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#great comet fic
reineydraws · 3 months
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mishanks sketch dump bc ive been doodling them to de-stress or when i need a break from other pieces lately ✨️
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Shipgirl height headcanons
(Note: my sense of scale and size is somewhat screwed, so this is more of a reference sheet than a definitive height chart for my hcs)
Bismarck is roughly around 6ft; Prinz Eugen is, at most, a head shorter than her (this becomes half a head~a couple of inches with her heels)
Valiant is exactly 1cm taller than her sisters and lords it over them (Queen Elizabeth is not amused)
To add onto the previous point, Queen Elizabeth META is two (2) centimeters taller than Valiant
The Yorktown class from tallest to shortest is Enty, Yorktown, Hornet; Type II rigging doesn't change this (though in all fairness, the height difference isn't noticable until you ask all 3 of them to stand against a wall together)
Royal Fortune is roughly 5'9"
In the Starter Squad, Nimi/Z23's the tallest, followed by Ayanami, Javelin, then Laffey
Roon and Enty are similar in height
Yamashiro META is 1½ inches taller than her non-meta counterpart
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vasyashumkov · 1 year
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my beautiful first maryatole fic EVER has been pisted (first chapater… more to come…) check it out I think. It’s badly written but I’m taking pride in it anyway.
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swedisheek · 2 months
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new fic if anyone’s in the mood for my new faggot obsession
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secretmellowblog · 2 years
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Im amazed that there aren’t more Les Mis/Great Comet of 1812 crossovers ….like ? Most of Les mis takes place at around the same time and Grantaire even references a Great Comet of 1811 in one of his many passionate rambles.
I was gonna say “you could do something really fascinating with the Russian vs French attitudes toward Napoleon and the recent wars,” but really I just think there should be a fic where Grantaire and Pierre go to 1800s Alcoholics Anonymous together 👍
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sxnyarostova · 1 year
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agerefandom · 2 years
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Natasha Is Young
Fandom: Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 
Characters: regressor!Natasha and an unexpected (caregiver) Hélène
Words: 1,400
Summary: Natasha is stressed after church and needs some alone time to regress, but Hélène walks in on her and is utterly charmed. (a rewrite of ‘Charming’ from the musical) 
Warnings: Natasha has a lot of anxiety and tears. Accidental regression reveal. Pacifiers. 
Note: This wasn’t a request, but I was on a train listening to this musical and this sprang into my head fully formed, and I just had to get it down on paper. I don’t know if anyone else is into this musical, it’s not even on my fandom list, but here we go! 
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After church, Marya left for Prince Bolkonsky’s, loudly proclaiming her intent to “straighten him out.”
The old man’s disdainful gaze was still all-too vivid in Natasha’s memory. Every time she thought of him, she felt angry and embarrassed and afraid all at once, a wave of emotions that flushed her cheeks. Was this to be her family when she married? What if, when Andrey got to know her better, he looked at her with the same disgust and dismissal?
Natasha just wanted to be loved. Why was that so hard?
As soon as they got home, Natasha made her excuses to Sonya and ran up to her room. She knew that Sonya was well aware she was upset, but she also knew that Sonya would understand her need for some time alone.
Thank goodness, because Natasha needed a special kind of comfort right now.
Natasha closed the door behind her and collapsed to her knees in relief. Church had brought her a mixture of pleasure and fear, everyone’s eyes following her. She knew that she was beautiful, that she was new and connected to Andrey, and everyone wanted to know her. She was proud, but still… it was hard to keep her head high at all times, to keep polite and decorous.
Sometimes Natasha needed to be alone, unguarded and free.
Would she get that chance after she married? Would Andrey find out? Would she hide it for the rest of her life? Would she have to stop when she was a wife?
The questions were enough to bring tears to her eyes, kneeling helplessly on the floor of her godmother’s house.
Natasha was so tired of being afraid. Afraid that Andrey would never come home, afraid of what would happen when he did. Scared of being known, scared of always being alone.
Keeping her tears quiet, Natasha pulled at the laces of her dress, wriggling out of the layers until she was just in her underdress and socks.
Finally able to breathe, she crawled across the floor. Tears fell onto the backs of her hands, and snot was running from her nose. She could feel her hair sticking to her cheeks.
Reaching the bed, she let herself fall herself on her side and dragged one of her suitcases from underneath. There, nestled in her socks, was a pacifier and her most beloved doll, Mila.
The pacifier went into her mouth, and Mila into her arms, cradled ever-so gently. Mila knew all of Natasha’s fears, and she always said that it would all be okay.
It was hard to be scared when Mila was in her arms, smiling her peaceful little smile.
Natasha hadn’t been able to bring many toys to Moscow, but she had never considered leaving Mila behind. The doll was one of her best friends.
Already, holding Mila, Natasha could breathe again.
I love you, Natasha imagined Mila saying to her, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
I love you too. Please never leave me, Natasha answered silently.
Never, Mila promised.
Natasha hugged Mila close, her porcelain and fabric edges so familiar and comforting.
Blinking back the tears, Natasha reached back into the suitcase and retrieved a handful of Mila’s dresses. She had sewed some of them herself, but most were stolen from other, less-favoured dolls. Mila had built up a collection over the years: almost as many as Natasha.
Mila was currently in an evening gown, which wasn’t right for a Sunday afternoon.
Natasha spread the dresses over the floor and considered them, unbuttoning the tiny latch on Mila’s back and pulling off the inappropriate evening gown.
Natasha had just decided on a nice church dress when there was a knock on the door, and someone stepped in before Natasha could react.
It was Hélène, standing in the doorway. She was wearing a gown much like the one Natasha had just taken off of Mila: her collarbones showing, her shoulders barely covered, her hair much too elegantly decorated for a church service. One of her hands was on the doorknob, and her painted lips were parted in surprise.
Natasha found that she couldn’t move. She should be panicking, pushing Mila away, wiping the tears, spitting out her pacifier, but she was… frozen.
Her eyes locked with Hélène, Natasha couldn’t even blink until the other woman moved, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
Hélène’s expression of shock was changing to a smile, her eyes moving over the scene.
“What a precious little thing,” Hélène breathed, and Natasha felt like all the air was being pulled from the room. “And to think that I was ready to let my brother... well. He wouldn’t know what to do with a gift like this.”
Natasha was finally released from the ice that had frozen her veins, and she recoiled from the approaching woman, holding Mila protectively against her chest.
“Oh, not to worry, precious thing. I wouldn’t touch your doll without asking,” Hélène promised. She looked equal parts tender and hungry, and Natasha had never been looked at like that before.
She felt her cheeks flush, and she didn’t relax when Hélène knelt on the floor, an arm’s length away.
“How old are you, little one?” Hélène asked, and her voice was so gentle and inviting that Natasha found herself holding up two fingers before she had processed the question.
“Two years old! What a lovely age for a lovely girl.”
Natasha hid her face behind Mila. She didn’t know if Hélène was teasing her maliciously, but she knew her cheeks must be bright red.
“Are you shy? Do you have someone to take care of you?”
Natasha shook her head, looking up at Hélène in shock. How could Hélène think that she had told anyone about this? It was a terrible secret, the deepest indignity, the most reprehensible thing.
Belatedly grabbing the pacifier from her mouth, Natasha found her voice.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
Even to her own ears, the words were weak and desperate. Asking the queen of society to keep a secret?
Natasha was ruined.
But the tenderness in Hélène’s eyes…
“I won’t, precious. On one condition.”
Natasha nodded furiously, her hands tight around Mila. Anything, she wanted to promise. Just don’t tell Andrey.
“I’d like to take care of you,” Hélène said, and Natasha couldn’t have possibly heard her right. “My husband is always in his study, and our servants are well-paid for discretion in my matters. You wouldn’t need to hide away in your underthings. I could order fine dresses, for you and your dolls both. Something that matches your eyes, darling, but ever so easy to play in.”
“Why?” Natasha managed, and Hélène laughed. Her laughter was like the rest of her: refined, composed, effortlessly elegant.
“You don’t know how charming you are, Natasha. Anyone who saw you cry and didn’t move the stars for you… they would be a fool. You look like something that must be protected, and I know all too well how dangerous the world can be. I almost sent you out into it, defenseless. But I see now how it could hurt you. You deserve to play with dolls a little longer. The world can wait.”
“I’m big sometimes,” Natasha protested. She didn’t want Hélène to think that she was always so helpless.
“And it would be my pleasure to introduce you to society when you are. Teach you to read the intentions of those around you. But when you are small, I want you to allow yourself to accept it, revel in it.”
“I’m not…” Natasha hesitated. “Worth it.”
“Precious, where have you been? Hiding all these years because you didn’t know this was a beautiful thing, to be young again? I will never have children, and I have come to terms with that. But someone like you… a companion and a child, a friend and a charge. You would be a jewel to anyone, but I have been waiting for you a very long time.”
The passion in Hélène’s voice drowned any of Natasha’s remaining uncertainty.
“Please,” she whispered. “I want you to take care of me.”
For the first time, Hélène smiled fully. It wrinkled the corners of her eyes in a way Natasha had never seen before.
“Well, darling, why don’t you start by introducing me to your friend? She looks like she needs a new dress.”
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kissmefriendly · 1 year
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Me interacting with any new media: okay, so how can I make this into a Hadestown au
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bitterpngs · 1 year
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in my anti es tee es gee era /j
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field-s-of-flowers · 2 years
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Oh this is just for my great comet followers, but I won’t be continuing the Havana au because
I no longer ship Maryalene
I don’t know what’s going on in the gc/w&p fandom right now but I’m not touching that shit with a ten-foot pole
If you need me I’ll be in the hadestown fandom trying to tune out anyone other than my mutuals
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lizzypuppet1711 · 7 days
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maybe rereading the same four great comet fics over and over will fix me
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yary-t · 1 year
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things I (over)think when commenting on fics/sending messages to writers on Tumblr: 
Do I sound too fangirly? Too insane?
Have I overcompensated and now sound unenthusiastic?
Could any part of this message be perceive as sarcastic? Would a note about how none of it is sarcasm make it sound even more sarcastic? Is there an inverse "/s" I can use?
Fuck this sounds judgy/snobbish doesn't it
It does
Imma rewrite it
Will they think I'm dumb
Does the fact that they didn't answer means I managed to accidentally offend and/or annoy them
Does the fact that they answered another ask by me mean they forgave me or did they just not notice I'm the same person
And lastly and leastly: will they be able to tell I'm not a native speaker
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trashmouth-richie · 1 year
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eddie x fem!reader. [vol i] [vol ii]
summary: Eddie’s shenanigans continue, a heavy conversation leads to revealing factors of how Eddie and reader know eachother.
tw: no minors, mentions of drug use/ abuse, death etc. heavy heavy flirting (eddie) eventual smut
wc: 6.4k
a/n: we made it! Another week another volume to our disgusting eddie series. I’m still blown away by the likes, reblogs, and comments this series is receiving— thank you all so much I appreciate it.
s/o: @pinkrelish @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington + @agentmarvel for helping me bring this fic to life! whether that’s beta reading, me bouncing ideas from to you or just talking me through the pacing- I love you all, this fic would be dog shit without you 🤍♥️💋
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You wake to the buzzing of your alarm, your hand reaching through the dark across your night stand, slamming down hard on the smooth cold snooze button, but it doesn’t stop.
You hit it again.
Nothing.
The beeps get louder. Your eyelids open a sliver to reveal the numbers 3:42 in red on your alarm clock.
Your alarm usually doesn’t go off until 6, and it’s Sunday so it was never set.
Fuck.
You fly out of bed, disregarding the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, and open the door. A light haze of smoke fills the hallway, white and dreamy, almost pretty like smoke on the water after it rains.
The smoke detector in the kitchen is alarming, letting you know that the potential of a fire is a great possibility with its ominous beeping. You spring into action, throwing open the kitchen window above the sink.
Where is it coming from?
At first you think it’s from the oven, maybe Eddie left a frozen pizza in too long. The older oven was fussy anyway, burning things one day and the next taking forever to heat up to 375° to make a batch of cookies. But the oven was cold, the smoke seemed to be coming from the living room, a quick glance shows you exactly what was going on.
The couch was on fire.
-
The hum of the vacuum and the clinking swirl of jagged edges of chips and popcorn kernels sucking up through the cylinders into the bag invade the small living room. It took Eddie almost an hour to find where you kept the cleaning supplies. Turns out the smaller door across from the basement was a closet, housed with everything you’d need to clean a home.
Each item was stacked neatly, brooms and a floppy white mop hung on hooks, the vacuum tucked into the corner. The top shelf had bleach, and a green can labeled ‘comet’ that looked like it could be mistaken for Parmesan cheese. Judging by the bottle with blue liquid and a window on it, called Windex, Eddie figured that probably wasn’t for spills on counters. He settled for a bottle of 409 and a roll of paper towels. Grabbing the vacuum with him.
After vacuuming the living room and wiping up the spills in the kitchen, he sits down. A lit joint between his lips, contemplating on what the actual fuck happened tonight. He couldn’t believe your bitchy attitude or the way your lip trembled after he called you out.
You weren’t the girl he used to know. You had changed, grown into a bitter woman, hating everyone and everything.
He falls into a dreamless sleep. Waking later to stumble into the bathroom to take a poorly aimed piss in the dark and falling face first into his mattress.
-
You grab the first thing you can think of to extinguish the flames ablaze on the couch. Where the hell is Eddie? What the fuck happened!? Filling a popcorn bowl with water that doubled as a puke bucket when you were sick with the flu back in March, you run back to the couch throwing the water on the flames. For good measure you refill the bucket and douse the couch again— putting the flames out, leaving a soaked charred couch that once was a staple in the Wheeler basement for the better half of a decade.
To say you are enraged would be the understatement of the year, possibly the century. You didn’t have much to your name— not anymore, he had made sure of that. But this!? You open all the windows, letting the dewy air of an early summer morning seep through the house, a slight breeze moving the thin curtains.
You weren’t a great physics student but you are almost certain that a couch wouldn’t suddenly combust into flames no matter how old it is. A red plastic lighter on the coffee table confirmed your suspicions.
You don’t waste time trying to wake him up by yelling, you fill the bowl of water immediately and charge into his room. It was as if you put the fire out but the flames were still burning inside of you, you were fucking irate with Eddie. Hate bubbling inside of you as you stomped into his room, water sloshing all over the carpet and onto your socked feet.
He’s laying on his stomach, a loud snore rippling through his body, the last bit of calm before the ice cold water hits his bare back. Soaking his bed in return.
A loud screeching gasp leaves his dry mouth, cottonmouth having his tongue feel like sandpaper on a sidewalk.
He turns over to face you, annoyed and confused at what the hell was going on.
“Y’know,” he says, standing abruptly from his mattress and shivering when the fan oscillates onto his freezing back, “there are more humane ways to wake someone,” he takes a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the smoke and the burnt fibers of the couch, “smells like you burnt breakfast so how may I help you at this ungodly hour?”
“You son of a bitch,” you seethe, “I swear to everything holy and your satan worshiping ass that I’m going to kill you!”
Eddie doesn’t bat an eye, “ooh baby, are we role playing right now? Shit I’m not prepared, gimme a minute.” He stuffs his hand into the front of his boxers making a jerking motion.
“Jesus Christ! I didn’t come in here to fuck you! Have you seen the living room?!”
“So hostile in the morning—“ he says rubbing his eyes, letting a yawn escape his slack mouth, “why what the fuck are you accusing me of now? I cleaned up my mess so if we’re not fuckin’ I’m going back to b— “ you drag him by the arm to the living room. Unable to speak. Unable to breathe properly through the lingering smoke.
His eyes land on the charred mass of the couch. Panic settled on his face for a brief moment before he discarded it for humor. “Damn Tooty, if you wanted a new couch you could have just asked,” he says, letting out a yawn, and stretching his arms out.
He cringes at the way his full name falls from your lips. The spinning rage of fury throwing yourself into a hissy fit.
“I can’t fucking believe you! How goddamn high were you to not realize the couch was on fire before you passed out?”
“Oh fucking relax, it was an accident!”
“Accident? Spilling milk on the counter is an accident. Knocking over the shampoo bottles in the shower is an accident. This.” You say seconds away from full on losing your mind, “is arson, destruction of personal property, a credible offen—“
“Credible offense? Didn’t know you joined the police force, officer Tooty..”
“Eddie!”
“… you probably have those swat grade handcuffs, the ones that won’t break when your wrists are bound to my bedpost, shit I’m hard just thinking about it.”
It takes everything in you not to look down, not to see the way he’s swelled up in his boxer briefs. Not to see the stretch of the fabric or the outline of his length.
You let out a frustrated groan, dragging your hands down your face. “God you are so fucking infuriating! You really moved in here and just thought you could do whatever the fuck you wanted because you’re Eddie the freak Munson huh? Twenty-six and still pretending that rules and doing shit in a normal way don’t apply to you.”
You think back to how he was in high school, ranting and raving on the cafeteria tables or giving a presentation about how Dungeons and Dragons was in fact not a cult when the assignment was supposed to be on the Holocaust.
He did whatever the fuck he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted to do it. He didn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself. Never did, never would.
“I fucking hate you,” you spit, “you’re a filthy bastard and I hope you rot in hell.”
He’s heard it all before, so it’s not a surprise when your words turn sour, trying to break him down. But he won’t stand for it.
“Oh baby,” he tuts, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, “you think you’re the only person to ever hate me?”
He crosses his arms and leans forward, inching towards your face, “if you wanna compete with the big dogs, you better get in line. Heard they sell tickets at the high school for the ‘we hate Eddie Munson fan club’.”
He chuckles at the idea of the whole town hating him, small minded inbred losers, clutching to their cross necklaces whenever he walked past them.
“Probably more fans there than Corroded Coffin has right?” You provoke, eyes raised and a smirk twisting your lips.
“That attitude of yours…” his words are lost when he looks at your lips, he shakes his head and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes scan over your body. Tiny little tank top with one of the straps hanging off your shoulder. Your baby blue pajama pants low on your hips, no panty line suggesting you’re commando under them, “Fuck.” He breathes mostly to himself.
“Listen, I’ll replace the couch, but you seriously need to get a fucking grip and relax, you’re gonna have a brain aneurism if you keep this shit up.”
Only Eddie could turn a disaster of almost starting your house on fire to a joke about you being crazy and him getting horny in return. It had to be a talent to be so aloof from reality. So unphased by shit happening around him. Just placing a bandaid on things hoping they would work out.
But for you, it never came that easy.
-
You decide the only reasonable thing to do was to move the couch to the garage and try to rid the house of the lingering smoke smell. Thankfully the carpet and the coffee table were fine, but the couch was obviously a total loss. Eddie was surprisingly strong, maneuvering the couch almost by himself all the way to the garage, with your help of opening the doors. The way his muscles worked in his back as he lifted the couch and pulled it through the threshold made your stomach flutter. And you were pissed at the thought of it.
“Get some sleep,” Eddie ordered, after you got back into the house, yawning loudly and rubbing your eyes, “we can figure this shit out later.”
Normally you would have argued with him about not telling you what to do but you were exhausted. You climb back into your bed, and fall asleep quick. Dreaming of your entire house on fire and Eddie standing outside, pissing on the flames.
-
“What about this one?” Eddie asks, laying on a large brown sofa, sinking into the cushions like he’s submerged into quicksand.
He woke up around 9 AM, barging into your room, blaring Judas Priest and singing Love Bites at the top of his lungs. Scaring the absolute shit out of you and having you reach for the nailed bat Steve had given you after Nancy had moved out.
“Let’s roll butthole,” Eddie laughed as he sat on your bed, munching on a piece of toast, “ooh, and maybe skip the bra like you did this morning, that was so fucking hot.”
Jesus Christ.
“Get out,” you hiss, covering your chest with your blanket.
Eddie stands up and jumps on your bed pouting, “seriously you’re so boring, let them titties out and come jump with me.”
“I swear you get more immature by the minute. Now get the fuck out before you break my bed.”
“You wish I’d break your bed, oh my god!” He stops jumping immediately, “Tooty! Am I the first guy to be in here?”
You get up immediately, wrapping your throw blanket around you and grabbing Eddie by his foot trying like hell to yank him off your bed.
“Ow, stop you’re hurting me,” he jokes in a mocking, deadpan voice.
You’re slapping him anywhere you can reach him, throwing your pillows at his head, anything to get the perv out from your sheets. He’s laughing rolling around on your bed, moaning your name loudly.
“Eddie Munson I swear, I’ll slash the tires on that shit box van of yours out there if you don’t get out of my room!”
“Oooh, felony charges? Goddamn you’re gonna make daddy cum.”
You grab your clothes from the closet and retreat to the bathroom. Huffing and stomping the whole way, slamming your door so hard the windows in your room rattle.
-
You’ve been looking around the Big Boy’s furniture mart for at least three hours. Eddie insisted on trying every single couch they had. And you weren’t talking about just laying on them or testing their firmness.
“Hey, can you lay down and I’ll get on top so I can see how it feels? I need to make sure I can reach the right angles if ya catch my drift,” he says with a shit eating grin and a wink. “Or better yet, I’ll sit and you get on top, gotta make sure the ladies knees are comfy too ya know?”
You swat at his arms, “you’re such a fucking pig, Munson.”
“With a fat—“ interrupted by the sales clerk asking if everything was okay, you smile awkwardly and sit down next to Eddie, testing the enormous brown couch, “wallet.” He finishes, a smile on his lips as you roll your eyes.
“This one is good, c’mon sit down and try it out.” He purrs, wiggling his eyebrows.
You’re standing beside him clutching your purse, his long legs are bent at the knee and spread out wide. Arms on the back of the couch, claiming his space, spread like a king.
“No,” you complain, “If you like it, get it, I’m tired and I just want to go home.”
“Why? The Virgin Mary got a big date or something?” he says, with a mean laugh.
He’s such an asshole. If you weren’t playing his little games he’d turn into such a fucker.
“Jealous?” you say, invading his space, voice dipped low, tracing circles on his denim knees.
His breath hitches in his chest at your light touch, but you don’t stop there. Sauntering up to the sales counter you work your magic.
With a little flirting and the perfect placement of your arm under your heaving chest while leaning over the counter, chewing on your pen and running it down your neck and into the slit of the one too many unbuttoned buttons on your blouse with the dorky sales manager sporting a receding comb over, you get free same day delivery, even on a Sunday.
Impressed, and shocked Eddie asks, “Now how did you manage that one Tooty?” he asks his head dipped by your ear as you walk towards the door, “thought you were the head nun at Saint No Fun.”
You lick your lips, laying the charm on thick, “Think you’re the only one who can flirt and make someone uncomfortable?” You ask, looking up at him and batting your lashes.
Wrong.
That was the wrong thing to say to him. And you walked right into it.
A smug smile spreads against his lips, accompanied with lowered eyebrows and a deep groan to his voice, intruding on your personal space, “so you admit that I make you uncomfortable?”
Your cheeks heat and you slither away from him, buttoning your shirt higher and mumbling about how disgusting he is while walking fast out of the store and making your way to Eddie’s van, your sandals clicking on the asphalt.
Walking through the door to outside feeling the sun beat down on his curly mess of hair, he can’t help but laugh at you storming away.
“Don’t run from your feelings, sweetheart,” Eddie calls from the parking lot, “I’m a give— oh relax bitch I’m not talking to you!” He yells to a woman ushering her two children inside the store as she glares back at him, frightened when he places the infamous devil horns on his head and flicks his sinful tongue out.
He climbs back into the van, laughing maniacally and blaring Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam. He looks over and sees you shrunken down in the seats, covering your head with your arms trying to make yourself as small as possible. Avoiding being seen with him with all your might.
“At some point in time princess, you’re gonna have to give up this facade that you’re some high and mighty broad.”
“I don’t think that—“ you say sitting up right and forcing the heat from your cheeks, “I just don’t want to be seen with you in public anymore than I have too, plus I really think seeing you humping the furniture burned a hole in my brain.”
“It was quite a sight wasn’t it, wait until you experience it first hand— you’ll have to go to church begging for forgiveness.” he finished with a whisper.
You roll your eyes, disgusted with his constant perverted mind spewing sexual comments.
“Do you ever, just— I don’t know, have a normal conversation that isn’t based around your penis and all the things you’d fuck if given the opportunity?”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes, turning down his music, “When did you get so boring? I swore you were never like this when I knew you. Eyeball’s little sister. Thee Tooty. Meanest girl in her grade. Stealing cigarettes from the gas station. Sneaking out at night to catch a ride with the freak to the nearest party, you were cool back then. Now you’ve joined the fucking convent in virgin town capital of Lame-ville, USA.”
You had forgotten about Kev’s nickname, Eyeball. Eddie had made it up after he had gotten a fishing hook through his eyelid back in their sophomore year. Eddie was at your house almost all the time, him and your brother were as thick as thieves, and sometimes they were just that. He always invited you along, telling Kev it was alright. After he had graduated in ‘85 and Eddie stayed behind, Eddie became your outlet, bringing you and his hellfire idiots, your own classmates, to parties because you didn’t have a car. Swearing to Reefer Rick, that you little goons were cool. ‘Specially Tooty’ he’d say, announcing that you were Eyeball’s sister with a toothy grin.
Seems like such a long time ago that you were all just stupid kids, living for the weekend and a shared bottle of strawberry hill Boones Farm on the way to a party, now half of you were in serious relationships, or college. But you were still here in Hawkins, cutting the hair of the rich while you could barely balance your mortgage and utilities.
People like you and Eddie never got out of small towns. Live, breathe, die.
The end.
No happy endings.
“I’m not a nun, you inconsiderate prick,” you yell at him, “I just don’t think fart jokes, or shitting with the door open and belching contests are funny.”
Eddie pulls his eyebrows together annoyance splattered on his face, “yeah, I’m pretty inconsiderate, just dropped hundreds of dollars to get princess Tooty a new couch, how fucking dare I?”
“You’re the one that burned the other one down!” You holler back at him, losing any shred of self-control you have left, “ I wouldn’t have asked you to do that and you’re the one who volunteered to buy it in the first place!”
“Well, you didn’t really give me a choice standing there with those sad fucking eyes acting like I just fucked your sister and shot your parents in the face.” He sneers back, nostrils flared, driving like a bat out of hell through Hawkins.
You’re pouting, crossing your arms and huffing loudly as he continues.
“I swear to God there’s not a single fucking thing that I can do right for you Tooty,” he snaps, knuckles tight against the steering wheel. “It doesn’t matter what it is what I will, or won’t do you just have it in your head that I’m the worst fucking person in the world.”
You sit there stunned, face crumbled into anger as you stew pissed off beyond belief at his bullshit remarks. He pulls into the driveway, stomping on the brakes and having you lurch forward as he throws the van in park.
He turns to face you. A ringed finger pointing in your face as he gets closer.
“Like I said earlier, sweetheart, you want to hate me? Get in fuckin’ line, this whole goddamn town hates me and I don’t give a fat rat’s ass what anybody thinks of me, especially a stuck up brat like you.”
You’re both breathing heavy, the tension between you both thicker than oatmeal. You can feel his breath on your face, your cheeks are heated and his are tinged pink. His eyes dip down to your lips for a split second before he shakes his head. He jumps out slamming the door hard with a loud thud, stomping his way through the garage.
-
You mull over your emotions, here you were again, but this time you got the best of him.
Eddie: 1
Tooty: 1
In all the years of knowing Eddie, you’ve never seen him that pissed off. Sure he got worked up about stupid society norms in school but this was different. He was pissed, yelling in your face in the van.
You were never afraid of him, the whole town might be but you had no reason to be. Not from a guy with split ends and in serious need of a deep conditioner. He was just as stubborn as you were. Refusing to bend.
-
The couch was delivered in record time, your tits really putting the delivery boys to the test when they said you were their only delivery for the day, marked mandatory.
When Eddie arrived from the doorway of his bedroom, arms above his head hanging onto the frame, a cigarette hung between his lips, he was still mad but truly astonished at their arrival only twenty minutes after you had gotten home.
He flops on the couch as soon as they leave, the delivery idiots still drooling over you working up the courage to ask for your number until Eddie made a sadistic comment about getting the cat out of the freezer for the ritual sacrifice had them running back out to the truck, whispering Hail Mary’s and making the sign of the cross as they ran.
“Fuck,” he exhales, kicking off his boots and putting his stinky socks on one arm, his head on the other unzipping his jeans, and slotting a ringed hand down the front of them, Al Bundy style, “can’t wait to break this thing in, need’ta christen the whole house yet too.”
Oh for fucks sake.
“Were you this nasty while you lived with your uncle?”
He closes his eyes as he answers you, snuggling his head and hips into the cushions, a leg thrown up on the back. “He works nights, but my neighbors knew that when the trailer was rockin’, don’t come knockin’.”
You scoff, “I just have a hard time believing that anyone would willingly want to fuck you.”
“Well believe it baby, they don’t just call me ‘the freak’ because I’m into metal and have long hair,” he says, opening his eyes for your reaction as he grabs his dick through his jeans at the base and wiggles the length around.
Your stomach burns as you walk away, half disgusted at him for being so crude, and more disgusted with yourself for looking.
-
The only way you can combat the lingering heat of turmoil in your stomach is by keeping your hands and your mind busy. You change your clothes into some cotton pajama shorts, the old ratty Garfield slippers you’ve had since the 8th grade, and a baggy shirt with the Marlboro logo on the breast pocket and printed fully on the back. You start with baking a loaf of banana bread, the same recipe Karen Wheeler passed down to Nancy, and Nancy passed down to you.
You begin to whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. A sense of calm takes over your body as you remember the days of having Nancy as a roommate. A vast difference to the hellion who’s snoring on the couch right now. Your mind wanders, questioning why the tension between the two of you in the van could have been cut with a knife.
You despised him, the thought of him making your stomach churn like curdled milk. He was skating on thin ice and if you were stronger, you’d have kicked his ass out by now. But Eddie was right about a few things. After Kev left for college it was just you at home, but Eddie stayed around. Watching out for you at parties, threatening to kick anyone’s ass who got too close to you.
You mash the bananas and set them aside, using the handheld mixer you had been gifted to beat together the butter and brown sugar. The light pales of yellow swirling with the chestnut granules of the brown sugar.
You remembered how he was dating Chrissy during his senior year. How Chrissy, yourself, Eddie and Chad would go bowling on Sundays after brunch at the Cunningham’s or how sometimes Chrissy would drive the three of you to go to Eddie’s shows at the hideout, sweet talking her way to the owner so you could all support him. How messed up he had been after she broke up with him. To this day you don't know the reason. You wondered if he knew what happened between you and Chad.
You add the dry ingredients to the wet ones. Adding the eggs one at a time, the soft plump yolks slipping free from the shells and landing gently on the forming mixture.
So many things had gone unsaid. Different aspects of life taking you both in opposite directions but now suddenly back again, but under very diverse circumstances.
The banana bread mixture is scraped into a loaf pan, and tossed into the oven, the timer set to sixty minutes.
You had to admit that having Eddie around gave you a small inkling of comfort. Almost as if you weren’t alone. Something you hadn’t felt in years.
You really must be crazy. Eddie Munson giving you comfort? What kind of dream land were you living in. Clearly the banana bread hasn’t given you any sort of calm, better make muffins next.
-
Later that night you’re lining pasta noodles in a baking dish, layering them with ground beef sautéed with an onion and pasta sauce, and ricotta, mozzarella and Parmesan cheese. The small kitchen smelling delicious, and the counters full of chocolate chip muffins and the banana bread you had made.
Turns out there’s a lot you can get done in the 5 hours Eddie has been passed out on the couch. Turtle waxing the bathroom floors, scrubbing the baseboards in the living room, reorganizing the fridge and wiping everything down.
He’s still sprawled out on the new couch, his long hair wrapped around his face, soft snores whirling through his nose.
Another hour later and supper is done, you’re standing at the stove cutting short horizontal lines through the lasagna opposite of the way the noodles are laid, when Eddie comes up behind you, warm crumbles of muffin between his lips as he whispers, “shit Tooty, did’ya take home-ec? This is delicious.” You jump almost ten feet high, shrieking and cutting a horrible diagonal line through the lasagna.
“.. I failed ya know.”
“High school?” You answer after catching your breath, “Eddie, everyone in the Tri state area knows that.”
“Nah,” he mumbles through another bite, more crumbs falling from his mouth, “well I mean yeah, but home-ec. That’s why I didn’t graduate on time.”
You soon around with an incredulous look on your face, “how the fuck do you fail home-ec not once, but twice?”
He leans his long frame against the counter, hip jutting up against it as he crosses his legs at his ankles, you note that his pants are still undone.
“Well chef,” Eddie starts, licking his fingers clean from the ooey chocolate that melted onto them, “I kept burning everything. I couldn’t even get the eggs to boil right. I burnt the sleeve of Jason Carver’s letterman jacket while trying to make crème brûlée,” He says with a laugh. “That might have been on purpose, after he stiffed me for over 3 oz and two full bags of pre rolls.”
You chuckle, “not a loss there, that douche probably deserved it.”
Jason Carver would remain in Hawkins to run his dad’s business. Last time you had seen him he was at the salon, flirting with you while you trimmed his hair. Still a douche.
“Ah, he was just mad I stole his girlfriend,” he says with a little sigh, referring to Chrissy, “High school, what a blast!”
“All six years?” You ask with a raised eyebrow, your teeth biting down hard into your lower lip to hide your laugh.
Pushing himself off the counter and stealing another muffin he leaves the kitchen with a grin and yells over his shoulder, “piss off.”
-
Eddie’s on his third plate of “flat noodle pasta thing” or to anyone living on the planet for more than three years would call it, lasagna, and your homemade garlic bread chewed up between his teeth.
“Christ,” he exaggerates with a sigh, “I feel like this is my last meal on death row or some shit.” He smacks his lips and licks his fingers like a primate. Moaning with each swipe of his tongue like a porn star with a huge bush in the 70’s.
“Did you just compliment me on something other than my body or insinuating that you want to fuck me?” You say with a false shock, “I’m honored.”
“Yup, write it down in your little diary, ‘Eddie Munson said something genuine to me, made me feel pretty, maybe I will stop being mean and let him see my titties xoxo’.”
“…and we’re back to your regularly scheduled programming.” You announce in a monotone voice, pushing your lasagna around with your fork and taking a bite of the garlic bread.
Eddie turns his head and looks over at you confused on how this nice little night— not arguing, for once, eating the best thing he’s had in his mouth bedsides the pussy that was in it last weekend, could turn into you silently stewing, mulling something over that he had zero idea on how to understand.
“So— what ever happened to Eyeball anyway? Should I go ahead and assume he’s buried in a shallow grave somewhere?” Eddie asks, taking another mouthful of lasagna, “seriously, I haven’t seen or heard from him since he graduated and left this shithole town.”
You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, you couldn’t hide this from him, not when he’s here in your house, on the couch he just bought since he burned down the other one.
If you were going to tell him, there was no better time than right now. You take a sip from your Fresca and set your plate down on the coffee table.
“Kev went to the east coast. Full academic scholarship to John Hopkins.” You say curling your knees up to your chin, facing Eddie.
“Yeah, I think he mentioned that— I bet your parents were proud,” Eddie says, eyebrows raised, fingers hanging loosely over his knees, the last remnants of the garlic bread in one hand.
“Of course they were, he’s the golden boy, Mr. Perfect. He could do no wrong in their eyes.”
You weren’t just being a jaded little sister, it was the truth. Your parents favored him over you. Once it was let on that he was smarter than most kids his age, and a certain level of genius— that was it for you, you were casted aside like a wet paper towel, tossed to the heaping flow of garbage. Their whole life revolved around him.
“So what happened?” Eddie pressed, setting his plate down and twisting the rings around his fingers.
“Well, he went to college in August of ‘85 and at first was excelling in all of his classes, as if he were to ever do anything else. If you ask my parents, what happened next was out of character for him, and he was coerced into it, the wrong place at the wrong time kind of a deal, but you know how he was. He had a wild side to him.”
Kev was wild indeed. He was the one who convinced Eddie to borrow Wayne’s truck at thirteen and take it driving through Hawkins on a joyride to the gas station that led to all of the mailboxes in Forest Hills to be backed over and almost a gas pump. A smirk forms on Eddie’s face as you continue.
“I always thought it was his way of escaping— trying to be normal. Anyway— he made friends with some guys who were kinda like the Hellfire guys at home. Ya know nerds, who need haircuts.” A small laugh escapes from your lips.
“Easy, now.” Eddie jokes, shaking his mane, “This takes time and patience, ain’t built for the weak.”
You roll your eyes and keep going, “one of them was involved with dealing but it wasn’t just joints and half ounces like you did in high school. This was crack, and heroin.”
Rubbing your eyes with the heel of your palms, dreading this more than Eddie could ever know. “He started using—heavily. One thing led to another and he was eventually kicked out of school, turns out you actually have to show up to class and get good grades to keep an academic scholarship.”
“My parents tried to get him to move home, go to rehab, but he refused. He moved into a house with some other “friends” if you would even call them that.” You take another shaky breath, voice wobbly as you continue, “w-we aren’t exactly sure what happened— all we know is that he was driving down a one way, going double over the legal speed limit and he struck a woman— in broad daylight, killing her instantly.”
Pain is evident in your face as Eddie stares into your eyes, leaning forward on the couch, the venom of his words from last night and earlier this afternoon twisting like a knife in his chest. “Holy fuck.”
“He had been tripping out on whatever it was he was snorting, or smoking—I have no idea, for days, according to him, and he doesn’t remember anything. The woman was from a very well off family in Maryland— so they went for murder instead of vehicular manslaughter— and won. There were two other people in the car with him… they were both killed on impact. He’s currently known as inmate #90045, serving a life sentence and a sling of other charges in Roxbury Correctional in Hagerstown.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide at the thought of Kev in an orange jumpsuit, face behind bars. The fingers he was spinning his rings with stops, mouth agape.
You pinch your eyes shut and throw your head back, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “My parents sold the house the following year and moved out there to be closer to the golden son, still to this day refusing he did anything wrong, blaming it all on anyone but him.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes, shocked, “I can’t fuckin— wow.”
“Yeah,” you say, bringing your head forward, dipping into your chest. Sniffling quietly and rubbing your nose.
Eddie is dumbfounded by your admission. He thought for sure that maybe Kev was married and had kids so your parents went to help them out to be supportive grandparents. He would have never guessed that he was in prison doing hard time with a heroin addiction. And he certainly can’t believe that they left you here like discarded mail.
“But you stayed in Hawkins? By yourself, this whole time?” he says in disbelief. Outer corners of his eyes turning downward as his face frowns.
He feels like shit, he had been here the whole time in Hawkins and he didn’t have a clue that you were alone.
Shaking your head you answer slowly, shame on your lips. “The Wheeler’s ended up taking me in.”
“Tooty,” Eddie rubs his hand across his face, stubble catching on calluses as he thinks about the times he saw you at school. “Fuck man, why didn’t you say anything? Jesus, why didn’t any of them mention it?”
“I told them that if they told anyone I’d shave their heads,” you say proudly. A sense of pride present across your face, as you hold your head high.
This explains a lot, why you were bitter and downright miserable. He couldn’t believe this shit, how your family just left you, discarding you like you weren’t their only daughter. You were dealt a shitty hand, and all you had left to protect yourself was you. Eddie knew all too well how that felt.
His eyes are full of concern, wet with tears as he realizes how lonely you must have been.
“By the way,” you say, stretching your leg out and nudging him with the toe of your slipper, “that head shaving thing, goes for you too Munson.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. ” Eddie said, throwing his hands up in innocence. “I wouldn’t risk losing these curls over that, the ladies love this.”
-
Later that night Eddie laid in bed. Still completely blown away by the fate of his old friend. Not only that but what happened to you as well. When his dad went to prison, he had Wayne but you? You didn’t have anyone. Moving in with the Wheeler’s like you were a charity case, an orphan, with Ted Wheeler being the not bald Daddy Warbucks. He didn’t sleep worth a shit that night. His mind constantly running over the millions of conversations you had up until his graduation— not once did you let on that you weren’t okay.
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HOPE YOU ENJOYED 💋 SEE YOU IN VOL IV
vol iv
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thebestofoneshots · 4 months
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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)
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Series Masterlist | Previous episode
Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.7 K Warnings: None. Prompt: You can always count on your friends to have your back. Alt- Making sure James gets to go on that date. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by sweethearts: @aremuslupinsimp & @profoundpidgeon
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Chapter 29: With a Little Help from My Friends
The next morning, the castle was submerged in chaos. With the mess the headless hunt had caused in the Slytherin Common room, most of them had left early and encountered the traps you and Remus had set up all over the dungeons. From dung bombs to stinky mist and firecrackers, the whole thing had been chaos. 
You’d sent Comet, Minho and Nox an anonymous warning in advance, telling them not to rush out of the common room as fast as they could in the morning, and to watch their step. You assumed it had been enough since they seemed relatively unharmed at breakfast. You still had yet to see the boys that morning, they hadn’t made it to the great hall. None of them. It made you slightly anxious to say the least. Severus, Mulciber and Barty weren’t around, and the latter’s roommates seemed unharmed, which was reassuring, they were probably still rolling on their beds.
When you went back to the common room you spotted Remus, he had his wand pointed at Peter while he held his friend’s jaw with his free hand. Peter looked horrified, so you rushed towards them “What are you–” Peter turned his face, he had a huge bruise on his left eye, and his nose was swollen. You winced, the fall from Evan’s hand must have been nasty.
Remus looked relieved with your interruption and took a step back from Peter, taking your shoulder and your lower arm in his hands and pushing you in front of the boy, “You do it instead. You’re better at charms.” 
“Do what?” You asked as he handed you a piece of paper with a spell written on it, “You want me to fix his nose?! Are you insane?” 
“You have to,” Peter said, voice a little hoarse, no doubt from the pain. You shook your head. “I can’t go out like this, let alone to Pomfrey, she’ll assume I was out with Sirius and James for the prank. Can’t get punished, I’ve got a date tonight.” 
You gave him an incredulous look, and then it dawned on you that Peter wasn’t the only one with a date tonight. James would be absolutely bombed when he realised he wouldn’t be able to go out with Lily. 
“But I’m… This is serious medicinal magic Peter, people study for years to be able to do it.” 
“Please,” he begged, he tried to make puppy eyes but his swollen nose and left lid didn’t help him much, he looked like he urgently needed the bathroom instead. “Please, please, please.”
You gave Remus a side glance as if asking him to back you up, but he said,“ If anyone can do it, it’s you luv,” instead. 
You groaned, closing your eyes and bouncing in your place before nodding and grabbing the paper again, rereading the instructions. The text was leaning to the side, handwriting neat, but clearly rushed, Remus’ handwriting. That was at least a little tranquillising, if it had been Moony the one to find the spell, then it must have been a good one. “Have you ever used this one?” 
“Sirius is the one that uses the fixing charm. He’s used it on James before,” Remus reassured. 
“On his face?”  
“On his shoulder,” he said as he shook his head lightly. 
You gave the boys another unconvinced look, “Peter are you sure you–“ 
“Pleaaaaase Vix,” he repeated, a little more desperate this time around. 
You huffed, “This girl better snog you so much you forget about the pain,” you said as you gulped and raised your wand towards your friend’s face. He shut his eyes like he was about to get hit, “Don’t make faces Wormy, it’ll make it worse.” 
“You think–” he started, raising his eyes towards you and looking a lot more relaxed, but you didn’t let him finish his words and cast the spell. He yelped at that, stifling a scream, before turning to you a little crossed, “Oi, where’s my warning?” 
“They say it hurts less if you’re not expecting it,” you said with a shrug, he instantly frowned at that. 
“Did it work?” he asked Remus. The werewolf made a face and Peter looked positively mortified, but then Remus started laughing and passed Peter a small mirror that was sitting on a nearby table.  
The swelling was gone, and the bruise was fading rapidly “You’re brilliant!” He told you as he stood up and shook your shoulders, delighted by how much better he looked already. 
You almost laughed, “I still have some radiant complexion potion, you want a little?” 
“Cosmetics?” he asked with a frown. 
“It helped me with the bruises on my jaw from Monday,” you said, pulling down the collar of the sweater you had been wearing to show your almost spotless neck, not low enough to show Sirius’ still fading hickey. But Remus was taller, and he easily spotted it, averting his gaze as the image of Sirius kissing your neck popped into his head. “Could help yours fade faster.” 
“And it’s not really cosmetics either,” Remus explained, “Technically it would be more of a–” 
“Will it make me more handsome?” Peter interrupted. 
You raised your eyebrows at him, “uhh… It’ll make you more radiant.” 
“Then I’ll take it.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Sure thing Pete,” you said, “by the way, do you know anything about Pads and Prongs?” Peter shook his head. 
“They didn’t make it to our room at all, I think Slughorn took them to McGonagall. She must be livid.” 
Then you heard the door of the portrait open and you spotted the boys, shoulders slumped, dark circles under their eyes, both looking completely defeated as they walked inside. You frowned as Sirius let himself fall on the sofa with a sigh, he had a bruise near his eye and another one on his left cheek. James seemed even more upset than Sirius, but he was in better condition, just some redness near his jaw. 
You looked at them with worry and frowned, the survivor’s guilt gnawing at you. Peter and Remus seemed to be taking the sight of them a lot better than you did. You sat on the table in front of the boys, Remus took the armchair and Peter sat back down on the edge of the sofa, turning his head to look at them. 
“So…?” the shortest asked. 
“We can’t play tomorrow,” Sirius said as he tensed his jaw, “McGonagall said it’d serve us right for picking up fights with the Slytherins. If only she knew.” 
“What?!” you asked, shocked. 
“And we have detention all day, no Hogsmeade either,” Sirius continued. 
“No Lily,” James groaned, hiding his face in his hands. 
“Will the Quidditch match be cancelled then?” Asked Peter with a frown, “two of the best players won’t be there.” 
James shook his head with a sigh, “We’ll call in the reserves.” He then sat up, eyeing you closely. “You’ll be the seeker.” 
You looked attentively and nodded. “I’m not too happy about that,” Sirius grumbled. You looked at him with a frown, ready to argue about being a good seeker when he spoke again, “Barty will be playing beater,” he informed. “I won’t be there.” 
“I can dodge.” 
“Because you have a great record at dodging ,” Sirius said sarcastically, a smile playing on his lips. You gasped and swatted at him playfully, his shrugged in response.
“Marlene will be there, I trust her,” you said in a more serious tone. 
“Yeah, I trust her too, but not the Slytherins. And I have no clue who will play instead of Evan.” 
“He also got punished?” you asked surprised. 
Sirius nodded with a smile. “Slughorn was absolutely pissed, didn’t even let him talk before he started reprimanding him for bringing the honour of the house down or something like that.” 
“Will they let you come to the game, at least?” 
James shook his head, “McGonagall said the team would survive without us for a match. Although, I’m sure she wasn’t too happy about it, it was Slughorns’ idea.” 
“How will you tell Lily about your date?” Peter asked. James just pouted in response. 
“She’ll never, ever give me another shot.” 
“Maybe… she doesn’t have to…” 
“That’s incredibly uplifting, thanks Vixen,” the boy spat a little crossed.
“Shut it, Prongs! I’m trying to help,” you uttered, and turned to Remus. “Remember what I told you about the potion from Slughorn?” 
Remus looked at you, eyes filled with shock. “You surely wouldn’t be considering…” You nodded, a tight smile dancing on your lips.
 “What are you considering?” Sirius asked, feeling a little left out. 
“Polyjuice potion,” you said, turning back to your boyfriend with a confident smirk.
James looked up at you, a mix of shock, and gratefulness reflecting behind his glasses. “You… you’d do that?” 
You shrugged, “I deserve the punishment as much as you do anyway. I’ll take the potion and pretend I’m you while you’re in detention today. That way you don’t have to reschedule the date with Lily.”
“But what if they make them do men’s work in detention?” Peter asked, a little weary.
“There isn’t any men’s work I cannot do,” you said with a scoff. You’d eventually regret those words. 
As you had planned, you had done. You’d gone to your room to pick up the potion and then met the boys in their room closely after. 
“Ready to be me?” James asked you as you stared at the potion in your hands. You threw him a look but nodded, extending your hand to his head and plucking a single piece of hair, before throwing it onto the flask you had used to store the potion. You weren’t sure how long it was going to last, so you had separated enough to recharge its effect in the middle of the day in case it was necessary. 
“Auch!” James complained, “Could’ve warned me.” 
“She’s literally going to take the punishment for you Prongs,” Remus responded a little irked, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea for you to go, especially with your still healing shoulder, but he also knew if he voiced his concern, he’d only make you more determined to do it, even if it was just to prove that you could. 
“Still, you could’ve warned me,” he repeated. You shook your head as you contemplated the potion. You’d never drank it, but the smell was deterrent enough. 
“You want me to do it instead?” Remus offered kindly. 
You shook your head, a tight grateful smile on your lips at his offer. “No, it’s… It’s fine I can do this,” you said before bringing the flask up to your mouth and drinking it. The taste was as bad as the smell. You coughed a couple of times and handed the flask over to Remus who held it as you felt your legs start to wobble and your mind went dizzy. You felt a tingling sensation all over and let yourself fall back onto a trunk. Sirius rushed to hold you up but seemed deterred when he saw the way your skin was bubbling. In a matter of seconds, you were already an exact replica of James. You were still dizzy when you looked at your hands, much larger and stronger looking now. 
“BIoody Mother of Merlin!” Sirius said in surprise. 
“We’ve got two Jameses,” Peter said, looking at you and then back at James and then back at you again, completely baffled. 
“How do I look?” You said, raising a flirty eyebrow towards Sirius. 
“Handsome as hell,” James replied about at the same time that Sirius cringed and said, “Like shit,” just to fuck with James. It earned him a soft punch on the arm. Remus and you were eyeing each other with diverted looks. 
“Asshole,” James said, slightly irritated. “She looks damn well.” 
You really admired James’ confidence. You cooed your head and stood up, “Handsome as hell,” you repeated, trying to make your voice sound a little more like Prong’s. He winced at that, “Oi, I’m trying!” you said back in your tone. You had a man’s voice, in fact you had James’ voice; you had his vocal cords after all. But they didn’t sound quite right. 
“I think I might be able to help you with that one,” Remus said as he pulled his wand up. “Open your mouth and say ahh…” 
You raised an eyebrow, terrible choice of words, you thought. “Woah Moony, didn’t think you’d get so kinky with me,” you teased. “That’s way more of a Sirius thing to say.” And he had, in fact, said it a while ago, before you even started dating him. 
Sirius stifled a laugh, the memory plaguing his mind while Peter was trying to figure out what you meant by that and why Remus had given you the look he had. When he finally understood, he flushed. 
“First you wanted to blindfold me and now…” you pressed, just to see Remus’ reaction. 
Sirius frowned. “When did you want to blindfold him? her, you know what I mean.” 
“When we met,” you said casually, “He said I couldn’t see your secret passages.” 
“And you let him?”
Remus shook his head and scoffed. “Of course she didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. 
You gave him a pout, “If it makes you feel better, I’d let you blindfold me now.” 
Sirius laughed at your joke and Remus’ eye roll. The fact that you looked exactly like Prongs only made the entire situation even funnier. Remus just looked at you with a stern expression, he was just expecting you to do what he had initially asked. 
You just smiled and stood up, feeling disoriented by the difference in height. You were taller than your boyfriend now, and almost as tall as Moony. You pressed your lips tightly against each other to avoid saying anything, another joke wouldn’t have been wise at that point, you could tell by the way Remus was tapping his feet on the ground. 
Eventually, you stood facing him and opened your mouth “Aaaaaah…” 
Sirius, behind you, had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing blatantly at the way you had followed Remus’ instructions to the T and yet Remus seemed bewildered. Regardless, the boy picked his wand up and pointed it to your face, saying a few words and holding his wand to your face as he pulled it back and to the sides, as if he were calibrating something, which was exactly what he was doing. As he moved the wand your voice started to change. It went from your normal tone to helium inhalation level of high-pitched to sounding like Elvis’. But eventually, he stopped, pulling the wand back from your face. 
“Say something James would say.” 
You narrowed your eyes, thinking of something and then smiled mischievously, pulling out your best impression of James. “Pads, hold your position! Vixen, another backflip! That one was wonky, again!” 
Sirius almost doubled over in laughter while James looked at you with a frown. “That’s not how… Please tell me that’s not how I sound.” 
“Well, not all the time,” you said with a shrug.
“But that’s exactly how you sound when you’re on Capitan mode,” Sirius added with a teasing smirk.
“When I’m on– You gave it a name?!?” 
“It’s so we can separate the screaming captain from our dear ol’ James, it was Marlene’s idea,” you replied. James frowned. 
“You should change,” Peter said, “Can’t go around with a skirt, can you?” 
You gave him a look and then turned your head downwards, “Don’t know mate, Prongs’s got some nice calves,” you said tilting your leg to the side.
James winked at your reply while Remus threw you a clean pair of pants, a vest and a shirt. You unhooked your skirt and let it fall on the floor. “Why are you wearing boxers?” Sirius asked and got a punch from James.
You quirked an eyebrow, “Something made me assume it would be uncomfortable to keep normal knickers on after the change.” 
“Oh,” Sirius and James said, a little surprised. 
“Clever,” Remus said, nodding your way. 
You smiled and shrugged at his words -almost beaming from his praise- and then proceeded to put on the pants and finished changing, “how do I look?” you said twirling around once you were done. 
Sirius looked at you and placed a hand on his chin as if analysing, “Almost perfect,” Sirius said as he turned to the side and took James’ glasses away from his face and walked over to you, handing them over. 
You took them and placed them over your eyes, wincing as you pulled them off almost instantly “James mate, you’re blinder than Tommy.” 
“Tommy?” James asked, confused. 
“From the Movie,” replied Remus, dismissively. 
“From The Who,” added Peter. You wondered if he’d gone to the cinema at some point in his last vacation. James didn’t say anything after that, he still had no idea who this “Tommy” was but he also knew you’d tease the hell out of him if he asked. 
You took the glasses off and used gemino to make yourself a perfect replica, taking the originals, or what you thought were the originals and giving them back to James. You put the other back on and narrowed your eyes to try and see better, you saw Peter extending his arm towards you, “Hand them over,” he said simply. 
You did, and he placed his wand over them, whispering a spell you hadn’t heard yet and handing them back over to you, placing them back on and looking at him surprised “How did you…?” 
“My sister used to make me wear her glasses so I looked smarter,” he said with a shrug. “They gave me awful headaches so I dug through our library and found a spell to make them fake.” 
“That’s brilliant Pete,” you said with a nod. He just smiled and nodded, pretty pleased with himself.  
You took a deep breath and turned back to James “I think I’m ready then. Do I look the part?” 
“Definitely,” Remus said, the rest of the boys nodding in agreement. 
“Well then,” you said with a clap, “Time to go get detention,” you added, looking over at Sirius. 
He let his head fall back and groaned in response, then he looked over at Remus with a charming little smile, “Moony, don’t you want to drink some of the potion and pretend you’re me today?” 
Remus raised his eyebrows and scoffed, “of course not.” 
“You sure? You could use my dashing good looks to flirt around.” 
“No, he couldn’t,” you said with a scoff .“You’re dating me. Even if it wasn’t actually you, he’d only be allowed to flirt with me.” You sounded slightly jealous, which in a way was justified, after all they were talking about your boyfriend’s face. You tried not to think much that Remus “flirting around” wasn’t an image you wanted to see.
“That sounds so weird coming from James’ face,” Sirius said as he looked at you. “Either way, I suppose I’ll get going,” he said with a dramatic sigh, still staring at Remus as he continued walking towards you. 
“Off you go,” Remus said, placing his hand on Sirius’ back and pushing him towards the door, to make him move faster, Sirius turned to you with a pout, the kind of face a kid would give their mother when their brother mistreated him. Meanwhile, Remus gave you the look that said “See what I have to deal with?”
“Hey James,” you said before leaving, he hummed in acknowledgement, “You better not blow your date with Lilly.” 
“Maybe you should go instead,” Peter teased and got a scowl from James. 
You just laughed, “Sorry mate, I can take the punishment for you, but I’m not gonna seduce the girl. That’s all off to you.” 
“She’ll want to marry me after today,” he said confidently. 
You nodded “Remember not to overdo it, you’ll scare her away.” 
When you were done, you closed the door behind you and turned to Sirius. “Where are we supposed to meet?”
The moment McGonagall opened the doors, Peter’s words came floating back to your mind “But what if they make you do men’s work in detention?” followed by your blatant response, “There isn’t any men’s work I cannot do”.
You had regretted those words the moment you stepped into the dirty men’s loo. You were sure you gagged as you walked behind McGonagall and felt the dreadful smell, ever so characteristic of men’s lavatories, “I asked the elves not to wash the bathroom last night. Just for you,” she said, “wands,” she added, extending her open palm towards you, Sirius and Evan. 
“Do you expect us to clean with our own hands?” Sirius complained. Evan said something similar next to him. You would have probably made a joke about how spoiled they both were if you weren’t so shocked yourself. 
“Can I… Can I do something else?” you said as she was about to leave. “I’ll clean the owlery, I don’t care–” 
“Mr. Potter.” She said sternly. You closed your mouth shut, only now remembering you were supposed to be James and not you. “Men up and stop whining, all you have to do is clean the toilets.” Sirius almost doubled in laughter at her choice of words. 
“Minnie please,” you added, using the vocabulary James would have used, or perhaps that would have been Sirius, since the way the old teacher turned over and looked at you gave you the chills, making you unconsciously recoil towards Sirius. 
“Mr. Potter!” She said a lot more sternly now, “It’ll serve you well to stop your silly pranks and occupy your mind with something productive. One more complaint and I’ll make you wash the prefect’s bathrooms and the greenhouses as well,” you nodded, not saying anything more as you watched her walk all the way towards the door, she turned right before leaving. “Pebblier the house elf will be watching over you,” she informed, “so no fighting and no funny business unless you want to help polish trophies tomorrow.”
You gulped and nodded, it’s not that it would be you doing things those things tomorrow, but you still didn’t want to subject James, let alone Sirius, to more torture. Once she was gone, you sighed, taking one of the mops and dipping it in water, holding your breath from the smell still filling your nostrils. 
“What? He’s mopping? I’d rather mop than…” Evan trailed off, looking at the bathroom stalls.
As James, you were as tall as the blond and probably as strong as he was, you just turned to him with a stern face, tilting your head slightly to the side and bringing your hand from the handle to point at your face, “How’s the eye?” you asked calmly, it had been such a simple and yet strong thrеat, Sirius was almost shocked. James would never be that bold. 
Evan swallowed, it hadn’t even been James who punched him and yet the way you had stared at him had somehow made him blech, he huffed after he got back his stance. Evan had never seen Potter be so intimidating, of course, he wasn’t looking at Potter then. Most of the time, James was just an annoying ray of sunshine and jokes. He hoped he’d go back to that soon, he wasn’t sure the thrеatening James would be so much fun to bother. “Fine then, I’ll wash the stalls,” he grumbled after he took a hold of one of the buckets. Evan didn’t want to polish the trophies either.  
Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking at you impressed, he never thought he’d considered James hot, but what you did, had been exactly that. He could almost see you underneath the skin you were wearing, and he started wondering if he too would have fallen for you if you had been a boy. He might have. But then, what did that fucking mean? What would that mean for him? Did that make him– 
You gave him a small complicit smile in return, you didn’t think Evan would recoil so easily, but it was certainly fun to be bigger and broader and to look stronger, it gave you a sort of power you’d never wielded before, and as strange as it might seem, you liked it. Seeing Evan back out after just a look, a look that you probably had thrown at him many times as yourself with no effect, had been interesting, to say the least. Regardless, the funniest part was the fact that you were taller than Sirius, and he looked adorable, even more like a puppy. 
A grumpy, riled up, bathroom-cleaning puppy, but a puppy nonetheless. You wondered if being taller made him feel the same way when he looked at you; if the protective instinct instantly activated with a few inches of advantage to the other person. Not that you never felt the need to protect him in the past. You remembered the time at the park, how you had reacted, ready to take all the blame for him and how neither of the brothers had let you, but this was different. This version of you, the Potter version of you, wanted to hug and coddle him and tell him everything would be all right. 
Either way, it could have just been some of Potter’s innate traits mixing with your own, since you had taken the potion, and it had changed you into him. You started wondering about the implications of Polyjuice too, what kind of things it’d actually do to your body. What about long exposure? If you were actually intermixing DNA with it, and altering not only the way you looked but also the way you thought? Then perhaps it could also change the way you felt, alter feelings and thoughts and give you some of those of the one you were impersonating.
You could probably talk to Lily about it, since she knew a lot about potions. Or perhaps Remus would be a better option since it’d be complicated to explain to her why you had used polyjuice, and how you had gotten your hands on it. 
When you were done with the floor, and the stinky smell had died down just a little (or perhaps your nostrils had gotten used to it) you went on to wipe the mirrors and faucet, while the other boys focused on the urinals and the toilets. You saw Sirius gag a couple of times as he brushed over one of the toilets and almost wanted to help him, but the stinky smell coming from them persuaded you against it. 
While you were cleaning some of the mirrors you realised the potion was starting to fade, so you had to pull out the flask and take a sip. Sirius had given you a wary look, but you just nodded in what you hoped was a reassuring manner and continued with your task. Sooner than later the three of you had finished, and Pebblier, the small elf who had been watching over you, snapped his fingers and disappeared, coming back just a few minutes later with McGonagall by his side. 
She looked at the three of you, Evan was placing the bucket in its place, you were drying the mirror and Sirius had reclined against some of the mops. The witch examined the room in detail, the smell had gone away already, and she had even walked towards the stalls, looking through every single one. She seemed… impressed. As if she hadn’t been expecting you three to do such a good job.  
“Great job boys,” she concluded, “you may go clean up before dinner.” 
Dinner time? Already? 
Sirius nodded and grabbed onto your arm to pull you out of the room. Once you were away from prying eyes he gave you a diverted look, “You aren’t that great at being James, you know?” 
You gasped, “I had everyone fooled.” 
“Evan didn’t say a word,” he countered, “he was terrified from the moment you thrеatened him.” 
You gave him a look and almost winced, “You think I overdid it?” 
Sirius gave you a diverted smile, “You called McGonagall Minnie.” 
“Well, you call her that all the time, I assumed James would…” Sirius raised an eyebrow at you, and you didn’t even finish your answer, James had never been as blasé as your boyfriend. As you continued walking through the halls you spotted a girl, who seemed to be looking at the two, specifically at Sirius, before she approached, standing right in front of you and blocking your path forward. 
“Hi!” She said shyly, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear and looking down for a moment before turning her face towards your boyfriend. You stared down at her, looking a little displeased, you assumed, from the way she gave you a wary look as if she wanted to retreat. She cleared her throat, “Sirius.” 
The boy hummed in response, you noticed a group of girls giggling not so far away from her, and you stared back at the girl, intrigued by what she might do. 
“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” your boyfriend said, a mix between polite and annoyed. 
She made a displeased expression at that, “Ugh… I’m Zia, from 5th.” She really was looking at Sirius and completely ignoring you, or well, she was completely ignoring James. Which made you feel a little angry on his behalf too.
“Right, hello.” Sirius said, when the girl still didn’t move he sighed, “Is there anything I can help you with?” 
“I… would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?” 
You raised an eyebrow at that. You weren’t surprised Sirius got girls asking him out all over the place, you’d seen his face, you understood, but you thought everyone knew about your relationship already. 
“Why?” He asked. You gave him a look. That had sounded uncharacteristically cold, and slightly rude. 
“Wh-why?” the girl stammered. “I was just thinking... maybe I could– like a date.” 
You weren’t sure whether to be jealous or just feel sorry for the poor girl, she looked like a deer trapped in headlights, “Sirius is already going out with someone,” you said, a little colder than you intended, to try and protect the girl from whatever cold thing Sirius might have told her instead. 
But her reaction was something you weren’t expecting, she snapped at you, fury in her eyes as if you had said something improper. “But it’s just for now, isn’t it? You aren’t actually dating her,” she said, turning to Sirius. 
Sirius rolled his eyes as if he was used to this, “Even if I wasn’t. I wouldn’t date someone who’s trying to dig into and separate an already established relationship.” 
The girl was taken aback by his answer, even more so when Sirius skipped past her and continued his walk as if she had never even talked to him. You would have given her an apologetic smile if you hadn’t been so flummoxed, but instead, you just chased after Sirius not bothering to give her a second glance. As if she had bothered to say “hi” when she had gone straight after him. 
“Well that was very… brazen of her…” you said as you caught up with your boyfriend.
He sighed, leaning his head against your shoulder like he would if it were you and not James he was talking to. He enjoyed the height difference, actually. He didn’t have to lean his head so much, it was nice. You, as a boy, were hot. His mind crossed over to Remus, how he was slightly taller than James and he wondered how it would feel to lean his head onto that boy’s shoulder. In a romantic way, not in a friendly one, he had to force the thought out of his head, he was not meant to be thinking of Remus that what, let alone with you –his girlfriend– standing next to him. What the hell would he do if you had legilimency? You, on the other side, seeing him all thoughtful, wondered if he’d care that the girls were still boring holes in his back, he probably wouldn’t. “Sorry you had to see that, Starshine.” 
You looked down at him with a diverted stare, “It was rather rude on your part.” 
“If I wasn’t, she’d think I was leading her on.” 
“You were never rude to me.” 
He gave you a look, “Why do you think that is, Starshine?” He asked with a flirty smile. 
You almost blushed at that, you wanted to reach for his hand, but realised it’d be a bad idea to do it then, with James’ face. You didn’t know this, but Sirius might have actually liked it if you did, even if it would increase his mental issues with the thoughts of Remus he’d been having lately. Eventually, the two of you reached the common room, the boys let you use their bathroom to shower off the sweat and stank from the bathrooms since you still looked like James and you threw yourself in Sirius’ bed, already changed into a pair of pyjamas that were a little tight on James but would be oversized once you turned back. 
“James isn’t back yet, is he?” you asked Remus, the only boy still in the room, since Sirius was in the bathroom and Peter was on his date. 
Remus shook his head and you sighed, you’d be stuck there until Prongs came back or you looked like yourself again, neither of those things seemed to be happening soon enough, “It’s no fun to be James if I’m locked up in his room,” you complained. 
Remus gave you a look, raising an eyebrow at you as he pulled his head from the book he was reading. “You thought it was fun?” 
“I mean, not the cleaning the bathroom part, but… You should have seen Evan’s face after I accidentally thrеatened him.” 
“How do you accidentally thrеaten someone?” he asked, incredulous.
“You give them a nasty look with the height and build of James Potter,” you told him. “I guess I’d be more thrеatening if I were bigger, you’re lucky I’m not as tall as any of you.” 
“Sprite size,” he joked, and you scoffed at his silly little joke. 
“Either way,  it was also fun to be taller than Pads, makes him look a lot more cute and adorable, it was hard to hold myself back from stealing a kiss like I do all the time.” 
Remus huffed a laugh, “Would have started some interesting rumours.” 
“Mhm,” you said, “Must be nice to be big and broad all the time though.” 
“Not when you bump your head onto door frames.” 
“What a drama queen Moony,” you teased. 
“It’s never happened to you. You wouldn’t know how inconvenient it is.” 
“What is inconvenient?” Sirius asked, walking out of the bathroom with just a simple towel around his middle. It was as if he thought you were actually James and not you. Either that or he purposefully wanted to fluster you. 
“Being tall, apparently,” you said, letting your gaze linger just a few seconds before turning your eyes back to Moony, who had been looking at Sirius casually. Although perhaps…
“You certainly wouldn’t know, would you Starshine?” 
You turned back to him, your eyes shining with mischief, “Careful Puppy, I’m still taller than you.”  
“Hmm… not for long,” he said before disappearing into the bathroom with some clothes in his hands. His shirt fell on the floor and you used your wand to drag it towards you, still sitting on the bed. Remus gave you a look but went back to his book, not saying a word. It was a shirt Andromeda had given him as a gift –a Queen shirt– it was soft from how many times he’d used it, but in great condition still. Perhaps he used some kind of spell. 
“Hey Moons have you seen my…?” he asked as he left the bathroom again, he had his pyjama pants on but he was still shirtless. You had his shirt in your hands, a smirk playing on your lips, or James’ lips, you supposed. “Starshine.” 
You shrugged, “It fell on the floor, didn’t wanna leave it there.” 
He narrowed his eyes at you but walked towards his bed, where you sat. You were on the edge, whereas you normally just rested against his headboard, and most of all, you had a rather suspicious expression going on, an expression he’d seen you wear before, slightly different to James’. The second he skeeved in to take it between his hands, you stood and dodged, standing a few steps from him while holding the shirt high above your head. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” 
“Taking advantage of the one time I’ll be taller than you, I suppose.” Remus was now looking at the two of you, diverted rather than paying attention to his book. 
“Maybe you just want to see me shirtless for longer,” he teased. 
You shrugged in response, “Maybe I do.”
His head pulled back, his cocksure stance faltering as he tried to process how brazen you’d been with that answer, it’s something he would have done. Regardless he got closer to try and pull the shirt. The difference in height between James and Sirius wasn’t that big, especially not when you compared it to Remus, so you couldn’t trust solely on the extra inches you had. 
Sirius reached his hand up and tried to grab the shirt, and you pulled it just behind you, there was definitely a benefit with getting James’ physical attributes, especially the speed. 
“Aw come on, that’s not fair.” 
You just smiled, daringly. “Come on Puppy, you can do this, can’t you?” 
“I’m gonna bite you next time I’m Padfoot,” he thrеatened playfully. 
“You’d only be able to do it if I still looked like Potter,” you told him with a smile. “Vixen’s too adorable to bite, am I not?” 
“My shirt.” 
“What shirt?” you asked innocently as you threw it Remus’ way.
It fell on his head, and for a second you thought he’d be mad, since he didn’t move, rather, it took him a few seconds to figure out why the shirt smelled so much like Sirius until he remembered he’d used the same shirt last night, and the previous. Fuck, it smelled delightful, focus Remus, he told himself as he took it from his head and held it between his hands. 
He looked over at you, you gave him a smile, and winked at him, an expression so unbelievably yours it was almost shocking to see it on James, all thought there was something in your eyes. 
Remus stood, as if he were to give the shirt to Sirius and your smile faded, he almost laughed but managed to hold a serious solemn face. Just as Sirius extended his hands to grab the shirt from Sirius’s hand, he pulled his arm up again, you smiled, diverted, while Sirius frowned. 
Two against one, there you go Puppy, you thought. Remus, being a lot taller, managed to hold the shirt a lot higher, which forced Sirius to walk even closer to him as he jumped around to try and get the shirt. Remus was having way too much fun to actually process the fact that a shirtless Sirius was brushing onto him as he jumped to get the shirt.
“I could just wear something else, you know.” 
“Yeah, but you won’t,” you said with a smile, you stood just behind him, blocking his hand whenever he tried to reach up for his shirt, still held high above Remus’ head. 
“Too stubborn for that,” Remus confirmed, looking at you with a complicit grin.
Sirius huffed in response but tried again. Remus pulled back and you held Sirius between your arms, but he managed to slip from your grasp and lunged at Remus, who threw the shirt over his head and towards your arms, “Great shot, Moony!”
He winked at you as Sirius crashed onto him, “Okay kids, that’s enough!” Sirius said. Remus enjoyed the closeness a little too much.
“Giving up so soon, Puppy?” you asked with a pout, passing the shirt from one hand to the other. 
“Giving– It’s completely unfair! You’re both taller and stronger.” 
You hummed, “Welcome to my world.” 
“I won’t say you’re short ever again?” he tried, you pretended to think about it for a moment. 
“What do you think, is he being honest?” 
“I don’t know Little Witch… seems unrealistic.” 
You nodded in agreement. “Aww, come on…” Sirius complained, but then he lunged for you, you moved to the side, both of you moving almost in a circle. If anyone were to see the three of you from above, they’d think you had carefully choreographed this dance. 
“Starshine…” He warned. You felt a bit of a tingling in your legs, but for some reason, you didn’t think it was the nickname or his tone that caused it. Remus from behind, notice your ear shrinking. You were changing back. 
You smiled “Come and get it!” 
He did, he skeeved forwards, you intended to crash against him, but Remus noticed you were counting on James’ strength, rather than yours. If Sirius crashed onto you, the real you and not Polyjuice-potion James, then it would probably hurt you. So he grabbed onto your waist, or James’, everyone was confused at that point, and pulled you to the side. 
Unfortunately, he tripped on a pair of shoes, and the two of you ended up falling towards the bed, not before Sirius grabbed onto the box plate of your shirt, and got pulled along with you. There was some thumping, and then complaining groans from the three. 
Remus’ back had ended on the bed, you were on top of him, back facing his chest, and Sirius was on top of you, still half naked, and feeling a lot heavier than you expected him to be. You were quite literally sandwiched between the two boys, it was oddly comforting, even if a bit uncomfortable. 
Remus frowned as your hair covered his face, you were back being you, and Sirius was crushing you against him, Sirius’ face dangerously close to his, it seemed like the longest time before the three of you managed to process what had happened. “Starshine you’re back!” Sirius said as he looked at you with a bright smile, taking the shirt from your hands, using his strength to keep your arms in your place as you tried to wriggle out. 
He gave you a rather satisfied smile as you huffed, “Not fair.” 
“Suck it up,” Sirius replied as he finally rolled to the side. “Can you give her back her voice?” 
You sighed, catching your breath still against Remus’ shoulder until you too rolled off, landing right in between the two boys and slightly pushing on both so you had enough space to lay on your back. “Can’t take me speaking like your best mate?” 
“It’s weird when you no longer look like him.” 
You shut your eyes, Remus’ bed was softer than Sirius’, you noticed as you continued to accommodate in the small space between the two. Your shoulders were all pressed together, but neither of the boys seemed to want to move either. It was warm, it was comfortable. 
Remus fetched his wand from the side with a display of wandless magic that would have been shocking had you been looking and passed it over you, “finite incantatem,” he whispered. 
“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice finally back to normal. You took a deep breath, thinking that you’d have to get up now and go back to your room, even if you didn’t actually want to move. “What time is it?” 
Sirius lifted his head to look at the watch, “Almost 8,” he informed, “why?” 
You shrugged, “I probably have to go back soon.” 
“You don’t sound so eager,” Remus acknowledged.
A playful scoff left your mouth, “What with two handsome boys by my side, who would?” 
Remus scoffed and Sirius rolled his eyes, “what a flirt.” 
“Learned from the best,” you said in return and then sighed dramatically. “I don’t want to move, cleaning was so tiring!” you whined, Remus’ bed is comfortable, this was perfectly gracious.
“Should have let Prongs take the punishment,” Remus said. 
You shook your head, “No-uh, wouldn’t want to kill his chance to date Lily and get married and have beautiful children.” 
“That’s a very long story to make up in your head, Starshine.” 
“As if James himself hadn’t outwardly said that that’s what he wants,” you responded with a shrug and changed the subject. “What were you reading Rem?”
“The Godfather,” he said simply. 
Sirius turned his head, “The Mafia book you were telling us about on the train?” Remus nodded. “You haven’t finished it already?” 
He shook his head in response, “I was reading a book she borrowed,” he said, nodding towards you for a second. 
“Dorian Grey,” you acknowledged. 
“Dorian Grey?” Sirius asked, “It’s a muggle thing, isn’t it?” 
“It’s a classic, Sirius.” 
“You’d probably like it,” Remus added. 
“Oh no, he might end up like Dorian,” you joked, “Lord Henry has some rather convincing dialogue.” 
“He’s already like that.” 
“Pair of nerds,” Sirius huffed, “But I don’t like being left out, so I’ll read it.” 
You shook your head with a smile on your face, “How’s the mafia book?”
“Interesting,” Remus replied. 
“Why don’t you read to us?” Sirius asked casually. 
“What?” Remus asked, a little puzzled. 
“Oh yeah,” you said, turning your head towards him, “You have a really nice voice, read to us,” he didn’t look convinced. “Please.” 
“Oblige her Moony, she worked très hard cleaning the men’s loos today.” 
“Yes,” you nodded. “Sirius did as well… Oblige us, yeah?” Remus sighed dramatically but levitated the book right above him, you could see well enough to read by yourself but you’d much rather hear it from Remus’ soothing deep voice. In the end, he couldn’t refuse.  “Don Corleone stood up and put a fatherly arm around Johnny's shoulder.” You were smiling like an idiot, Sirius was too, both pretty satisfied with your convincing abilities.  “I’m going to make this man an offer he can't refuse,' he said, leading Johnny towards the door.” Remus was even making different voices for the characters, ‘“Now, go and enjoy yourself´ He kissed Johnny on the cheek, shut the door and turned to Tom Hagen, who had heard everything…”
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A/N: Well, that's an interesting turn of events, isn't it? I mean, this was James' one-time chance, we had to make sure he made it to that date, didn't we? Also, Remus my love, you're adorable, thank you for exciting <3
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softgreengrass · 1 year
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Sun to Me
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Wednesday Addams x reader
Summary: Wednesday isn't a great girlfriend.
Words: 2.0k
Warnings: none, implied f!reader, reader referred to as girlfriend
Author's Note: angst sorry not sorry. inspired by sun to me by zach bryan,, first fic i've published so any feedback is appreciated!
Pt. 2
When you first met Wednesday, you were absolutely terrified of her. But she had taken an interest in you, from the very beginning, and soon you found yourself laughing at her morbid jokes and thinking about her every night before you fell asleep.
Wednesday would never admit it, but when she couldn’t sleep, her mind would wander to far-off places. She saw your smile, your hand in hers, and she saw a love like her parents had. 
Now, half a year later, you feel like you know more about Wednesday than you ever wanted to. You know every last quirk, every microexpression she lets grace her face. You know exactly the way she lights up when she sees you, even if to others it looks like a regular glare. Wednesday lets you sleep in her bed; she lets you braid her hair; she lets you lounge about during her writing time. It’s normal stuff, but it isn’t, because it’s Wednesday. Hell, seeing her smile is rarer than Halley’s Comet, let alone getting into her personal space.
Wednesday doesn’t know why she’s so enthralled by you, but she is. You’re patient with her, even when you probably shouldn’t be, and you jump at the chance to take care of her. It feels good.
“Thank god that’s over,” you say, flopping face-down onto her bed. Thing jumps out from under the covers, scurrying away.
The history exam you’ve just completed was the last one on your schedule — you’re free. For a week of break, anyways. Wednesday had helped you study for it (you flipped through a textbook while she rattled off every piece of evidence she had collected for her newest investigation).
“How did it go?” she asks, standing up from her chair and popping a piece of black licorice into her mouth.
“Bad,” you say, voice muffled. “But it’s over.”
She hums.
“How were yours?” You roll over, watching as she walks over to the bulletin board pinned full of documents and sticky notes.
“Unchallenging.”
That was Wednesday. Always too smart for her own good. “What do you want to do tonight? No homework,” you grin.
“I need to go to Jericho High School,” she says plainly, staring at the board.
Your face falls, even though at this point it shouldn’t. It’s a common occurrence: Wednesday too caught up in her hyperfixation to make time for you or your feelings. You shouldn’t be surprised anymore. You swallow, making sure your voice stays level. “What are you gonna find there?”
She looks over her shoulder, eyes flashing annoyance. “I don’t know. That’s the point of going.”
Right.
The thing is, you can’t blame her. She told you, again and again, that you shouldn’t devote your time or energy to her. For the first few weeks of your relationship, she was a broken record: “this is a bad idea,” “you shouldn’t care about me,” “you’d be better off alone.” You, enamored with her jet-black hair and the dusting of freckles across her nose, had taken it as a challenge.
More and more, you found yourself regretting that.
Then Wednesday says your name, tentatively, and your gaze snaps to her.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, the words unnatural in her stony voice. “Was that insensitive?”
You shake your head, putting on a smile. You’re still Wednesday Addams’ girlfriend. You get her heart, at the end of the day. “It’s okay.”
“I’m hoping to find something that points me to the culprit.”
You nod, wishing for her to just drop it. You’d rather move on, figure out plans with one of your friends instead.
“Would you like to do something tomorrow?” Her eyes are hesitant, but genuine, and just like that your heart melts again.
“There’s an art gallery opening a couple towns over,” you blurt, too excited to let this opportunity pass. “We could… drive over and see it?”
She’s turned back to the board. “How long would that take?”
You ignore the slight sting in your heart. “I don’t know, it depends on how long we spend there. We could make a whole day out of it.”
“I told Eugene I’d help him prepare the hives for the next harvest,” she says blankly. “That won’t work.”
It kills you that she can’t concentrate on you for more than a few seconds at a time. Especially since you know that if you were to ignore her in the same way, even just for an hour, she would shut down and close herself off. “Can you at least look at me?”
There’s emotion bubbling up inside of you, emotion that you don’t want to express right now, but she’s facing you.
“I’m working on being more delicate, you know that,” Wednesday says, her voice tight. You know her defenses are up.
“It’s not that,” you scoff, blinking back stubborn tears. “You never try. Do you know how many things I’ve compromised on for you?”
Her eyes flick around the room, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“The movies, for one,” you say, shuddering at the thought of the true-crime documentaries you’re plagued to watch nearly every night. “The no-touching. The no-compliments. The not-telling-anyone-about-us?”
“You agreed to all of that.”
“Exactly!” you cry. “That’s my point! What have you agreed to?”
Wednesday hates the feeling creeping up her chest. The burning feeling in her throat, the cold dread in the pit of her stomach. That she’s hurting someone she cares about without even realizing it. Again. She wants desperately to make it right, to understand exactly what you want her to do, but the moment you raise your voice, her reflexes kick in. 
“I agreed to being your girlfriend!” she says, louder than she meant to.
Your heart sinks into your stomach. She isn’t even trying to understand. “That was that big of a sacrifice for you, huh?”
Wednesday licks her lips nervously, hating the look in your eyes, hating how hurt you are and how angry she is. Now, the thought of a relationship like her parents’ is distant and sickening. She can’t imagine having the patience to communicate with someone for so many years — all she can think about is how much easier it would be to do it all alone.
But then her eyes find yours, desperate and heartbroken and filled with tears, and she wants to tear her hair out.
“I’m not enough for you, I know that,” you say quietly, and Wednesday’s heart twists in a way it never has before. “But I… I just thought you would try.”
She calls your name, reaches out a hand, but you’ve already left her dorm. You rush down the hallway, hoping she leaves you alone and chases after you all at once. The tears are hot down your cheeks, and the lump in your throat just won’t leave. You had trusted Wednesday with your heart. You had given it to her, even though your mom knew and your best friend knew and you knew that you shouldn’t have.
Find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of you, your mom would say, whenever you asked her questions about love far too big for a six-year-old. She would tell you that your heart was a treasure, and that someday you’d find someone who bettered you in every single way.
You had known, you had always known that that wasn’t Wednesday. But she kissed you, she opened up to you, she looked at you in ways that said you were the most special person in the world. And for a while, you were. You were the only one who got to know Wednesday Addams. But you had invested too much, and she never changed: the same inexplicable mystery that had drawn you to her was now pulling you apart from the inside out. She wasn’t built for the kind of relationship that you needed, even if she could make your day just by meeting your eyes.
You find your way to your room through tear-blurred vision, thanking the stars above that your roommate had left early to spend break with her parents.
You collapse onto your bed, sobbing. You feel silly, stupid, used, thinking about every sacrifice you’ve made for her and how little she’s done in return. How unfair it is: she’s trying, you know she’s trying, but trying to Wednesday is the bare minimum to you, and you can’t change what you need.
You cry until your head pounds and your throat is raw, and even then you can’t stop picturing her dark eyes and scarce, golden smiles. You hear your mother’s voice in your head. Your heart clenches.
Eventually, you fall into a restless sleep, thoughts racing and palms sweating. You want more than anything to go to Wednesday’s room to rant about all of your emotions, knowing she’s only half-listening, and to persuade her to cuddle with you in bed, to hold her tight.
Nausea comes and goes in waves.
You don’t want to answer the knock at your door, except it comes from low down on the ground, and you’d never turn Thing away.
He’s holding an envelope between his second and third fingers.
An envelope, with your name scrawled across it in messy cursive. Thing drops it and takes a small bow, hurrying down the hall. You pick it up and shut the door with a sniff, wiping your nose. You’ve never been so grateful for deserted hallways.
You rip it open on your bed, entirely unprepared for the rush of emotion that hits you when you smell Wednesday’s typewriter ink.
I can’t say things to your face, but you need to know them, so I’ve decided to write them.  If I am a black dahlia, you are a sunflower. You are the sweetest of the sunflowers; you are the sun to me. I loathe myself for every moment I have spent upsetting you. I know that I am selfish, and that you are selfless, and that I hurt you even when I’m not trying to. Sorry isn’t enough of a word.
For my entire life, I believed love was nothing but a weakness to be exploited. I thought people like you, who love and give endlessly into this world, were oblivious to the reality of the world. But then I met you, and you cared for someone who least deserved it. The time of day was more than I deserved, and you gave me so much more than that. You have parted the clouds, you have brought sunlight into my life, you have brought me more joy and peace than I care to admit. And to repay you, I hurt you.
You are the sweetest of the sunflowers, and I will never again let myself forget it. I vow to do my utmost to provide you with everything you desire, if you allow me. I’m sorry, my love.
Wednesday nearly jumps when Thing returns, asking him how you looked and if you took the letter. She waits, bouncing her leg, tapping her fingers, thinking about why time travel hasn’t been invented yet. Her mouth is dry, her heart hammering against her ribs. She’s never been so anxious before.
 She barely remembers to smooth out her hair before answering the knock that eventually comes at her door.
“Hi,” you mumble, holding the letter in your hands.
“Hi,” she breathes.
“Do I get another chance?” she asks in a rush. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her this forward.
“I’m out of patience,” you say, and she nods quickly, blinking red-rimmed eyes.
A younger version of you would be reeling at the sight of such blatant emotion on her face.
“Can I hug you?”
Her eyebrows lift, eyes widening ever so slightly.
You can’t stand being mad at her.
Her arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close, her face buried into the crook of your neck. You take a deep breath.
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kithtaehyung · 4 months
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back to december (teaser) (m) | ksj
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title: back to december (teaser) pairing: brother's best friend!seokjin x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au summary: ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind. note: this originally started as a one-shot for @raplinesmoon for the maui relief fundraiser, but turned into something more. since it also fit into the mold of this holiday collab, here we are! note 2: this is part of the jingle all the way collaboration with @kpopfanfictrash, @leahsfavefics, @cybrsan, @yoonia, and @sugaurora! all the holiday collab fics have the phrase “the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.” warnings: [explicit warnings to be posted on drop day!] language, alcohol, angst lol, time switches/flashbacks, seokjin being the sweetest until he’s not >:)), reader being damn cool, overthinking, bbf!jin needs his own warning i am warning y’all now, horribly great jokes, winter themes, relationship failures, stress/anxiety, jin being jin, did i say angst?, falling into cold water, a lot of gd yearning mood: back to december - taylor swift, halley's comet - billie eilish, universe/snowing in la - thuy teaser word count: 1.2k | est. word count: uhhh 20k+ lol wanna be on the taglist? add yourself here! est. drop date: january 2024
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It all started with an accident in winter. 
Ever the gracious hosts, your family decided to throw a cookout for your brother’s birthday, inviting everyone in the neighborhood and its outskirts to join in celebration. While your brother was initially opposed to being outside in the frost, word got around that his crush of three years running would be present, which suddenly warmed him right up to the whole idea.
Typical.
You were also initially opposed—having to sit through the festivities while your older sibling hogged all the attention—until you discovered your own downfall was attending, too. 
Because of course he would.
And if he was coming, you were set on making your naive self presentable and noticeable, and you still consider the day of the party to be the best you’ve ever carried yourself. You were confident, you were radiant.
Until you got bumped into the backyard pool.
You don’t even recall who knocked you in. All you remember was water rushing into your vision, and paddling through outright shame and embarrassment when you shakily swam your freezing bones to the ledge. Everyone saw you: your friends, your family, your brother’s older circle and acquaintances. In your adolescence, it was the literal worst thing to have happened to anyone in the history of ever.
But someone’s outstretched hand greeted you when you got to the pool’s edge. 
And when you looked up, you questioned if you hit the bottom on the way in because the face you were seeing was a shock. Were you deceased? Did you somehow swim to heaven’s beach?
No. It was really him, the very person you got all dressed up for. 
Seokjin. Handsome, reserved, off-limits friend of your brother Seokjin. 
Years later, you still question why he was the one helping you out. But it didn’t matter at the time because all you wanted was to get thawed out as soon as possible. 
“Come on,” he had urged. “You’ll get sick.”
Trembling because of the cold and nothing else, you took his hand and let him haul you into the house, wondering what the hell was going on the entire time. Why was he the one helping you? Where the hell was your brother? 
Because not only did he lead you inside, but the boy also accompanied you to your bathroom, grabbing a towel off its rack and wrapping it around your knocking shoulder blades. 
“Grab some clothes, okay?” 
“Huh?” 
“Go get clothes,” Seokjin ordered, moving towards your shower. “And change out of those as soon as you can.” 
“Oh.” Blinking, you couldn’t decide if your shivers were from the fall or his comments. But either way, you were shaking horrendously. “Yeah, okay.” 
After that, you remember being so cold you couldn’t even move your legs. Which meant that Seokjin had to lead you to your room and wait at the entrance while you hastily grabbed whatever you could find. 
There was no way he was gonna catch the cutesy patterns of your underwear. No way. 
When you were done, Seokjin brought you back into the restroom, the spray of water echoing through the festively decorated space. “It should be warm enough now,” he urged. “Don’t wait.” 
“Thank you,” you finally huffed, hating how your shakes stifled your gratitude. “You can, uhm. Go back out there now.” 
“Mm.” In the doorway, his eyes reflected the bright lights so perfectly. To this day, you still remember the way you compared them to stars. “Well. Umm. Good luck.” 
And you will never forget the way you felt heat before you even touched the run of the shower. 
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“Yes, it’s all set. We are still on for Monday.” 
“Good. This is the meeting we absolutely cannot miss.” 
“Umm, yes—I mean—Understood.” 
“Is everything okay over there?” 
Rushing to close the door of your rental, you bite back a curse as your suit jacket catches in the edge. Because of course it does after the frantic day you’ve already had. “Yes! Everything’s”—you smush your top against your side while shutting the door again—“Fine! But I do have to go.” 
“Sure, sure. Oh, one more thing—”
Right. Rummaging through your purse, you locate the keys at the very bottom while trying to ingest the four things being tossed into your ear, locking the car in a fast walk to the massive mountainside property ahead of you. 
“ —then we’ll finalize the merger. Got that?” 
Holy shit, your brother must be doing even better than you or his fiance is loaded. 
“Hello?” 
“Oh, shit, sorry. Yes, Mr. Hamada, we can do that.” 
“Mm. What did we say about language.” 
“Apologies.” Damn your filthy mouth for running even faster in cold weather. Because it is the goddamn arctic out here. “I will say I have been getting better, though.” 
“Improvement won’t matter if you fuck up during the meeting.” 
“Alright, buddy.” Your superior’s laugh grates your ear as you haul ass into the warm estate, worry suddenly gripping you when you realize that no one is walking around. 
Shit, are you that late? Did you miss everything? 
Skittering right to the main doors, you start to panic. Are these the main doors? They look like them. Fancy. Very fancy. Shit, shit, shit, is the wedding over—
A full body bumps into your side as you round a table bursting with flowers. Having a sound enough mind to cover your receiver, you react in a shout, “Hey, watch it—” 
“Sorry!” 
Wait. You know that voice. 
Even though it’s one that you haven’t heard in years. 
“…Jin?” 
Everything slowly stops as the man turns and, if you weren’t so in shock, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes traveled from your heels to your perfectly trimmed brows. 
You expect both something and nothing. Because when it comes to the person standing in front of you, there’s no telling what he’ll destroy you with next. 
But what comes out is merely a tiny, chest-constricting, 
“Hello.” 
You stare, and stare, and stare some more. Even your boss cannot bring you back to the present with his incessant poking. 
Because Jin looks so fucking handsome in his suit that’s not quite dressed yet, with hair that’s swept just enough to throw you off planet earth. Even the way his tie lounges around his neck gives you pause, because it showcases how broad his shoulders have become. 
How can he look the same and yet so heartbreakingly different?
“I—” 
“Later, tuna fish.” 
Your heart lurches. 
“They’re waiting for me.” 
To your dismay, Seokjin presses a soft hand on your shoulder while passing through the ornate entrance, his lingering burn searing through as you watch him button his suit on the run. 
Well. At least you didn’t miss the wedding. 
You hear your sibling’s hearty shout echo throughout the hall, but you have to physically tear yourself from your spot to finally answer your boss. 
And to not fixate on the one person you thought you were safe from today. 
But of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? Him and your brother have been inseparable since the beginning, and you should’ve known even being on different planets wouldn’t keep them apart too long. 
Speaking of… 
Traveling to another galaxy might solve the numbing ache in your chest. Maybe you should consider that gigantic leap yourself. 
Because seeing Jin again brings you back to December. 
And the frost you feel in your bones overshadows any weather brewing outside. 
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tbc.
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wheee! we have a teaser! | join the taglist!
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a/n: isi i hope you know what monster you're about to unleash lmao. here's to another holiday seokjin! gosh, he will keep haunting me and i love him for it. second chance with isi's initial brother's best friend!jin request? gotta love it. the one-two-three punch, i reckon. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed the teaser and i am so so nervous about the main drop but hope you like that, as well :'))
links: jingle all the way collab ; masterlist
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