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#this is more angsty than I anticipated
artiststarme · 1 year
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What If Steve Were To Leave Hawkins? Part 11
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
I'm glad so many people liked the happy part in Chicago! Now, back to the angst. Hope you guys like it, what do you think I should do for the next part?
~*~*~*~
When all of the younger teens of the Party reached the Wheeler’s basement, the space exploded into vengeful bickering. Each of the kids, bar El and Will who were watching the display with gazes of concerned worry, had their own opinion and placed the blame of Eddie and Steve leaving on someone else. Lucas and Max placed the blame on Mike and Dustin, the two that decided Steve needed space in the first place. Mike placed full accountability on Steve, as per usual, for leaving and causing such a fuss. Taking Eddie was just a bonus that exposed Steve further to Mike’s contempt. Meanwhile, Dustin blamed Eddie for driving Steve away and himself for not doing more to keep them both in town. 
He had never felt more panicked and guilt-ridden than he did at this very moment, a feat in itself because he’d been through a lot of shit. But he had now caused both of his older male friends to flee Hawkins and he couldn’t really imagine anything worse. What, was Robin going to leave next? Perhaps Nancy or Jonathon? He thought that this summer would be the best ever. The Upside Down was gone for good, the town had begrudgingly accepted Eddie’s innocence, and the Byerses were back from California. However, this summer sucked and he felt naive for thinking something in his life could go right for once. 
“Shut up, Max! You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You didn’t notice Steve’s car outside your trailer all night, how can we trust you to tell us if Eddie was coerced to get in or not?” Dustin tuned back into the conversation around him when Mike brazenly questioned Max’s credibility. 
Lucas quickly jumped to her defense and pointed a finger in Mike’s face, “Don’t talk to her like that! Why wouldn’t we trust her? She’s the one that saw them in the first place. And Eddie knows Steve, he wouldn’t have to be coerced into his car. They’re friends!”
“Don’t talk for me, Lucas! I can speak for myself,” Max said before turning to Mike. “Listen mouthbreather, I know you have a weird crush slash stalker obsession with him but Eddie chose to leave with Steve. Probably because Toothless over there hurt his feelings by telling him everything he’s ever been afraid of. Nice going, now we lost another friend.”
Will jumped in then with a hand on Mike’s shoulder when he saw the fury ignite in his eyes. “Ok but why are we all freaking out? I thought we were worried about whether Steve was alright or not. We know that he’s fine and Eddie’s with him. Can’t we just wait for them to come back?”
All he received were matching looks of disappointment before Dustin turned to Eleven. “El! Can you go look for them in the void to make sure they’re okay?”
She looked at Will for confirmation and raised an eyebrow, did they actually want her to look for Steve and Eddie? He sighed and nodded in resignation. It seemed that the others were going to keep hunting them down regardless of what they did. They might as well use El’s powers to take a look for safety purposes. She turned back to Dustin and nodded resolutely, “Yes, I can find them.”
Max and Lucas quickly turned the downstairs radio onto static while Mike hunted down an old blindfold. Dustin gently pushed her onto the couch and urged her to rush the process. After a moment of static and mind numbing darkness, El entered the void. She imagined Steve with his mother hen personality and sunflower yellow sweatshirt with Eddie in his black outfits and bitchin’ hair. A picture started to grow in front of her. 
She saw Steve and Eddie in a restaurant, a sports bar or pub it seemed. There was a long bar running along the left side of the building that faced a brick wall lined with booth seating and high top tables. 
“I see them.”
Mike squeezed her hand, “Are they hurt? Is Eddie okay?”
The man in question was scarfing down a Reuben with extra sauerkraut. His jaw practically unhinged as he shoved the huge sandwich, dripping with thousand island dressing and sauerkraut, into his mouth. Steve was watching him in disgusted fondness, pushing him away when he tried to lean closer into Steve’s personal space in an effort to escape the smell of vinegar on Eddie’s breath.
“He is eating a large sandwich.”
Max asked, “Is Steve okay?”
Steve placed his right hand on Eddie’s thigh out of view of the other patrons at the bar. He said something that made Eddie laugh so loudly, a few heads turned to look at the pair. When one woman’s eyes lingered longer than Eddie appreciated, he hissed at her and bared his teeth. The display was less intimidating than he expected due to the pieces of sauerkraut stuck between his teeth but it only made Steve look at him more fondly. 
“They are both happy. Eddie is laughing and Steve is looking at him like Dad looks at Joyce.” Unbeknownst to her, the kids glanced at each other in bewilderment. They would focus on that comparison later.
Moving on, Dustin asked her, “do you see any identifying information? Street signs, landmarks, anything?”
El did in fact see several things. She saw a Blackhawks jersey pinned above Eddie’s head, a team she recognized from watching Hockey with Hopper. And if that didn’t clue her into their location, she also noticed the Chicago flag situated on the wall behind the bar. However, she couldn’t bring herself to tell the others what she had found. Not when she noticed the way Steve was looking at Eddie, like he had finally discovered what happiness was.
“I will not say. They are happy, they do not need us to find them.”
Dustin almost screamed in indignance, “El! They need us and we need them back home! Tell us where they are!”
El took one last glance at the happy couple, Steve’s eyes were full of love while Eddie licked thousand island dressing off of his fingers and stole french fries off of Steve’s plate. They looked happier than she had ever seen them in Hawkins and she knew she could not disturb that. She removed the blindfold with blood dripping from her nose and a soft smile on her face. “They are home, we can not ruin that.” 
Dustin shook his head and jumped up from his spot on the armchair, “I can’t believe you’d be so unhelpful! But fine, I’ll find them without your help.”
He didn’t wait to hear El’s response or the defenses of the other kids made on her behalf. He made his way outside of Mike’s house and turned his bike to the trailer park. Without much of a plan and no idea which words he wanted to say, he knocked on the door of the Munson’s trailer. Dustin wasn’t sure what he was expecting but an annoyed Wayne probably came close. 
“What can I help ya with, kid?” The older man breathed out with irritation coating each syllable. 
“Hi Mr. Munson, I was wondering if you’d heard from Eddie? Max said she saw him leave this morning and I’m worried about him. Is he missing too?”
Wayne just released a bone weary sigh and ran a hand over his face as if Dustin’s questions themselves were aging him. “Look, Eddie went off for a while with that boy Steve. Y’all don’t need to worry about ‘im, there’s no one I would trust more with my boy. Alright? I think they both just need some distance from all of this. You kids, the town. They just want to be left alone for now.”
Dustin’s eyes started to prick as tears began to build. “But please, Mr. Munson-”
“Just go home, kid. They’ll be back when they’re ready. You need a ride back?”
Dustin just shook his head and clambered back onto his bike. He heard Wayne close the door close behind him and let out an angered sound of frustration. He started pedaling as hard as he could with tears now streaming readily down his face. Dustin didn’t know what else he could do. Hopper couldn't find them using police resources, El refused to tell them what she saw, Steve hadn’t called him back since he had missed his first call, and now Wayne was gatekeeping information about their whereabouts. 
The unfairness of it all pushed Dustin to pedal harder. The tears in his eyes clouded his vision but he just pedaled faster. Until his front tire hit a rock and threw him over the handlebars. His palms skid along the harsh cement and his shin split open upon contact with the dingy pedal of his bike. For a moment, Dustin just sat on the ground and sobbed. Usually in this situation, he would go to Steve who would patch him up and feed him dinner, typically in the form of a cheese pizza and Coke. Or Eddie would pick him up on his way home from Family Video visiting Robin and Steve. But, he drove them all away and now all he’s left with is his miserable self and torn skin. 
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20: Epilogue
Taglist: @nickavalens @conversesweetheart @themostunoriginalpersonever @swimmingbirdrunningrock @eddiethegreatteddybear @harrumphingtons @call-me-big-eyes @moonshadows-13 @glittergluekintsugi @cpidcupk @doubleb11 @mentalcyborg @amoris-no-smut-allowed @purple-lemonade @labels-are-for-the-weak @thebrazilianatheist @rajumat @livelaughlexa @5ammi90 @colorful565 @marvelousforlife @chaoticcoffeequeen @gregre369 @suddenlyinlove @thegreatmistake @stillfullofshit @nburkhardt @batxsignalsx @newunknowns @thosemessyvibes @tailsfromthecrypt @luciana-rowan @bird-with-pencils @adaed5 @lolawon @flustratedcas @iwillfindmyneverland @messrs-weasley @skoomy-doompy @yearningagain @forest-fogg @bitchysunflower @stardust-era @newtstabber @bobatrash-queen @notjasontxdd @ohlook-afrog @00biscuit @grtwdsmwhr @oxidantdreamboat @the-witch-forever-lives @estrellami-1 @whatthemeepever @a-simple-gaywitch @imzadidragonfly @freddykicksasses @krimsonsimp @whatthefuccck @delta-piscium @anaibis @tinynebula @darkwitchoferie @evix-syne666 @tawghasa @pyrohonk @lillys-weird-world
If anyone else wants to be added to the tag list, let me know!
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A quick little doodle of the datatale Chara for @ask-dcf
I thought doing the static elements of her character would be fun.
it was >:D
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innerfray · 1 year
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Barbershop (Tohru Adachi/Yu Narukami, M-rated, Persona 4, Ongoing)
Adachi tries to turn over a new leaf in Tokyo after serving his 10 year prison sentence, but running into Yu and Rise during a questionable tinder date throws a wrench in his plans.
[Golden Ending Future Fic, Adachi POV]
SNIP:
“So, how do you two know each other?” Rise asked, her charismatic mask up in full force. He had to give her props for being completely unphased by his presence - the man who’d almost gotten her killed, all those years ago.
Yu started taking a sip of water when Masumi responded with “Tinder,” which sent him into a choking fit.
“Wow, didn’t realize ol’ Adachi-san was on the dating apps!” Rise replied, shooting Yu a quick glance with wide eyes as he cleared his throat noisily.
“Yeah, I know he’s only in town for a short time on business, so I was excited it worked out.” Masumi said.
Rise kept her face impassive. “Oh, is that so?”
Shit. They both had to know he was lying.
“Actually, before we eat, I’d like to step out for some air,” Yu said, elbowing Adachi as he stood. “Join me?”
“Y… yeah. Sounds good.”
——
They emerged into the night and Adachi gasped. He hadn’t realized how shallow his breathing had been, how on edge he was in the stifling warmth they’d just left. His shoulders loosened, his eyebrows unfurrowed. 
“So, you’re a ‘businessman’ now?”
Adachi winced, scratching his nose. “I may have… embellished a bit on my profile, sure.”
“I’m surprised you figured out how to use it,” Yu said. “And, honestly, a bit disappointed that you prioritized something like this over seeing an old friend.”
Adachi scoffed.
“When'll you learn, Yu-kun?” He said, bitterly realizing too late he'd let Yu's first name slip out now that they were alone. Cool embarassment flooded him, and he looked up into the cloudy sky, firmly away from the man beside him. “I’m always going to disappoint you. That much hasn’t changed.” 
“I wasn’t lying in there, you know,” Yu murmured with a frown, inching closer. His gaze burned against Adachi's profile. “I knew your release was coming up. Why didn’t you respond to any of my messages?”
I didn’t want you to stop sending them.
“I just didn’t feel like responding yet, that’s all.”
“Ah, of course.”
Adachi’s lip curled up. “And what do you mean, 'knew my release was coming up?' Did you have the date circled on your calendar with little hearts around it?”
Yu’s mouth parted for a moment, but he quickly closed it. “No. But… well, it was circled.”
Adachi swiveled his head to face him, finally unable to feign aloofness.
“Oh. Uh... Thanks for keeping tabs on it, I guess.” He mumbled, scratching his neck in an attempt to deflect attention from the hint of pink coloring his cheeks.
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kirric-the-fan · 3 months
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Got a lot of work done today on my werewolf Mana fic On the nose: another type of change! Looking to get chapter 2 up by the new year.
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softtdaisy · 3 months
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🌲 a found family l max verstappen
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summary. you and max can't spend Christmas together but a trip to his dad and the love he has for you make him realize that he deserves better. a better life. a better love. a better family.
words count. 2,596
a/n. and this is the last piece for this Christmas series. Thanks to all of you for sticking me through December. and a massive thanks to my favorite person @monzabee for encouraging me and for giving me this beautiful idea to end the series 🫶
a very angsty Christmas l masterlist
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You looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dress Max had bought you this year during one of your holidays. One of the many gifts he did to you this year, because if there were one thing that could describe your boyfriend it would be his generiosity. That man could buy you the world if you wanted it. 
And that was maybe what was making him the saddest tonight.
He could see you wearing it and neither could he offer you his gift. 
Because you were not spending Christmas’ eve together. But in each other’s family.
“You know this look is a great excuse to skip the diner at my dad’s?” Max asked which made you laughed. He was still sit on your bed, his shirt barely closed and his hair absolutely not styled. He was the closest to his place, compared to you who had to drive for almost two hours. 
He watched you as you walked to your phone, that you had put on your wardrobe to show your whole look. “You’re such a flirt, Maxie.” you kept laughing, specially when he started making his poutty face that you absolutely love. You always found it funny how most people saw him as this arrogant guy when he was such a sweetheart. 
“Ain’t I allowed to flirt with my girl?” 
“You are. It’s a shame you won’t enjoy the result of this flirt tonight.” 
This hasn’t been an easy decision for either of you. It’s was only your first christmas together since you started dating on january. And you really wish you could have spend the evening together. But you learn one thing through this past year: never go against Jos Verstappen’s plan. 
From the first race you attended, you got the feeling Jos didn’t really appreciate you. You tried to talk about it with Max without making a whole drama out of it but he didn’t really react. Or say anything, actually.
Not that Max didn’t care. It was even far from it. He just didn’t know what to do. He never talked about his personnal life with his dad and it wouldn’t be a first now. Specially not with these type of question. Max always assumed that his father only care about his racing career. It couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t interested in his son’s couple. Right?
“I have to go” you told Max, who was lost on his thoughts. He enjoyed for the last few seconds to sight of you before you had to hung up. “Call me if you need, alright?” 
“Even if I don’t need it.” he laughed before letting you go.
Every time he had to say goodbye to you, on the phone or because you couldn’t follow him for the next race, Max felt a little hole in his heart. He never thought one day he’ll met someone that could complete him like you did. 
That’s all he thought about until he arrived at his dad’s place. All the thing he wanted to do with you before the new season starts, where he would take you during the holiday, which races you could be there and what places he wanted to show you during these weekend. More than just happiness for your couple, Max realised how important you were for his anxiety. Before he met you, most of the time he had to drive to see his father, he was anticipated all the bad things that could happen. The critics, the disapproval, the yelling if they really did disagree on something. And the worst part was that, in the end, he was just living the nightmare before it happened.
And maybe it was the fact he didn’t think about all these things before arriving, but Max felt good when he arrived.
“Uncle Maxie!” And being around his nephew was definitely a good help.
For many years, Max never consider having children. The anxiety he developped because of his own childhood was a perfect argument to avoid trying. How could he give a child what he needs if he doesn’t know himself what a kid should have? He knew what he shouldn’t do, that’s all.
But these past weeks, from seeing his nephews and calling them, he realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.
And maybe, you weren’t for nothing in this change of mind.
“You’re shinny, uncle Maxie.” 
“Shinny?” he laughed, still playing with the little cars that represent all the Formula one drivers.
“Yep. You’re happy.” 
Max didn’t know what to answer to that. But then he felt two hands on his shoulders and a kiss from Victoria on his hair. “He’s right.” He turned around to look at her. He guessed that the look she had was just another proof that indeed, he was lookier happier. “It’s for the toast, come.”
It was some kind of tradition. Everyone had to say what they were grateful for at the end of this year. Kids, health, career… each other always revolved around these subjects. Max was not going to break the circle. Not today.
“Well I’m grateful for the amazing year I spend. Winning the championship again was more than I could expect at the beginning of the season. So yeah I’m grateful for the team, for the work we did to win the races and create such amazing memories all together.” 
Max stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what he could be grateful for. There was one thing, obviously.
If he met his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t have continued. But he didn’t. He looked at Victoria and her massive smile. 
“And I’m grateful for my girlfriend. I couldn’t have go through this crazy year without her. She’s my rock, she’s my best friend, she’s without a doubt my soulmate and I’m glad I could finally found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Max heard all the lovely and loudly sound from his family. And before he could notice her, Victoria was already in his arms, telling him how proud she was that he finally found the happiness he deserved.
Again, he could have focus on the good thing, all the congratulations and excitement about this new family member that they all couldn’t wait to meet. But this time, Max did saw Jos look on him. One that he sadly knew by heart: disappointment. 
At first, Max decided to ignore the situation and spend most of the evening playing with his nephews, pretending to be a car himself to drive them around the house. But he couldn’t escape the heavy atmosphere forever.
Max saw that Jos was sitting by himself in the living room, with a whisky in his hand. He hesitated, did he really wanted to break all the good vibes for a talk for his dad? And then again, he was too nice to avoid him. No matter if he knew he would end this conversation with some broken feelings, Max couldn’t escape it. Because if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he never wanted to become like his father. A man that would rather ignore the people he love for the sake of disappointment. Silence was never the solution.
“So, how do we feel about new season?” Max asked, sitting next to him. If there was one subject they couldn’t really argue about was his career. Or at least, even if there was some disagreement, it wouldn’t end up badly.
“You have to leave her.” It was simple. Five words. Said with a hard tone. Like an order. “You’re already losing your man over that…stupid girl. You can’t let yourself fail for a woman, Max.”
Maybe he should have gone with the swerve, in the end. “What do you mean? I’ve been with her for a year and I still won.” He could have, maybe, understand if the season was a pure fail. But it wasn’t. The car was amazing and he won almost every races. There was not single doubt that not only you weren’t a burden but you were a motivation for him. It didn’t make sense. But still, Max knew where all of this came from. Because he knew his father.
“A woman is always a burden in a career.” 
“This is why you got married thrice?” It left his mouth without Max had time to notice it. Truth is, he got tired as he grow older of the need to think about his words. What could he say what he mean to his dad? Why should he still be afraid? “Trust me, you terrible at giving relationship advices.” 
“You should watch your mouth.” Jos replied, taking a stew towards his son. For many years, Max used to step back to avoid the confrontation. Not anymore.
Instead, he took at step towards too. “You should watch yours. I won that fucking championiship, again. And you can’t even congratulate me? All you think about is the woman that want to spend her life with me? Not you, me.”
He noticed the change, again, in Jos look. It was getting darker and darker, like his anger was taking over himself and he was close to not be able to contain himself. Usually, Max was scared of the moment he would explode. There was just one change in his mind. You.
Max could accept any criticism about his career or life choices, he didn’t care. It was his life. Sometimes he might be wrong and he could deal with his dad saying that he warned him. He was still young and could deal with some mistakes.
But there was one thing he could never let Jos critcize or give his opinion on it: you.
“I won’t let you ruin your career for some stupid woman.” Jos got the time to grab his wrist. Max hated feeling like a child, all over again. Looking for his dad approval. 
Expect that this time, he didn’t want it. “Fine. It’s my career. I don’t need your opinion.” he managed to free himself and was already leaving the room. He couldn’t continue this without letting it become some shit show. No matter the situation, his family didn’t deserve it. Specially not on Christmas eve. 
“If you don’t leave her, then i’m not supporting you anymore.” 
Max stopped in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of a glass falling in the kitchen sink. He heard the sudden silence in the children’s playroom. This was the results of year of fighting for Jos seeing him as an equal, as a real driver and not a child who wants to grow older and be consider an adult. This was the results of feeling like his dad loved him.
Max was hurt. But he couldn’t fight anymore. “Fine.” he didn’t turn around, didn’t want to look at his father. It wasn’t the idea of seeing him. It was the idea of Jos seeing how bad he broke him, again. “I’ll do better without you.” 
The silence was still everywhere when Max walked to his sister to kiss her and said goodbye to his nephew. It was for the better, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight if they asked him to stay. But Victoria knew his brother, and what he deserves was to be in a place where he felt loved. 
And there was one where he knew he would never be ignored and rejected.
When you opened the door, you imagined different scenarios. But never one where you would see Max on your doorstep. “Baby?” you asked with confusion, almost like you were sure he was real.
“I’m sorry, I should have called, I know i wasn’t invited but…” he didn’t need to continue. Because you recognized the look in his eyes. One you sadly saw before. When he argued with his dad on the circuit and you couldn’t do anything than holding him in your arms. Telling me it would get better. That he wasn’t alone.
That was the only truth Max needed. He was far from being alone.
So you offered your hand to him. “Come in baby.” you noticed the little hesitation in his look, on that sadden you. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to come in. It was a pur fear of opening his heart to you and losing you after. It didn’t last long, because he knew deep down that you were here to stay. But you were scared that this was a kind of thought that would never leave his mind.
You gave him a small and simple kiss on the lips, a kind of silent promise that you were supporting him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Max even asked for. He was so not used of being understood and loved, this simple attention was enough to light up his heart again.
“Sweetie, who’s th… Oh Max! What a lovely surprise!” 
You were interrupted by your dad who almost push you away to take Max in his arms. You weren’t surprised. First, because your dad was a very lovely and tactile person who couldn’t resist this type of greeting. Second, because he appreciated Max so much, he was probably the one praying every day for a wedding. Third, because he had been asking you all night why you didn’t bring him. 
But Max, on the contrary, was more than surprised by that. Was he really that happy to see him? “Come in, you’re getting cold. Did you eat? We have…” you didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence that your dad had already pulled Max to the living room. Your boyfriend just had the time to turn around and give you a curious look. To which you replied with a smile. It felt right to see him being appreciated and treated like he should.
All your family spend the night talking to him, asking questions and making him feel like he was home. That was the truth, actually: this place was also a home for him. It was yours. And your family already considered him as a part of it. There was no reason for Max to not be a full member. 
It wasn’t until you got to bed, in your bedroom, that he let his mind speak. You were laying on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling and caressing your hair. It was relaxing for both of you to stay in silence after the crazy night you had. 
“I’ve felt much more at home here in a few hours than in all my life with my dad.” Max said slowly, in a whisper.
You turned your head just enough to look at him while he was still focused on his thoughts. You were making a whole speech in your head to make him feel better. You had no idea how he felt about this. This must be such a strange situation to feel more loved by your family-in-law than your own. 
But then he put a kiss on your hair and started to smile. “Thank you.” he whispered, like he was scared to be heard by anyone else. “For finding me and for loving me.”
You could feel your heart melt at this confession. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” you replied. 
And you stayed like that for a good minute before you made a debrief of the whole evening here. When you both fell asleep, you realised you had the greatest gift you could ever dream of. Happiness in the arms of your loved one.
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safetypinxtales · 3 months
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Together with you | Azriel
(Lonely with you pt. 2)
summary: heart break sucks. Missing your friend sucks even more. It is mind-blowing what a little open communication can do.
words: 4.1k
warnings: angst with happy ending, terrible communication at parts (sorry), mention of alcohol consumption, fluff, just general misery, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, dumb idiots in love
notes: so this got a lot more angsty than first anticipated, but here it is! Not sure how I feel about it, I like some parts, not so sure about others - feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
part 1
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Cold. Your bed was freezing cold. And empty. 
Like lying on a frozen slab of stone, utterly alone and undeniably pathetic. Just as alone and pathetic as yesterday, when you woke up on the couch in the living room. No Azriel in sight. Like he wasn’t the one to practically beg you not to leave him alone, and then he went and did that exact thing to you. 
It was humiliating. You were humiliated.
And that was why you had avoided him like he was contagious for all of yesterday, burying yourself in paperwork or hiding away in the library. But your plan was far from foolproof, you’d barely made it through yesterday without seeing him, so today had to be different. If being close to you was so shameful he had to sneak away before you had a chance to wake, you would simply remove yourself from the situation and spare yourself some Gods damned dignity. 
You had already written to Mor, your excuse of needing to get away from the happily mated couple for a few nights only a half lie. You were in desperate need of a good night’s rest, however that was not the most pressing issue at hand. But there was no need for her to know that. Yet. She would find out eventually, she always did, and you would be stupid to expect otherwise. 
Two hours past sunrise should mean that the Valkyrie training would be full and well underway, and thus it would be safe for you to make your escape. You got the things you’d need and made your way up the stairs to one of the smaller balconies overlooking the training ring. You knew you really shouldn’t, because what good would it do? But you had to. Just a quick glance. Quietly you moved towards the railing, scanning the people below. 
There he was, a thing of graceful, terrifying beauty. He seemed to be demonstrating a movement with a training sword for some of the priestesses. He moved with such fluidity, wielding the sword in his hand as if it was an extension of himself. He was like death on swift feet. A fallen angel, a dark prince. 
He was beautiful.
You must have accidentally made a sound, because his head shot up and his eyes zeroed in on you. Oh Gods. The intensity in his gaze, and the increasing pressure in your chest was too much. He didn’t want you. 
You staggered back, one little step and you had winnowed yourself down to the city streets. This was good, you needed to get away. He left you alone. He drew back first. You knew all of this, so why did it hurt such an unreasonable amount?
You rubbed your chest in hopes of getting rid of the tightness that seemed to have moved in there since yesterday morning, and then you set course towards the one stop you had to make before getting to Mor’s. 
-
It had been three days since you arrived at Mor’s apartment with a paper bag filled with the sweetest, sugar-powdered pastries your favourite bakery had to offer. It had taken you both approximately 20 minutes to devour them all, after which you no longer had anything to distract your friend from digging up the truth behind your visit. 
You were in love with someone who did not harbour the same feelings towards you. And you desperately needed to get away from him, to save what remained of your heart. 
You had cried, drank some wine, and then cried a little more. You went back to the bakery for more pastries the next day, and the cycle repeated. 
The crisp, early-spring wind was a menace today as you were on your, now daily, pastry run. You were trying to stop your hair from whipping around like a being possessed, cursing up a storm, when you heard him call your name. 
You froze to the spot, like his voice was some primal command. That insufferable tightness in your chest was as present as ever as you forced yourself to put on your brave face and turned towards him. 
There he was, jogging towards you, his brow furrowed. 
“Hey,” Azriel breathed as he came to a stop in front of you. His shadows swirled out in your direction, but retracted before they had a chance to reach you. 
“Hi,” you mumbled back, suddenly finding the cobbled street very interesting. 
He cleared his throat and took a step closer. You took one backwards. The cobblestone looks different here than in the alley by the bakery. 
“I haven’t seen you in a while… you haven’t been home – at the House, I mean,”  he coughed lightly. I wonder if it was made with, like, a different technique? Or maybe the stones are just differently shaped or something?
“Yeah, no, I’ve been staying with Mor for a bit.” It’s definitely mossier on the smaller streets, maybe that’s why? It just shifts the perspecti–
“Angel, please look at me.” 
You didn’t want to, Gods you didn’t want to. But alas, you seemed to have no power when it came to Azriel. 
Any other day, the worry swimming in those hazel eyes would have melted your heart. Today, it just hurt. “Did I do something? Is that why you… haven’t been around?” 
You scoff, “No, you didn’t do anything, Azriel. It’s fine.”
“It’s obviously not fine! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you can barely look at me?” He exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, or made you uncomfortable – but I miss my friend,” his hands twitched where they rested at his sides, shadows swirling around him with unease.
“Oh, please,” his brows furrowed further at the dry laugh that escaped you, “Are you being serious, Az? I fell asleep in your arms, after you pleaded with me to stay with you – and then I woke up alone.” His face fell. “How do you think that feels? I mean, you must know how I feel about you!” You cursed yourself for the way your voice quivered, and that damned burning feeling behind your eyes that you were so sick of.
“What– no, I didn’t– what do you–,” he stuttered. He actually stuttered. The spymaster of the Night court couldn’t even come up with an excuse for being an ass.
“Save it. I get it – you were lonely, we’ve all been there,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have to go.”
You turned back in the direction of Mor’s apartment, pastries be damned. You just had to get away.
Azriel had other plans though. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cool wisps of shadows snaking up your forearm. You couldn’t help the way you recoiled from his touch, how it seemed to ignite every nerve in your arm. 
“Wait–,”
“NO!” A sob wracked your body. “No, just leave me alone, Az. Can’t you tell that you’re hurting me?” His face twisted in time with your words, and tears pricked your eyes. “Being around you hurts!” 
His shadows were whipping violently around him, but he was as still as death itself.  Something like dread and confusion were clouding his eyes.
He called after you as you walked away. But he didn’t stop you, nor did he try to follow you. And you didn’t dare look over your shoulder, too scared you might run back and give him the rest of your heart, shattered as it may be. No, instead you carried the shards in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other. 
You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be okay. 
-
The bedroom door creaked open, and you pulled the duvet further over your head.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Mor said in a sing-song voice. You weren’t sleeping.
“I’m not asleep,” you muttered, huffing loudly at the giggle that escaped her.
“Yeah, well, calling you a crybaby would be insensitive so I went for the next best thing.” 
Her comment made the corners of your lips twitch, and you silently cursed her for always knowing how to cheer you up. You had gotten quite comfortable in your misery.
You pulled the covers down and looked over at where she stood. Your chest grew uncomfortably tight when you saw what was in her hands. 
“Another one?” You asked and rolled over to face the window. You had forgotten how stubborn he was. Competitive bastard. 
“Yes, and they just seem to get bigger and bigger. I like the daffodils in this one though, very spring-esque. The other ones didn’t have any daffodils,” she mused as she walked in and headed towards the far end of the room, most likely towards the dresser. It was the only surface area not currently taken up by a bouquet.
This was the sixth bouquet he’d sent. In three days. He had turned Mor’s guest room into a damn flower shop. Just being in a ten feet proximity of this room would have sent Cassian into a sneezing frenzy.
“Remember that time in Elain’s garden, when you told me daffodils were your mom’s favourite flower? That she called you her little daffodil when she carried you in her womb? They are very beautiful – just like you. 
“Yours, Azriel.” Mor read the note before carefully putting it back with the flowers. 
Every set of flowers had come with its own handwritten note. He had apologised in the first one, the rest told you he missed you, recalling memories of moments you’d shared. Each one ended with a heartfelt compliment, one that brought tears to your eyes every time, without fail.
Mor let out a slight sigh. “I am fully on your side here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but… are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but… he’s a good male and he likes you – a lot.” 
She’s right. You figured that out two days ago. But your pride was wounded, and your trust had been betrayed, and it stung. 
However, somewhere along when the initial pain had started to diminish it had slowly but surely gotten replaced by the agony of missing him. Now you didn’t know what part of the pain came from what, you only knew that it hurt. 
But Gods, you really did miss him – more and more by the minute. You missed him in your bones; your best friend, your partner in crime, the male you loved. 
“Alright, you don’t have to say anything. I have to visit Rhysand to go over some work though, and I won’t be home until late tonight, probably. There is food and tea in the kitchen, or you can go down to the pub downstairs and ask them to make you something. Just… make sure to go there earlier in the evening to avoid drunken idiots, okay?” You rolled over to look at your friend, who once again proved herself to be way better than you deserved. You nodded. 
“Thank you,” you whispered and her lips curved upwards in a soft smile.
“Of course, take care of yourself,” she said, that warm smile still intact as she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. 
After dragging out your stay in bed a few more minutes, the thought of a warm cup of tea became too enticing to ignore. Chucking on a thick sweater you dragged your feet out of the bedroom.
Once in the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove and went in search of some tea. Where was the one Mor made you yesterday? The one that felt like drinking a warm, spiced hug – you needed that one right now. You found it in one of the cupboards just in time for the water to start boiling. So you made your cup of tea, drizzled in a little bit of honey, and walked out to the living room. You had just put your tea down and made your way over to the wall of bookshelves to pick out a new story to escape into when there was a knock on the door.
The way your entire body froze, yet seemed to come alive at the same time, signalled you knew who it was. How your body and soul could possibly know it was Azriel on the other side of that door, you weren’t sure. But alas, as you crossed the living room towards the entryway and tugged the front door open, there he was. 
He looked tired. His eyes seemed uncharacteristically old, his skin dull and the bags under his eyes were undeniable. Despite this he still managed to look as breath-taking as always. 
Those tired eyes met yours, and you swore you felt time stop. He was here. Your Azriel. 
Except he wasn’t yours, was he? A truth that only stung worse when your name fell from his lips. But seeing him here, like this… you could live with never having him, you thought. As long as he was in your life, if only as a friend.
That’s why you breathed out a “hi,”, and opened the door wider, a silent invitation to step inside. His shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped over the threshold.
“Hey,” Azriel whispered on a shaky breath, as you closed the door behind him. You stood in silence for a minute, neither of you apparently knowing what to say.
Azriel was the first to break the silence, “so, uh– did you get the…”. Bouquets is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.
“Yeah, yeah I did,” you mumbled, never really meeting his eyes. “Pretty.”
“Yeah? Okay,” you could see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “Good.”
You raised your gaze to meet his, and your heart clenched. You just wanted things back to the way they were, you wanted your friend back. Because standing here in front of him, not knowing what to say was awful. So you did the only thing you could think of…
“I miss you.” Your voice wavered more than you’d ever care to admit, but there it was – the truth. 
Azriel’s shoulders visibly shuddered at your confession. “Oh, angel,” it was your time to shudder. “I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry,” his eyes glazed over as he continued, “but please believe me when I say that I did not know – about how you felt. And maybe that makes me stupid, and blind, and oblivious–”
“No,” you interrupted him, “you’re not any of those things, Az.” His deprecating words wounded you so deeply, a heavy sadness filling your chest. 
“I should have known. I never would have– I wouldn’t have been such a coward if I knew.” You swore you heard the remnants of your heart crack. 
“Azzy…” You stepped towards him and reached up to cradle his face in your hands. His own hands flew up to your wrist and you prepared for him to reject your touch. 
Only he didn’t. 
Instead he gently held your hands in place and leaned into your touch in a manner so tender your breath hitched in your throat. His thumbs swiped across the backs of your wrists.
“I’m sorry, I got all up in my head and I–,” you didn’t let him finish.
“It’s okay Azriel, I forgive you.” His posture straightened a little as you continued, “I’m sorry too.” 
You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and before you could even register it happening, Azriel had pulled you into a hug. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he held you against his chest. He was so warm, and comfortable, and safe, and one tear became two, became three. All the while, Azriel held you, wings enveloping you in a cocoon as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. 
After what felt like hours, but was merely just minutes, Azriel dropped his wings from around you and as you felt his arms ease their hold on you, you took half a step back. His hand that had cradled the back of your head now cupped your cheek, the other came to rest on your hip.
You dried your tears, ungracefully wiping snot from your nose, and you once again lifted your head in search of those hazel eyes you had grown so in love with. And as your gazes locked – that’s when you felt it.
Like the snap of a bowstring, dead center in the middle of your chest, that glowing, golden thread locked into place – forever connecting your soul with the male across from you. 
The impact was so intense you staggered back, knocking into the end table behind you. Your hand flew up to your chest, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater as you tried to make sense of what just happened. 
Azriel is your mate.
Does he know? Does he even want you? A thousand thoughts swarmed your head, but they were all overpowered by one: mate. He was your mate. 
Azriel stood, one arm still partially outstretched, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something like bewilderment filled you to an overwhelming degree, and it took you a moment to realise that the feelings did not belong to you. They were all Azriel, unable to keep his emotions from bleeding across the bond to you. 
“You’re my–,” you stuttered.
“Yes,” he breathed in response.
“I– I’m your–”
“Yes,”
“You knew?” His eyes shuttered at your question.
“Yes,”
You had to sit down. 
You wobbled over to the couch and dropped down. You didn’t even realise he’d followed you until you felt the seat dip beside you. 
He seemed to realise words were not something currently in your possession, and took it upon himself to start to explain.
“You were sleeping, had been for probably an hour at least, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I have–,” he swallowed and his whole body shook as he professed his next words. “I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. When Rhysand introduced you to everyone and you were trying to sneak glances at all of us, thinking you were being discreet. You weren’t – quite the opposite actually.” You turned your head to look at him. One of those rare smiles decorated his face as he recalled the memory. “I think everyone noticed, but no one said anything. They were all probably as smitten by you as I was. Not only were you so adorable, you were the most divine female I had ever seen. Your eyes shone so brightly, and you radiated such calmness, such security – like every problem that had ever been wasn’t so bad after all. Like everything was always going to be fine, as long as you were around. You looked heavenly. Like an angel.” He whispered the last part and as his eyes met yours you sucked in a breath at the emotion swimming in them. 
Angel. His dedicated pet name for you. What he had been calling you, and only you, since that very first day. Not only were you the only person with that specific pet name – you were the only one of Azriel’s friend to even have a pet name, you realised. Sure, he referred to Rhysand and Cassian as his brothers. But you were his angel. 
“You love me?” You croaked, fresh tears filling your eyes.
“Yes, I do.” You hiccupped, face twisting as your chest filled to the brim with so many emotions you could not possibly name them all. He took your hands in his, and gave them a light squeeze as he continued, “When we were on that couch I was just… watching you. Holding you. Realising how perfectly you fit in my arms, when you moved. You snuggled deeper into my chest, like being close to me was an instinctual need, and then you sighed, and you smiled in your sleep – and I couldn’t breathe,” he took a deep breath, “that’s when the bond snapped.” You wanted to reach out and smooth out that crease between his eyebrows. Instead you just moved closer to him, pressed yourself into his side, and when he looked down at you, you gave it your best at pushing some of that endless love you held for him down that glittering bond. 
A sharp exhale left his parted lips and he gave your still entwined hands another squeeze. When he looked at you his cheeks were tinged with pink, the tips of his ears flushed. 
He loved you. 
He was your mate and he loved you.
“I was so shocked. Why would it snap now and not earlier?” He shook his head, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Then I started to… doubt myself,” his brows furrowed deeper, “what if you didn’t want me? I didn’t even know if you knew. Knew and… and decided you didn’t want to be with me. The Gods know I don’t deserve you.” 
You couldn’t help the broken whimper that escaped you as you listened to this wonderful male voice how lowly he thought of himself. 
“Don’t say that Azriel,” you croaked, your voice thick from crying. “I love you so much. I look at you and my heart fills to a point where I genuinely think it might burst,” you coughed out an attempt at a laugh. “You are a good male, and I could not imagine a greater honour than the Mother choosing you as my mate.”
A single tear rolled down Azriel’s cheek at your confession. You untangled your hands from his, instead crawling into his lap. This wonderful male, and he was all yours. The love that filled your chest felt so secure, so safe. Like the warmth of the morning sun. Like the smell of freshly baked bread, and early morning bird song. It felt like the beginning of something great. 
You raked your hands through his hair, and as you leaned in to kiss that lone tear away from his jaw, you watched his eyes shutter closed. 
“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your forehead coming to rest against his, “my mate.” 
His hands found your hips and gripped them tightly, and the touch was more than welcomed. If it was up to you to decide, he would never let you go – forever in each other’s embrace. 
“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, breath hot against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–… please don’t leave me again.”
“Never,” you promised, and then, like waves crashing ashore, you leaned in that last bit and pressed your lips to his. 
His entire body shook beneath you as he reciprocated the kiss, moulding his lips to yours and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly right it felt. Like coming home. And as your lips moved together that glowing thread became a wild, real, physical thing between you. His hands gripped you tighter, like you were his lifeline. Pulling you impossibly closer, as if you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your lips parted, letting your tongues meet in the most delicious of ways. 
The kiss was claiming, overpowering and you could not help the whine that escaped you as his fingers dug into your sides. A primal growl rattled deep in his throat, alighting every nerve in your body. 
This.
You wanted to stay right here, just like this, forever. 
-
You didn’t know how long you actually did stay like that – the two of you seemed to, again, be able to defy the concept of time together. But you were now laying on the couch, Azriel’s heart drumming a steady beat in your ear, a warm, overwhelming comfort overtaking your body. 
Slowly, you started to feel yourself drifting off to sleep, and with your head on his chest, his arms around you, the opening and closing of the front door and Mor’s voice that followed, felt so very far away. You almost didn’t apprehend what she said as her voice moved in closer.
“You better not leave her this time,” she ordered, and the rumble of Azriel’s voice, how very safe it made you feel, lulled you deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. 
Your body was impossibly heavy, the words he mumbled into your hair the last thing you registered before sleep claimed you.
“I won't,” he pressed a kiss to your head, “never again.”
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tags: @hnyclover @justdreamstars @historygeekqueen @sharknutz @icey--stars @mel-wcst @alysena2 @lewsnumerounofan
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letorip · 25 days
Text
somethin’ stupid
“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”
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pairing: wednesday addams x reader
summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.
warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark
word count: 4.2k
A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.
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===+++===
It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.
In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.
Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.
It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.
The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.
You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."
There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.
The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.
It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.
Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.
Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.
"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.
You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.
The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.
You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.
"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.
"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.
It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.
"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"
You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.
Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.
"Why are you yellow?"
You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."
"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.
You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"
Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.
Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.
"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"
"Ha. Ha."
As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.
It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.
From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."
"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.
"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."
"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."
"It's keeping you warm."
"I'm allergic to colours."
"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."
She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"
You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.
Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.
You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."
"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.
It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.
It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.
"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.
She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."
"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."
She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.
"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."
"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."
You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.
Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.
"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.
"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.
"What am I then?"
You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.
"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.
"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.
You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.
She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.
From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.
“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.
You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.
You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.
===+++===
"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.
"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.
She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.
Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.
From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”
You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”
But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.
“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“
“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.
She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”
"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.
"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.
"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."
"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"
"Why?"
"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"
"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."
She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"
"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."
"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."
"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.
“You’re being killed. By the beast.”
“…Oh.”
“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”
“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.
“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”
You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”
“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”
“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”
“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”
You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”
“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.
“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.
“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."
"You're hurting me."
"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."
You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."
"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."
"Wednesday, I-"
"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.
"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.
===+++===
It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.
Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.
The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?
From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.
It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.
KILL. KILL. KILL.
The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.
KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.
You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.
You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.
Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.
Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"
Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.
===+++===
a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.
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groguspicklejar · 5 months
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part 1 of medieval ghoap x reader
why am i doing this? well, because i feel kinda angsty and i wanna turn it into fluffy smut. now hold tight and deal with it
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been thinking about king!Johnny who's jovial and gleeful and brings happiness all around and his dark knight who broods at his side at all times. they're inseparable. glued together through all of time. rare to see one without the other for an extended period.
the Ghost is what they call the knight. the king's right hand man. has fought side by side with the king to lay waste to countless enemies. has drawn blood for far less than a bad word spoken against his beloved king. can hardly stand to be touched by anyone else other than the king and who they choose to lay with at night.
they have a harem of men and women to pick from every night, but once Johnny gets a glimpse of you, plucks you from your little corner and brings you to his bed chambers for the night, everything changes. the king is enamoured with the way you react to his touch, he's utterly hopeless to the shock in your eyes when he sinks to his knees and lavishes you with his tongue.
he makes you feel good. makes you gasp and mewl and cry out in ways you never have before when you're in a man's bed. he looks at you like you're something to be treasured, like you're something important. it stings your eyes with tears when you reach your peak.
and the knight? he's nearby, touching himself as he watches the king have his way with you. parts of his armour are off but he doesn't take off his mask. and his eyes are fixed on you. you don't know what to make of that.
but you do help him reach his end. you take him in your mouth and he surprises you with the gentle hand steadying your pace. you'd expected him to be rough, to brutalise you, but he's quite the opposite. quiet and cautious of his strength, even when he cums in your mouth.
Johnny makes promises to see you again soon, makes it known that you were a joy to be around and he wants to see you more often. he showers you with compliments, nothing you haven't heard from any other man but the way he says them makes your heart clench.
he tells you that you were so good for them and so wonderful, so pretty when you cum for them. he tells you that your sounds were delightful, despite you trying to hide them. that you tasted divine, that you were blessed with the beauty of a goddess, long forgotten by time.
he wants to see you again. more often than you ever could've anticipated. something long since broken tugs in your chest as he plants kisses all over your face and you almost don't catch the way Ghost's eyes narrow.
"of course, your majesty." your head bows as you accept his advances.
"no, no—" he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eye. "ye can call me Johnny."
the way your jaw immediately locks at his words sobers him up from his joyful rant.
you can't call him by his first name in that manner. like you're his... something. you're nothing. you're no one. you can't.
"stay." it sounds less like a demand and more like a plea. you have no choice but to obey nonetheless.
you can't fall asleep with him holding you from behind. you're too rattled by his plea to actually fall into a slumber. the knight has long since dozed off on the lush couch.
for the next hour, you ponder on the events. if the king was being true, you will return to this room and continue this arrangement. if not, you'll simply fall back into the background of a painting that dictated your dreary life.
you figured that it'll be the latter. and you'd rather spare yourself the embarrassment of expecting something where it shouldn't be expected.
alas, Johnny is a king and Simon, a knight and you... you are but a simple girl with a past turned to dust and nothing to your name. you quietly untangle yourself from the king and slip back into your cream dress, put your slippers back on and quietly leave before the sun rises, completely unaware of the dark knight's eyes following your every step.
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[part 2] dividers by @saradika offer a coin to the picklejar
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peachsayshi · 3 months
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✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ being wrapped in your arms feels like coming home ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
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wc: 1,820
minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.
notes: here is a little drabble in honor of toji's birthday! this piece was originally titled as "adoration" but I changed it to this instead. I'm taking a small posting break, but I'll be back to my regular schedule within a week! I'm sorry if I haven't been responding to tags or messages, but I will do so soon <3 I hope you're all having a wonderful time and I'm sending all my well wishes out to you! xo
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: widow toji; age gap (reader is 30 while toji is in his early 40s); a little angsty; toji attempting to break up with you but failing because he's oh so in love
toji overstayed his welcome which was only supposed to last the scorching heat of summer, but he found himself lingering through the quiet stillness of fall. winter came in with a brisk chill and gloomy skies, and that's when toji knew it was time for him to end things with you.
he’s lost interest far quicker in previous relationships. they served their purpose of healing over the wound in his heart, of soothing away the ache of loneliness. he oftens forgets that he was once a loyal, loving husband whenever he abandons yet another fling.
the difference, however, is he at least had the guts to verbally cut things off before.
fucking pathetic, he thinks as he scolds himself. he's been a coward, reducing his actions to disappearing before the sunlight peeks through the horizon, and avoiding any chance of waking you up. he ensures that he is never there to see the way your brows furrow with concern when your hand meets the cold pillow, because otherwise he would falter in his attempt to escape.
this has been going on for over two weeks now but last night was the first time you've actually snapped at his cold, detached behavior. he approached the argument with nonchalance to wither you down, shrugging off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and then walking out halfway through the fight.
he stayed at a motel thinking that maybe you have finally taken the hint that he's done.
he arrives back to his apartment only to be met with unfamiliar silence. the entrance of his home is dark and lifeless, and it's so quiet he can even hear a pin drop. there's a tightness in his chest, followed by a wave of disappointment that runs over him like a feverish shiver.
despite his hard headed decision, he's still anticipating on hearing your lovely voice to greet him as he walks through the door.
he knows it's selfish.
toji expected many things to happen after last night's fight. he figured the reaction to him leaving you (again) would be far bigger. a screaming phone call or a string of cursing text messages to call him out on his shitty behavior.
after all he deserves it for acting like an insufferable asshole.
he tries to swallow his guilt but it remains lodged in his throat when he acknowledges that this might actually be the end. 
the expression on his features falls.
it’s better this way, he consoles, dragging his feet across the floor to approach his kitchenette. he shrugs off his beaten up, oversized coat and tosses it over one of the chairs. he opens one of the cupboards, and grabs a mug to prepare himself a cup of tea.
she’s too young to settle for a guy like me, he continues. widowed with two kids who he barely sees anymore, working paycheck to paycheck just to make ends meet…
a deadbeat.
he exhales, swirling his brew in his ceramic cup. the aroma of sweet leaves dances up the spiral of steam to kiss his nose.
she deserves more than me.
he places the kettle down but stares at the cup mindlessly, losing all train of thought as his hands grip onto the edge of the counter. 
he can acknowledge that his insecurities are clouding his judgement on something truly special, even though this was only ever meant to be purely physical.
except, the sex was growing more intimate. the experience wasn't about pleasure for him anymore. he would find himself losing all focus to the depth of your pretty eyes, stealing kiss after kiss like your mouth was the source of where all his happiness belongs.
belonged.
belonged.
it’s over now, he thinks again. it has to be.
a faint patter of footsteps distracts him, prompting him to ease his hold on the counter as the muscles on his face relax. his heart steadies itself, and he draws in a breath when he feels two arms delicately twine around his waist.
“you’re...still here...” he points out in shock. 
he feels you press your forehead into his back. “of course, where else would I be?” 
he clears his throat to release the guilt then spins on his heel to face you.
"I thought you might have taken off," he bluntly states as he rests his lower back against the counter.
his heart swells, emanates flurries of golden sparks when he meets your gorgeous irises. the will to carry on with his decision crumbles when he catches the corner of your mouth tick into a slight grin.
"I thought about it," you reply casually, loosening your grip to place your palms flat on the side of his stomach. "but the truth is I'm worried about you and I just…want to talk things out…make sure you're okay...”
“I’m the one acting like a jerk and you’re worried about me?” he blurts.
you quirk your brow at the slip of his question. “so, you know you’re acting like a jerk?”
toji’s eyes widen slightly, a hint of pink tainting his cheek. “I asked the question first.”
you purse your lips playfully, aware of the crack that's been revealed and ready to swing once again with another blow.
“it’s because you’re acting like a jerk that I’m worried about you,” you explain, “you’re not yourself when you’re unsettled about something…”
his face warms, the hue of pink deepening into a stronger blush. the familiarity of pointing out his personal traits feels all too homely. seven months shouldn’t feel like a forever but in this bubble with you time ceases to exist.
you trail the pads of your finger tips up his torso, your hands clasping around the back of his neck as you press all your soft and sweet parts right up against the frame of his body.
the brush of your lips on his scar prompts him to flutter his eyes close. he fails to stop himself from holding you then, his firm hands reaching for the outline of your waist
“so,” you murmur with a tempting kiss as you return to your question, “you know you’re acting like a jerk then?”
please don’t make me say it, he thinks, please don’t make me unravel right in front of your eyes.
he squeezes your side, whispering a defeated “listen…”
“did I do something wrong?” you question, a hint of pain laced through every vowel which only makes his heart ache further. “did something happen?”
toji shakes his head.
“it’s not you,” he grumbles. “look, you asked me a couple of weeks ago if this thing between us was serious and…it shouldn’t be.”
you narrow your gaze, tilting your head with adorable confusion that makes toji want to kiss you right there on the spot.
he can feel you pluck at the fabric of his sweater nervously, “why not?”
toji drops his head and sighs.
“c’mon, doll, let’s be real. I’ve got nothing to give you other than a good fuck in this shitty apartment. you're better off finding someone else and I don't want to waste your time”
you press your mouth into a firm line. “your behavior…” you reply, nipping your bottom lip slightly as you gather your thoughts. “are you acting like this because you…want to end things with me?”
toji has never felt smaller. you’ve reduced him into a shriveled pea rolling around his scuffed up boot. “look, it’s better this way, alright?” he admits with a raise of his head, still refusing to outwardly say what you easily deduced. “it's better to move on before things get too complicated…”
the silence hangs heavy in the air, the tension so thick toji feels like he can’t breathe properly. his heart rattles with no restraint, and he finds himself suddenly lightheaded. an apology rests on the tip of his tongue, ready to take back everything he just bombarded you with but his throat simply tightens once more when your hands cradle his strong jaw.
“I like your apartment,” you quietly speak, “your bed sheets always smell so good, and you fixed the water pressure after I complained that it sucked…”
toji blinks back his surprise.
“I also notice that you burn the candle that I got you and that you switched laundry detergents when your old one gave me that weird rash,” you giggle and toji couldn’t help but huff out an embarrassed laugh himself. “the windows let in the best kind of sunlight, and it’s always so cozy in here…”
you press your lips against his mouth to leave a chaste kiss, “as for the company…” you add on, nuzzling the tip of your nose over his, “I consider you more than just a good fuck.”
toji can physically feel himself wilting underneath the heat of your gaze. “I’m just looking out for you, doll.”
"you can look out for me by making me breakfast instead of running away from me..."
he looks serious but his eyes are sincere, holding a level of tenderness that he only reserves for you. his palm moves to seek out your lower back, a hint of pressure pulling you back into his warmth.
your lover has stayed tight lipped about his past, but over his period with you he's found himself spilling out a few secrets here and there.
"I haven't done this in a long time," he vulnerably admits.
"I know," you reassure him, "but...the real question is, do you want this?"
he parts his lips ready to seal the last nail in the coffin, ready to give you the chance to walk out of his life for good. but you're gazing up at him from underneath your eyelashes, your determined stare an opening of your own mercy. your plush, supple lips summoning his cowardice into oblivion.
"toji?"
his breath hitches, his apprehension silenced by the urgency of his desire.
you're so lovely, he thinks. you feel like home.
"I want you," he reveals, his deep voice smoky and untethered, releasing enough sentiment in those three words that he can feel you tremble in his arms. "I just don't deserve you. I don't want you getting caught up in my bullshit..."
""you're a lot sweeter than you look, you know?" you run your fingers through the streaks of his black hair, combing it back to reveal his forehead. "you deserve to be happy, toji, and...and I think I can make you happy..."
your aura beams with delight when he flashes you a wolfish grin in return. a smile you've grown to adore so deeply. his apology comes in the form of a kiss, one that's gentle and slow. a stroke of fire burns up the back of your neck, making you quiver in places when he glides his tongue across yours. you hum softly into his lips while he releases a content sigh, the barrier he's been keeping up turns to ashes beneath your feet.
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hollowdeath · 3 months
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professor potter
pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)
summary: 2 years after the war, harry accepted a position as a substitute professor at hogwarts and recognized you from his years as a student. old feelings come to the surface as you both try to remain professional to keep his position safe.
content warning: slight teacher/student dynamic (they used to be classmates, reader is 18+), mostly slow burn & angst. smut mostly doesn't happen til the end (masturbation, penetration)
word count: 12.5k
a/n: wrote this for fun between working on requests! thank you to everyone who sends them in, they're so good and i'm excited to post more soon! just another fluffy, angsty harry fic taking place in school w a hint of smut...kinda similar to my last one but thats ok ! as always not exactly book/movie/canon accurate i apologize !
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it's your first day of your last year at hogwarts, and you're probably the only student here that's not completely thrilled to be back. young witches and wizards running around you in the halls with their robes dragging on the ground, completely in awe with each other at the architecture and moving portraits.
you have to admit, if hogwarts does anything right, it's the ambience. probably the only thing you'll miss after leaving this year is the magic castle itself, particularly the library and your dorm room, which have been your sanctuaries for the past 7 years. there's just no place in the world, even the wizarding world, you've found, that quite compares to hogwarts.
but no, unfortunately, not even the grandiose castle of every young wizard's dream was enough to make you want to stay here even a day longer than you had to. and trust, you were counting down the days.
there was a lot that went into your disdain for the school. after the war in your 5th year, nothing had been the same. sure, the building was restored to its original form and even had some upgrades installed, but the energy within the walls felt so…unsettling.
it had been more than 2 and half years since then, and most students who remember the war well had either graduated or moved on from it. you, however, continued to feel the effects of it every day.
you've had a lot of personal struggles since then mentally, which affects your social life. you've overheard your friends talking about how they don't feel like you're the same person and you inevitably bring them down. it wasn't long after that they stopped talking to you completely. you didn't bother to rekindle the connection; you were ready to leave this place behind anyways, what was the point in faking a friendship for another year?
even without all that, you truly just hated your classes. you actually used to be a scholar student in your day, consistently making the top of the headmaster's list every year until the war. and you still loved headmaster mcgonagall, of course, you don't think that'd ever change, it was mainly the other professors that gave you a hard time. once you showed signs of struggling and burn out, it was like they just completely gave up on you and moved on to the next eager, bright-eyed bushy-tailed 1st year to dote on.
no matter, because again, you were ready to leave for a variety of reasons. even if you had loved your professors and graduated at the top of the class, you still had no friends to celebrate with. and even if you had those so-called "friends" back in your life, you still felt completely alone with them.
and so you laid in bed, the same bed you've had for 7 years now, retracting the ornate trim on the ceiling like you have a million nights before.
you decided to look back at your schedule once more, floating the paper out of its folder in your bag and towards your open hand. you read through it slowly, but nothing had changed. pretty much the worst line up of classes you've had so far. particularly your least anticipated course, defense against the dark arts.
at this point, you'd had more than enough when it came to the dark arts. those death eaters nearly killed you in that war, and actually did manage to kill too many of your classmates and teachers in the process. you saw your second home crumble in front of you, classrooms you grew up in completely leveled and the bridge burned to the ground, so much death and destruction over nothing but power. you resented the dark magic in this world.
sighing, you set the paper down on your bedside table and roll over, attempting to fall asleep. you have plenty of early classes this year and don't look forward to having to wake up with the sun to make it to them on time.
you're wasting time in the bathroom just before your defense against the dark arts, your last class of the day, when your peace is interrupted by a group of girls who come in giggling and talking rapidly amongst each other. from inside your stall you can't help but tune into their gossip. it's the only thing you could hear and, who cares, you could use some good drama.
you tried to dissect their conversation but they were constantly talking over each other, squealing, giggling, and you couldn't understand a thing. after a few moments of craning your neck towards the door to get a better listen, one girl's voice stood out amongst the rest as she asked, "okay, but, who's going to try and flirt with potter first?" her question was followed by many desperate "me!" "me!" "me!"s, a wave of giggling following.
potter. there's no way…
the bells begin ringing, signaling your next class is starting soon, and the girls go rushing out of the bathroom together. you slowly open the stall door and walk to the closest mirror. pale, like you've seen a ghost.
they couldn't possibly be talking about harry potter, right?
just his name had become plenty famous in its own right. the boy who lived; the boy who lived twice. you hadn't heard his name mentioned in a long time, though that's not hard when you've hardly interacted with anyone here in a long time.
you remembered harry from your years before the war that you had shared with him. he was 2 years ahead of you, so it wasn't often you had the chance to speak with him, but he was pretty much as legendary as one student could be at hogwarts. however, whenever you did manage to have a conversation with him, you always thought he was cute. really cute.
okay, so maybe you had a ginormous crush on him your entire time at hogwarts. but so did pretty much every other girl. but you didn't just think he was cute, you admired his gentle nature and timid personality. despite his heroic and outright dangerous adventures, he was always so kind, so humble…
the bells begin ringing again, meaning you're now late to class. "shit." you mutter, grabbing your bag and stumbling through the bathroom door.
you're jogging to your dark arts class with a racing mind, still wondering why those girls would mention potter's name so randomly.
you turn the corner and see the classroom door is already closed. "shit." you mutter again, stomping your foot. now you have to open the heavy doors and draw everyone's attention towards you, quite literally the last thing in the world you want right now.
sighing, you push open one of the doors, making the loudest noises you've ever heard echo throughout the silent classroom. you walk in and, as expected, all eyes are on you.
you grit your teeth and close the door behind you, making your way towards an empty seat in the middle of the room. the silence lingers as your footsteps hit the ground, trying your best not to make eye contact with anyone. you hear a few snickers and whispers coming from behind, and you can already tell it's your old friend group. you roll your eyes, sighing as you drop your weight into the creaky wooden seat.
you hadn't realized, but headmaster mcgonagall was at the front of the room. you noticed once she continued talking, looking up to see her smiling at you. you returned it. you love how she's always liked you despite your grades slipping lately.
you quickly look back down at your hands as people begin to turn away from you, drawing their attention back to mcgonagall as she continues to introduce the class.
"like i was saying, class, we apologize for the change this semester and hope you'll be understanding of us as we navigate this situation carefully. i suspect you'll all be respectful and courteous to our guest as he donates his time to hogwarts and to you, our students."
you look back up, a confused look on your face. what change? what situation? what guest?
it didn't take you long to connect the dots. it's like everything was in slow motion. the girls talking in the bathroom, the guest, the reason all the front rows of seats in class were completely filled with girls…
"please, class, welcome hogwarts' very own, mr. harry james potter."
all at once, your eyes landed on harry, who had been sitting to the side, obscured from your vision by several girls and a pillar. as he walks towards mcgonagall, eager applause erupt from the girls and the boys offer mediocre claps. you're too stunned to react, watching harry intently as he shakes mcgonagall's hand with that same timid smile.
you can hardly believe your eyes. what is going on? why is he here? and how the hell does he look even better now than he did 2 years ago?
"thank you, headmaster mcgonagall," harry says shyly, turning to the students. his eyes immediately fall on you. you try to convince yourself he's looking just in front of you or even past you, but you can feel his stare into your eyes. its the only thing that breaks you out of your shock.
you blink a few times and slump into your seat, feeling your blood run cold at harry's eye contact. he looks down at the desk he's standing at and shuffles a few papers. you sink even lower into your chair. this can't be good.
"uh, well, hello…everyone," harry says awkwardly, earning some flirtatious giggles from the girls just ahead of you. "it's a pleasure to be here, really, despite the circumstances. uh, i'm sure as some of you know…i've been very close with the weasley family for years and feel devastated for bill– uh, professor weasley, that is," harry corrects himself nervously, clearing his throat and glancing at his papers again.
"and when he reached out to me personally, specifically me out of anyone, to teach in his place for this semester, i couldn't say no to him. so, while it's a real honor to be here with you all, please know it's just for this semester and then professor weasley will be back to continue with the lesson plan in the spring," harry explains, looking around the room yet always letting his eyes land on you specifically with a lingering gaze.
harry goes into the schedule for the semester, the skills you'll be learning, and, well, you can't really focus on what else because you're just completely lost in your own head.
harry potter, the harry potter, is your professor for an entire semester.
you were completely dumbfounded. he couldn't hardly be older than 20 years old at this point. he had only left hogwarts just 2 years prior, yet he looked so different. though the glasses and hair stayed relatively the same, he had matured in the face. a slight beard, defined smile lines, and he'd definitely spent some time in the gym…
seeing him in a button up with his old gryffindor tie on drove you mad. is he really getting you worked up in the middle of class by just standing there? you feel like you're 14 again, staring him down in the courtyard from behind a tree.
it doesn't help that you swear he keeps looking at you. specifically you. his gaze is unmistakable at this point, it can't be a coincidence.
you try to stop yourself from having these thoughts and physical reactions. if he's going to be your professor for an entire semester you have to get over this silly crush that was never going to work out anyway. though you're soon turning 19, it makes no difference if he's working with the school, it would never be allowed…
what are you even saying? as if anything would ever happen except in your dreams. all you're going to do is lust for him until christmas and then he'll be gone again, his name nothing but a spoken legend again.
before you can process all he's said, harry announces that everyone's free to leave once you grab a textbook from him. girls are immediately standing up and running to get in line, and the boys are rolling their eyes as they sluggishly follow behind.
you're inevitably the last one, getting a headache as you listen to girls try to ask harry all kinds of questions for a bit of his attention. he mostly just gives simple answers or laughs them off, referring back to the class or the textbook he was handing them in some way to change the subject.
mcgonagall eventually shoos the girls away, which harry thanks her for in a low tone. he hands a book to each of the boys in front of you before it comes down to you. as the boy in front of you is being escorted away by mcgonagall, you briefly catch harry putting the library card of your book inside the front cover before he closes it.
your eyes connect as he hands the book to you, but he doesn't let go. your heart instantly flutters.
"it's nice to see you again, [y/n]," he says softly, letting the weight of the book fall in your hands.
the way he says your name has you frozen in place. his pretty blue eyes have stayed just as mesmerizing. it takes a moment before you're able to wrap the book in your arms, offering him a friendly smile as you softly reply, "you too, harry…"
you're quickly making your way back to your room with the biggest, cheesiest smile plastered on your face. he remembered you. you had barely ever interacted with harry, only a handful of times as far as you could remember, and you were sure he had completely forgotten about you, or at least forgotten your name. you tried to chalk it up to him having access to the attendance records of the class and reading over your name, but you still felt like a giddy school girl skipping along day dreaming about her crush.
when you got back to your dorm, you set the class textbook down on your desk and went to turn around before looking back at it longingly. harry had just put the library card back in the book before handing it off to you. you were most likely crazy, but something inside you was insanely curious to see if he had done something to the card.
you slowly opened the book and took the card out, a blank piece of cardstock except for a fresh label printed at the top. you sigh, almost putting it back before seeing something on the card catch the shimmer of the light.
you give the card a curious look. you turn it in your hands towards the light, trying to see what's on it. before giving up in frustration, a thought comes into your brain.
no…
you dig into your luggage, still unpacked from the day prior, looking for your old ink and quill. once you find them you come back to the card, setting it on your desk as you open the ink pot. you dip your quill in the ink and touch it to the spot you noticed earlier.
as you watched, the ink collected into letters and numbers, forming a message across the dotted lines of the check out columns. you were stunned. harry actually wrote to you in disappearing ink? you thought you were delusional thinking it was a possibility, but here was the proof plain as day:
[y/n],
hagrid's, 8:30pm
harry
you kept rereading the lines over and over before they slowly disappeared, fading away into the paper. you stood back in pure disbelief. what does this mean? obviously it means he wants to meet with you, but for the life of you you just can't figure out why. you two barely knew one another personally, it had been two years since you'd seen or heard of each other again, and now he's secretly inviting you to hagrid's after hours using disappearing ink? as your substitute professor, too…
from 5-8 pm you mainly paced around your room in both lingering disbelief and unbridled excitement. though you had no idea why harry had invited you out in secret, you were anxious just to be in his presence at his request.
you spent forever deciding on your outfit, feeling a bit silly for putting so much effort into this suspicious rendezvous that you were still clueless about.
sneaking out had become somewhat natural to you over the years. you knew all the blind spots of the castle and could hear a prefect coming from a mile away. you were out of your room and walking down to hagrid's completely unnoticed in less than 10 minutes.
on your way down the hill, your mind is racing with possibilities of what this meeting could entail.
arriving at hagrid's hut, you admire the warm glow of the windows and intoxicating smell coming from the smoking chimney – a mix of wood and garlic. hagrid's pumpkins are just beginning to plump up, his yard scattered with overgrown vines.
as you walk up to the door, a wave of anxiety hits you. knocking seems like the most impossible task in the world all of a sudden.
you steady your breathing, let your heart rate slow, and knock before you have the chance to stop yourself.
a few seconds of some rustling can be heard behind the door before it swings open. harry greets you with a warm smile. no longer dressed for class, harry looks quite adorable in a comfy sweater and baggy jeans standing before you in the hut.
"[y/n], you got my message," he says, clearly impressed. you couldn't believe this was real. he really did leave you that note on purpose. just hearing him acknowledge it made your heart race all over again.
"i-i did," you say in shock, searching his expression for an answer to all your questions. why are you here?
harry gestures for you to come in. "well, join me, please," he insists. you politely smile and enter the hut, the smell of food making your mouth water immediately. "smells amazing in here," you comment under your breath.
harry closes the door, looking back at you with a shy smile. "oh, thank you. it's for us, actually." he tells you, nodding his head towards the dining table.
completely set up with a tablecloth, harry has food plated for the two of you on the tiny table, along with tea still steaming on the stove.
"if you don't mind, of course," he checks with you, his voice soft and unsure. you look back at harry, barely able to grasp what's happening before you reply, "of course,"
he suppresses a grin as he gestures to the table once more. "please," he prompts you. you hand him your bag and jacket before taking your seat at the table, admiring the food he prepared for you. you're still lost in thought when harry asks, "tea?" holding the kettle from the stove.
"please, thank you," you reply. he pours you both cups of tea before bringing them to the table with a smile on his face.
as you're eating you notice a record playing in the corner you hadn't heard earlier. it fills the space nicely as you both take your first bites of dinner. "hope you like it, i wasn't sure what to make," he says nervously.
wiping your lips with a napkin, you simply tell him, "it's lovely,"
after another moment or so, harry sits back in his chair. "so…[y/n]..." he sighs. hearing him say your name like that makes your brain fuzzy for just a second before he speaks again. "you're probably, um, wondering why…"
you stifle a laugh at his stalling, getting a hint of confidence as you interrupt him. "wondering why professor potter secretly invited me to have a home cooked dinner with him?"
harry goes still, his eyes searching your expression as a blush grows over his cheeks. he swallows nervously, blinking and shaking his head before attempting to respond. "u-um, yeah, that,"
smirking, enjoying his nerves, you wait for his explanation with your arms crossed and a raised brow. he clears his throat and diverts his eyes from your gaze. he takes a sip of tea before smacking his lips and looking back at you.
"i just, i haven't seen you…" he starts, eyes softening at you. "i-i know we didn't talk much, but…i always cared for you." the last part was hard for harry to get out, a weight lifting off his shoulders in the process.
you were blushing, but more than that you were sweating. this is like something you would dream about as a kid. hell, even just earlier today…
"when i saw you today…in class…" he seemed uncomfortable referencing that. "i just…a lot of memories came back to me," his hands move with him nervously as he speaks.
he sighs and stands up, his body language clearly stressed. you haven't said a word, you simply can't. what could you possibly say?
harry's facing the fireplace, his head in his hands. "look, i just, now that i'm your professor this semester i just think…" he takes a moment to find the words before turning to you. "i had a crush on you. okay? there. god damn it," harry huffs angrily, rolling his head back as he throws his hands down.
"i had a crush on you for like 3 years, it was stupid, and i don't want it to affect my teaching with you. so…i guess i practically set up a fucking date to tell you this, sent hagrid away for the evening for nothing…" he gestures to the table, sighing in defeat.
you're stunned into silence, to say the least. there aren't words to describe what's going on in your head at this moment.
after a moment harry looks back at you, his gaze softening once again. "[y/n]...please understand i wouldn't be telling you any of this unless i thought there was another way i could deal with it. when i saw you today…it was like i was 16 again," a small smile creeps onto his face before he wipes it away.
"and if i didn't tell you now, it's all i would've thought about when i saw you, so…yeah. there." harry says with a huff, avoiding eye contact with you.
before you can even process what's going on, your body reacts for you. you stand up, walking over to harry, getting his attention off the floor. he looks at you almost with fear in his eyes at how close you are. you sigh shakily before speaking.
"harry…u-um, professor potter…" you correct yourself. "please, just, harry…for now at least," harry insisted, his eyes apologetic.
"harry…" you say, suppressing a grin. "you don't have to worry. really…um, it was definitely mutual, to put it lightly…"
harry gives you a surprised look. "really?"
you roll your eyes, taking a step away from him and towards the fire, enjoying the warmth. "harry, you forget who you are sometimes. essentially every girl i knew had a crush on you at one point."
harry's a little flustered at this statement, also taking a step closer to the fire, and towards you. "i-i wouldn't say that, i was definitely not that lucky back in the day," he jokes.
"so those girls that were practically all over you during class today…?" you tease him. "'oh, professor potter, what can i do to get a good grade?'" you mock their voices, giving him puppy dog eyes as you lean towards him before laughing and turning towards the fire. "is that not luck?" you ask with your arms crossed, a smirk hiding your slight jealousy.
harry's silent for a few moments before you look over at him. you see his eyes dark and fixated on you for just a second before he blinks and shakes his head at you, also turning to the fire. "please. they're children. they crush on any slightly older guy they see."
you roll your eyes again at his denial. "some of them were my age, well on their way to being 19. but, whatever you say."
the fire crackles in front of you two, filling the space and creating a warm glow. "besides…none of them are you." harry says. you look over at him, and he's lost staring at the fire. he feels you looking at him and quickly corrects himself. "i mean, nobody was like you, at least to me, back then…" he trails off awkwardly, wincing at his own choice of words.
you adore his nervous antics. he's just the same sweet, timid boy you remember, except he's a bit taller with a 5 o'clock shadow and looks gorgeous in the glow of a fireplace right now.
"i've really mucked this night up, haven't i? i was supposed to tell you about the crush calmly and professionally, with no inappropriate comments, and send you on your way into the night with your first reading in the textbook…" harry sighs, giving you a pathetic look.
"well…" you start. "your first mistake was probably leaving me a secret note, and cooking me a wonderful dinner," you gesture towards the table. harry lets out a pathetic laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, probably."
you don't know why you feel the need to, but you instinctively grab for harry's hand. he gives you a surprised, scared look.
you try to reassure him with a soft smile. "harry, i appreciate you telling me. i hope it can make this semester easier for you."
harry smiles in return, but it's not genuine. he looks like he's holding back from letting you know how he really feels.
regardless, he invited you two to finish up your food, laughing as you both attempted to resume casual conversation without the awkward air.
surprisingly, the two of you naturally begin to talk up a storm, reminiscing on memories and catching up on what's happened since then. harry tells you about his career as an auror and his experiences that lead him to being able to teach defense against the dark arts. when professor weasley's wife had died of sudden illness, the only person he wanted to take his place was harry.
you're hesitant to tell him about your lack of eventful news, practically hiding your face in embarrassment as you admit that your grades have been suffering since the war.
harry put a reassuring hand on your knee, his chair pushed closer to you. you had both long since finished dinner and just talked, enjoying the fire as harry continued to feed it wood every so often.
you looked up at him, melting at how adorable his tired eyes looked through his glasses. "i get it. trust me." he tells you. his voice puts you at ease, and you don't feel quite as embarrassed as before.
"maybe this semester i could help you. if you'd like, of course," harry offers. you smile. "of course."
as you're slowly making your way towards the door to leave, harry watches you search through your bag to find chapstick. as you're putting it on, he continues to watch you. you sneak a glance at him, his face soft and full of admiration.
"you know, if i may say, in the least inappropriate manner possible…" he says with a laugh, causing you to laugh with him. "you have truly only gotten more beautiful after all this time, [y/n]."
looking over at him, you can feel your face form a cheesy grin with blushing cheeks. "well, thank you, that's very kind," you say, putting your chapstick away and taking another step towards the door. "but, really, i should be saying the same about you."
harry waves you away, but you notice the smile planted on his cheeks. "please," he says sarcastically.
he reaches for the door to open it for you, and finds himself rather close to you by accident. you smile up at him, and he nervously steps back.
"u-uh, thank you for coming tonight, really, even if it was a bit weird…" harry says, an embarrassed laugh following. giggling with him, you take a step outside. "it was nice. but, no more invisible ink. just ask me from now on, okay?" you ask, still giggling at him.
harry shakes his head at himself. "will do."
you give him a warm smile before reaching in for a one-arm hug, resting your head on harry's shoulder for just a second before pulling back. "i'll see you tomorrow, professor potter." 
enjoying the shocked and flustered look on his face, you walk away still laughing, making your way up the hill and towards the castle. you heard the door shut behind you quickly after you left, but could feel harry's lingering eyes following you through the window the entire way back.
that night you're laying in bed trying to convince yourself everything that just happened wasn't a dream. if it weren't for your full stomach and muddy shoes sitting by your door you might've convinced yourself it really was all an illusion. rather than dreading the next day of classes, you're actually excited to wake up as it only means you'll see harry sooner.
though you're not sure exactly why. yes you'd had a friendly conversation with him tonight after he admitted his feelings towards you, which still hasn't quite settled in yet…but what happens now? he's still your professor for the next 5 months minimum, and you both know you used to like each other. harry might feel better getting it off his chest, but you were perfectly fine keeping that secret to yourself like you always had. if anything, now it's the only thing you're going to think about every day.
rolling over, you try to fall asleep without thinking about harry too much.
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it had been a few weeks since you met with harry that night in hagrid's hut, and things were going…okay, so far.
well, to be completely honest, you had utterly fallen back into your crush on harry harder than you ever had before.
and you tried to stop yourself this time. really, you did. working with harry in class and then stopping by his office at least 3 times a week for his help in other classes was a lot of time to be spending with a professor, and you rather despised just how fast harry made your heart beat or how easily his eyes could distract you.
so you tried your best to convince yourself it was lingering feelings from your past self, even trying to have a crush on other boys in your year to distract your brain. that failed miserably. none of those boys were attractive or interesting on their own, especially in comparison to professor potter…
but you couldn't fool yourself. you still felt the same butterflies seeing harry now like you did in 5th year. when he's talking to you in the quiet of his office, reading your textbook to you, you feel like the only two people in the world. when he fixes your hands to hold the wand properly, or moves your arm for you in the correct pattern to cast a spell, you can't focus for the rest of class. if his eyes linger on you just a bit too long during one of his lectures, a knowing smile growing on his face, you melt in your seat.
there was no denying it. you liked him more now than you ever had before. maybe it's just the sheer amount of time you've spent with him this past month or so, but your feelings for him had never been this strong in the past. there were days where he was quite literally the only thing you thought about, or at least wanted to think about. though you were doing better in your other classes, it was only because of him. you spent barely any outside time putting effort into these classes because, ultimately, you were completely distracted by harry.
and not just the idea of him, but particularly the growing tension you had noticed between you two recently.
you also tried to convince yourself that this was going on in your head. but there were just too many instances of prolonged eye contact, harry sitting a bit too close to you during your tutoring sessions, and lingering hands on your skin that made you question if harry maybe wasn't entirely over his crush either…
not that you tried to make it easy for him. since the semester started, you've been taking some extra time each morning to perfect your hair/makeup, put on your favorite perfumes on days you knew you'd be close to harry, and would even change your outfit completely when going to study with him outside of your school robes to give you a boost of confidence.
not that you needed the boost. lately you could only feel confident in yourself and nothing less. something about learning your life long crush who seemed so unattainable also had feelings for you, and could possibly still, made you feel untouchable. not to mention that any girl you heard talk about him or swoon over him in class just made you laugh to yourself; they had no idea you were with him alone for hours every week goofing off together as he attempted to help you study.
this confidence made its way into other parts of your day outside of harry as well. you were talking more in class, making a few new friends, even going to parties and outings just for the fun of it. you were actually enjoying your time at hogwarts instead of dreading every day. not all because of harry, but it definitely didn't hurt to consider him a friend.
a friend. a professor. an old classmate. a crush. a temporary fixation. your relationship to harry, in your mind, seemed so complicated and sometimes incredibly frustrating. especially when he seemed to flirt with you so subtly. you couldn't stand the, 'is he, isn't he' thoughts. but, at the same time, it just made you more motivated to push the limits to see how he responded.
of course it started with looking good, enjoying his reaction seeing you each day with a small smile and blushing cheeks. then it was making flirtatious jokes and purposefully giving him innocent looks while he rambled about whatever subject to get him flustered and distracted. and, lately, you've stepped it up by wearing shorter and shorter skirts whenever you stop by his office, and have even caught him looking at your legs a number of times when he thinks you're not paying attention.
all this to say, there was definitely tension.
you had to admit you felt a bit guilty, you knew harry valued his position as a substitute professor and was enjoying his time there, and you would feel awful if anything ever happened to cost him this position. he told you about his crush specifically to alleviate it, and your only goal this semester has been to do the opposite.
but, at the same time, you wouldn't act this way if harry didn't also create tension between you two. he also made overtly flirty jokes and comments, even seeming a tad bit jealous whenever you mentioned another boy during your time together. and you weren't stupid, you could tell when he wore the cologne you complimented one time when you were around or had even changed from his school clothes before you came to see him. there was definitely something unspoken going on between the two of you, but you were both afraid of crossing that line and making things complicated. besides, if anything, you both seemed to enjoy this game you were playing of teasing each other in private and then acting normally during class as student and teacher.
honestly, you found it to be insanely erotic, and were more turned on in class than any other time you were with harry due to the secretive nature of everything. his longing gaze as you walk in, his nervous glances towards specifically you, the shift in his voice from talking to one student to talking to you, it was all so subtle yet in plain view. something about wanting what you can't have only made you want it more.
on this particular day, you had been with harry for over two hours studying for an exam for a class you had been struggling with all semester, even with harry's help. you were frustrated, laying your head in your arms with your textbook in front of you, groaning as harry chuckled at you. 
"c'mon, [y/n], you've got this. i mean, you did just fine on this last practice test, better than you have all semester really," harry comments, pulling the paper out of your folder. you lift your head up, giving him a mean look. "i got a 75. barely." you deadpan.
"yes, and that's better than what you have been getting." harry stated, trying to hide a smirk. you throw a crumpled up paper at him. "stop, that's not funny," you whine, also trying to hide your laugh.
chuckling, harry stands up and walks towards the bookshelf in his office. "look, i'm just trying to be encouraging here," he says over his shoulder as he scans the rows of books.
you try to get back to your work, but you're just so utterly confused and upset that you close the book with a huff and lean back in your seat with an exasperated expression. harry hears this and turns to you, giving you a sympathetic smile.
he walks back over, picking up the book in front of you and setting it in your bag. "here, we can be done for today. it's not good to push yourself past your limit."
you sigh as you push back the urge to tear up. "sometimes i just feel so stupid," you say in a soft, despondent voice, staring off into the window across from harry's desk.
harry's watching you intently, and nearly drops to his knees as he crouches beside your chair and catches your eyes in his. "hey, you're not stupid. quite the opposite, actually." he says with a genuine voice. you look away, still not believing him.
"really, [y/n], and i'm not saying this as your professor. back in school i was constantly listening to hermione go on and on about your intelligence and class rank. she was incredibly impressed and slightly envious that someone 2 years below her was actually providing some competition at this school." harry says with a laugh.
you can't help but blush like crazy at this confession. hermione had been your academic inspiration for all of your time at hogwarts, and even still now despite your declining lack of effort. you'd had quite a few conversations with her in the past about classes and certain books or authors you both enjoyed, but had no idea she thought that highly of you.
mulling over this information in your head, harry continued to grab your attention with a soft smile and loving eyes. "you're not stupid. different things are harder for different people. you'll get there, and i'll help you. okay?" he asks.
you smile back at him. "okay."
slowly packing up to leave, you and harry both take your time to gather your supplies as you chat about your respective plans for the weekend. you casually mention a party you were thinking of going to. harry perks up at this. "a party?" he asks, a twinge of concern laced in his voice.
you give him a look. "yeah, ever heard of it?" you ask sarcastically, laughing to yourself. "i guess it's one of the slytherin boys' birthdays, or something like that," you wave off, throwing your bag over your shoulder. "apparently it's going to be massive,"
harry continues looking at you with a hint of concern. "well, just…be safe, yeah?" harry comments, his voice uneasy. you laugh at him again, looking at him incredulously. "yes, professor potter, i'll be careful," you tease him. you know harry gets a little squirmy when you call him that outside of class, and it never fails to make you feel powerful.
"besides, i heard the theme is dress to impress, so you already know i'm gonna look so good," you joke, flipping your hair dramatically. harry's tenseness breaks, letting out a chuckle. "well, still. just…be safe." is all he manages to say as you walk with him to the door.
saying your goodbyes as you separate down the hall, you can still feel harry's eyes on you until you disappear around the corner.
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the night of the party, you were still unsure if you wanted to go. when a couple girls from class saw you and asked if you were going, they ended up convincing you to come with them. so, you got changed into a flashy dress that fit you well, fixed up your hair and makeup a bit, and met them in the courtyard to walk to the slytherin common room together. they obsessively commented on your outfit, telling you just how good you looked and letting you know you'd have no problem finding a guy to snog tonight.
but, you don't want any guy tonight. if anything, you were walking slowly through the hallways hoping by some chance that harry would cross your path and see just how good you looked. but you knew you weren't that lucky.
upon arriving at the party, drinks are immediately pushed into your and your friends' hands. they were right about the party being massive, as every square foot of the slytherin common room was packed with slightly tipsy students of all ages dancing to the loud music. you had barely finished your first drink before your friends dragged you over to do shots with them, wincing at the burn it left in your throat afterwards.
as the night goes on, you're eventually separated from all the girls you came with. not on purpose, some of them were playing drinking games, some were dancing, and one had even left the party with a guy she was completely into. no hard feelings, everyone was just doing their own thing. you had a few shouting-over-the-music conversations with a couple classmates and drank another cup of the mysterious alcoholic punch being served before deciding to head back to your room. you informed one of your friends, who asked if you wanted her to come with you, but you insisted she stay.
entering the hallway is extremely sobering. the loud music and colorful lights made it easy to ignore the growing drunken sensation, but you were now nervously navigating the halls of hogwarts, slightly intoxicated, attempting to warm yourself up with your hands over your arms. you hadn't even thought to bring a jacket, of course, so you were shivering as you made your way back to your room.
not long after leaving the party, you turn the corner and come face to face with another person. a boy a year under you, though you couldn't remember his name or anything else about him. you're a bit startled, not expecting to see anyone else, but politely apologize and attempt to walk around him.
"hey. you were at the party, right?" he asks, stepping in front of you to prevent you from leaving. you're slightly annoyed by him already, but your intoxicated state makes you bite your tongue. "yeah, just on my way back to my room," you try to end the conversation there, taking another step to get around him.
but he gets in your way again, stepping even closer to you this time. "what's the rush? y'know you had every guy talkin' in there tonight? sure would be nice to take home the prize," he slurs into your face, your nose scrunching at his alcoholic breath. god, this kid's way more wasted than you.
"excuse me?" you scoff, turning your face away from him. he tries to put his hand on your waist but you slap it away as hard as you can, causing him to wince and give you an angry look. "i suggest you leave me the fuck alone," you announce firmly, stancing your feet apart as you get ready to defend yourself further.
just as this guy's about to try again, this time his hands going for your neck, a voice from down the hall echoes loudly, scaring you both. "hey!"
you both turn, and it's harry.
"i would further suggest you leave her alone, mr. williams," he announces as he swiftly walks towards you. the kid laughs him off. "mind your business, huh, potter? this doesn't involve you," he continues to slur, looking like he wants to fight as harry walks up to him, chest to chest.
"it does now. leave and you'll be lucky i don't have you expelled or rather arrested for sexually assaulting a fellow student on campus grounds after hours, while intoxicated might i add," harry spits at him, his eyes full of disgust and rage.
the kid falters a bit, but the alcohol still has him acting cocky, getting in harry's face. "yeah? or what," he asks daringly.
you get between them and put your wand, hidden in your dress, against the kid's throat, making him stiff with wide eyes. "touch him and i will gladly get expelled for hurting you in ways you couldn't even conceive of in your fucking nightmares. do you understand? get the fuck out of here!" you nearly shout at the kid, causing him to turn and run.
you sigh a breath of relief, but quickly begin to feel the anxiety return as you bring your wand down and look at harry.
you can feel your body shaking with anger and fear, and also shivering from how cold you hadn't realized you'd gotten. your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven, and nearly on the verge of tears. harry's eyes were still angry, but he gave you a sympathetic look. he promptly took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shivering frame, enveloping you in a hug in the process. it's hard not to let the tears flow just a bit as you rest your head in his chest. you felt so vulnerable with him in that moment.
"here, let's get you back to your room, yeah?" harry says softly, turning your shoulders and guiding you down the hall. you realize you had sobered up during the ordeal, your eyes focusing and walking straightening out as you follow the corridors. once harry begins guiding you down your hallway, you slow to look up at him with a curious expression.
"how do you know where my room is?"
harry's a bit stunned by your question, searching for an answer before you began to think more. "and, wait," you stop walking and turn to him. "how did you even find me?" you ask breathlessly. harry continues to look guilty as he searches for an answer. smirking, you pull his jacket on you closer.
"professor potter, if i didn't know better, i'd say you were watching me tonight," you tease him in a flirty voice. "surely that's not the case, is it?"
harry looks around you two nervously, clearly starting to feel anxious for his actions. all you could do was smirk. you knew he still liked you.
harry sighs, avoiding your eye contact with a completely red face. "look, i just had a bad feeling about that party, okay?" he says simply. you continue to stare at him with a knowing look. "i couldn't sleep tonight knowing something could've happened to you. something like that fucking kid…" harry gets worked up just thinking about it again before stopping himself and calming down. "i'm sorry. it was wrong of me, and completely inappropriate."
your smirk drops into a soft smile. you can't help but feel your stomach erupt into butterflies hearing him admit he was watching you tonight specifically to make sure you were safe.
you softly put your hand to his cheek, causing him to look at you. he looks apologetic, concerned, and sad, his eyes searching yours as he slightly leans into your touch.
"thank you, harry." you say just above a whisper, your voice genuine and loving.
he sighs again, a bit relieved, a bit sad. his hand goes for yours, holding it for just a moment before he gives it back to you, letting go as he looks towards your door.
"well," he starts off, his voice cracking. "i'll leave you here for the night,"
smiling, you nod and take a step towards your door. you slip his jacket off of you and hand it back to him with a grateful, warm smile. he returns the smile as you're opening your door and waving goodbye at him.
as you're getting ready for bed, you replay the events of tonight over and over. you imagine harry watching you leave your room without you having any clue, meeting up with your friends, leaving the party in a daze, attempting to escape that guy before harry decided he had to step in and protect you.
you felt a bit silly for ever thinking harry's crush on you had stopped. even his subtle clues weren't very subtle thinking back now. maybe back in year 5 you assumed you were crazy for thinking he was looking at you funny, but now, nearing 3 years later, and learning he's liked you the whole time, you couldn't deny his longing gaze.
laying in bed, you decided you had to properly thank harry in some way for tonight, and you knew exactly how.
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the next day, you paid a special visit to diagon alley with a friend to buy something special for harry. when she asked why you would ever possibly buy something like that for yourself, you make up some story about needing it for a class. she doesn't believe you, but goes along with it anyway and continues to have fun with you on your sunday out shopping.
you head towards his office in the afternoon when he usually spends his time grading assignments and working on the following week's lesson plan. you practically had his schedule memorized after coming to study with him so often.
softly knocking on the door, harry lets out a, "come in,"
you enter the office and he smiles at you immediately before it falters, his eyes then landing on the wrapped box in your hands. "surprise," you say with a shy voice.
he lets out a huff, looking back at you with a disbelieving expression. "[y/n]..." he carries off.
"it's just a little something," you say as you walk towards his desk, setting it down carefully in front of him. "a thank you, for last night," you tell him.
his eyes move back and forth from the box to your eyes, not knowing what to say. a few moments pass before he stands. "[y/n], i can't accept this…" he sighs. "what i did last night, i mean…it shouldn't have happened that way," he says curtly.
you tilt your head to catch his gaze, giving him a warm smile. "you did nothing wrong," you reassure him. you gesture to the gift. "please," you insist.
harry's shoulders relax, giving you an embarrassed smile as he slides the box closer to him, admiring the wrapping. "this is gorgeous, did you do this?" he asks, pointing at the sparkly ribbon and personalized name card. you proudly smile and nod your head.
harry admires it for another moment before carefully untying the ribbon and lifting the lid off the box. he gasps at what he sees.
a signed, hardcover, gold leaf detailed first edition defense against the dark arts textbook from his favorite auror. he had talked to you about seeing it at the bookshop but not wanting to spend the money or not having the place to display it or whatever his excuse was. you had taken note of this comment and when you saw it wasn't as expensive as harry had made it seem you knew it was perfect.
"[y/n]...you didn't…" he utters, practically falling back in his chair as he continues to stare at the cover. you giggle fondly at his reaction. "go ahead, open it up," you tell him excitedly. he can hardly move, but he eventually takes the book out of the box and admires it in his hands. he flips the cover open, sees the signature, and smiles. then, he looks at the inside of the cover and his expression drops.
"i had it personalized, if that's okay with you," you ask anxiously. on the inside of the leather bound cover you had a pressing engraved that said 'harry james potter'.
harry's in shock, his fingers running across the pressing softly. "[y/n], this is…" he trails off, continuing to admire the book as he flips through it, landing back on the inside cover, admiring his name once more.
"thank you." harry says, looking at you with so much love in his eyes it makes your heart burst. it was worth every penny seeing him in awe in front of you like this.
"well, thank you," you respond, smiling, holding your arms behind your back.
harry abruptly stands up, stepping around his desk and pulling you in for a desperate hug. you're a bit surprised, your arms wrapping around his waist as he continues to pull you closer and closer.
after a minute or so of the most comforting hug you've experienced outside of last night in that hallway, harry separates from you only slightly to look down at you. your faces are close enough to feel the breath of the other person.
you just want to tell him, 'fuck it, who cares, nobody's here, just kiss me, please, release this tension', but before you can even consider it, harry breaks the silence.
"i still love you," he says so softly, his face wincing as the words fall from his lips. your breath hitches. love?
"fuck," harry mutters, almost stepping away from you until you pull him closer to you, putting your lips close enough to his they're nearly touching. "please. kiss me. just kiss me. please." you practically beg, your hand finding its way to harry's neck.
"[y/n], we can't, i can't–" "just once, please, maybe it'll stop if we just, please…" you interrupt him, hoping he understands what you're implying, your noses rubbing together.
harry takes a few moments before practically whimpering as he connects your lips to his, wrapping you in his arms tightly. you immediately melt into him, letting the kiss consume you as your hands pull harry closer to you.
it only takes a few seconds before harry has you up on his desk, his hands gripping your ass under your skirt. the cold of the wood on your exposed skin makes you gasp, and harry's tongue quickly slips past your lips.
it's everything you imagined, and the fact that this is happening in his office is just making you even more turned on. you had played this scenario in your head so many times, and it hardly felt real once it was actually happening. and on the desk you spent so many hours at, pining over him and fantasizing him taking you like he is right now.
after a few minutes of making out and needy groping through your clothes, harry pulls away breathlessly. opening your eyes you see he's completely flushed, his hair slightly messy as he nervously takes his hands off you.
you awkwardly clear your throat, your hands falling to your sides and resting back on the desk. harry takes a step away, straightening his tie and fixing his hair. you hop off his desk and adjust your skirt.
the silence between you is awkward, but there's just nothing to say. the kiss only left you wanting more, of course, it was pointless to ever hope it would quell your feelings in some way.
"well," harry begins, his voice shaky and quiet. "that didn't work."
you let out a nervous laugh, coughing to cover it up. "yeah…sorry." you mumble.
harry sighs. "no, i'm sorry. i'm technically your superior, i shouldn't be doing this to you. leading you on, flirting with you, for fuck's sake, following you around after hours…"
you shake your head. "look, i'm not kissing professor potter, okay? i like you, harry. i've liked you since i was 13. i don't want to ruin your position here either, and i'll stop if that's what you truly want…" you choke up just a bit before swallowing it back. "but, just, please, stop blaming yourself. i want this, too."
the silence returns, harry clearly thinking over what you said as his eyes stare off beside you. you're anxiously shifting your weight, watching his face get lost in his own thoughts.
"i can't risk this job," harry says finally. "i don't give a shit about the money, pay me everything in the world i would still want you…" he mumbles. you feel your stomach drop at this sentiment. you want him so, so badly. but… 
"but…" harry says.
you smile at him sadly, knowing what's coming. "i can't let down bill, or mcgonagall, or any professors or students here who may actually still like me," he says with a dry laugh. "if we ever got caught, and i just know we would, and what would happen to you…i just–" "i know, harry," you interrupt him, taking a small step towards him.
he smiles at you sadly as well. "and i agree. it's not worth it. well, you're worth it, of course…" you say shyly, diverting your gaze before continuing. "but, it's too risky. you deserve to finish out this semester without that hanging over your head, y'know?"
harry stares at you lovingly, no attempt to hide his adoration for you in this moment. "you're truly incredible. you know that?" harry comments softly.
you respond by blushing and crossing your arms. he hums softly, his smile taking over his cheeks. "thank you, really, for everything, if things were any different, i wish…" harry stumbles. you smile at him again. "i know."
harry returns to his gift, admiring the book in his hands over and over before putting it on the bookshelf next to his desk. he admires it there for a while as well before thanking you again.
as you're getting ready to leave, harry stops you for a moment. "if you don't mind, i'd still love to help you in your other classes. and, just, remain friendly in general still, if possible…"
you melt again at his soft demeanor. harry's such a sweetheart it's heartbreaking. all you want is to kiss him again. it's all you've wanted since he stopped.
"of course."
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it's the end of the semester, and you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand you're dying for a break from classes. you've done the best you have in years this semester, and it's exhausted you. but you're incredibly grateful, for a lot of things. your new friends, your rediscovered love for hogwarts and magic in general, your overall improved attitude and mentality.
with special thanks to a certain substitute professor…
harry. this semester was definitely a rollercoaster for you when it came to harry. though, towards the end, things fell into place a bit more as you both accepted and embraced your odd, yet effective routine. professional student-professor relationship in public; smitten, teasingly love-sick old classmates in the comfort of his office walls. nothing further than lingering hands, loving stares, and the occasional compliment towing the line of what's inappropriate and what isn't.
though the dynamic wasn't ideal, you grew to love it for what it was. a simple, longing love that wasn't exactly unspoken anymore, but sure felt like it each passing day as you both pretended that kiss never happened.
that kiss. you swear you think about it every day. you long for harry to grab you like that again, to slip his tongue past your lips again…sometimes, late at night, it's all you can think about. sometimes just the thought of it makes you need to touch yourself, remembering how desperate he was for you, the feeling of his lips on yours, sitting on his desk in his office, just the image of it from outside of your own perspective could bring you to your orgasm alone in your room.
to say you were anxiously counting down the days until classes were over and harry technically wasn't employed with hogwarts anymore was an understatement. though you hadn't spoken about it with him, you felt it was okay to maybe consider that he would want to continue things further with you once his substitution was over. you kept your guard up as you knew he could still be uncomfortable with it while you were a student in general. but a large portion of you was practically praying that wasn't the case. you physically couldn't resist him much longer.
you were staying on campus for christmas this year, mostly just to savor your last holiday here, but also to continue seeing harry if possible.
it was the last day of classes, and you learned you passed all your exams with flying colors. you showed up to dark arts class early to inform harry excitedly, and he congratulated you with the same level of excitement.
"i knew you could do it! i told you you were smart." he beams. "i am so, so proud of you, [y/n]."
you want to hug him so badly, he's helped you so much this semester, you wouldn't have cared enough to try and get these kinds of grades without his guidance. but it's too public, and the risk is too high, so you just settle on an awkward high five and laugh emptily.
as other students walk in, you both pretend the moment never happened, and you sit in your seat without looking up from the floor.
the class is simple and rather uneventful as it's mostly everyone's last class of the semester. harry actually hands out christmas cookies hagrid made for everyone, and they're mediocre in taste, but the designs are so adorable you can't resist finishing it.
harry gives you all a speech thanking the class for trusting him to teach this semester, and for being respectful of him and professor weasley's lessons. he talks about how he's always thought about being a professor, but actually ended up despising the paperwork, and just missed his old job, which caused the class to chuckle with him.
he dismissed everyone with a happy christmas, specifically towards you, of course.
your heart aches a little as you leave the classroom and head to your room. you're going to miss harry as a professor, even if it caused complications in other aspects, it was inspiring to see him be so intelligent, helpful, and supportive in class. of course you were biased, you always found him to be amazing, but something about watching him teach a young wizard how to do a spell correctly for the first time just made you admire him so deeply.
you decided to rest for the night, knowing harry would be here for at least another day to collect all his items and clean the classroom up for professor weasley. you could talk to him then, what exactly about you weren't sure just yet, but you knew you had to tie up these loose ends before they drove you mad.
the next afternoon, you're practically one of the only students roaming the halls. most everyone leaves the first day of break to go home, and by christmas there's only a handful of students left.
arriving at harry's office door, you admire it one last time. your little sanctuary away from the world.
you knock, but to your dismay, there's no answer.
you knock again, a bit louder, but still, nothing. you decide to peak in, and notice how barren the desk looks from afar.
fuck. there's no way harry's left without speaking to you first.
you quickly walk to the dark arts classroom just down the hall, hoping he's cleaning and organizing it, but find it empty and dark. your heart sinks. he's gone.
you slowly walk back to your room, deciding you'll grab your coat and visit hagrid to see if harry's with him there. you try not to let your disappointment overcome you, there's still a chance you could talk to him…
entering your room, you immediately head for your coat rack by the window. you start to slip it on when you hear your door close, knowing you left it open on purpose to quickly leave.
you turn around, and it's harry.
you gasp, immediately dropping the coat and running to him, jumping into a hug. he laughs at your reaction, but embraces you nonetheless.
"hi, love," he says softly, resting his head on top of yours. you could hardly contain yourself at the pet name. it communicated so much to you with so little effort.
you look up at him, barely able to believe what's happening. harry looks at you knowingly. this unspoken tension. it was going to be the death of you.
as harry begins leaning in, you crash your lips together with his, immediately engulfing him into a heated, wanting, needing kiss.
harry's more than happy to give in to you. it's clear he's thought about this just as much as you have. he finished all his professor duties as soon as he could so he could officially, finally, be yours.
you guide harry to your bed, pushing him onto it as he gives you an impressed look, clearly intrigued by your repressed desperation.
you crawl onto his lap, immediately pulling him back into the kiss. harry's hands are all over you, finally, after fantasizing about it every night in this very same bed for months.
the kiss is desperate, full of moaning and getting sloppier by the minute. harry's squeezing and slapping your ass so hard you whimper in his arms, your hands gripping his button up tightly.
"fuck, [y/n], need you so bad, please," harry moans into your kiss, his hands sliding up your back. you reach to take your shirt off, left in just a bra and tiny skirt, as you start untying his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.
harry's staring at you with hunger in his eyes. "do you even understand how badly i've wanted you? you and these fucking skirts, you must think i'm stupid." he growls, pulling at the hem of your skirt. you blush and stifle a giggle, overwhelmed with how insanely hot you found this to be.
"think that's funny? you think it was funny when i had to stand in class all day and not stare at your perfect legs through your robe? anytime i gave a lecture and just looking at you turned you into a needy slut," harry grabs your hair, turning your attention to him as he unbuttons the rest of his shirt with his other hand. "was that fun for you, hm? did you enjoy teasing me all semester?"
you can't say anything. all you can do is nod. you were so turned on you could hardly think straight.
"i bet it was," he says, examining your desperate expression, his words dripping with desire.
he pulls you in for another kiss, and you help him take off his shirt. his skin was warm, soft, and his shoulders were broad. you moved your lips to his neck, leaving an obvious bite just below his collar to finally mark what was yours.
harry groans, his hands reaching behind your back to swiftly undo your bra. he helps pull it off of you, marveling at your chest. "beautiful," he tells you before attaching his lips to your skin. you hold his head against you, savoring the feeling and sight of harry leaving hickeys along the soft skin of your boobs.
his hand cups one softly as his tongue circles your nipple, watching you through his glasses as you melt into his hands. "harry…" you moan, your hand running through his soft hair.
he continues, starting to suck on your nipple softly with closed eyes, his other hand pulling up your skirt to feel your wetness through your panties.
you immediately whimper and lean into harry's touch, desperate for this for so long. "f-fuck," you stutter breathlessly.
harry smiles, taking his lips off of you to look up at your blushing face. "so wet already," he smirks.
you cover his face with your hands, embarrassed, giggling, continuing to further lean into his hand for pleasure.
he laughs and removes your hands, his eyes full of lust just looking at you in his lap.
"i need you, now," he insists, pushing you further onto his growing erection through his slacks. you let out a breathy moan feeling just how hard he is already. he's just as desperate as you've been for him.
"is that okay?" he asks carefully, watching for your reaction. you laugh a bit. "please. i've waited long enough." you joke.
you help harry take his pants and boxers off, as well as your skirt and panties, leaving you both naked in your room.
he sat back down on the bed, and invited you into his lap again. "just like this is perfect," he says, guiding your hips and admiring your body as you sit with his cock between you two, your eyes barely able to look away from it.
harry pulls you in for a kiss, his hands traveling over your body and stopping at your pussy again, his hand feeling just how wet you are. he moans into your kiss along with you and begins to slip his fingers inside of you, slowly, letting you react to him.
harry pushes further and further into you until you're practically riding his hand, your kiss barely kept together with you bouncing, desperate for more. "please," you insist, your hand gently grasping for his precum soaked cock.
harry smiles, gently pulling his fingers away before letting you guide yourself onto him. slowly at first, you enjoy the feeling of harry's cock stretching you open, whimpering as he watches you intently, his hands supporting your hips. eventually you feel yourself take him completely, your hips flush with his as you start to slowly grind your hips up and down.
harry's a mess, barely able to hold himself together just watching you adjust to his cock. your face twisting in pleasure, your soft whimpers, the tight feeling of your pussy squeezing around him, it was almost too much already.
"fuck, baby," harry's moaning, his hands gripping your hips for sanity. you can't help but giggle, you just love seeing him like this for you after dreaming about it for so long. he's so lost in pleasure already, his jaw slack and eyes dropping.
"i-i'm already, fuck [y/n], you're just so," harry can barely get the words out. hearing him moan your name so filthily motivated you to move your hips quicker, letting your tits bounce in his face as you continued to pick up speed.
"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's panicking, you can tell he's already trying to hold back his orgasm. you find it extremely hot just how quickly you can bring him to this point. so hot it brings you closer to your orgasm with him, putting your hands on his face to look up at you.
"you feel so fucking good, harry," you tell him, your head rolling back in pleasure. he's in awe of you, his eyes memorizing every single inch of you as you continue to ride him.
"please, please, can you, um…" he takes a second between his words to moan. "please, can you call me professor potter…" he asks, clearly embarrassed by the request.
you rub his blushing cheeks between your hands, his question only making you more turned on. you loved knowing he was just as into the teacher/student dynamic as you had been.
"your cock feels so…so fucking good inside of me, professor potter," you moan, resting your forehead against harry's as you slow your pace, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of him.
harry's eyes roll back, sinful moans escaping his lips as his head falls forward, watching you ride him slowly as he begins slightly thrusting up into you. he looks back up at your eyes, exasperated. "i'm gonna cum if you don't stop," he quietly warns you, clearly feeling a bit guilty at his eagerness.
you smile. "please, please cum for me professor. i've been such a good girl for you this semester, haven't i?" you tease him. 
harry groans pathetically. "so, so good," his eyes are closed, his face twisting with each thrust. "then cum for me, please, give it to me," you beg him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel your stomach tensing from your own orgasm.
harry's eyes pop open, his gaze on you softening as his hands find your waist, gripping onto you desperately. "[y/n]..." he moans your name again, and you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. your pace becomes a bit slower as your legs start shaking.
harry moans as he starts to spill inside of you, the warm sensation fueling your orgasm as you both hold onto each other tightly, riding out your highs together.
after a few moments of slow grinding and weak kissing, you carefully stand up from your position on harry's lap. you guide him to your bathroom, where you help each other clean up, with a few more inevitable kisses and longing hugs along the way.
you get dressed into different clothes, and offer harry some as well. he declines, instead putting his clothes back on as he tells you he has to bring all his supplies back to his house.
you help him button his shirt back up and tie his tie before pushing yourself to ask the dreaded question you didn't want to know the answer to.
"so," you say softly. "what now?"
harry looks down at you lovingly, but he isn't quite smiling. "well, i'm no longer employed here," he states. you nod your head slowly, allowing him to continue.
"so, while it's not technically wrong, i'd still like to try and take this off campus, if possible," harry chuckles.
you give him a surprised look. "you want to see me again?" you ask quietly. harry can't help but laugh at you, kissing your forehead as he holds your cheek.
"you have no idea," is all he says before he leans in for another kiss, holding you close, knowing you're finally his.
481 notes · View notes
liliacamethyst · 9 months
Note
just curious if there's an extra angsty alternative drabbles because i love ur work ! like in a scenario where sun-spider isn't able to care for herself because the pregnancy is taking a toll on her or she got extremely ill OR EVEN GETTING EXTREMELY injured during a mission and lets say the gang is too caught up with spider society business to check on her, how would miguel react then?
ill leave the actual state of sun-spider in your hands 🤭
A LETTER FROM THE SUN
Thank you so much for your request, I really liked your idea- So here's an extra , extra ANGSTY (trigger warning) alternative universe Drabble. I got a little bit carried away I really hope you still enjoy it 💚:
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You can barely see through the spots dancing before your eyes as you stagger back to your apartment on Earth 586. You don't remember the walk home from the doctor's office but somehow, you made it back. The weight of the doctor's words still echo in your ears, "The childbirth... It's too dangerous. You won't survive."
It's not that you're not scared; you are, very much so. But more than that, you're filled with a fierce determination - for your child and for the world you've sworn to protect. And so, you put your mask, pull on your suit, and step into the battle once more, fighting harder than you ever have before.
But behind the brave facade, you're struggling. You're tired, your energy gone by the demands of your pregnancy and your duty as Spider-Sun. You're having to deal with the pains and discomforts that come with carrying a child, exacerbated by the unrelenting strain of your battles.
You retreat to Earth 586, hoping to find some solace and respite in your own universe. But instead, your responsibilities there seem to compound your exhaustion. There are still threats to confront, villains to vanquish, innocents to save. You're fighting two wars at the same time - one for your world, and one for your life.
The spider society is oblivious to your struggles. They are wrapped up in their own missions and agendas, too absorbed in saving the multiverse to notice your quiet battle for survival. The absence of concern from the team feels like a sting, a bitter pill to swallow, yet you say nothing, because you understand. So you hide your pain behind your bright smile and valiant spirit, because that's what you do best.
Still, as the days pass, your condition worsens. Your constant fatigue, the severe sickness and the frequent fainting spells- all signs that are hard to ignore. You're well aware that your body is pushing its limits but the love you have for your child growing inside of you keeps you from giving up. You've always fought against the odds, and you're not about to stop now - not when the stakes are that. Higher than they've ever been before.
You're fighting for two now, and that's all the motivation you need to keep going. You're ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for your child. And you'll face it with all the courage and determination that make you Spider-Sun.
-
Miguel, Gwen, Peter B, and Jess are on a mission in your Earth - Earth 586. It's been months since they've seen you, and Gwen and Peter are buzzing with excitement. Even Miguel, who maintains his stoic façade as always, has a glint in his eyes that hints at anticipation and excitement of the prospect of seeing his love again.
As they land, Gwen looks around, taking in the familiar surroundings of your world. "I can't believe it's been so long," she remarks, a hint of guilt in her voice. "We got so caught up in everything..."
Peter B chimes in, "Yeah, Sunny is gonna give us an earful for sure. I'm surprised she hasn't come to give us a welcome smack yet." His playful remark hangs in the air and everybody silently agrees.
They're here to deal with an anomaly, a Lizard-like opponent. Yet, as the fight breaks out, Peter can't help but wonder why you aren't here. This is your world, your neighborhood, your people. You're always there, ready to protect and serve. So where are you?
"Miguel!" Peter B shouts over the sounds of the fight. "Why isn't Sunny here? This is her world! Where is she?"
The fight ends sucessfully, with Jess instructed by Miguel to take the captive Lizard back to HQ. There's a tension in Miguel's voice, a sharpness that wasn't there before. He announces that he's going to look for you, his eyes flicking briefly towards the city, towards your home. “You guys go back and secure the ugly lizard. I will look where the hell Sunny is hiding.”
"We're coming with you," Gwen says firmly, Peter B nodding in agreement beside her. There's no room for argument in her voice. Miguel gives them a curt nod and so they swinf through Nea Yorkey searcing for their sun.
Gwen’s search for you leads her to knock on the doors of the neighbors in your building. Most people either shake their heads, claiming they haven't seen you, or slam the door in her face without a word. Gwen's worry deepens with each door she knocks on.
Finally, she finds a woman with a bunch of children screaming in the background. The woman looks frazzled, but she stops and listens to Gwen's questions. "Haven't seen her in days," the woman says, wiping her hands on her apron. "There was an ambulance here the other day, took her away. Ain't seen no light in her place since then."
Gwen feels as if the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She thanks the woman and rushes off to find Miguel and Peter B. Her words spill out in a rush, detailing what she found out. "Miguel," she gasps out. "Peter. Ambulance. Sunny's place."
Miguel's face goes deathly pale, and before Gwen or Peter B can react, he swings into the air, shooting webs and flying through the city with a speed and urgency that leaves them behind.
Gwen and Peter B look at each other and immediately follow, but Miguel is like a man possessed, a force of nature.
He reaches the hospital, and without a second thought, he barges through the doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breaths are short and ragged.
The reception desk nurses look up in surprise as Miguel, still in his Spider-Man 2099 suit, demands to know if you are in the hospital. There is a desperation as he speaks your name.
After a tense conversation with the hospital staff and almost being escorted out, Miguel is finally given the room number.
The world seems to stand still  around Miguel as he enters the room, only to find it empty. The nurse, busy tidying the space and remaking the bed, looks up in surprise at the sudden intrusion.
He's staring at the closed door when a nurse brushes past him, mumbling an apology. A sudden rush of fear and confusion go through him as he turns to see the empty hospital bed. His heart feels as if it's been ripped out from his chest. The room spins around him. Where are you?
"Excuse me, are you Miguel O'Hara?" A voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns to see another nurse, her face kind but weary. He can only nod, words failing him at the moment.
"Mr. O'Hara, she's not here anymore. She... she's not with us," the nurse says gently, her eyes filled with sympathy. She hands him an envelope. "She asked me to give this to you if you ever came looking for her."
"I am sorry," she adds quietly, before turning to leave. "I'll be right back with little Gabe."
Miguel doesnt register her words. His entire world feels as though it's come crashing down around him. He sinks onto the nearby chair, clutching the envelope tightly, his eyes staring blankly at it. He's too numb to even attempt to open it or even move.
Gwen and Peter B burst into the room then, worry clearly visible on their faces. "Miguel, what's going on?" Gwen asks urgently, rushing to his side. Peter B follows her but Miguel barely hears them, his blood rushing in his ears.
The world is blurry around him, sounds are muffled and distant. The room is empty, and you are not there. ‘No es real’ and ‘por favor vuelve a mi mi sol’ are the only things he can mumble over and over again tirelessly. The reality of it feels like a crushing weight on his chest and all he can do is sit there, holding onto the last piece of you he has left. 
Dear Miguel,
If you're reading this, then I am no longer in this world. 
I just wanted to let you know that it’s not your fault and no you couldn’t have saved me. I know how you are, Miguel. You always have been the man who would try to save the world single-handedly, even if it meant sacrificing yourself in the process. But this wasn't on you. This was my choice, my decision and I stand by it. I knew the risks and I am sorry I hurt you.
But here's the thing, I have no regrets. Our child...our Gabriel, he's my most cherished gift to you, Miguel. And I know you, with your awkward, nerdy charm and those terrible dad jokes you think are hilarious, will be an amazing father. You were born to be a dad - it's like your destiny. And guess what? This is your second chance to be the best dad you were always supposed to be.
I know you will protect our baby with every fiber of your being. That's just who you are. My last wish is that you give Gabriel the life he deserves. Raise him, love him, be there for him. That's all I want, Miguel.
And if you ever miss me, just look up to the sky, and I'll be there. Even if you can't see me, know that I'm probably hiding behind a cloud, always watching over and protecting you and our Gabriel.
P.S. Please let Gwen, Peter, Jess, Hobie, Miles, Pav and the rest of the squad know how thankful I am for them. They’ve been family, and I know they will rock as godparents.
Forever shining for you, 
Tu sol
The door opens again, and the nurse walks in, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A baby. A newborn.
As soon as Miguel held the newborn,his son, securely in his arms, he makes a silent promise to you, wherever you are, that he will honor your last wish. He will be the father Gabriel deserves and he will make sure that your sacrifice and love will never be forgotten.
After all, how could anyone possibly forget about the sun?
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alastorsfuckassbob · 2 months
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We'll Meet Again
Alastorxfem!reader
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Part two to "you're never fully dressed without a smile"
Plot: You're down infamously bad for Alastor. You work for a shift for Valentino and somehow you end up at everyone's favorite hell based hotel! I swear to god you will make physical contact with deal Al by chapter 3.
A/N: OH GOD THIS IS A LONG ONE, and honestly for an Alastor fic really Valentino and Angel Dust focused- but like any good story there are more than two characters so we should develop them✨
As always, minors DNI-
Somehow we got spicer and a bit more angsty so read the warnings and think critically if its something you really want to read
⚠️WARNINGS⚠️
-Domestic Violence, Abusive Relationships
-Swearing
-Valentino (has to be its own warning)
-Smoking and Alcohol use
-Sexual Innuendo
"Y/n"
"Y/n, please let me hear you. Your voice lights a fire within me that I cannot ignore"
The static popped, heartfelt and genuine, the phrase echoing throughout the dimly lit room and deep into the pits of your soul. It reminded you of those late nights spent at the studio with him. Of the memories you had created with him, you spent the least time mulling over your time at the station. It was just too much to handle, you would sit for hours talking about whatever fancies fit the time, swaying to the complex chords and swing of the music. No matter what mood you walked in with, it vanished the moment your frame entered his arms. Your hand grazed the edge of your cheek in the mirror imagining how his hand traced the outline of your face as it so often used to do. The show had hundreds of listeners, you were speaking to the world so it would appear, but anything and everything you said or played was made strictly for each-other.
Here you were, lost in time once again. You had missed those little moments, far more than you anticipated. You had always been one to get lost following the tracks of memory. but this..this was different, your body felt as if it was buzzing. His honey lined transatlantic accent reverberated throughout your skull. Sickeningly sweet, holding desperation but still not depravity. It lacked the typical Sadism and savagery, a commonality in your hellish experience. The wicked pair usually found itself wrapped around your arm and caught against your throat. You had become accustomed to those feelings of desperation, but somehow his was different. He hadn't said much of anything and it felt like he had bottled every sweet nothing and loving whisper he had uttered in your direction throughout your life, and poured them into his tonality all at once. The static grew heavier.
"Y/-n y-y-N"
his voice became distorted and crackled. He kept speaking but the words were mangled and malformed. You couldn't quite make out what he was attempting to get across. You couldn't lose him not another time, even if you hadn't really "had him" again.
It was enough to send you into a fit of desperation.The incoherencies faded out, only deafening static remained .
"Alastor"
your wavering voice filled with alarm. You rushed to the radio nearly falling of the counter as you did so. You feverishly tuned the knob hoping for just another moment with him, even if it was just audibly. The electricity crackles, and dark grey smoke erupts from the small box and into your face. You cough rapidly upon contact. The fire sparks, promptly melting the exterior of the radio.
"shit fuck shit fuck shit"
You rasp between coughs. Something ablaze was not entirely out of the ordinary, yet you remained panicked. you thoughtlessly unplug the radio, scalding your hands in the process. Not knowing what else to do, you throw the newly aflame radio into the tub. It wheezes out another plume of smoke before sinking down into the water.
"well that isn't..ideal"
You decide its a tomorrow issue and head off to sleep. Still slightly shaken up, you throw on a silky nightgown and plop into your bed. You wouldn't find peace in your sleep, you never did. You closed your eyes unready to face your demons but too exhausted to care.
The next day comes to pass sooner than you'd care to admit. You don't feel well rested, but you can't find it in yourself to go back to sleep. Your thoughts are still so dreadfully plagued with Alastor. The way his lips felt on your own, the soft gentle curl of his hair. Everything aspect of him was so fundamentally perfect. Even his so called flaws. He may be an attention seeking idiot, but he was your attention seeking idiot. That was all that mattered. You'd be happy to do most anything to supply him his attention fix. You looked at the clock across from your bed, it was already noon. You had told Angel you'd be at the club around one. Unhappily, you rolled out of bed grabbing another outfit from your closet to change into. You applied some simple mascara, and tied up your hair. You could finish getting read with Angel Dust like you usually did.
You arrive at the club meet Angel, you liked to arrive a few hours before your call time just to talk with each other. You had vastly different schedules but you made it work. You walk through the lobby watching other scandalously dressed demons go about their daily life. You could have sworn you saw a flick of shadow watching you from behind the other inhabitants. You shook it off, you didn't sleep well, its possible you're just seeing things.
You arrive at your dressing room, and knock at the door. Its a calm and quiet environment. The eye before the storm working tonight will plunge you both into.
"the fuck do you want, can't a guy do his eyeliner in peace"
you roll your eyes before opening the door, he glances back at you.
"oh hey toots, didn't expect you so soon- you're not late"
"Fuck off angel"
you sit down in your chair and begin brushing out your hair. Val was very particular about the image you portrayed, even if your hair was already curly he'd want it to curl differently, If it was straight, he'd want it consistent coiffed to his liking.
If you didn't have hair he'd probably get you a wig of some kind. You glance down at the black porcelain mask on the counter. It was delicately painted with small golden roses. It was the only thing between you and an army of horny fans. Angel finishes his eyeliner with a small flick of a wing.
He stands up and takes the brush from you. He combs through the ends making sure there aren't any tangles left before grabbing the curling iron. To be quite honest, you both absolutely sucked at doing your own hair, so you did each others. It was nice, and he always made you look good. You had known angel for quite some time, you felt like you knew who he was but nothing about him.
He was always rather private about the details of his life before hell. You had gathered he was Italian by his sound, and that he had been involved with the mob from small anecdotes he sometimes shared.
It didn't really matter who he used to be, he was your friend and you loved him.
"I mean this in the nicest way possible y/n, but you look like shit" He grabbed a strand of your hair wrapping it around the wand.
"oh gee thanks" you deadpan
"long night?" he asks releasing your hair from the curling wand scrunching it slightly.
"something like that, how about you, you look shockingly well rested, and i doubt its just the concealer"
"I'm staying at a new place" he continues working his way around your head.
"Val let you leave?" a hint of shock permeated your voice
"he can't dictate where i stay when i'm off the clock babe" He grabs a smaller curling want and begins with some small face framing pieces.
"does he know?" you ask hesitantly. You didn't want to upset him.
"I don't think he's caught on yet, probably figures I'm just out getting drunk and high off my ass"
"to be fair you often are"
"you're no angel either y/n" He rolls his eyes, he picks up the larger wand again and re-curls a few more of the back pieces.
"where did you move off to?"
You were lucky to have your own apartment. Most souls under contract with Valentino stayed in the complex....Your situation wasn't much better but it was enough. To be completely honest, you only lived about a ten minute walk from here. It wasn't much of a distance, but it was far enough Valentino would rather call upon some other, closer, unlucky soul outside of work hours to do his bidding. It was good enough. It was shocking to hear Angel had managed to find someplace with his cocaine habit and how little Val payed us.
"Its that rickety hotel on the edge of the Pride ring, I know it doesn't sound like much but its free" You almost visibly buffered from shock. How did he manage that? Then it hits you, he's probably sleeping there for free because he's sleeping with someone.
"who'd you have to fuck to get a room there"
"y/n" he groaned, slightly annoyed by your antics.
"No angel I'm serious, its hell people don't just give things out for free" you mused at his reaction.
"I didn't have to fuck anyone, its run by the princess, shes trying to rehabilitate souls"
"is that even possible" your mind began to swim with possibility.
"i dunno, i don't really care. It gives me a space to just exist..as myself..away from all of this"
your hand finds his way into one of his.
"i understand what you mean" your voice comes out no more than a whisper.
He continues curling your hair silently for a bit. Angel had his issues but he was a good person. He just found himself in a bad situation. Unexpectedly, he broke the silence. You two had a lot in common, including your tendencies of avoidance.
"you should live there too y/n, its free, and theres a bar, the bartender isn't too bad looking either."
You smile at the thought, it would be nice to get away from it all. Thats all it could be though, a thought. You were already on such thin ice with Val.
"Angie dear it sounds nice, but we both know I'm already Val's least favorite sinner. I shouldn't aggravate him more" you say with a defeated huff. Angel wraps another tendril of your h/c hair around the wand
"You can't let his life be your only life. I'm not stupid doll, I know you've been spending a lot more time around here." He's visibly and audibly frustrated.
He stays quiet for a minute picking up another strand of your hair.
"you're more than what you can do for Valentino okay? you were a person before you're still a person after, don't let him take everything from you." his voice becomes quiet, almost unrecognizable. Its velvety in a way, he speaks almost as if he's telling you just as much as he's telling himself Its the realest you've ever seen him be.
He quickly shakes it off
"his ugly mug cant be the only thing you see, I swear to god every time I look at him I throw up a little" He releases your hair from the curling iron stepping back to admire his work.
"now don't you look riveting" A jokingly seductive tone takes hold of his voice.
Your mind sparks with an idea, why complain about Val when you can just straight up mock him?
You stand up, rushing to the clothing rack, sift through the items before finding a long cherry red robe. Naturally its angel's. Its far too long for you, the second set of arms gets a little confusing, but eventually you slide it on. You sit back seductively on the counter mocking good ol Valentino.
"angel dust! you slut! you're fucking 20 guys before lunch! " You cross your arms dramatically before standing up on the counter. You strut across, being careful not to step on any of his things, but still maintaining the destructive energy Val usually carries.
A wild smile courses through your features, you grab the magazine Angel had been reading before you came in and throw it back into his face.
"Heres the 40 page shockingly kinky script about some kidnapping scene in France you have an hour to memorize, ignore the syntax errors and improvise!" He looks up at you baffled. I mean, you were right-He starts laughing uncontrollably,
"y/n what the fuck" he sputters out
You laugh along with him. He reaches up placing his arms around your waist, putting you onto the ground with very minimal effort. For a second you feel a bit like a house cat hopeless dragged off the counter. Angel was shockingly strong, for such a lanky guy he certainly wasn't flimsy or weak
A smug look overtakes his features
"let me show you how its really done"
He takes the robe off of your body and dawns it himself. He whips out a pair of bedazzled pink sunnies. Tilting them down, he gives you a cheeky wink. Once the knot of the belt is tied he is fully into character
"My siren! Y/n."
"oh god" you roll your eyes as angel begins his display. He walks across the room dragging you with him before twirling you into his arms. You cant help but be a little dizzy at the sudden motion.
"y/n, baby! You have made much so much money with that truly bodacious rack" He swings his arm around your waist. You both stifle a laugh as he drags his second set of hands across the shape of your body in the air in front of you.
"Angel I don't think Valentino would ever utter the phrase "bodacious rack", at least not in this existence" You form your fingers into little air quotes playfully rolling your eyes at him
"shh toots i am working on a real character here"
"Angel" you sigh
"shh" he hushes you again placing his finger against your lips.
Your collective antics go on for a little over two hours, stopping only briefly for you to style his fleecy hair. He looks at the clock before letting out an aggravated sigh. He pulls his body up from his chair.
"I gotta go doll, Val has me shootin yet another new movie before we shoot the scheduled "film", perks of being Hell's best actor" He grumbles grabbing his robe off of the floor leaving you alone in your shared dressing room.
You continued getting ready, expertly styling your newly curled hair and applying a thick coat of deep red lipstick. It wasn't too long after the door swung open. The suffocating smell of lust filling your lungs.
"My dear sweet y/n! how about we lose the mask for tonight?" Valentino burst into the room as if he owned the place. To be fair, he did. You still found it a bit off putting he didn't knock. Despite your profession, you valued privacy.
"Val-" You began, he cut you off.
"I don't believe I was asking." a smirk decorated his sly features.
"Respectfully, sir. It's not within my contract to appear as I truly am."
This shit again. Val was always on your ass about this. He always wanted more. Usually after a few minutes of arguing, he'd give up. There was nothing else he could do, so you don't think much of it. You pull out a cigarette, flicking the lighter, the small white stick begins to blaze.
You blow a cloud of hot red smoke in his direction. He rolls his eyes gritting his teeth in frustration. He takes a deep breath, sordid displays of force didn't work the best on you. You'd be frightened, but your stance would rarely change. Not unless he got physically violent, and quite honestly he was not in the mood today. You were not the most important thing to deal with. Its not that he didn't want to hurt you, he didn't want to waste his time. He tries a lighter, more manipulative approach.
"Think of how much success your beautiful little face would bring us. Sinners and Hell born alike already get off to your body, its just revealing a little bit more"
"No, I won't do it" your voice is small but resolute. He didn't have the patience for this. As soon as the word "no" left your lips Val had begun to lose it. "Wasting time" became a lot less important. Members of the Ars Goetia family would be present in tonight's audience. You had to look your best, so he could look his best.
"You are going to out there without that fucking mask and give all of hell a good show. You won't like what happens if you don't listen." He growled through gritted teeth
"Its breaking the contract. Val" You take another lazy puff from your cigarette. He ripped the cigarette from your hand, throwing it on the ground. He was done with your shit.
"I own you. Did you forget that, I own your body and your voice. you speak only when i want you to. You fuck who I choose. The only thing you technically have a right to is your name, isn't that right my little siren?"
His voice is sleazy to say the least, the tone makes you shudder. You couldn't help but think,
...was he right? you had asked to be anonymous, you never thought to specify how. He continued before you had a real chance to observe your thoughts. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, snakelike and seductive. He was getting tired of this, tired of you.
"the mask is getting old, hell will get tired of you if you don't give them more. you won't like what happens if they deem you all washed up.."
You attempt to move away, His grasp on your arm grows tighter. You flinch slightly from the pain, but not enough for him to notice. He wants to elicit a reaction in you, perhaps if you stay calm he'll give up.
"I have some very specific clientele coming to tonights show I need you to wow them"
You could hardly believe the audacity. Sure, Valentino was always kind of a prick but this complete and total discount of your previously agreed terms was relatively new. He had suggested removing the mask before and brought it up countless times, but this level of disregard was new. Screw being calm you weren't about to be this fundamentally disrespected.
"No I won't do tha- " his hand waves cutting you off. your voice caught in your throat the sigil on your hand marking his ownership glowing a dull faded pink.
"I can do whatever I please. I've let you forget that, I've been going too easy on you. Rereading our little contract brought me the enlightenment I needed. Those who bite don't get to speak" he pauses moving away from you taking in your figure.
"it looks like you'll just be dancing tonight, and what a wonderful performance that is going to be."
The click of his shoes taps against the stark white tile as he walks towards the clothing rack in the edge of the room. He hums, picking out a dark red burlesque outfit. He exchanges it for the mask from the table and breaks it in his hand.
"I think a more revealing number will compensate more than enough for your silence..don't you?"
Your last defense had been shattered. The last ounce of your personage robbed for the sake of pleasing some sleazy unsavory high end customer. You tried to speak but the words stayed nestled inside of you. You wanted to scream or talk honestly you'd take a whisper at this point, still, nothing. The anger in your heart welled its way up into your throat and without an outlet, your frustration took root in your tears."Great" you thought, "just what i needed to look respectable, yet another crying fit."
He grabs you by your shoulders, it had never registered how small you were in comparison. You knew he was tall, but in ten years, you'd never noticed how much taller he was. Usually the moth hunched over in some way to communicate better as his eyesight is less than superior...Yet here he stood a good three or four feet taller than you, anger almost visibly steaming off of his purple fur. two of his hands grasped firmly on your newly bruised shoulder, the other on your neck, and the last raised and ready to strike you. Closing your eyes you accept your fate. the contact comes and as soon as it does you are sprawled on the floor. Unable to move, unable to run. You had never been strong enough to fight. After all you were still the same person you were in 1936 and long after that. Your nose gushes blood, splattering droplets onto the tile as he abruptly jerks you up from the floor.
"maldita cabrona! quién se cree que es?"
he tuts clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It sounds oddly like the loading of a gun. Every aspect of his body was drenched this newly violent attitude. His moth like horns lined with anticipation, twitching with every rigid breath.
Valentino had gotten rough with you before but not like this. This time, it felt more real. He leans in closer, his face directly in front of your own. From another angle perhaps the pose looked sweet,loving even. The thought made you sick.His arm rested against your shoulder, just forceful enough to cause you pain but not so harsh to send you tumbling to the ground again. The sharp talons tipping his long fingers traced the edge of your face, deep red blood madly racing after it. He would have killed you then in there if you weren't such a "valuable asset".
"Next time you'll learn to listen, I've killed fuckers for less than this shit you're giving me. If I don't have the patience with angeldust I certainly won't have it with you, even if you're named hell's favourite pequeña pecadora." He pauses glaring deep into your eyes
"I made you y/n, i can take that away and kill you myself whenever i please. try not to forget that again"
His inflection is wickedly sweet, but not sugary enough to hide his true malice.
He grunts in frustration, throwing you against the dressing room table, the back of your head shatters the mirror. An all too familiar feeling. He laughs viewing the position he's put you in, it is a dry, heartless, and dirty sound. The silence after is chilling. You close your eyes bracing for another impact that just doesn't come. He must have gotten bored with you, he usually did after a while. The door finally slams, the lights of the dressing room flicker and then click off. You slide down onto the floor, all you are left with is the small pool of blood and regret.
The performance that night felt like an eternity. Your skin practically peeling off as lustful eyes burned holes through your skin. You had drank a few more than too many cocktails. It wasn't nice to refuse a gift, and it kept you a little less than fully conscious. stumbling through the hallway you arrived once again at your dressing room. you sat down hopelessly viewing the dark purple bruises formed from your previous alteration through the shattered remnants of your mirror. So much for not "damaging the merchandise" as Val would so often say.A soft knock rattles you from your thoughts. the door creaks open and Angel Dust slides in. You silently look at each other's exhausted frame and scratched faces. Angel was the closest thing you had ever had to a friend, and just about the only person who could ever understand what you're going through. After all, your experience was modeled after his.
"Whats wrong y/n? cat got your tongue?"
Despite his exhaustion he kept up his usual performance. You didn't respond, you couldn't. The tears so expertly rimmed in your eyes threaten to fall. His expression falters and he walks up to you hugging you tightly. You didn't need to say or do anything to explain. He knew exactly what you were going through. For just a moment you relax into his arms.
A minute or so passes and you break the contact. You figure a little context wouldn't hurt. You motion to the glowing sigil on your wrist and then to your throat, hoping he understood the signal.
"You can't speak can ya doll?" He asked softly his hand ruffling your hair. You shook your head no.
"God i hate that fucking prick, he can't just play fair. Maybe if he did that sorry fuck wouldn't be making shitty porn and running washed out clubs for a living". He angrily paces around the room. As he speaks you grab an eyeliner pen and the back of some flier someone left taped to your door. It seemed like the easiest way to communicate. You messily scrawl the words
"Can I stay with you I promise its just for one night"
He takes the page from you a smile taking root.
"damn toots what happened to not mixing personal and professional life?" he joked. You sat there motionless, tears threatening to spill. He takes the hint and grabs a coat off of the rack wrapping it around your shoulders.
"I thought you'd never ask-I've been dying to hang out outside this shit hole. Let's head out, Its gonna rain soon and these boots are too hot to be messing with that acid bullshit"
He posed albeit dramatically earning a smile from you. He tilts his head towards the door and the two of you leave the messy dressing room behind. It was one of the few things you didn't have to worry about. After all, Valentino values appearances, any mess you had made would be gone in the morning. In one way or another, you could fuck up any way and make any mess, and Val would have it cleaned up. The only messes he wouldn't fix were the ones he made himself. The cuts on your body always lasted longer than your reflection in a broken mirror. Unlike you the mirror could be fixed.
Not long after you arrive at this so called "Hazbin Hotel"..you didn't have much to say other than it...seemed fitting. You walk up a few flights of carpeted stairs. His hand calmly connected to yours. He continues down the long winding hallway before reaching a large wooden door at the end. He unlocks the room, and it is exactly what you'd imagine it to be. An embodiment of everything "angel dust".
A few hours and a pack of cigarettes later, the rain starts. The acid falls from the sky burning sinners and generally..most everything in its path. The sizzle on the sidewalk almost sounds like the crackle of a record player. Leaning further back into his bed, you pull out yet another cigarette. Your hand waves, gesturing towards the box and Angel takes the last of the pack. He lights the end of yours first and then clicks the lighter again in an attempt to get his own fix. However the lighter had other plans, it pops and ticks before sputtering out completely. He strikes it a few more times to no avail
"Shit what does a guy gotta do to get a decent lighter in this shit hole"
His arms raised above his head in some odd exaggerated performance of anger. Despite the lack of necessity, you found the fake drama to be amusing. It reminded you of Alastor in some strange way. It was different than the usual drama you found yourself viewing. Hell is full of overdramatic assholes, at least Angel isn't.. cruel. You take the first hit of your newly lit cigarette. The pink smoke fizzling into your lungs, giving you a sense of calm you cant really find anywhere else.
"What you aren't gonna share?" he deadpans before he presses the edge of his previously unlit cigarette to yours.
You look at him as if to say "Angel you dumb bitch that never actually works you're just going to put mine out and then we'll both be miserable"
He rolls his eyes with his signature smug look. He presses his cigarette a bit closer to your own. Shockingly it lit up in a hot pink flame.
"Working with Val sucks but at least you learn a few useful things",
He deeply inhaled from his own newly lit cigarette, puffing the strawberry coloured smoke into your very clearly unamused face. Still. you couldn't help but laugh.. or you tried to anyway, not that it would have worked. You took another long delightful drag and sent the smoke his way. A fit of giggles ensued, at least on his part. You were just happy it worked and he didn't end up pissed off.
The action made you wonder, what if you weren't just meant to hurt others. perhaps you could light them up instead of burning them down. You sat there for about another hour, listening to Angel's sleep deprived rambles. It wasn't too much long after that your own exhaustion finally carried you safely into a well deserved slumber. It was peaceful, the most restful night you'd had since your fall into this desolate shit pit known as hell..For once you didn't "dream." You weren't haunted with his face. His shadow didn't suffocate you. The ghost of your past stayed simply that, a ghost.
The night passes swiftly. Almost as quickly as the stars had appeared they retreated deep into the hazy maroon sky and bright carmine clouds. The rain had stopped, somehow the damages caused weren't entirely discernible from the average look of things. It was then you heard radio static again.
Familiar and soothing, his gravelled voice broadcast to the denizens of hell.
"Good morning to all of you lovely listeners ! Today's broadcast is brought to you by hell's favourite sinner, what isn't to love about that little starlet. Tune on in dearest, I've been hearing so much about you."
the music started softly carried by the wind and into your ears. You felt intoxicated.
We'll meet again
Dont know where, dont know when
but I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through, just like you always do
til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
It was irrevocably, unmistakably unquestionably him.
Alastor, your Alastor.. was in hell. Not to mention an overlord (shocker there). Despite that fact, you were evidently on his mind. He was speaking to you and only you. There was nothing you could do to respond.
So you listened, to his voice, the instrumentation, the melody, everything. Maybe it would somehow bring you closer to him...
Unbeknownst to the both of you, you were no more than a few rooms apart, enjoying your stay at the Hazbin Hotel.
a/n: I SWEAR I PROMISE YOU, ANGEL, AND ALASTOR ARE GONNA WRECK THAT LITTLE FUCKERS SHIT, dw
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solbaby7 · 2 months
Text
Falling Into You
pairing: azriel x reader
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warnings: swearing, possible typos, sexual themes, violence, blood, angsty but there’s also fluff
summary: A certain Shadowsinger stumbling into love with a woman and all of her many, many secrets.
part 2 to Tripping Over You
[ before you ask, this will become a mini-series ]
Days of chaste touches turned into nights of hushed conversations around a crackling fire wearing nothing more than those sorry excuse for night clothes and your hair free from its ponytail. Weeks of getting to know each other; first kisses and second and a third until there were too many to count—too many times pushed up in come corner cloaked by shadows with tongues touching and hands roaming past the respectable limitations but Azriel couldn’t bring himself to slow down.
Every touch was burning hot, igniting a flame so uncontrollable he looked past a few warning signs. The sneaking out at the witching hour with Amren and returning before the sun came up with a fresh glow to your skin and insatiable energy to burn. The mumbled comments about “still getting used to this body” when you’d stumble or lose your grip on your silverware at dinner. You never talked much about your past; something he could probably understand if it weren’t for the way your eyes would darken when he’d push the topic a touch too hard.
All of it, Azriel ignored for the sake of feeling—of having someone to anticipate coming home to and always finding folded love notes with feminine handwriting and a lip mark stained at the bottom shoved in random pockets and fighting leathers for him to find. “You’re staring,” Rhysand points out, a glass of whiskey in his grasp and his free hand was shoved in his pocket. “—and it’s not the good kind.”
“I think she’s hiding something from me.”
The High Lord raises a brow, amethyst eyes scanning the sitting area where the others were; Fey and Cass were hunched in the corner, giggling over the wine they’d smuggled as they filled their glasses to the brim. Mor and Nesta were arguing over something while you and Amren leaned into one another, watching the girls with bright amusement in your eyes as you mumbled commentary back and forth. “Things are still new—there’s bound to be a few skeletons in the closet.” Az hums in agreement but doesn’t offer more information, not about what he’d observed because your laugh was like music, a symphony of flutes and string instruments all playing in such perfect synchronization that deep magic long forgotten rose to get a glimpse of who was behind it.
“You’re right,” The shadowsinger gives in too easily, captivated by the way you light up when your gaze shifts to him, a blush forming when you catch him already looking and Az can’t even remember the conversation anymore when you beckon him closer.
Rhys lingers behind, observing the way you leaned into the spymaster and the love that shown in your eyes was undeniable. Hushed words and shared laughs, hands trailing up the length of your arm, fingers that pull hair from your shoulder to make room for the kisses he placed there. Seemingly perfect if it weren’t for Amren’s watchful eye on the whole thing, otherworldly features scrunching up at the sight of you and Azriel but she shakes it away.
“Rhys,” Feyre calls out, steps wobbly and cheeks flushed from all the wine. “Get over here.”
That night, you don’t leave with Ren.
Staying back with Az tangled in his sheets, lips swollen and cheeks hurting from smiling so much when strong arms cage you to the mattress. He’s shirtless; sweatpants hanging low on his hips and the soft material of your nightgown shifts up your thighs when he settles between them. “I really like this—really like you too,” Azriel mumbles between kisses up the length of your neck, leaving marks and dragging his nose along your frantic pulse. The fire crackled at the other end of his room, a golden glow stretched across the room as you melted in his touch. “I know we’ve been moving a little fast; getting so caught up in the chemistry between us that we haven’t really talking about a few things.”
“Yeah?” You’re breathless, arching into the warmth of the half-naked body above you and the slow drag of his lips trailing the line of your jaw. “Like what?”
“Like whatever secrets you’ve been keeping with Amren.” He feels the way your body stiffens beneath him but he doesn’t let it stop him from staking his claim on every inch of skin he could possibly touch. “I won’t push—not now, but you’ll have to tell me eventually.”
There's an audible gulp, your hands shaky when they rest at his sides but you can't find it in you to form words, only managing a nod and the chaos of your mind calms when he keeps kissing and nipping and tracing the tip of his tongue around the curve of your ear.
Azriel doesn't bring it up again.
Not when you stop sneaking out altogether, waking up every morning with your hair splayed across the pillows and legs tangled in his own. Not when there's obvious tension between you and Armen, her tugging you off into a separate room before breakfast and Ariel can't help but linger close by, shadows slinking under the door to catch a glimpse of her scolding you, shouting at you about the dangers of what you were doing and his confusion only grows. "Ren, I really like him."
"Enough to risk everything?"
There's silence and your head hangs, brows furrowed in frustration as the truth in her words weigh you down.
"I won't let anything happen to him. I just—" Your voice drops so low even the shadows can barely pick up on them but the plea glistening in your eyes says more than any string of sentences. "He makes me so happy, Ren—more than I ever thought was possible for me. Why can't l get a little happiness to? Haven't I given enough?"
Amren softens, eyes clenching and she has to turn her back to you to compose herself. "Of course, but you know that’s not up for me to decide." She rests her weight against the desk, both arms outstretched before her and dark hair hangs past her shoulders. Nothing is said for a while but when she finally does, you shift completely; that steely darkness that would settle into your features when he prodded too hard. You looked regal, utter power radiating from your stance as you glared at your best friend over the bridge of your nose—you looked like Rhys, shifting from a friend to a High Lord. "I have orders—"
"Then, let me offer you a few more." Azriel's brow raises as the authoritative tone, the way Amren can't seem to meet your eye and gone was the stumbling woman with sheepish smiles and butterfly bandages stuck to her knees. In her place stood someone with a voice, a backbone and dare he said it—but the power and the authority to command whatever you damn well pleased. "You get to have your boyfriend, I get to have mine and you keep your mouth shut about it should anyone ask you any questions the next time you're due to report back to Titus." The step you take towards her, finger pointing at her chest; the hint of fear that darts across her unique features. “And I swear to the Mother above, Amren, if you fucking say a word about any of this to him—"
Amren dips her head, words clipped but utterly respectful. "Understood. As you wish."
Azriel’s gone before the two of you leave the room and when you find him waiting at the table, seat open to his right as he poured you a cup of tea. “Took you long enough.”
“Sorry, Ren’s just been pissed I keep bailing on her.”
You’re pouring honey and stirring when he slowly asks, “What do you guys do that late anyway?”
“Honestly, it’s mainly a lot of training; this form adapts differently to the fighting style I’m used to and she’s been helping me.”
His brows furrow, jaw working over a steaming pancake and you’re suddenly grateful for how loud Cassian is; not even nine in the morning and he was already laughing deeply, offering jokes and quick quips that has the rest of the Inner Circle snorting over their eggs; too occupied to notice the spymaster trying to decipher a small piece of a much bigger picture. “This form?”
“My form,” You easily correct, a hand reaching out to cup the back of his neck, fingers scratching soothing lines into soft strands of inky hair and he melts like butter under your touch. “Ren thinks I could give your General a run for his money.”
“Yeah, right.” Cass scoffs, mouth full of bacon and eggs, syrup stuck in a clump on a piece of his hair and you can’t fight the growing smile, the giddy grins from the others as the challenge settles in the air. “You’re like a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, I’d end you in seconds.”
Amren makes a face, fork scraping against her plate. “I wouldn’t be so sure; she’s quick on her feet.”
He slams a heavy hand on the table, a goading grin growing and he’s quick to inhale the remnants of his plate. “Hurry up, Bambi; I’m ready to win my bragging rights for the day.”
Azriel seems hesitant, watching the others place their bets and rush to finish eating. His grip on your hand is tighter than usual when the whole group settles at the sparring ring and Cass is already inside, shirt off and hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Have a little faith; you’d be surprised by some of the tricks I have hiding up my sleeve.”
He squints at the words, golden irises locked on you as you saunter forward and Az can’t help but admire the tight training clothes you’d changed into. You radiate pure confidence when you enter the ring, already sizing Cass up and making mental notes of whatever you’d assessed about him. “I swear I’ll go easy on you.”
Cassian scoffs and as if a flip was switched; the playful male she once knew shifted into a warrior, lunching forwards with the speed of a panther but you don’t panic. Azriel is transfixed on the way you move, dodging attacks with such ease it begins to look like you’re dancing; light on your feet and impressively aware of everything around you. Cass changes his tactics and a punch that should’ve surprised you is blocked by a strong forearm and you’re landing a kick to his side of his ribs faster than lightening.
It sobers him, the brief pain that lingers a few minutes after the initial contact and the others watch as Cassian really begins to focus. Strong attacks are sent your way in quick succession, a flurry of punches and harsh swings, legs swiping out in attempts to stumble you but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, Azriel swears he catches a hint of a smirk growing on Amren’s face, grey eyes filled with pride and excitement.
Each move is done with such grace and the High Lady actually gasps in surprise when you use Cassian’s own body against him; stepping on the muscle just above his knee in order to hoist your body up and your legs are draped over his shoulders. For a split second you look down on him before swinging your upper body down, head slipping between his legs and your hands brace on the ground as your legs heave to flip the giant of a man over. On his back, wind briefly knocked out of him, Cassian grunts in astonishment, words breathy when he raises back to his feet but he’s looking at you differently; from head to toe like he’s noticing something he never did before. "How did you do that?"
You haven't even broken a sweat, an eye dropping to a wink. "Shall I show you once more?"
The others are laughing, changing their bets or adding more money to the pot as you and Cass keep on but Az just can't help but notice the way you fight is nothing like how he seen Amren fight first-hand in battle. "You taught her this?"
"Jealous?"
He shakes his head, tone dropping an octave and a breeze bristles through the material of his fighting leathers. "No,” You’re laughing at a frustrated Cassian in the ring, an arm locking his own behind his head and the General makes a passing comment about how alarming your strength was for your body. “But, I'm more than interested in joining a lesson or two—to gain perspective."
Amren goes rigid, slowly craning her neck to face him and the steely expression she bares is enough to have him hesitating; remembering a promise he’d made not to push on matters but he couldn’t help himself and Amren’s sudden change in attitude is the fuel to egg Az on further. "Perspective on what?"
Golden eyes gravitate back to you and the vague replies you give when Cassian asks where you’d been hiding such skill. “On her.”
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byechristopher · 3 months
Note
soooo it’s ur biggest fan here 🤣! so idea. chris is a hockey boy. i need something angsty or something
also a fluff idea reader is a dancer and chris is hockey player and reader has a competition the same place chris has a tournament. and it’s just them supporting each other
although just do what ever you want but hockey chris>>> i feel like you’d do him justice
Jealous guy.
– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.
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Author's note: I worked hard on this because it's for my biggest fan. You know I love my angsty shit, so I took your idea and combined it with mine. I hope y'all like it. 🤍 Do not copy/steal my work. :)
Ps. I'm the kind of bitch that gets all giddy and shit when Chris says "my girl" in my OWN FIC. Okay.
Warnings: not really a warning but mentions of fighting and a lil bloody lip. Mwuah. Didn't proofread, sorry!
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[ YOU ]
"Okay, and what the hell do you want me to do about it?" I almost scream, turning around to look at Chris.
He was fuming, to say the least. His hair was messy, he didn't have a shirt on but wore his usual gray sweatpants. His glare was deadly.
"Uhm, I don't know, tell him to not send fucking flowers to OUR apartment?!" he shouts, throwing his phone on the couch. The irony in his voice is more than evident.
I couldn't believe it when I saw it either Honestly, I never expected him to go to such lengths. Despite being just a co-worker, he's become a relentless presence in my life. Whether it's showing up everywhere at work, bringing me coffee, or bombarding me with emails – it's relentless. The boundary crossed when he managed to find my address; literally searching for my goddamn address and sending me flowers? That is wild. Of course I told Chris about it, but he acts as if it is my fault this psycho found our address.
"I don't even know his phone number, Chris! How would I ever know that he'd search for the address and send me flowers?" I sigh, still very angry.
"I'll beat the shit out of him, I swear.. the game starts in less than an hour, fucking hell.." he says, checking his watch, "how the fuck am I ever going to play when I'm like this?"
I don't reply to him – he really makes it sound like it's my fault and despite my initial enthusiasm for the game, it's waned due to his blame game. Still, I don't want to come off as a heartless bitch, especially on the eve of his crucial match. So, I grab my phone, wallet, and keys before heading over to him.
"I really hope you win." I whisper, placing a soft peck on his cheek before exiting the bedroom and shortly after, leaving the apartment.
[ CHRIS ]
She left. Fucking hell. I always do bullshit like this – I can't keep my big mouth shut and now she's not even coming to the game. I really needed her in this one. But that is my own fault.
In the quiet solitude of our apartment, I try to prepare for the upcoming game; amidst the dim glow of our living room, I meticulously don my team jersey, each movement an attempt to shift my focus. Taking a moment, I inhale deeply, trying to be as calm as possible before the game.
With a determined resolve, I grab my gear, the familiar scent of the hockey bag triggering a surge of adrenaline. As I step outside, the crisp evening air hits me, momentarily clearing my mind. The journey to the rink is a silent contemplation, the distant echoes of the city fading as I immerse myself in mental preparation.
Arriving at the arena, I feel the familiar anticipation. The ambient sounds of the crowd and distant echoes of skates on the ice envelop me, grounding me in the moment. I exchange nods and greetings with teammates. The locker room door creaks open, revealing the sanctum where emotions are set aside, and the game becomes paramount. Amidst the hum of chatter and the clatter of equipment, I sigh; I really want her to come. I still have hope, although I doubt it. The tension lingers as I tighten my skate laces, and Jake, my teammate and friend, notices my distraction.
"You seem off, Chris. Everything okay?" Jake asks.
"Yeah.." I look up at him, and he seems like he already knows, "..just had a big fight with my girl before I left. Can't shake it off," I confess.
Jake pats me on the shoulder. "I understand, man. I wish I could say something but you gotta leave it behind for now. We've got a game to win. Sort things out later."
On the ice, rival players almost immediately target me, seeming to be aware of my vulnerable state; it must be that fucking expression of mine. I can't hide it. During the first period, a smirking opponent skates by, taunting, "trouble at home, Chrissy? Should focus on that instead of the game." he smiles.
Enraged, I retaliate with a forceful check, earning myself a penalty, "keep your temper in check, Chris!" warns the referee.
In the penalty box, I mutter under my breath, "I can't fucking believe this."
As the match progresses, rival players intensify their attempts to provoke me; we've played with those fuckers before, and if anyone has seen me in a game, they know very well the only thing that can affect the way I play is her. Undeterred, I channel my anger into my plays, determined to win this goodamn game while internally wondering if she came to see me after all.
In a breakaway, I find myself one-on-one with the opposing goalie. With a swift deke, I send the puck into the net, equalizing the score. The crowd erupts, and my teammates cheer.
Rival players persist in their attempts to get under my skin. During a tense moment, an opposing forward sneers, "look, your girlfriend's probably enjoying the show. Make sure to not embarass her again."
After that, I almost lose it, and in a heated moment, a rival defenseman delivers a high stick to my face, splitting my lip. Blood drips onto the ice as I stumble backward. The referee signals a penalty, but the damage is done.
Undeterred by the bleeding, I clench my fists, "you think that's going to stop me? You fucking coward!" I almost scream to make sure that fucking asshole hears me.
The game continues, and during a power play, I push through the pain. I charge towards the net, ignoring the throbbing pain in my lip – the only thing on my mind is her and making her proud.
Fueled by a surge of anger and determination, I respond with a spectacular goal that secures the lead for my team. I skate past the jeering opponent, acknowledging the crowd's cheers.
As the final buzzer sounds, signaling our victory, I finally spot my girlfriend in the stands. My heart beats faster. A mix of emotions plays across her face, and I realize the significance of my performance. It's like no one else is around, just us and that is the only thing that matters. I keep eye contact with her, even when my teammates are cheering for me and I smile, even with that bloody lip – she smiles back and I want to kiss her so bad.
[ YOU ]
When I saw Chris' bloody lip, I almost lost it – the restraint within me, resisting the urge to jump in and shove my fingernails into that asshole's eye sockets, is beyond words. I was well aware they were deliberately provoking Chris; his simmering anger was very evident. The recklessness in his gameplay during the initial stages of the game made it even more obvious that he was more focused on what they said than the actual game.
I kept yelling his name at the top of my lungs, unsure if he could hear, but I desperately wished for his victory, especially after that intense fight. Witnessing him wince from the pain now and then, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
As he scored the decisive goal and secured the victory, I couldn't contain my excitement, jumping up and down. It brought back memories of our younger days when I always cheered him on during his games.
When all of this was over and I just stood there, I could see him looking at me. His gaze finally finds me in the midst of the crowd, and my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest. Everything else fades away, leaving only him in my line of sight.
I notice all of the team leaving, probably going to the locker rooms and I quickly head to the exit door.
In the dimly lit corridor outside of where the locker rooms are, he finally comes outside and spots me waiting there, my expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
"Hey," he calls out, his voice carrying a hint of both excitement and apology.
I look up, meeting his eyes, "hey," a subtle smile playing on my lips, "you played amazing out there."
Still trying to catch his breath, he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, keeping me close for a while. We are not saying anything, I just hold him close, my fingers buried in his sweaty hair.
"Thank you so much for coming." he whispers.
"I would never lose any of your games. Even when you're being an asshole." I smile, which I am sure he can hear when I'm speaking.
"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to put the blame on you. I just.. I am fucking jealous. I don't want any other guy near you." he keeps his voice as low as possible.
"Shhh, I know. Let's take care of that lip first and then you can apologise to me all you want." I pull away but he doesn't let go of course – I cup his cheek and take out some tissue that I keep in my bag for emergency with my free hand. I gently pat the skin, trying to clean the blood as much as I can without hurting him.
His eyes soften, "seriously, baby. Thanks for coming. I always play better when you're cheering for me."
I look up at him, my gaze softening as well as I cup both of his cheeks now, "I know. I am so, so proud of you. You were amazing, as always." I whisper, leaning in to play the softest kiss on his little wound.
"God, I love you." he whispers, wrapping his arms around my waist, hugging me close to him.
"I love you too."
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voltronisanobsession · 6 months
Text
There is no End | Luke Castellan x Reader
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A little idea I had, needed to right something angsty and toxic 😍💀
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“Let go of me, Luke!”
You stumbled and tried pulling your arm away from the blonde boy who continued yanking you forward. The bruising grip Luke had on your arm did not deter you from trying to escape.
You thought he only wanted to talk. Maybe apologize for everything he had done. As anxious as you were to meet up with the boy, you did nonetheless.
Why? Because he’s your boyfriend. Or was, at least. Never did you imagine the kind boy you once knew to drag you away from the camp grounds kicking and screaming.
“Luke, I’m serious! Let me go!” Your voice trembled with rage and fear.
You were far from camp, you knew that. But you didn’t know that you were so close to home too. You looked at the house in front of you, anxiety shooting up as you recognized it as your own.
How did you guys manage to travel out of state so quickly? And how were you home??
It was all too confusing for you. You were cold, upset, and scared. You wondered if anyone at camp noticed your absence yet.
“LUKE STOP!”
At last, it seemed the boy finally heard you after all your previous attempts. He stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into his side. You yanked your arm away and was surprised when he let go.
You stepped away from him, eyes tracing his blank face carefully. You knew if you ran, he’d easily catch you. Your eyes traveled down to the sword strapped around his waist.
Who knew, maybe he’d use that sword against you too. What was it called again? Backbiter?
Luke’s eyes stared off into the distance. It was like he wasn’t even mentally there in the moment. He had changed so much, you noticed.
He looked older, in a way. His face, no longer soft and sweet, was hardened from the past years of intense fighting. You knew he’d seen and been through so much since he had left camp.
His once bright blue eyes were now dull in shine. He looked towards you, eyes narrowed as he turned his body to you.
“Join the army.” Your jaw almost dropped in shock.
You stepped back agin. He stepped forward.
“You seriously kidnapped me from camp, take me to my home, just to tell me to join your army? Is this a joke?”
Luke’s face twisted in anger. He took one large step and stood no more than a foot a part from you.
“No, it’s not. Join our army, and I promise you won’t get hurt when the war happens.”
Hurt? War? You realized in the moment that this was more dangerous than you anticipated.
“Why should I join your army, Luke? If you forgot, I still remember how you betrayed us. Betrayed me.” You scoffed out, arms crossing in defiance. You weren’t going to let Luke have his way.
“Betrayed you? I’m doing this for us. For everyone who was betrayed by the gods. You should feel betrayed by them.”
Luke was now so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from the skin on his arms. He was angry and you knew it. Luke never got angry before.
“When have the gods and goddesses ever been there for you, huh? Your father? Why do you take their side when the only thing they’ve done is screw you and everyone else over?”
You stared up at him in shock. Was he really trying to use your father against you? You knew what he was trying to do, you knew it.
“Luke-“
“No! Tell me, when was the last time Apollo said happy birthday to you? Actually, tell me when was the last time you’ve even seen him?”
Your face scrunched up in hurt, your body trying to back away from Luke’s, only for him to wrap his hands around your biceps, stopping you from getting away. You gasped from the squeezing pain.
“He doesn’t care about you, y/n. None of the Olympians do. Why are you fighting for immortals that don’t even care if you live or die?”
Your eyes watered up with unshed tears. His presence was becoming too much for you. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t join? Oh gods, you were going to die.
“No one cares about you. You don’t matter to anyone. Not even your own mother-“
“Stop it, Luke! Don’t say that!” Your lips wobbled as you spoke, the tears welling up in your eyes and slowly falling down your cheeks.
“It’s true, though. You want to see how much you matter to her? Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”
Your heart leaped to your throat as the blonde boy began dragging you to the house you once lived in. Panicking, you began your game of tug and war against him again, but you weren’t as strong as he was.
“No, no Luke please! Don’t do this, please!” You sobbed out as Luke continued pulling you closer and closer to the house.
Once close enough, he shot you a look as if to say quiet, making you immediately stop babbling out nonsense.
You were hysterical at this point, your face red from your crying and sobbing. Your body shook as you tried and failed miserably to stop your cries. You continued crying even as Luke pulled you up to a ground level window of the house.
Luke grabbed your jaw to keep you from turning away from the window, forcing you to look into the house.
“Look Y/N. I said look.”
You sobbed as you did what he wanted. It had been exactly 5 years since you’ve last seen your mother. 5 years since she left you at camp and never came back. All the memories came flooding back immediately as you stared at the woman you loved so dearly.
She sat on a chair reading a book, the same way she always did when you were younger. The house looked the same way it did when she took you to camp all those years ago. Except something was different.
You began crying all over again, broken sobs escaping your body as you saw two small children run over to her.
“No, no, no.”
You gasped for air as the woman in front of you put down her book and picked up the young children, placing them on her lap as she smiled gently at them.
Your pulled away from the window, away from the house, and back into the darkness where you first began.
You didn’t even register Luke pulling you close to him, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The boy whispered sweet nothings to you as you slowly calmed down from your hysteria.
You sniffled softly as Luke’s whispers filled the silence of the night.
Your arms slowly wrapped around Luke’s body, head leaning against his chest.
“There is no end, Y/N. I told you, they don’t care about you. They never did.”
You sniffled again as your eyes stung with tears again. He didn’t need to remind you again. The boy then kissed your head, still hugging you as you got a hold of yourself.
“But I care, Y/N. I care so much for you. That’s why I want you to join me. So you don’t have to be alone again. I promise I’ll never leave you like your parents did.”
And you couldn’t help but believe him. The sincerity in his voice was hard to miss. The way he held you was the same way he held you all that time ago, when you were younger.
He promised he wouldn’t leave you. Your hands clenched around his shirt. You took a deep breath and unclenched your hands.
“Ok.”
Luke pulled away and held your face, eyes staring straight into yours. These blue eyes were the same ones you remembered staring into when you were at camp.
“Promise me you won’t leave.”
He gently kisses your forehead, wiping away your stray tears with gentle hands.
“I promise.”
You never returned to camp after that night, leaving many of the campers to worry and wonder what had happened to you. Little did they know that you had signed a deal with the worst monster imaginable, after he promised you he would never leave you alone.
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goldenwilliamson · 4 months
Text
keeping it casual | leah williamson
pairing: leah williamson x reader
a/n: inspired by the song casual by chappel roan - a must listen for all the queer girlies who have been in confusing situationships. it sucks.
summary: reader and leah become friends w benefits, but reader wants more. leah is very clear however on the fact that she wants to keep things casual. miscommunication, a little angsty, little fluffy, and little smutty (if you squint).
word count: 2000
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There was no denying your feelings for Leah. Of course you’d always been attracted to her, that’s how you ended up in this friends with benefits, no strings attached situation in the first place. However you had both made it abundantly clear from the start that you wanted this to be casual. You weren’t looking for a relationship, and from what Leah said, neither was she. It was casual sex, and that was that. Except now the lines were blurring between something casual and something real, and you didn’t know what to do about it. 
What began as late night hook ups has turned into essentially living in each others houses, sleeping in the same bed every night, driving to and from training together, and from the outside it would appear you two were in a happy relationship. Everyone could see the way you two lit up around each other. But everyone also knew that Leah didn't have a reputation as a monogamist, and that raised concerns among some of your team mates. Namely, Beth Mead who pulled you aside one day for a conversation that became much more serious than you had anticipated.
‘What’s happening with you and Leah, darling?’ She asked you and you smiled.
‘I don’t know, it’s all a bit confusing to be honest,’ you admitted, shrugging your shoulders. 
‘Y/N, you shouldn’t have to be confused. I really wish Leah would just grow up and be ready for a relationship, she shouldn’t be stringing you along like this,’ Beth said, and your defences shot up. 
‘She’s not stringing me along,’ you said bluntly, ‘This was a mutual choice, we both went into this wanting nothing more than something casual.’
‘But don’t you want more than that? I can see it in the way you look at her that you really have feelings for her. I just don’t want you to get hurt,’ Beth said pleadingly, surprising you that she would come to you to try and persuade you out of this situation with Leah.
‘I can appreciate where you’re coming from, but I’m a big girl Beth, and so is Leah. Whatever happens I can deal with, but for now it’s good. You don’t have to worry,’ you told her and she nodded slightly, though you could sense that she wasn’t convinced. 
The conversation ended there however, and you went back to training. That night when you and Leah went back to her flat, you wound up pressed together, trying to taste every inch of each other. While you rested your back against the headboard, Leah worked her magic between your legs, using her tongue in all the right ways to get you off. This is it, you thought, it’s just sex. But the way that Leah holds you and falls asleep with her face against your neck makes you think about your chat with Beth. Because not only do you want the obscenely good sex, but you want the cuddles, you want the late night conversations, and the waking up together. You want the inside jokes, and the stolen glances on the pitch. But deep down, most of all you want to know that Leah is all yours, yet that’s the one thing that you know you won’t get.  
When you woke up the next morning you brought it up with Leah, in a subtle way, deciding to tell her how Beth had pulled you aside. 
‘Beth doesn’t understand not wanting to be in a relationship, because she’s always in one,’ Leah had told you plainly. 
‘Yeah,’ you agreed meekly, not sure how to digest that fact that Leah was still telling you that she didn’t want to be in a relationship. 
While at the beginning you were on the same page, now her refusal to be exclusive feels like a knife in the heart. Because you had given Leah the best of you, and she still didn’t want to be with you, and that felt personal.
Despite all the feelings arising on your end, you two continued your pattern, living in each others pockets and sleeping together, but not putting a label on it. Now you were even attending Williamson Wednesday’s as you had dubbed it. The one night a week where Leah and her family all went round to her Nan’s house for dinner and board games. You had wondered what this meant for your relationship, regularly spending time with her family. In front of them she never tried to hide the fact that you guys were romantically involved either, she would gladly take your hand, or let her arm settle around your shoulders or waist, even steal a kiss. Leah’s own mother Amanda had praised you privately in the kitchen one night, thanking you for making her daughter so happy. And yet, her daughter remained certain that she didn’t want a relationship.
At this stage you were starting to feel disillusioned by it all. You started really questioning how on earth Leah could truly believe anything about your relationship was ‘casual’. 
It all came to a head one night when you were out at an event together. You two were ready to walk down the carpet to get photos taken and Leah had planted her hand on your lower back, initiating that you two would walk together. 
‘We wouldn’t want the press thinking we’re a couple now, would we?’ You said sharply, stepping away from her and choosing to walk first by yourself. You were tired of the mixed signals, and when you looked back at Leah you could see that you’d shocked her. 
When you got to the end and walked on through to the next room Leah came quickly to your side, ‘Have I done something?’ she asked in a low murmur.
You settled your rising emotions with a breath and then turned to face her, ‘I just didn’t think you would want to be photographed with me by your side, seeing as you’re pretty adamant about how you don’t want to be in a relationship with me.’ 
‘Woah, where’s all this coming from?’ Leah said, stepping back slightly and holding her hands up innocently. 
‘Forget it, let’s just get through the night,’ you say, putting it to bed for now. 
Instead of spending the night with Leah, like you’d want to, you let yourself socialise and catch up with people who you hadn’t seen in a while. However you mind never strays from the blonde girl who you’ve completely fallen for. You’ve tried to push your feelings away, and tell yourself to just enjoy it for what it is, but you can’t do it anymore. You decide to leave early, ordering yourself an uber home, rather than using the car organised to transport you and Leah. In the back seat the emotions overcome you, and the tears finally fall. You begin to process how much you truly do feel for Leah, and you start to feel like an idiot for allowing her to just use you for sex for this long. 
When you get home you can’t even bare to look at yourself in the mirror to remove your makeup. You just clumsily step out of your dress and crawl into bed, feeling lonelier than ever. Your pillows muffle the sound of you crying as your body shakes in the sheets. Hoping sleep will find you soon, you close your eyes and try to think about anything else. It’s no use but, your mind completely revolves around one person now, and the fact that she doesn’t feel the same way only makes you feel worse. 
After what must be about an hour of wallowing, you hear your front door creak open and close and the click of heels on your floorboards downstairs. You know immediately who it is and you keep your eyes firmly shut, trying to stable yourself mentally for all this to come to an end. 
You’re laying with your back to the door when she enters the room, her presence bringing with it an energy that never fails to fill you up with love and affection. 
‘Hey,’ she says gently, stepping closer to the bed until she kicks off her shoes and pulls off her blazer then crawls under the covers herself, wrapping her body around yours and holding you against her. The tears come again and you find yourself silently crying. 
‘Baby, please talk to me, what’s going on in that head of yours?’ Leah pleads, affectionately planting kisses into your hair as she runs her hands over your body. As much as you wish you didn’t, you relax into her touch, while your mind continues it’s internal battle about whether or not you should bring all this up.
‘I can’t do this Leah,’ you say, spinning around. She releases her grip on you and pushes your hair out of your face so she can see you properly. 
‘Can’t do what?’ Her eyebrows knit together and her lips are slightly parted, trying to process the night.
‘I don’t know why I let this go on so long,’ you can’t even look at her, because seeing her face makes you want to forget about how you feel and let everything continue as it has been. You roll your face into the pillow, groaning and wishing this could be different. 
‘You don’t want to be with me anymore?’ Leah echoes the information she is receiving back to you. 
‘No,’ your voice is muffled by the pillows as you make your admission, ‘I want to be with you, that’s the problem, because you don’t want to be with me.’ 
Leah examines you carefully, smoothing down your hair as she tries to find the right words.
She speaks slowly when she does, allowing all the words to sink in, 'Y/N, of course I want to be with you, I thought I was following your lead with this whole friends with benefits thing.'
'What?' You turn to face her as you remember all the times she made it very clear she did not want to be with you.
'I would’ve made you my girlfriend right away, but you told me you weren’t looking for anything serious. I want to be with you, I thought you were the one who didn’t want a relationship,' she says, shaking her head, realising how this was a serious error in communication from both of you.
'Are you kidding me? I thought this whole thing was on your terms, and it was just about the sex for you,' you say.
'Are you blind?' Leah scoffs, smiling, 'You’ve basically moved in to my house, you come with me to visit my family every week, I thought I was making it obvious that I want you to be a part of my life.'
You smile at yourself now, feeling silly for not having just had this conversation sooner, 'Why didn’t you just say something?'
'Because I was scared! You always seemed a bit off about it all, but now I can see why,' she says, looking you deep in the eyes like she is finally understanding you in a new way. 
'We both should have said something then,' you say and Leah nods.
'I can’t believe you would think I would use you just for sex, what am I, a man?' She says in sarcastic shock.
'You didn’t say otherwise!' You quip back. 
'Well I guess I did want to keep having sex with you, that’s why I didn’t say anything,' she shrugs.
'Me too,' you smile.
'But you know this is so much more than sex, even though that’s also really great,' Leah says, letting her hand rest on the side of your face. 
'It is for me too. I want everything with you,' you say, feeling like you’re stepping off a cliff, falling into a new part of your life. A life with Leah. 
'So do I. I love you, Y/N, so much,' she says and you eliminate the short distance between your faces, kissing her gently.
'I love you too,' you say, resting your forehead against her as you pull back. Leah closes the gap now, kissing you again, and again. 
‘So does this make you my girlfriend, then?’ She mumbles between kisses as your hands roam over her waist and thighs trying to take off her outfit.
'It better,' you say, not wasting a moment before connecting your lips back to her skin, just to make sure she knows just how much you’ve been waiting for this moment. 
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