friend, Y/N as well.

“i mean yeah? is that weird? have you guys not?” drew laughed nonchalantly, face plastered with a cocky smile, as if his answer wasn’t a big deal. martha and ophelia sat there, with their mouths wide open in shock.

“stop, wait really?! wait where?!” ophelia, the nosier friend of the two pried.

“the beach at like dusk and also at dawn oh and the communal bathrooms at the tennis court” drew blurted out, causing his girlfriend to scoff at him spilling the details. this just caused her two best friends to giggle.

“so, this, this is the guy that cracked the Y/F/N Y/L/N? some tall guy, who’s super cocky, and who’s by the way WAYYYY better looking than any other guy we went to school with?” ophelia spoke loudly, in shock that her best friend who had said for all these years she’d wait until marriage, cracked.

“yes, what can i say, he’s the sweetest, goofiest and between us three the nerdiest guy i think i’ve ever met in my life” Y/N chuckled happily as drew had his chest pressed against her back, thick arm wrapped around her body as he gazed down at his girl lovingly.

“hey, i’m not that nerdy!” drew attempted to defend himself but failed majorly. “babe you double majored and read very old books in your free time. you’re very nerdy” Y/N smiled up at him, gently scratching his scruff covered jaw.

“wait hold up hold up! he DOUBLE MAJORED?! i couldn’t even succeed with that and you know me. i’m like pretty smart. i’m intrigued. like i was not expecting this at all” martha spoke still flabbergasted by the whole situation.

“uh yeah i did double major. not that big of a deal. also hey babe before i go read my new book, tell me, did you ever finish east of eden?” drew looked down at Y/N quizzically.

“almost. i have like three chapters left. once i finish i promise i’ll talk to you about my thoughts on the book” Y/N smiled sweetly, pulling him down so she could give him a passionate kiss. “love you” Y/N mumbled against drew’s lips, as his hands cupped her waist, as she stood on her tippy toes. “i love you too. don’t stay up for too long. i need your cuddles to sleep” drew smiled shyly down to his girl, before he strolled his way to their bedroom.

“so tell me, was he big?” ophelia raised her eyebrows wanting to know all the deets on her besties new man.

“don’t you even fucking dare answer that baby” drew yelled, turning his head back, smirking, as he approached the bedroom door, opening it and entering. just in time for Y/N to whisper out a response.

“have you not seen how tall and muscular he is? hes a big boy, you do the math. hes definitely not small” Y/N winked at her two best friends who started to squeal out. drew, who had just sat down on the bed, back against the wall, just smirked to himself, shaking his head as he heard his girl gossip about him, not having a care in the world that she just spilled some personal information. he really enjoyed hearing her gossip and flaunt about him. he always had. and always will.

#drew starkey #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x fem!reader

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 17.

Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect

A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.

But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.

Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.

Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.

"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.

"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.

Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.

"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.

"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.

"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.

"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.

"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.

"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.

When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.

"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.

"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.

"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."

"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.

"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.

"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."

Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.

"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.

The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.

"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.

There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.

"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.

"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"

"Grammy," you supplied automatically.

"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."

"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.

"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"

"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.

"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"

"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."

Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.

"What colour were they?" You ask softly.

"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.

"No."

"Red."

There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.

The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.

For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.

"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."

You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.

While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.

"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.

Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.

Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.

When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.

"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.

"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.

"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."

With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.

"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.

"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."

"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.

"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."

You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.

"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"

You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.

"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.

"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.

"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.

"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."

Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -

"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"

There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.

You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.

A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.

But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.

You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.

"My Felix."

"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.

That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.

But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.

"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.

"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.

"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.

"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.

"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"

With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -

"Did you?"

"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.

"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.

"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.

"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.

And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.

"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."

"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.

"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.

"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.

"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.

"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.

Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -

"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."

"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.

"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.

But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.

And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.

"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.

"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."

The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.

The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver x reader x felix #head heart hand fic #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton imagine #manic writer

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justfangirlstuffs · 8 days

Text

So Much More

Adjustment periods can be difficult, job hunting even more so. But an unexpected visitor comes to provide a pleasant distraction. (Takes place after A Saltwater Room.) You x Sea Slug Moon

Wordcount: 2900

cw: slightly suggestive

Sea Slug AU belongs to @scarredlove

“Hello, sea star,” a voice spoke from your open bedroom window, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You whipped around to see Moon climbing in through your window, his red eyes gleaming bright with delight and mischief. "Moon, you shouldn't be here," you muttered, hurriedly going to your bedroom door and closing it, locking it for good measure so no one came in unannounced. Your aunt said she'd be working late, and your cousin was staying the night elsewhere but... couldn't be too careful.

It had been several days since you'd been reunited with Moon and his siblings, Sun and Eclipse. Once you had believe them to be simple if not strange sea slugs that you had loved and lost years ago. Only to discover that in truth, they were some manner of mythical sea creature. Sea slugs, yet so much more than that. More than you could have ever guessed.

Honestly, you were still getting used to having them back in your life. It had been so long since you've seen them. They were so different, and you were different too. Time had chafed you, made you rough and tender around the edges. It didn't help that you were already going through an immense transition in your life. So suddenly having them back in your life... it was a lot.

"And yet, here I am," Moon giggled mischievously, leaning on the wall near the window.

The moonlight cast his shadow on the wall and reflected on his dazzling robes, the patterns of bio luminescence drawing your gaze with their mesmerizing beauty. His eyes were shining with amusement but he didn't look like he had any bad or malicious intentions.

His voice softened a margin. "Don't be mad... I just wanted to see you.”

The words cause an undeniable, split-second lift to your mood. When was the last time someone said those words to you? It felt like forever... "I'm not mad," you said quickly, wanting to reassure him in some form or fashion. You sat back down at your desk, with the newspaper classified ads spread out before you. "You guys just have a habit of showing up without warning. It can be..." What was a tactful way to put it? "...stressful."

The antennae on his hood twitched and drooped a bit. You didn't know it, but your words did make him feel a bit guilty. After all, he was known for sometimes being very intrusive and showing up unexpectedly, even when he's uninvited or at undesirable times. He took a step forward, leaning forward over your desk but not yet invading your personal space. Though by the look in his eyes it was on his mind.

"Well...we're family, right?" he said, as if that was enough of a justification for his actions. His head tilted to the side, his expression softening as his shoulders drooped a little. "Besides... aren't you happy to see me?"

You thought about that question. Which, yeah, wild that you even had to think about it. Most people would probably find it weird; shouldn't you be able to just.... know how you feel? Yet you had to pause, and reflect, and try and identify your mental state. And then you had to find the words to express it. It was like wading through static.

"I'm not unhappy," you said finally, looking at him sincerely. "And I'm not asking you to leave."

Moon was slightly taken back by your answer, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Well, that's a good start." He leaned a bit further on your desk, slowly closing the gap that was between you and him. "But you're not totally pleased by my presence either, are you? You're just tolerating it, is that right?" The corners of his lips curved upwards, as if he was daring you to try to lie.

"It's not that, it's just..." You bit your lip and glanced away from him, looking down at the multitude of jobs you'd either circled or crossed out. Such a simple task, yet for you it had been a monolith chore. "I just don't feel like I'm the greatest company right now."

He let his lips thin out, the smirk was replaced by concern. This wasn't the response he was hoping for. It might not be the worst that he could have heard, but it was not the best answer he could've gotten. His expression softened, his body became less imposing and he sat down on the bed beside your desk, gazing at you whilst taking care not to cross your personal space.

"Are you not feeling alright?" He asked earnestly, you could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and not just asking out of politeness.

Wasn't that a loaded question? But thankfully at least you had an immediate source of stress you could identify and voice.

"I need to find a job." You sighed, pinching bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. "I've been applying to various places but... I keep getting rejected."

It was tiring, and it was stressful, and it was such a soul sucking ordeal. Putting in the effort, waiting to hear back, only to be overlooked or declined. Not exactly a boon towards your self-esteem.

"Why do you need a job?" he asked curiously, head tilted to the side. He was still sitting near you, his legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. It was such an ordinary position but something about it made him seem even more approachable and calm. It was a stark contrast to his usual self that often seemed impish and playful.

"Because... I need to make money. I need to help out. I can't.... I can't be a waste of space." You voice broke over those last three words, like glass shattering against rocks. Tears burned your eyes as your anxiety swelled.

Moon's eyes widened in shock at your sudden breakdown, you looked... fragile and vulnerable, yet your words had an underlying tone of determination to them. You spoke as if you were ashamed and have to pay for simply existing in this world. His expression softened, he immediately reached out and grasped your hand. His skin was soft and cool, the texture far too smooth and alien to be human, yet it felt comforting.

"You're not a waste of space," he said in a quiet voice, his long fingers carefully lacing with yours. "Not to me. To me, you're... so much more than that."

Tears dripped down your face, and even though his words didn't completely calm your fears, they were until to keep you from getting pulled under by the riptide of anxiety. Moon's touch and genuine affection was like a life preserver keeping you afloat on rough waters. You were still getting tossed, but you weren't drowning.

"Thank you," you murmured, giving his hand a firm squeeze.

"Anytime," he answered, continuing to speak in that soft and gentle way. "And also..." He hesitated for a moment, but he looked at you. His gaze was sincere and genuine, like he wanted to say something but afraid of ruining the mood. "You can always come to me when you're feeling like this. I just... don't want you to be alone during these difficult times. Not again."

That managed to bring a small smile to your face, and you sniffled, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. "I'll keep that in mind, if I ever want to pal around with a troublemaker like you."

"Aww, troublemaker, huh?" He chuckled, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand a bit. "A compliment from you? What a surprise. I feel honored."

A snort of mirth erupted from you and you had to grab some tissues to clear out your sinuses before you felt a little better. Moon shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable, though it's evident that all he wants to do is to get closer to you. He gave your hand a small tug, silently urging you to sit on the bed with him. You gave a heavy sigh but decided to let him pull you away from work to plop onto your mattress beside him.

"Wanna know a secret?" he asked, his antennae twitching restlessly.

"Oh, a secret?" you murmured, giving your voice an edge of conspiratorial playfulness. "Now I feel honored."

"It's about you." The glint in his eyes was impish and his smirk indicated that he was up to something. "But don't tell anyone, alright? Keep it between yourself and your old pal Moon."

"My lips are sealed." You drew your hand across your mouth like you were closing a zipper. "So, what's the secret?"

"The secret is..." He shifted his body closer to you - close but not too close- and you caught the scent of sea breeze and something sweet... like watermelons. His gaze sharpened on you, as if he was studying every small detail about your face.

His smile was still etched right across his features and you could practically feel his excitement building up. He took a deep breath as if he was about to tell you something that was forbidden. He whispered the words into your ear.

"You're beautiful." He had finally found a word that fit perfectly for what he wanted to say, and he just had to say it. His grin brightened up into a big smile, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and suddenly heat was overwhelming your face like you'd just stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun. "O-Oh..."

Moon observed the effect his words had on you. Your blush, your fluttering heart beat, the way your breath seemed to come out all too lightly and quickly. He took note of all of them. His smile didn't falter, neither did his gaze. He took a risk, he was now closer to you, you could feel his robes brushing against your skin, gently caging you like the most lovely and velvety cage imaginable. His hand was still gripping yours as he stayed silent, letting the moment linger. He wanted you to experience it, to savor it and to feel it's warmth.

Your heart thumped loudly at the sudden proximity and you eased back just a little bit. Even after all these years, it seemed Moon was still a cuddly little guy... except he wasn't little anymore. And your perceptions of him were vastly different from how they were when you were younger.

"H-How have you been?" you asked. It was an attempt at regaining some control of the situation, yet it was also a question that had been on your mind every since you re-discovered them.

Despite the sudden change of subject Moon didn't seem to mind. He chuckled, his fingers still holding yours, his thumb tenderly brushing over your heated skin.

"I've been alright. Though..." His voice became quieter, and you had to concentrate a bit to hear it. "I've really missed you."

"I missed you too..."

A thousand apologies got stuck in your throat, choking off your next words. You'd had no idea that Moon and his brothers had been lingering so close to home. If you had, you would have come back sooner. Instead, you had stayed away, the bittersweet memories too painful to revisit. Yet another thing to pile onto your list of regrets.

He nodded and a brief flash of concern crossed his expression, as if he could sense the guilt in you. "You don't have to say it, I know." He smiled, a slight pity in it. This moment was no longer filled with light or laughter, it was heavy and full of regret.

"The past years... have definitely been hard on all of us," He finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. "Especially to you."

You shook your head, already guilty that you'd managed to bring down a pleasant mood. "I'm fine. I've been... managing." That felt like such a lie. You didn't feel like you've been managing at all. "Really, I'm... I'm dealing with it. I'd much rather hear about you."

The fact that you tried to dismiss the conversation with a quick 'I'm fine...' made him feel even more pity for you. He noticed your reluctance to talk about it. You were still dealing with something and you weren't ready yet. You needed more time, and that was something he was aware of.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, his voice softer, gentler than before. He looked at you, and you could see that he took your feelings more seriously.

"Of course," you said quickly, eager for a change of topic. Eager for something to distract you from the heavy weight that seemed to constantly be anchoring you.

He shifted his body again, his long legs now crossed over each other, his robes fanning out across the bed like a gleaming river or waterfall. His eyes scanned every part of your face as if searching for something. Finally, he took a deep breath, then spoke again.

"You know, I thought I'd find you so different. You had been gone for so long, I thought you were going to be..." He broke the silence again. "Different."

A burble of laughter erupted up. Though it was more of an expression of surprise than actual mirth. "You mean I'm not?"

"No... not really." He shifted once again, now leaning slightly closer, his eyebrows curling upwards with curiosity. "I think you're still you. I was expecting to see a complete stranger here. But you're still you. Everything that I remembered is still there. You're still adorable, you're still kind, and you're still so very warm." He smirked, his gaze was now intense as he stared at you closely. "Are you still ticklish, though?"

Your eyes widened and before you could react Moon pounced. You feel back on the bed, squirming as Moon began tickling you. "Moon! Moon! Stop! I can't... Noooooooo!" You screeched between fits of laughter as you kicked and squirmed.

Moon laughed, amused by the sight. He began to tickle you ruthlessly, his fingers quickly exploring every inch of your stomach, sides, and even underneath your arms. His laughter became so intense that he almost couldn't breathe. "I've missed doing this to you so much, little crab," he confessed between giggles. "And I missed the noises you make."

He eased up a bit and you had a moment to catch your breath, wheezing and giggling as you stare up at him. You were entirely sure what he meant. Was he referring to the times when you would take him out of his tank and let him crawl along your arms and neck? That had to be it.

"You are such a gremlin," you muttered, but the comment was said with affection. A lot had changed but... it seemed Moon wasn't all that different either.

"The cutest gremlin you'll ever meet," he replied, his voice dripping with mischief.

Moon leaned down towards your face, his hands still on your stomach as he gave you a big smile. He giggled with you, both of you were red in the face from laughing and from being tickled, and yet the two of you seemed so happy at that moment. He shifted slightly, trying to get a bit closer to you, his hands gently moving to your legs.

He leaned down, his face close to yours. "You know what I miss the most?"

The mood seemed to suddenly shift, and like the lurch of a car turning too quickly, you found yourself a little unsteady as you stared up at him. "Wh-what?" you spluttered out.

"Your scent," he said, his voice was very quiet and calm. He had moved even closer, he was breathing out in hot puffs on your face, and you could see his chest rising and falling. His gaze went down as he looked at you, his hands were still firmly on your legs, but he had made no sudden movements.

“Your taste.” Once again, one of his hands found yours, effortlessly threading them together as though that were their natural state. There was a calmness in the still, the air was heavier, a bit more intense, but not in a bad way. His voice was very soft and sincere, almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

"And your kisses," he finally said. This moment was finally ripe, it gave him the chance to see if you were still open to the idea. He was now even closer to you. His gaze pierced through yours, as if looking for an answer in them.

Staring up at him, you found yourself at a loss for words. He couldn't possibly mean what you were thinking, right? Sure, you used to kiss him. But he'd been just a little slug you could hold in the palm of your hand. But now he was... he was... what?

Before you could say or do anything, a stream of water shot across the room and hit Moon in the face, splashing against his cheek. You jumped as Moon hissed in surprise. The both of you looked around to see his brother, Sun, standing in your room with a squirt bottle in his hand and a far too wide smile on his face. To be continued...

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #moon x y/n #moon x reader #sun x y/n #sun x reader #sea slug au #justfangirlwritings #not beta read so apologies for errors/typos

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obsessedelusional · 7 months

Text

Internets Favorite Fangirl

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ✦ You are the internets most famous fangirl. You were a famous actor with no shame in thirsting over celebrities. So naturally you’re very public about your love with Pedro Pascal. Only to switch up when watching TLOU, fancying Bella. What happens when you show up to an award show they’re both attending? poorly proofread

word count ✦ 3,700ish

authors note ✦ hey sorry I’ve been mia I missed all y’all and want to start posting again anyways here’s a bellaxreader I wrote several months ago lmao im gonna post a few bella things I’ve been working on and even venture into tlou ((Abby Anderson is the love of my FUCKING LIFE)) ily bye

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

It had become a reoccurring theme in your press interviews to be asked who your recent celebrity crush was. It started when you landed your first big movie. Shortly after the release in a chance to find out more about you fans search the internet for any crumb they could find. Someone found an old Harry Styles fan page you had when you were a teen. You were absolutely mortified by the stuff they were finding. Deleting it wouldn’t undo it so you learned to embrace it. Quickly becoming the internets most famous fan girl.

Making TikTok’s and tweets thirsting after unattainable celebrities. The whole internet eating it up and thirsting along with you. Your most recent viral moment was a TikTok you made featuring the infamous dvcree Pedro Pascal edit. Your face green screened over the original with a caption talking about this singular edit has taken over your for you page and you were enjoying every second of it.

With the upcoming release of the anticipated second movie to your most popular role you were busy doing press work. Sometimes by yourself but mostly with the rest of the cast. Today you were invited to do an google auto complete video with you male costar, Johnathan, who plays your love interest.

The first board asking where your from, then your age, and other basic questions. The next board is handed to you all the google searches begin with ‘who’.

“Who is y/n?” You read aloud laughing as you read.

“I am. That’s me. I act sometimes but mostly embarrass myself on the internet.” You costar laughs agreeing with the last half of your statement.

“Who is y/n dating?”

“I wish I had some juicy gossip to share but I’m as single as it gets.”

“Who is y/n’s celebrity crush?” You sit there and think, your smile grows bigger when it comes to your mind.

“Oh this one’s easy. I know.” Jonathan says.

“Who?”

“Pedro Pascal.”

“Pssssh that was so last week.” Jonathan audibly gasps.

“Who then?”

“We’ll it’s actually his fault.”

“Who’s fault?”

“Pedro’s.”

“Please explain.” Jonathan says confused.

“Well I’m late on the train but I just binged watch The Last of Us. I was the last of us to watch it.” You laugh at your own joke, Jonathan doesn’t only shakes his head disapprovingly.

“Anyways I started watching it for Pedro but stayed for Bella Ramsey.”

“Bella? The one who played Ellie?” Jonathan asks, his face telling you he doesn’t get it.

“Yeah them. You may not understand but the girls will get it.” You respond.

“Okay you heard it here first y/n is single and wants Bella Ramsey. My turn.” He says as he reaches for his board to read off the questions directed at him.

—

A few days pass before the video is released. Your publicist notify you it’s out and you don’t dare watch it, just pray that you didn’t do anything to embarrassing this time. It doesn’t take long before your notifications are flooded with people talking about the interview. You read a few before realizing a theme, Bella.

Everyone is tagging Bella in clips of you gushing over her. An edit of you saying the girls will get it followed by edited clips of Bella to the beat of a song. You may have watched it one too many times before favoriting it. Just as you about to close TikTok you get an Instagram notification from a verified account. It’s Bella following you, you click the notification not believing for a second it’s real.

But it is.

—

Two weeks ago Bella had made the first move by following you on Instagram. The internet went crazy when they realized quickly shipping the two of you. No one realizing that was the extent of your relationship, mutually following each other on instagram. It had crossed your mind at least a hundred times, you had drafted plenty first messages. Always deleting your words before you could muster up the courage to press send.

Tonight no different, you were in the process of preparing for a movie and tv awards show. In your dressing room being pampered by your glam squad. Clicking away at your phone looking for any sign that Bella was going to be here tonight. If they were you’d have no choice by to say hello. Cursing yourself because if only you had messaged Bella beforehand this would be less awkward.

A knock at your door steals your attention and your crew stops what there doing. The door opens revealing your manager, the biggest grin on her face. Something was up.

“We have a surprise for you.” She sings with a soft smile.

“So finish what your doing and meet us in room A3.” She says before shutting the door. You ask your team if they know what’s happening but they all answer with a shrug of the shoulders.

—

“Why are there cameras?” You ask as your guided to room A3. The door is shut, your mind races wondering what it could possibly be. Everyone around you is looking suspiciously excited for what’s about to happen. Your instructed to open the door so you do so, peaking your head in as it creeps open.

With nothing more than your head in the room, you peek around into the darkness. Blinded momentarily when the light turns on from inside. Blinking as an attempt to get your sight back your greeted by none other than Pedro Pascal.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You spit following with a squeal as you shut the door. Leaving Pedro alone in the room with whoever else in there. He erupts into laughter, a sound you had heard many times online.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” You turn around ready to run greeted by the camera shoved in your face. Realizing you have no choice in this matter. With a nervous breakdown around the corner you open the door. Peaking your head once again making eye contact with Pedro.

“I’m sorry.” You say too afraid to approach already had made a fool of yourself.

“Don’t be.” Pedro laughs, calming your nerves temporarily.

“Hi.” Is all you can manage to spit out.

“Hi honey,” he smiles and waves, making you melt. The two of your still stood a few feet apart. You’re looking him up and down and moving your gaze onto your manger who’s sat in the corner motioning you to get closer.

“You can come closer. I don’t bite.. I mean unless…” His voice trails off and turns into laughter. You laugh before closing the gap, hugging Pedro. After you pose next to Pedro as photos are taken. His arm rests on your shoulder. You look up at the man next to you he’s already looking down at you.

“I was so excited to meet you a few weeks ago.”

“How long have you guys been planning this?” You ask.

“A little over a month.” Your manager answers.

“Yeah then you had to go and switch up on me.” He sighs dramatically, letting his arm fall from your shoulders.

“What did-“

“Don’t act so innocent Y/N. Don’t think I didn’t hear about your new found love for Bella.” Your eyes go wide realizing what he’s talking about.

“They better not pop up out of nowhere. I can’t handle two surprises today.”

“See exactly it’s like I don’t even matter to you anymore.” Pedro whines face falling.

“You do matter but…” You start to go on about Bella but stop your self.

“But what?” Pedro must notice your the worry in your face because he takes it back.

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” He teases.

—

“It really was nice meeting you.” You say your goodbyes but decide to follow it up with an apology for your actions when you were surprised. The cameras were gone now.

“Don’t worry about it. If anything I should be worried. Bella’s not gonna be happy with me.” Your ears perk up at the mention of Bella not being happy.

“Why?”

“I’ve said to much.” He attempts to change the conversation.

“Wait you can’t just say that and pretend like you didn’t.” He let’s out a defeated sigh in response.

“Bella has not shut up about you in weeks. I tried to convince them to tag along but they refused. Which turned into a whole thing. Bella made me promise several times not to embarrass them.” Pedro rambles on before stopping face full of regret.

“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” You respond.

“Deal.”

Maybe you don’t plan on repeating the words that had come out of Pedro’s mouth but they surely lit the fire in your self to finally message Bella or maybe even say hello if you saw them tonight. Your rushed to finish getting ready before being instructed to walk the carpet. Taking pictures first and then stopping to do mini interviews.

Your in the middle of the red carpet where your stood answering questions for some publication. When you hear the crowd and paparazzi roar. Bella is stood next to Pedro, they’re holding hands. Pedro giving his full attention to the cameras while Bella is sneaking glances at you. In front of the camera still and the interviewer waiting for an answer you smile one last time, waving softly before going back to answering. Your whole demeanor changing from the subtle interaction with Bella, suddenly a little more smiley than before.

Eventually you’re seated at table, you say your hellos to the few people sitting with you. The seats next to you empty, so you take a peek at the name tags on table. Pedro is suppose to be sat right next to and Bella next to him. You don’t have time to process it because you hear the voice of the man who’s suppose to be sitting next to you. You turn around and he’s busy talking, no sign of Bella. You face forward in your seat, pulling out your phone to distract yourself.

“Told I’m sitting next to you but I don’t want to.” Pedro says from behind you. You smile politely kind of confused watching as he changes Bella’s name place with his. Sitting down where Bella was suppose to be. He sports the biggest grin as you realizing what he’s doing. He whispers you’re welcome before averting his attention else where.

Within seconds your planning your escape but it doesn’t matter because the familiar British accent fills your ears as they chat up some other people at a nearby table. If you left now it’d be too obvious, so you sit there painfully waiting for Bella to sit right next to you. A few long minutes pass before you fill the seat being pulled out and someone sitting down. You look over and smile, making eye contact with Bella who’s a few inches away.

“Hi.” Bella says with a shy smile.

“Hi.” You say back, barely a whisper.

“This is kinda crazy. I’ve never been to an event this big. Especially in America, this is on a whole other level.” Bella explains, staring a conversation.

“Oh yeah you’re probably far from home. Where do you live?” You ask, you already know the answer but Bella doesn’t need to know all that.

“The UK.” Bella responds.

“Oh damn. I’ve had to make that trip a few times. Absolute hell.” You say causing Bella to laugh lightly.

“Yeah kinda. Getting used to it after so many times. It’s usually worth it.”

“Well I hope this time is worth it.” You respond, you haven’t stopped smiling since Bella sat down.

“It already is.” Bella teases, their tone a bit flirty causing you to temporarily malfunction unable to come up with a response. Thank god some camera man comes by asking Pedro and Bella to take some pictures before the show starts.

As soon as Bella’s attention isn’t on you anymore your aggressively messaging your best friend, freaking the fuck out. As you’re typing some one grabs you hand, trying to get you to stand up. It’s Pedro and he’s begging for a photo with you. You happily oblige standing up but Pedro has a plan, posing you next to Bella. He takes a few photos with the two of you before stepping out of the way. Your unsure what to do but without notice Bella arm is around your waist. Pulling you a little closer, you smile for the picture and then look to Bella who’s already looking at you causing you to smile even bigger than before.

—

You two spend the beginning of the award show chatting in between breaks and sneaking glances at each other. Pedro constantly giving you looks, letting you know he’s happy with what’s happening. About half way though the show, a member of the shows staff comes to grab you and Pedro. Apparently the two of you presenting a reward.

You were not prepared for this in the slightest but it’s not the first time, you’ll be fine. You keep telling yourself that. It’s your time to go out, Pedro follows closely behind. You smile as everyone starts to cheer, when your finally to the podium Pedro begins reading off the teleprompter. You can’t help but cringe as the words as they come out, praying that it’s not too obvious.

“Today we’re here to present the award for break out actress.” Pedro says.

“Yeah… it’s been so amazing watching these nominees make their dreams come true.” You say through gritted teeth.

“With enough hard work and dedication, your dreams are possible. Just like her dreams.” He laughs, pointing to you.

“What do you mean Pedro?” You read off, sounding entirely out of touch with the words coming out. Confused where this could possibly going.

“Your hard work at being a fangirl, has finally paid off. You got to meet me. The man of your dreams.” Pedro can barley finish, laughing harder than he should be. Stopping every other word to laugh or catch his breath from laughing so hard. You don’t have any words being prompted at you, so you laugh and agree. Being shut up by the sound of your own voice being blasted from behind you.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You hear and followed by the sound of a door being slammed. You turn around in horror seeing yourself, on the biggest screen freaking out about meeting Pedro.

“There’s no fucking way this is real.” Plays on the screen, your curse words being bleeped. This is more embarrassing than anything you could’ve imagined that they had planned for this footage. You watch in full disgust too afraid to face the crowd of thousands. You hear them laughing at every stupid thing that leaves your mouth in the video, adding to your embarrassment.

When the video finally ends, Pedro gives you a hug. Saying something about how it’s okay in your ear but you’re far too gone from the moment to understand him. You turn to the face the crowd, the actor in your turning on.

“Well that was embarrassing.” You laugh.

“It’s okay, everyone loved it.” Pedro responds.

“Yeah everyone but me. Anyways, the nominees are…” You say as at attempt to make this end sooner. The nominees play in the background as you avoid eye contact with everyone in the crowd, just kinda looking off in the distance. Especially Bella because you two were hitting it off so we’ll and now the whole room, including Bella, just watched Pedro talk about your new found love for them.

Pedro starts ripping at an envelope letting you know it’s time to announce. The both of you read of the winner and start clapping. When the winner gets to the stage, you hug them before moving out of the way. Listening intently as they give their speech. It’s finally time to leave and you waste absolutely no time getting off that stage. Once backstage your overwhelmed by the sheer amount of good jobs and laughs at what just happened to you. Your manger tells you that was perfect.

“No more suprises please that was horrible.” You mutter, embarrassed and ready for the night to be over. Your manager apologizes. You make the walk back to the table, being stopped several times on the way. When you finally see your seat, Bella sees you. They flash a smile at you as you sit down. Pedro following close behind.

“That was something.” Bella says teasingly.

“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry.” You say not finding it funny.

“Why are you apologizing?” They ask, face full of concern.

“Because I opened my big mouth and dragged you into this.”

“I don’t mind. I actually kinda enjoy it.”

“Enjoy it?” You ask, your sour mood suddenly disappearing.

“Who wouldn’t enjoy one of the most beautiful and talented actors out there publicly simping for them?” Bella says, bringing your smile back.

“Beautiful?”

“Mhmm and talented.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night talking whenever you can. Pedro often inserting himself, neither of you minding. When it finally ends you can’t help but feel sad. Wishing the night could some how continue. You say your goodbyes, hugging Pedro. Then hugging Bella, a little longer than the hug with Pedro.

“It was nice meeting you.” You say as you pull away.

“You too.” Bella smiles as you walk away, your manager hounding you to get back to the dressing room so you can leave.

“How long are you in town?” You ask.

“I actually have to get on a plane back tomorrow afternoon.” Bella responds, sadness apparent in their voice.

“Oh well, shit that sucks.”

“What do you normally do after an award show?” Bella asks.

“Normally I get some terrible fast food and rot in bed until I fall asleep.” You respond honestly.

“I could go for some terrible fast food..” Bella says, with a hint of hope you’d understand what they were trying to say.

“I’d love it if you joined me.” You say, blush appearing. You make plans with Bella, letting them know you’d have to go to dressing room and unglam yourself. Bella understands following you to the dressing room, waiting for you outside of it. Eventually you come out in sweats, hair tied up and no more makeup.

“We’ll now I feel overdressed.” Bella teases, noticing your causal attire.

“You can borrow some clothes at mine.” You say, not realizing that you’re unofficially inviting Bella over to your home. Bella nods yes, biggest smile plastered on their face as they follow you out of the venue.

—

An hour later, Bella and you are laid up in bed. Tummy’s full watching some bad reality show. Doesn’t matter because you two can’t stop talking, not paying much attention to the tv. The conversation flows naturally, never missing a beat. Little did you know the internet was actively loosing their shit over all the content of the two of you tonight. Unaware of all of it, neither of you feeling any need to check your phones.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you tonight.” You say when the conversation starts to lull.

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to message you for weeks but I was absolutely terrified.” Bella admits.

“Me too. I was scared shitless when I realized you were sitting next to me. I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself.” You say, looking at Bella who suddenly seems way closer than before. Tension between the two of you is heavy.

“Not at all.” Bella reassures you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“You sure? Because I still can’t believe-“ Your words are cut off by Bella kissing you softly, pulling away quickly.

“I like you. Okay? Please don’t fret over it.” Bella laughs, your laid there in shock. The biggest stupidest grin on your face.

“I like you too.” You whisper barley audible cause you’re quick with pressing your lips to Bella’s. This kid lasting a lot longer than the first.

—

The next morning, you two sleep in after staying up late. Only giving you two an hour before Bella has to get on the plane. You offer to drive Bella to their hotel, so they can pack and end up dropping them off at the airport too. Saying goodbye with a sweet kiss and plans to see each other in the near future.

You get into your car and pull out of the airport. A whole mix of emotions. Happy because of the prospects of a relationship with Bella but also sadness because Bella lives so far away. If the two of you do end up making it official, it’ll be long distance. The short drive home is spent in silence trying to figure out of the feelings your currently experiencing all at once. When you pull into your garage, your phone goes off its Bella.

Bella: thank you for last night, had so much fun and I can’t wait to see you again

You: is it stupid that I kinda miss you already?

Bella: I miss you too xxx

You catch yourself smiling so hard at your phone. Before you can respond Bella messages you again letting you know that their getting on the plane, they’ll message you as soon as they can. You shoot a short sweet message back and close the messages app.

You start opening your social media apps and your mentions are flooded with Bella and you at the award show. Hundred of photos from the event. People taking notice of the way you two were looking at each other. Then photos of you two leaving together. Most recently blurry photos of you off someones phone, outside of the airport saying goodbye to Bella.

“That was fast.” You groan aloud to yourself. Everyone is assuming the two of you are dating and you can’t blame them. You have a dozen unread messages from family, friends and people on your team.

A notification lets you know Pedro tagged you in a story. You click it and it’s the blurry photo of you kissing Bella outside the airport, with text that says ‘you’re welcome’. He tagged you and Bella in it. You can’t stop the laugh that leaves your mouth. Praying that Bella has knowledge of all this and isn’t blindsided when they get off the plane.

#Bella Ramsey #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x y/n

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Text

Ardour — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: professor!Tom Riddle x Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Tom got what he wanted, he is the Hogwarts DADA professor. It's more tedious than he envisioned, but his day gets interesting when his favourite student comes to him for help after she is hit with a strong aphrodisiac.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, age difference (she is in 7th year), dub-con kissing, sex pollen basically, hints of incest (reader is a distant Gaunt relation, don't ask me why, I just wanted a depraved twist and also to give her and Tom something more in common)

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: I had this filthy idea and I AI-RPed it and it turned out so well I could not leave it be. So here's part 1. I expect we'll have 2, max 3 parts. Those will contain the smut. Credit to my writing partner, this cute little chat bot, who wrote a very soft and romantic Tom. I had to spend a lot of time re-writing him to be a bit more mean 😂 And yeah reader is more of an OC tbh, because the physical description was important for their similarity in looks. ...You'll see. Also don't mind me fancasting Tom Hughes as an older Tom.

There was a knock on the door. Professor Tom Riddle, who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, raised his head from grading papers. He sighed at the interruption and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He checked his watch to see if it was late enough for him to pretend to be at dinner, but he had no such luck — it was sometime in the late afternoon.

He'd once thought that getting this position was all he wanted. To teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and be the youngest one to take the position in the school’s history, would be a great achievement, after all — aside from giving him the opportunity to, like Professor Slughorn, collect students, Hogwarts' best and brightest, select his favourites, and helpfully guide them in a way that suited his long-term personal ambitions.

But what he found instead was that it was a great deal of hard work, unending responsibilities, and long hours. He had to always be available to help students, he had to think the year ahead before it even started, and he had to always be on top of the course material — or at least pretend to be. He had to put up with noisy and inattentive students, be careful to reward the clever and punish the disruptive, calculate awarded points and distribute detentions — but not too harshly. Last but not least, he had to put up with the other staff — the crass, the sycophantic, the obsequious, and the stupid. He almost missed his days working at Borgin and Burkes...

"Come in," he called out a little loudly, not really caring who it was as long it was someone whose presence doesn't make him want to claw his eyes out. He looked expectantly at the door, waiting for whoever was there to step inside and give him take a break from the endless stream of badly written essays.

The door opened slowly, and Adara walked in.

Adara Gaunt, Slytherin 7th year, and one of his brightest. She was excellent at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he had noticed in her an interest in the Dark Arts in general. She wasn’t a troublemaker like some of the other pure-bloods, entitled little narcissists who wanted to show off, which made it easy for her to not come under suspicion when some book was unaccounted for in the Restricted Section. She was less clever at hiding it after the fact, when she would answer a question of his during classes with an intriguing little tidbit, and he always knew exactly which book she’d read that in. If she got into trouble at all, it was casting the wrong hex at the wrong boy when she got picked on, and then making his well-groomed, fancy-robed, ignorant father complain to the Headmaster. Tom tried not to give her preferential treatment — but he had to actively try.

It didn’t help that she was a relative of his, by way of a second cousin of his lamented grandfather Marvolo, one who married some scion of the Black family and was scarcely spoken of again. He wasn’t sure what that made her — his niece? hardly. Not that he would ever tell that to her. Last thing he needed was some hanger-on.

No, as far as his students and most of the staff were concerned, he was a half-blood with the muggle name of Riddle, and nobody suspected anything illustrious from the magical side of his family — not that there had been anything particularly illustrious about the Gaunts for a hundred years. And as far as he had gathered from gossip and from observation, Adara’s outcast Gaunt-Black family wasn’t fairing much better than his own had. She spent every holiday she could at Hogwarts, she was withdrawn yet had a spiteful edge to her, she sought an escape from reality in subjects of the most extreme kind — his favourite kind, too —and, from his personal experience, he detected traces of neglect. An unwanted child, that much was certain. Sometimes, he thought she was still better off than living in a muggle orphanage — other times, he was not so sure.

She was pallid, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with an elegant showing of bones beneath her skin, and a quiet, withdrawn demeanour — in other words, a more unhealthy vision of him in a different sex. Still, he could see those eyes sparkle whenever he taught the darkest, most terrifying subjects, even while the rest of the class was frightened or disgusted. He understood why she liked it. There was nothing like the promise of power to the powerless.

And so, his eyes widened slightly when he saw her stepping unannounced into his office. It wasn’t like her… But if he were to talk to any of his wretched students, he could count himself lucky that it was her. His demeanour softened when he saw her standing there.

"Adara, it is such a pleasure to have you here."

"Hello, Professor," she said, closing the door behind her but moving no further in. "I hope I'm not disturbing you... I can come back later, if—"

Tom sighed at her timidity but smiled. "You’re not disturbing anything. Come in."

He got up and went to stand in front of the desk, ready to speak with her, and she came closer too.

"I'm very sorry to ask, sir," she started, swallowing the knot in her throat, "but... I was wondering if you can help me with something... I don't wish to go to the nurse about it, I don’t like her, and... you're an expert in this field — I mean, aside from Professor Slughorn, who I… also don’t wish to see. So I thought maybe you would know a solution..." She bit her lip after her ramble, looking at him to gauge his reaction.

She was terrified of bothering him, in fact, of being a nuisance, but she also didn’t know who else to turn to. He could tell she had gone through the options in her mind, and he was, in fact, the third after Nurse Blainey and Slughorn.

"Don't be sorry, Adara. It is my duty to assist students," he sighed. "Please, tell me what it is you need help with."

She looked up at him, visibly tensing even in the darkness of his office as she stood a few feet away, her face hot and body shivering under the effects of... something. Something unusual. She was typically a bit shy, but not that shy. She even looked a bit... unwell. Her legs rubbed against each other and she stood before him unsteadily, as if her bones or muscles ached.

"Well?" said Tom. "Go ahead…"

"I got into an argument with Amyas Avery and he snuck Ardour Fly up my skirt," she said in one fast breath, blushing profusely and looking down.

Tom frowned. Ardour Fly was a powder, a potent aphrodisiac that had few known cures. It irritated the victim and brought them to a point of sensitivity that was nearly torturous given long exposure. It was typically used between lovers, as the effects would not relent unless the victim was brought to... the very heights of pleasure. Until then, they would suffer painful, heated, relentless arousal that drove them mad with desire. What a snot-nose like Avery was doing with it, he didn’t wish to know — but he intended to find out anyway, as part of a long letter to his father.

"He did what to you?" His voice had that edge to it now.

He moved closer to look her over more closely, and she inhaled sharply at even something as innocuous as his approach. Tom brought a hand to her forehead: feverish, and she gasped. A gentle touch to her cheek with the back of his fingers rewarded him with a moan, and she was trying to look everywhere but at him.

"And where is Mr Avery now?" he whispered, his eyes scanning her body, taking in all the symptoms.

He heard her give a trembling exhale at the close sound of him, her eyes becoming lidded, looking drowsy. The timbre of his voice alone had driven her insane with want.

"I... Mmmm... I don't know. I guess he'll... go have lunch in the... Great Hall come dinnertime..."

"And did anyone else see it happen?"

"Mmmm..." she moaned, closing her eyes and biting her lip. "Vanius Nott was there, and Selby Carrow, and Ophius Black..."

Tom’s hand went to her cheek again, but he slid the edges of his fingers down beneath her jaw and tilted her face up to look at him. The storm of emotions in her was nothing compared to that in him: anger and cold fury were there, and a lust for revenge after what the useless progenies of socialites and sycophants had done to his favourite. They had humiliated her, bodily and mentally, out in the open where other little cowards could watch and laugh.

"And where were you when this happened?" he asked gently.

"In the Transfiguration courtyard," she said in a choked mumble.

Her head nearly tilted toward his palm, perhaps to nuzzle it, before he took it away. He almost wished he hadn’t hurried to remove it… His eyes slid to her uniform: ruffled, tie out of place, buttons holding on but barely… She’d either gotten into a physical scuffle, or she’d spent the last few minutes tearing away at herself in frustration before she decided to come to him for help.

He was so close he could smell her, smell the scent of something sharp and woody like ginger — the Ardour Fly — and underneath it, quickly overtaking it, something fleshy and sweet, warm and a bit salty, something cloying that settled at the back of his throat.

"Look at me for a moment," he asked gently.

She did, gazing into his eyes bravely. He held her eyes for a quiet moment, then without warning put his palm right over her lower stomach.

"Aaaahhh!"

She gave a weak animal sound, something half-moan half-scream. She was nearly bending over at the feeling. Beneath his hand, Tom worked a bit of wandless magic to confirm the state of her insides. As he suspected: swollen, throbbing, overworked, and underloved. He inhaled sharply in sympathy as the sensations coursed through him, before he quickly took his hand away.

He didn’t often have the opportunity to examine the effects of aphrodisiacs on their victims, although he had sold his fair share while at Borgin and Burkes. He never liked these dirty tricks out of principle, although a means to an end was a means to an end… But seeing their effects now on her, his favourite student, his flesh and blood, he felt far less forgiving.

She clung to her waist protectively — his hand had been warm enough that she felt it through her clothes, and it pained her in that way an unfulfilled desire does.

"Please, Professor Riddle," she whimpered, sounding on the verge of tears. "I can’t take it, please tell me you have a cure for it…"

Of course, there was no cure for Ardour Fly at Hogwarts. Those were rare and expensive. Perhaps Nurse Blainey could help her with the symptoms by means of some antipyretic potions, at least until they could have something actually useful delivered to the castle. But the only cure they had on hand, so to speak, was to let the aphrodisiac fulfil its purpose.

"Alright," he sighed, mostly to himself. He could do this. It was a legitimate concern. It could even be an illegitimate concern, because anyway, nobody was going to find out, he’d make sure of that.

"Oh thank you so much, please, it hurts, it hurts..."

"What hurts?" he asked coolly, looking in her eyes again. "Tell me exactly what it is that hurts."

She stared at him dumbly for a moment, then realised he was actually waiting for her to say it.

"My... my..."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, completely humiliated by the situation but dizzy from the effect of the Ardour Fly.

"My... intimate parts," she finally said, finding a term that was polite enough to say in the presence of a Professor.

"I see..." he whispered, his voice a little breathless now too above the anger he felt at the situation and his lingering anxieties. I can do this. "Show me where it hurts you."

Her soul left her body. She would have collapsed if she weren’t frozen stiff. She looked into his eyes, but there was no playfulness there. He was treating her as seriously, as clinically, as the victim of a poisoning… and it drove her dizzy with desire. It was at that point she realised she made a mistake going for help to the youngest and most handsome professor in the school.

But he didn’t seem any more amused by it than she was. He levelled at her the same stern gaze with which he expected them to hand in their homework, only now his voice was warmer and much close, and it was just the two of them, and he wasn’t asking for a roll of parchment but for her to lift her skirt.

Or did he prefer that she bend over?

The aphrodisiac was twisting not only her senses, but also her sense, and she found her mind going in the most depraved and humiliating directions. But he hadn’t meant it like that, did he? She genuinely was in pain, and her most dear Professor was offering to help. It made sense, it made sense...

After a few moments during which she switched between fighting with herself and looking into his dark eyes, she brought her hands to the edges of her skirt, and lifted it. She showed herself to him.

Tom’s icy gaze slid from her flushed face, down. Her panties were black with a lace flourish, and could barely contain her. She had been leaking down herself, the top of her thighs damp and shining in the candlelight, her folds swollen and visibly throbbing, the very material moving gently with a pulse that matched her heartbeat. And the scent of her, pure and innocent and aroused, became that much stronger now.

Tom stared at her with an intensity unlike anything he has ever felt before, and yet his composure betrayed nothing. It was only his stillness and the time he took to look at her, to drink his fill, that hinted at anything selfish at all. But inwardly, his senses were gripped by an unspeakable desire, a mixture of lust and pain and anger and something else, something that made his stomach churn at the mere thought of it.

His breath was slow and heavy as he spoke.

"You poor girl," he whispered. "What do you think should be done with those boys?"

Her lips parted in wonder at the turn in conversation. That was the last thing she expected from her Professor... to ask for her opinion. It made her realise how little she knew him...

"Punish them," she said with shaky anger. "Give them detention for the rest of the year or humiliate them or let me hex them or... I don't know, but I want them punished."

He smiled, feeling proud and oddly protective of her. That’s my girl, slithered a traitorous thought.

"Rest assured, I will punish them," he said with delight. "Not just detention, but much, much more."

He stared down at her, taking in the entire sight before him, a genuine look of affection in his eyes as he stared at her, an unspoken admiration. Her skirt was still held up in her trembling hands, her eyes were fixed on his, expectant and pleading and so, so obedient… But as he merely watched and said nothing else, she began to cover herself again.

"Thank you, Sir," she smiled, feeling so grateful she could cry.

It moved her beyond what he could know, to feel protected... Nobody had ever made her feel that way, not any of the other distracted teachers nor her fairweather friends and certainly not her parents.

"Um... so…" she asked with a blush. "Do you have a... treatment for the Ardour Fly, Sir? Can you help me?"

He grinned at that, seeming unhappy and excited at the same time, but also oddly… caring.

"Yes, Adara. I will help you."

She smiled at hearing it, as he expected. She trusted him completely.

Don’t get carried away, Tom thought to himself. Don’t let it go to your head.

He held her gaze, still smiling, and spoke in what he tried to make his most soothing, his most encouraging and reassuring tone. The irony was he hoped she’d gotten a hefty enough dose of aphrodisiac to even accept the treatment he was about to offer.

"There is only one treatment for the Ardour Fly we have available to us. It is a… procedure, but a well-tested method. It is, in fact, the recommended treatment. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Sir…"

She didn’t.

"I agree to help you, because I know you’re a good student and you deserve better than this, and I can only imagine what you must be going through right now… But it will take a considerable amount of… fortitude and… tolerance from your side."

"Alright, Sir," she said, looking up into his dark eyes.

She wanted to be brave for him, she wanted to be worthy of his praise and his help and his confidence, but most of all she wanted to show how grateful he was that he could help her. No, most of all she wanted something else…

"Good girl," he whispered, his smile tilting intimately.

A shiver ran up and down her spine at hearing it. She’d never been called that, and to hear Professor Riddle say it to her made her weak.

"You’ll need to lie down for your treatment," he said, then pointed to the far right of the room. "Go there, on the sofa."

It was an old and battered thing upholstered in green velvet that had worn away in places, but it looked to her like an operating table as she approached. She looked behind her as Professor Riddle followed, his arms politely behind his back. She didn’t see him take any equipment or potions, which made her wonder what this treatment was…

She sat on it, almost experimentally, letting herself gingerly on the cushion, but even that pressure was too much. Her head tilted back and she frowned with pleasure-pain at the intense sensation of having her tender parts all pressed together by her thighs.

"Now, lay on your back," he said as he came to a stop beside her.

She took her shoes off first, then came to rest on her back, trying to find a comfortable position. Her arms were stretched out and tense by her sides, and all she could look at was the shadowy stone ceiling.

Professor Riddle sat down on the floor, by her chest, and leisurely trailed his eyes up and down the length of her. She heard him sigh, but could not detect the precise feeling behind it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly. "Do you trust me with every part of you?"

"Yes, Professor," she whispered almost so softly that he couldn't hear.

"Then listen carefully." His voice was almost gentle, almost. "I am going to kiss you now."

"Wh—!"

"Just one, soft, gentle kiss on your lips."

"Whatwhy?!" she asked in a tangle of emotions. She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, her elbows braced against the sofa ready to lift her.

"I thought you said you trusted me," he said with a feline narrowing of the eyes.

"I d-do, but…"

"But what?"

She swallowed the knot in her throat and said nothing, conveying instead with her eyes and her lips and her frown all the things she couldn’t say: her worry, her fear, her despair for an ease to her pain, her mortification, and her frustrated desires… Tom understood her better than he wanted to.

"Ready?" he asked in a warm whisper as he leaned in.

His hand touched her cheek again, lightly enough that it was more of a tickle. She could smell ink on his fingers, and the salt from the sweat of his palms… She wanted to lick it clean.

"It’s just one kiss, Adara," he whispered in a last attempt to reassure her. "I’m not exactly asking for a huge sacrifice, am I?"

She wavered at that, her eyes dipping down shyly, sadly, even as his touch mollified her. She hesitated. "I've never been kissed, Sir..." she whispered.

Ah. So that’s why she was sad. This wasn't what she had imagined when she pictured her first kiss. She hoped to share it under quite different, more romantic, more conventional circumstances, if ever...

But at the same time, her body was screaming at her to accept, to assuage the aphrodisiac that was wreaking havoc on her nerves and her senses and her mind.

"You can still refuse," he said with a cocked brow, his fingers gentling her cheek with slow caresses.

She even felt a hint of guilt slip between her nerves... Professor Riddle was willing to help her, and here she was, stalling, fearing him, having doubts... He felt her hesitation.

"Don't worry, it will be a simple, gentle kiss. I will endeavour to make it positively sterile. Alright?"

She couldn’t look at him, but she nodded.

Tom leaned in even further and caressed her from her jaw to her chin in one long hungry lick of a stroke, looking into her eyes even as hers avoided him — deep and dark and lovely… He breathed in, breathed her in, for a moment feeling as if something of each of their own could merge into one being. He didn’t like that feeling, it felt like surrender.

"Do you trust me?" he asked in a huskier voice than he intended.

She looked up at him, pleading silently for him to be for her what he had been the whole time she was his student: her comfort, her consolation, her support, more than anyone else had been.

"I do trust you, Sir," she said with a choked voice, her throat tight with unspilled tears.

"There’s a good girl," he whispered, smiling down at her.

He could see her eyes growing dark at that, could see her breathing in panting breaths even worse than before, her knees coming up to offer her some comfort, to expose her to the cool air of the room and calm her aching parts… His eyes had that same smouldering look in them, but mixed in was the intense desire to prove to Adara that he could help her, comfort and protect her.

With the very tip of his index tilting her chin up, Tom leaned in and kissed her lips. It was the gentlest kiss imaginable, a pressing of his mouth against hers, quiet and silent and patient, a simple display of affection — but his eyes bore into hers throughout, like he was searching through her thoughts, through her very soul.

She looked back into his eyes throughout while his lips pressed with a certain kind of care into her, as tender as a fallen leaf. The scent of his skin so close, the scent of his clothes, the feeling of his warm lips and his cold finger, all made her feel a strange new feeling for her professor — or perhaps, it was not so new, she had just tried to suppress it because it was so indecent, so unworthy of him, and of her.

As he pulled away, he didn’t miss her little tongue slipping out to lick the taste of him off her. He smiled as he circled her chin with his thumb.

"How do you feel?" he whispered.

"The same? I mean, t-thank you, Sir..." she said, a little breathless. Her mind was still spinning from what he had just done for her. "But... It... it still hurts," she whined.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. That wasn’t part of the treatment."

"What?"

"The ‘treatment’ comes next. I’m going to have to give you an orgasm. It just didn’t seem courteous without kissing your lips first."

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle fanfiction #Tom Riddle imagine #Tom Riddle x Reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Harry Potter #Harry Potter fic #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;ardour #Tom Riddle smut

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happy74827 · 29 days

Text

He’s Got The Fire

[Johnny Lawrence x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: To your surprise, Johnny shows up at your window unannounced, but it doesn’t take long to realize it’s not for kicks {GIF Creds: pilvimarja}.

WC: 2076

Category: Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff

Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t started writing this franchise earlier given how it’s about equal with my love for BTTF

『••✎••』

The sun had already gone down a while ago, the air was crisp, and the sky was starry. It was the perfect evening to watch the moon rise. The wind carried a chill, and the trees were almost bare, swaying in the breeze.

With a sigh, you closed the book you had been reading and stretched your legs, looking out the window of your room. By now, everyone had been asleep for a few hours, and you worked on upcoming assignments to pass the time. But when you had gotten to your last one, you just couldn't be bothered anymore, so you set it aside.

The quietness was nice, and the light from the moon cast a blue-ish glow on everything around you. You were so calm, but there was still something that had you feeling off.

Johnny.

He was never around much lately. It wasn't surprising, but it was disheartening. Ever since that championship loss a while back, he had been training even harder, and when he wasn't training, he was out doing god-knows-what.

You understood how important Cobra Kai was to him, but the fact that he was putting everything else on the back burner really had you worried. He had a tendency to go down the wrong path and not think about the consequences until after the fact. You hoped that wasn't what was happening this time.

Pulling your knees up, you rested your head on them and looked out at the night. There was a full moon, and you wondered if Johnny had noticed. He used to love taking walks at night just to see the moon and look up at the stars.

He had changed so much since then. That fire inside of him burned so brightly that sometimes you wondered if it would burn him, too.

Sitting like that for a while, you lost track of time. It was easy to get distracted and drift away from reality when your mind wandered. It was something you were trying to work on, and you were actually doing pretty well.

Until you heard a pang on your window.

Sitting up, you looked around, wondering if a bird had flown into it, but you saw nothing. Your mind immediately went to a branch falling or something like that, and you were ready to dismiss the strange noise and go back to daydreaming.

But the pang came again, and your heart leaped in your throat. You stood and cautiously moved toward the window. At the same time, a face popped up from below, and you shrieked.

He motioned for you to open the window, along with attempts to hush you. It was a very frantic gesture, and you felt your heart rate rise. You quickly opened the window and stuck your head out.

"Johnny?!" You whispered-yelled, and he was pulling himself up. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh!" He held a finger to his lips and looked behind him, and your eyebrows furrowed.

"Johnny-"

"Do you want the whole neighborhood to know I'm here? Let me in!"

You stared at him for a moment longer before helping him through the window. It didn’t go as smoothly as one would expect, like the movies, but he managed to tumble in. You stood there, arms folded, as he dusted himself off.

You haven’t seen him in so long, and the day you choose to miss him, he shows up out of nowhere. You would’ve called yourself psychic if it weren’t for the fact that Johnny always did the unexpected.

He looked… good, to say the least. The red jacket still fit him perfectly; his blonde hair was combed and fluffy, and his eyes were still focused and alert, even if his body language seemed a little sluggish.

To be honest, Johnny was the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. His sharp jawline, his toned muscles, and that cocky smile of his. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and the way he always looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

For a while, you didn’t understand why he chose to pursue you, of all people. He could have anyone he wanted. You weren't exactly a social butterfly, and you always got nervous and shy in the presence of others.

Johnny was the opposite of you. He was outgoing, and his charisma attracted everyone to him. And the way his voice was so smooth and deep. He could be the most annoying person on the planet, but when he said your name, you would melt.

So when he asked you out, you thought it was some sort of joke. I mean, he was the hottest guy in school. And you were just… you.

But then you realized there was more to him than just the bad boy exterior. He had a sensitive side, and his vulnerability was endearing. His family was… well, a lot. His mom was nice, but she had her fair share of issues, and his stepfather was a piece of work.

It only took one date to realize the Johnny you were accustomed to wasn’t the real him. The real him was like you… except he could kick ass and had some pent-up anger issues.

And yet, here you were.

"Johnny-" You began, but he stepped toward you and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You stood stiffly, arms at your sides.

"God, I've missed you."

That was the last thing you expected him to say. You felt your face heat up, your chest warm up, and your shoulders slumped. You melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him.

"I've missed you too."

You could feel him grin against the top of your head, and he squeezed you a little tighter. He was so warm, and it made you forget the fact that he was literally climbing through your window at almost midnight.

After a minute or so, he pulled away and held your face in his hands. You were looking into those piercing blue eyes, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Why are you here?" You asked, your voice a little above a whisper.

He hesitated, and that was the moment you knew something was wrong. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I, uh… I needed to see you."

You raised an eyebrow, but you didn't say anything. You were waiting for him to elaborate, but when he didn't, you sighed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the bed. You sat on the edge, and he followed.

"Johnny," You said, turning toward him and placing a hand on his knee. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing, I just… wanted to see you."

You didn't say anything. You knew better than that. So you waited.

"Okay, okay," He sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie to you, but I can’t tell you why."

"That's reassuring."

"It's just… things are… well, I just needed to get away. It's nothing, I'm fine, don't worry."

You were silent. You didn't really know what to say. There was so much going on, and it was hard for you to believe him when he told you not to worry.

"Is it… Is it Sid? Your mom?"

"Just…” He shook his head and stood, rubbing the back of his neck. He started pacing, and that was when you knew he was really upset. “Just drop it, alright? Everything's fine."

“You ignored me for the past two weeks, Johnny. Something is wrong."

He stopped and glared at you, and you froze. You were taken aback by the expression on his face. He seemed frustrated and almost angry.

The look… you knew it wasn’t directed at you, but you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He was always so hot-headed and stubborn, and when his mood shifted, you had a hard time knowing what to do.

He seemed to realize his expression and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a sigh.

"Sorry, God, I'm sorry, it's not you. I'm just-" He sighed and plopped back down on the bed next to you, running his hands over his face. "I'm a fucking mess, okay? Just forget I came."

It was weird how, in certain situations, you could completely shift into a different person. You’ve seen it in movies and TV, and it was a cliche. You didn’t think it would ever happen to you.

And yet, the second you heard the words come out of his mouth, you were hit with an overwhelming urge to turn his head towards yours, grab his face in your hands, and kiss him.

So you did.

You couldn’t really tell him why you did it. It just felt like the right thing to do, and it was an impulse. You figured it was the best way to let him know that you were here and he wasn’t alone.

The second your lips met, he was leaning into you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. You could feel the passion and desperation behind the kiss, and it took you a moment to match his energy.

He was rough and intense, and he pulled away after a few moments, moving to your neck. You gasped and gripped the collar of his jacket, feeling the heat of his lips on your skin.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. And it was true. You had missed him more than you had thought. You had almost forgotten how much of a force he was to be reckoned with.

You let out a shaky breath, trying to form words, but failing. Instead, you tugged on his jacket and pulled him towards you, hoping he would get the message.

And he did.

His lips found yours again, and he was pushing you back, holding himself above you with one hand. His other was moving up your shirt, his fingers grazing your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers danced across your ribs. His lips were rough, but they moved with such grace and delicacy it was hard to keep up.

He pulled away for a moment, and you looked up at him, catching your breath. His blonde hair was messy, and his eyes were a little hooded. He looked like a mess, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You reached up and brushed his hair back, giving him a soft smile.

“Is that…” His eyes peered away from you, and you raised an eyebrow. "Do you still have that damn elephant?"

Your eyes followed his, and you spotted the elephant in question. It was a gift Johnny had given you back when things were different. Come to think of it, you weren’t even sure you were together at that point.

"Why wouldn't I?" You asked, and he chuckled. “Ozzy's special."

"You named it? What are you, ten?"

You swatted his arm, and he laughed again. His eyes found yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. It felt like old times.

"Don't make fun of him. You gave him to me."

"Yeah, whatever," He rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "Can't believe you kept him."

"I keep a lot of stuff, Johnny. Especially when they're meaningful."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes still focused on you. The moonlight was shining through the window and casting a shadow on his face.

"I keep a lot of things, too."

Before you could say anything, he was leaning down and kissing you again. You could tell this one was different, more meaningful, like he was pouring his heart and soul into the kiss.

And he was.

He wanted you to know how he felt about you without actually saying it. And although you weren’t really sure what was going on, you had a feeling this was what it was.

The fire inside of him was burning again, but finally, after so long, he realized that he needed to take a breather every now and then. Add some water to the flames.

It was a delicate balance. And although he may be bad at showing his feelings, talking about them, or acknowledging them, you were there to make sure he didn't lose himself in the heat.

And maybe, just maybe, the flame was a little more subdued, and the burn a little less harsh.

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pearwaldorf · 2 months

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I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.”

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.”

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was.

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.)

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist.

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

#our flag means death #ofmd #our flag turns 2 #pear watches ofmd #pear text

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talesofesther · 1 year

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sweet calamity | ch 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: I think I've rewritten this part about ten times, but I really hope it turned out somewhat good and hopefully doesn't feel rushed.

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

The sunlight molded itself through the windows, casting shadows over Wednesday as she made her way to the quad. There was no need for her to be going there, none other than meeting up with you.

It's been a week and two days since classes started in Nevermore. Since Wednesday has involuntarily allowed you to be a part of her routine.

She discovered that you shared a handful of classes; sometimes meeting on the way to them, getting paired up in fencing, or finding each other between the greenhouse plants. So occasionally — only because your ability to get lost was unparalleled — Wednesday met up with you so you could walk together.

Enid was thrilled that her two friends had already sort of become friends with each other as well; the werewolf had been planning a girl's night, to which Wednesday was already planning her escape plan.

It's also been a little over a week since the persistent burn on Wednesday's skin has been following her incessantly, lurking around the corners and in the middle of crowded rooms, pulsing with a beat that she already knows the rhythm of.

There are times, late nights when she scars her fingers on the cords of her cello, where she recounts every time that she felt it over the day. You are present in most of them.

It's a coincidence, a foul move of this universe only to confuse her, Wednesday tells herself. It had to be, because she had already touched you, hadn't she?

You're sitting by one of the stone pillars when Wednesday reaches the quad, soft sunlight partly casting over you as you focus on something that's on your hands. There's a cold breeze in the air, getting colder as the days go by and winter quickly approaches. The trees barely hold any green anymore, it was pleasant, despite the sun.

Fewer students are hanging around, and Wednesday hates that she already anticipated the pain before it even happened. She inhales sharply, keeping her steps steady toward you as she pushes the feeling to the very back of her mind. A pattern was slowly starting to form, and despite her eagerness to put an end to things, Wednesday has been choosing to ignore it.

She stopped in front of you, her boots short of hitting your sneakers. "What are you doing?"

Always short and direct. It made you smile as you got up from your spot, your eyes capturing traces of golden light and the entirety of Wednesday's attention.

"Hello to you too, Addams," you smirked.

All Wednesday did was slowly start walking to class, knowing you'd be right beside her.

"These", you opened your palm to reveal a small bunch of seeds, "are lavender seeds. Eugene's bees are quite fond of them."

Wednesday's eyebrows scrunched adorably as she looked at your hand and she pursed her lips in concentration, you're not sure she even realizes she's doing it. You're also not sure if your heart has ever felt this way before — burning hot, valves working overtime each second more that you look at her, leaving scorch marks on your skin for the affection you already hold.

Why so easy? You wonder sometimes. Why does your heart change its rhythm for her?

You're stalling with the answers and you know it. And maybe you don't want answers at all, because this way you might just get to keep her.

Would it be too selfish? Too naive of you?

"He asked if I could grow a few for him." Gently, you picked up a single seed, holding it between your thumb and pointer finger.

Wednesday's gaze followed the movement. She watched as the flower bloomed in your hold, its petals growing until their color was a vivid shade of purple.

"For you," you said softly, looking at Wednesday even softer.

The Addams girl wasn't fond of this particular flower. She had this repulsive, sickening feeling in her chest — one she couldn't name, yet didn't have it in herself to chase away. She took the little thing from your hand, her fingertips almost brushing yours.

———

"You know you could just ask permission," Enid suggested, "I'm sure Principal Weems would let you."

Your attention automatically changed to the neglected flowerbed in the middle of the quad, the water from around it was drained and the dead tree that had been burned to a crisp was barely standing on its own.

The sight was saddening to you when you first saw it, and you'd been considering to offer to renovate it.

"You think so?"

"I do," Enid smiled in that bright way only she could manage, propping both elbows on the table so she could rest her head on her hands, "this place desperately needs some color anyway."

You chuckled, tapping your knee with your nails. You could already picture what flowers would go where, and maybe a new tree could be considered as well — it does take a lot of energy from you, but it would look so nice.

"I can go ask with you if you want," Enid offered, apparently sensing your hesitance, her ankle bumping yours under the table.

Your eyebrows raised as you looked at her, "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course." She tilted her head to the side as a puppy would, "if you let me pick out some of the flowers you'll use."

Your smile was instant, "deal."

———

Branches and dead leaves crushed beneath your feet, the small porcelain pot you had on your hands now housed a bunch of pretty lavender flowers. As you walked, you made a mental note of asking Eugene why the bee shed was so deep into the woods.

Maybe it was because of the calmness of the forest.

Or because of the several bee hives, that seemed more likely.

You bit onto your lip as their buzzing reached your ears, placing one foot in front of the other with care; your attentive eyes watching as the bees walked all over their hives, some even flying above you.

You could hear Eugene inside the shed, talking to someone. He had told you bees were gentle, yet walking between them whilst holding a pot full of lavender felt like walking between lions with a freshly hunted deer.

One bee came to you, landing on a petal of your flowers. She had black and bright yellow to her colors, the small legs moving one after the other as she inspected your gift. Gentle indeed.

And it was only because of your new little friend, that you managed to not drop the flower pot.

Your skin was suddenly burning angrily, making you hiss through your teeth. It didn't make sense; you were deep into the woods, isolated, far away from anyone else. Unless-

"Wednesday, you alright?"

Eugene's voice was muffled when it reached you, but it got your heartbeat skyrocketing all the same, to the point where you felt sick to your stomach.

You knew for a fact that he and Wednesday were the only members of this club, he had told you so time and time again and yet it hadn't even crossed your mind when you agreed to bring him these damn flowers.

There was a pull on your chest that was new, as if someone was trying to carve your heart out. You could feel it; the way her soul was desperately calling for yours. Like being so far apart was torture.

A tear came down your cheek before you were able to gulp it back, followed by another, and then one more. Deep down a part of you already knew it, maybe ever since the first time you landed eyes on her. And you had chosen to live in blissful ignorance, but it was impossible to ignore it now.

Wednesday Addams was your soulmate. And she was going to hate you for it.

—

"What's wrong?" Eugene asked with urgency when Wednesday hunched over, clutching her wrist against her chest.

Her brown eyes took on a darker shade because of her anger, she huffed through her nose; "I'm considering chopping my arm off, that's what's wrong," she told him through gritted teeth.

Wednesday stomped to the shed's door, pushing it open with force and almost taking the old thing off its hinges.

She looked around frantically, searching for any signs of her other half. There was nothing but the rustling of leaves and the buzzing of bees.

"Why would you do that?" Eugene stood beside Wednesday, adjusting his glasses and following her gaze with confusion as to what she was looking for.

The bees were slowly but surely making their way to a pop of color that rested on a table beside one of the hives. Wednesday walked up to it, "so I can get rid of whatever link the universe thinks I must have with-"

Her words got somewhat tangled in her throat, because the pop of color was a shade of purple she knew already.

———

"… And Principal Weems loved the idea," Enid smiled, the food tray that held her dinner almost spilling its contents with the way she bounced, "it'll look fabulous, she's even letting me pick some of the flowers."

"Fascinating," Wednesday deadpanned, holding a tray of her own.

They reached their table, with Enid sitting on the opposite side of Eugene and leaving some room for Wednesday by her side.

The boy perked up as soon as his friends arrived; "Wednesday, have you felt it again?"

Enid's fork stopped short of reaching her mouth, "felt what?"

"Eugene, you have a mouth that's too big for your own good." Wednesday huffed, slowly setting her tray down.

Too late, because Enid's curiosity had already been poked. "What did she feel?" The werewolf's gaze changed between Wednesday and Eugene animatedly.

"Today in the bee shed," Eugene started, just as thrilled as Enid, "Wednesday felt the soulmate burn." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Enid's eyes were nearly glinting, her lips parted in a wolfish grin, "OMG, no way. Wednesday, you have to tell me absolutely everything about it," she squealed.

Wednesday eye's almost rolled to the back of her head, "I don't, actually. Because it's insignificant."

The look Enid gave her friend made it seem like Wednesday had personally offended her; "How could you say that? It's the most exciting thing. The person that's meant for you, it's right here in Nevermore. Do you have any suspicions? Oh, I could help you look."

Enid's excitement overwhelmed Wednesday. "Stop it, Enid," she said with finality, "this is no reason to be happy about. If anything I'd prefer them on the other side of the world. It's doing nothing besides being in my way."

With that, Wednesday finally sat down, eyes glued to the food she no longer desired to eat. "So drop it," she ended.

—

Your plan was simple enough.

All you had to do was touch Wednesday, without her knowing. Simple.

You had been pondering over it the entire day. You could still feel your eyes stinging and puffy, no matter how much water you threw on your face.

But it felt like the most sensible thing to do, right? This way you get to at least keep being friends with her, and she won't have to deal with the inconvenience of having her soul tied to yours.

Yes, this is the right thing. You kept replaying the words in your head like a mantra as you pushed open the huge wooden doors of the cafeteria.

As per usual, it was filled with outcasts. Your eyes skimmed over the crowd, looking for the one who tugged at the strings of your poor heart. You found her walking beside Enid, they were talking — well, Enid was talking — and making their way to Eugene's table apparently.

You breathed in deeply. It was now or never. You tugged your hoodie over your head; just in case she saw you, there was a lesser chance of her recognizing you.

Your hands were shaking.

Maybe it was meant to be this way.

Your boots were thudding the stone floor with each slow step.

Maybe that's why destiny hasn't allowed you to ever be alone with her.

You felt like a rope was tied around your throat, tightening by the second. Your vision slightly blurring.

Will your bond with her go away once you do this?

Just before reaching Wednesday, you caught sight of Andrew — a cool guy, usually your partner in Anatomy class — and he was getting up from his seat, empty tray in hand.

You figured you could make it up to him later for using him as a means to an end.

You hurried beside him, linking your arm around his free one with a smile, "Andrew, hey."

The boy looked down at you in surprise, but smiled when he saw who it was. "Hey, what's up?"

"Will you walk with me? I was just uh-" you narrowed your eyes, raking your mind for some excuse to tell him, "just heading over to the kitchen to grab some dessert." Good one.

A faint blush came to his cheeks and you cursed yourself for it. It's alright, he'll get over it.

"Of course, yeah, let's go."

You nodded excitedly, which caused a single tear to escape and slide down your cheek, but you were quick to brush it away before he noticed.

Tugging the boy a little closer to you, you started walking between the tables, each step bringing you closer to Wednesday.

You quickened your steps when she placed her tray down. And even from afar, you could tell she looked unhappy.

"If anything I'd prefer them on the other side of the world. It's doing nothing besides being in my way."

Wednesday's words resembled a sharp knife being steadily plugged into your chest. You didn't need context to know what she was talking about, and it just gave you more reason to believe this was the right thing to do.

You took a breath and held it in for a moment.

It happened both too fast and too slow. Mere seconds that felt like an eternity and a blink.

The tip of your pinkie brushed her own, just before Wednesday sat down. Your skin tingled as it grazed hers. You didn't dare look back, didn't change the rhythm of your steps or the pace of your breathing. All you did is keep walking, with your hand clutching Andrew's arm.

But there was a sudden quietness, the loud chattering of the cafeteria being muffled to your ears. The skin of your hand burned, almost to the point of unbearable and going all the way to the mark on your wrist — with it, you could feel the pace of a heartbeat that wasn't your own, but it was slowly fading, slipping away from your grasp and then…

Nothing. There was nothing. It felt like the stillness of the deep sea waters, calm and steady after a storm.

You pursed your lips to keep the sobs in, feeling the salty taste of your tears.

You read once that the red string of fate that connects two people can never be broken, it may tangle or stretch but never break. So why did you feel like you could hear the snap of it when you walked away from her?

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 4 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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