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firewhiskeyficTitle: Imagine the Rest
Author:kiertorata
I am of legal drinking age in my region: yup!
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Seamus/Dean
Challenge: Seamus Finnigan, Felix Felicis
Summary: Seamus fucked up. Now it’s time for him to fix it.
Rating/Warnings: mentions of R-level stuff
Word count: 513
Author's Notes (if any): I’m sure this was going somewhere, but I forgot what I was doing after a few whisky shots and forgot I was writing a fic at all :DDD
Considering that Dean was already mad at him, Seasmu didn’t know if this was a good idea. He was infamaously bad at potions. Bad didn’t even describe it. Hell, the amount of times he had been called royal fuck up turd of a student by Snape should have told him better than to ever touch a cauldron again, but here he was, swirling a wooden spoon through guck that looked like it could explode any minute, pretending he had an excellent idea of what he was doing.
He glanced at the wall, where a portrait of him and Dean hung from the wall. It was unconventional to have a moving portrait of oneself done before one was dead, but Dean’s enthusiasm toawrds painting and disregard for wizarding conventionality had caused their flat to be filled with portraits fo him and Dean, most of them somwhat safe for work, a few special ones better examined within the privacy of their bedroom.
Portrait-Dean looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and horror, clearly displeased with the catastrophe that was about to erupt in their home. Portrait-Seamus did what Portrait-Seamus always did, which was flirting horribly with Portrait-Dean, running his finders along Dean’s chin and flashing a scandalous smile at him.
Looking at the portrait just made Seamus want to cry. He wondered what they would do with it, if Dean truly didn’t want to be with him anymore. Rightfully they were Deran’s portraits; he had painted them. But if he couldn’t have the actual Dean, Seamus would at least like d to have had a portrait to talk to. (And occasionally masturbate to, but that was too sad to even think.)
Staring at Portrait-Dean’s handsome, if stressed, face for a second too long was his mistake. When Seamus turned back to his potion, it was already bubbling over, the dark liquid ominously charred at the rim. He just had the time to cast a slopy Shield Charm on himself befor the thing erupted, knocking him over with a massive ‘boom!’ and sending the window glass shattering.
“Shit! Shit shit shit...” he said, and scurried up from the floor. But the worst had already happened.
Their house was ruined. Where had previously been a fluffy, Gryffindor-red carpet was now a burnt hole flashing chorched floorboards. Their curtains were burnt to a crisp, and all the furniture that had been knocked over had not been safe from a glaze. He looked up to see Portrait-Dean shaking dust from his hair as Portrait-Seamus cackled next to him.
The real Seamus didn’t cackle. The real Seamus was scared shitless that Dean would walk in right now, turn away and decide to never come back.
He would get out of this mess. So, the Felix Felicis potion had been abit too ambitious for his potions brewing level. But he would get hold of it somehow, even if it required all his savings.
If he had needed the potion to fix his fight with Dean before, he fucking needed it at this point. And he knew just the person.
*
Author:
kiertorataI am of legal drinking age in my region: yup!
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Seamus/Dean
Challenge: Seamus Finnigan, Felix Felicis
Summary: Seamus fucked up. Now it’s time for him to fix it.
Rating/Warnings: mentions of R-level stuff
Word count: 513
Author's Notes (if any): I’m sure this was going somewhere, but I forgot what I was doing after a few whisky shots and forgot I was writing a fic at all :DDD
Considering that Dean was already mad at him, Seasmu didn’t know if this was a good idea. He was infamaously bad at potions. Bad didn’t even describe it. Hell, the amount of times he had been called royal fuck up turd of a student by Snape should have told him better than to ever touch a cauldron again, but here he was, swirling a wooden spoon through guck that looked like it could explode any minute, pretending he had an excellent idea of what he was doing.
He glanced at the wall, where a portrait of him and Dean hung from the wall. It was unconventional to have a moving portrait of oneself done before one was dead, but Dean’s enthusiasm toawrds painting and disregard for wizarding conventionality had caused their flat to be filled with portraits fo him and Dean, most of them somwhat safe for work, a few special ones better examined within the privacy of their bedroom.
Portrait-Dean looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and horror, clearly displeased with the catastrophe that was about to erupt in their home. Portrait-Seamus did what Portrait-Seamus always did, which was flirting horribly with Portrait-Dean, running his finders along Dean’s chin and flashing a scandalous smile at him.
Looking at the portrait just made Seamus want to cry. He wondered what they would do with it, if Dean truly didn’t want to be with him anymore. Rightfully they were Deran’s portraits; he had painted them. But if he couldn’t have the actual Dean, Seamus would at least like d to have had a portrait to talk to. (And occasionally masturbate to, but that was too sad to even think.)
Staring at Portrait-Dean’s handsome, if stressed, face for a second too long was his mistake. When Seamus turned back to his potion, it was already bubbling over, the dark liquid ominously charred at the rim. He just had the time to cast a slopy Shield Charm on himself befor the thing erupted, knocking him over with a massive ‘boom!’ and sending the window glass shattering.
“Shit! Shit shit shit...” he said, and scurried up from the floor. But the worst had already happened.
Their house was ruined. Where had previously been a fluffy, Gryffindor-red carpet was now a burnt hole flashing chorched floorboards. Their curtains were burnt to a crisp, and all the furniture that had been knocked over had not been safe from a glaze. He looked up to see Portrait-Dean shaking dust from his hair as Portrait-Seamus cackled next to him.
The real Seamus didn’t cackle. The real Seamus was scared shitless that Dean would walk in right now, turn away and decide to never come back.
He would get out of this mess. So, the Felix Felicis potion had been abit too ambitious for his potions brewing level. But he would get hold of it somehow, even if it required all his savings.
If he had needed the potion to fix his fight with Dean before, he fucking needed it at this point. And he knew just the person.
*
no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 06:25 pm (UTC)OMG all the feels. Really incredible and well written for an FWF ♥
no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 07:06 pm (UTC)Poor Seamus. :(
Although I am curious about who can fix this.
Snape? Hermione? Snape AND Hermione? LOL.
I am intrigued. :)
no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-04-14 05:42 pm (UTC)Yes, poor Seamus! I was apparently in a very melodramatic mood writing this :D I'm sure it would have ended well eventually.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-06 08:34 pm (UTC)<3
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Date: 2018-03-06 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 03:02 am (UTC)And Deamus!! I've missed these boys! ♥♥
no subject
Date: 2018-03-08 03:30 pm (UTC)Great job!