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azrielbrainrot · 9 months ago

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

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You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

taglist: @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @less-chaotic-brain @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx

(for some reason I couldn't tag some of you. check your settings because you might have tags disabled)

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

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emmcfrxst · 2 months ago

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omg old man!logan with mom!reader and laura has me in TEARSSSSS i love them so much

he would never admit it because he's too proud but does get a little jealous when all your attention is on laura. it's nothing serious obv (who tf would be jealous of their child😭) but he is left with with a heightened sense of need for you and your touch. so when night time finally comes around, he's super happy to get you all to himself and just shower you with the love that laura showered you with during the day <33

(the concept of reader being both logan's and laura's favorite person to ever exist is so sweet aaahhhhh)

i’ve said this before i believe but something about laura really brings out logan’s inner child; he’s a lot more mischievous when she’s around, allowing himself to act like a kid and have fun— he’s provoking her on purpose (all in good fun, obviously! he wouldn’t say anything that could actually hurt her feelings, at least not once he’s gotten used to interacting with a child again, he’s accidentally hurt her feelings before by being a little too brash, but that was before he decided to make conscious efforts to let her in) and bickering with her any chance he gets, a grin on his face when she takes the bait and argues back (he’s not gonna lie, he’s pretty proud of just how vivacious she is, she does remind him of himself but he won’t admit that out loud) because he’s really never felt quite as youthful when he’s around her. they’re quite entertaining to watch honestly, because he absolutely will stick his tongue out back at her if she does it, and he will chase her around the house in playful anger if she insults him. he also likes to ruffle her hair when walking past her because she always lets out the most offended little yell, jumping on his back in retaliation and he walks around the house with her hanging off of him like a koala, despite the ache/discomfort the added weight brings him. he’s also the one who started using the nickname “monkey” for her, partly due to her most prized possession: a plushie you gave her (which i talked about here if you wanna read <3) and partly because she loves to climb pretty much everything she sees; including trees, doorframes, random furniture, fences and of course her daddy. anyways yes, since she brings out the youthful side of him he does allow himself to fight her for your attention, which quickly turns into a competition (honestly pretty much anything turns into a competition when it comes to these two, it’s kind of their love language) and logan isn’t afraid to play dirty despite the fact that laura is like 11— he will use his strength to untangle her from you, playfully throwing her on the couch away from you and grinning at her while wrapping his own arms around you, mouthing “my turn now” to her, making her look at him with the most offended expression ever seen on a human being. there’s never a boring moment with them, and you’re constantly showered in both attention and affection <3

#laura kinney x mom!reader #logan howlett x reader #dad!logan howlett #laura kinney x dad!logan #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine imagine #xmen fluff #xmen imagine #anonymous #answered #dad!logan x daughter!laura #old man!logan #old man logan x reader #old man logan fluff #old man logan imagine

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piratefishmama · 5 months ago

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Just ONE chance

Stephanie Harrington never intended to be a whole presence online.

She hadn’t even really understood the whole thing at first, it didn’t exist when she was a kid! An if it did it sure as hell wasn’t in every nook and cranny of the globe like it now seemed to be. Kids with iPads, hands glued to phones, six year olds who simply had to have the latest Apple thing.

It was all Dustin’s idea. King of the Gadget. Overseer of all things technology. Gargantuan nerd. Stevie’s little brother.

Not biologically, Claudia, Dustin’s mother had basically adopted Stevie when her own parents had tragically lost control of the wheel during a storm and wrapped their car around a tree back when Stevie was still a teenager. Back when Stevie was still Dustin’s regular babysitter and very suddenly found herself alone having been babysitting when the news reached her.

They’d been coming back from a business trip that she hadn’t been able to go with them on because of school. They’d been so close to home. She’d heard the sirens. They’d been that close.

It was fine though, in one fell swoop, yes she lost her parents, but she gained Claudia, and Dustin, and that was enough, because she sure as hell didn’t get anything else from them. It was all swallowed up, snatched away by her parents business partners because people are sharks and she just… wasn’t prepared to fight them on any of it, especially not when her parents had stupidly left her without a will.

Apparently they believed they’d live forever! The money vanished, the house was sold, she was left with nothing.

With growing up in the Henderson house, came choices, some great, some really stupid, and some that’d led to the very happy accident of Rosie.

To be fair to herself, she’d been in quite a long term relationship at that point! It was a happy one too! She’d thought he’d be it. Sure he’d been a lot rough around the edges, at the start, it’d been a shame cycle at the beginning since he was in fact, a colossal prick, but he was also the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Like, unfairly attractive considering his personality, and he knew exactly how to touch her to melt her icy resolve into a watery mess.

But once he’d gotten away from his dipshit of a father, his step mother dragging him with her when she escaped the man too, once Stevie had laid down the law of how little of the bullshit he’d learned from said father she’d personally tolerate before he’d get a boot out the door, he’d come around.

The racism had stopped immediately. The attitude had ebbed bit by bit as feelings set in, and he’d become a regular ol handsome teddy bear, he’d allowed himself to soften after he’d escaped the only reason he’d had to protect himself.

He’d even started getting along with his step sister, one of Dustin’s friends.

Then stupidity happened when they ran out of condoms, her cycles stopped, and three months in, two drunk idiots in a pickup ran a stoplight while he was getting her some ice cream. Doctors said he probably hadn’t felt a thing.

Rosie came along, a beautiful little thing, had her dad’s soft cheeks, his stormy eyes, thick dark lashes and soft curls, but she took after Stevie in everything else.

Stevie didn’t date after that. A personal choice really. She’d lost her parents, lost her love, and now she had a little girl to focus on, she was done. She felt herself complete! So what if she was still in her mid-twenties. Life had dealt her a hand, she was going to run with it.

Rosie would always come first, and she didn’t like explaining where Rosies father was, she didn’t like the look of pity on people’s faces, the apologies, the rinse and repeat cycle, and so she just. Didn’t bother!

It was easier! She had Rosie, she had her adoptive mother, she had Dustin, she had Billy’s sister Max and her other half Lucas, she had Susan, she had Robin, her co-worker and platonic soulmate from that dumb job at the mall she’d picked up to help Claudia with the bills, she had a whole support network, and she was fine.

Soon Rosie was in preschool, and then middle school, and the internet became a household thing, houses had computers, kids had phones, then smartphones, laptops, tablets, and suddenly the internet was everywhere and everyone had to be on it.

So there she was now. Mid-thirties, with a little girl, and a house paid for by her little brother.

Dustin had struck gold with a job at NASA, he’d put the downpayment on a little two bed house with a cute picket fence lined garden for her when Rosie was born without consulting her, just did it and “SURPRISE STEVIE, now get the hell out of mom’s basement, Jesus Christ.” Kept paying until it was all hers, and that was that… until he came round with computers and gadgets and then she had the internet because Rosie would need it for school because while libraries were awesome he’d had to suffer the five books at a time, Dustin rule one too many times and the internet had UNLIMITED books.

And now Stevie had a smart phone, and apps, and Instagram was fun! Doomscrolling the FYP took up chunks of her days off work while Rosie was at school! She never intended to be a name on there. She’d heard that people could become known for stuff, go viral or whatever.

She never intended to do that. She was a mother. Not even a hot young mom either. She was in her thirties! She remembered when the world didn’t have internet, she was there.

She posted work out videos, never having lost the competitive streak she’d always had as a teenager, sports were her thing back in high school, Gymnastics specifically, which led into cheering. She’d done some competition once with the team but nothing huge, she was fit, healthy, and the subject of many a thirst comment that she pointedly ignored.

She’d posted the occasional rant about Sally the PTA bitch with the self-proclaimed “best potato salad in the State” while doing her morning makeup, still never paying much mind to the comments section, the little rapidly climbing number that signalled followers, or the occasional DM from brands wanting to ‘collab’.

She didn’t care for that, she just wanted to post her little videos in peace. In retrospect, if peace was what she wanted, the lunch trend… probably wasn’t the best one to pick up. It was just a trend though! She’d seen a few moms doing it! Just posting little harmless videos online of what they’d pack their kids for lunch every day!

Harmless, fun! She loved making Rosies lunches, she saw no harm in sharing the fun!

They were always affordable, packed with healthy options, and creative too! She tried her hand at sushi, Rosie hated it, Robin loved it, so Robin got the sushi rolls in her lunches instead, picked up every morning when she grabbed Rosie on the way into work, they were both going to the same place after all, Robin taking on the music teacher role at the Middle school Rosie attended.

She tried noodle jars, cool wraps, made shapes and fun little animals out of fruit, she got creative, but they were all very cookie cutter videos, they all had the same vibe, similar content, it was something to fill her free time that she enjoyed so never in a million years would she have ever predicted that ONE of them, would cause so much chaos.

It started with the beeping.

The incessant pings sometime in the early hours of the morning. Notifications on her phone going off one after the other until she was forced to sit up, bleary eyed, and stare with squinted eyes at the far too bright screen of her phone, then she silenced it and went back to sleep.

With the chaos of the morning routines, getting Rosie up, washed, dressed, packed up for school, and out the door, she didn’t think about the incessant little beeping she’d silenced. It was a distant memory buried under the fog of a heavy sleep and continued to be a distant memory right up until Dustin appeared at her doorstep at around one in the afternoon midway through her afternoon workout, ruffled, stressed, flustered, and frankly just a little too sweaty.

He bypassed all niceties, as usual, bulldozing straight to the point, he pinpointed her phone, which sat comfortably on the countertop, seemingly oh so innocent, grabbed it, brandished it up as if to highlight its very existence and just “Woman, do you LOOK, AT YOUR PHONE?!”

Now, Stevie was not in the business of accepting a tone like that, especially not from her little brother. No matter how much he’d shelled out for the house, the attitude had to go. “Tone problem you little shit, fix it now or get the fuck out of this house and try again later.”

To his credit, he took a breath, and fixed it “Sorry, I’m sorry, but—look! Look at it, please, for the love of Christ, the internet is freaking out.”

“What?”

“Your video yesterday! The one with the like… teddy bear thing you did? With the rice an the—”

“Rosies lunch?”

“Yeah! Have you seen the comments on it?” Stevie rolled her eyes and went about picking up her things, workout sufficiently disrupted, she wouldn’t be able to pick that pace back up now. “Stevie?”

“You know I don’t look at those, people get weird on the internet, it’s like it gives weirdos the perfect place to be their weirdest selves and not in a good way.” She’d looked at them once, curiosity had gotten the better of her once upon a time and wound up having to ask Max what ‘OF?’ meant. She’d taken the win, let it momentarily boost her self-confidence, and decided to never look again. She was done with all that.

“Stevie, this time… one of those weirdos, is famous.” Since it was the age of the internet, Stevie regarded him with a look of disinterest, ‘famous’ could be anything, it could be some dweeb behind a computer screaming obscenities at a mic hooked up to some ridiculously overpriced gaming PC for likes. It could be a podcast bro with half a brain cell kicking its long since dead other half, it could be—“rockstar famous.” Dustin clarified. “One of the guys from that band I like? Corroded Coffin, they just—” he swiped the phone, letting out a soft scoff as the screen just flicked to life, no security pin to be seen of course, no matter, he’d probably berate later, he had a video to find and—“Ah-hah! Look!” and a phone to once again shove into his big sister’s face.

“That’s not even my video!”

“I know! They took the comment down already, but it’s EVERYWHERE, look!” Someone had screenshots. It wasn’t just one video covering it, Dustin scrolled, another popped up soon after, someone getting a little too excited about what was probably the most unfortunate of accidents.

“Don’t they have like… I dunno, people running their accounts? A person? Maybe their internet person just forgot to log out of that account?”

“No! Eddie runs it! The guitarist? Eddie Munson, he usually runs it all himself so everyone thinks it’s him, AND—AND LOOK!” Dustin clicked on the Corroded Coffin’s account, then tapped on the most recent post. Just a big black square, with the word ‘Whoops’ in big bold white lettering, captioned ‘I regret nothing. Just ONE chance, sweetheart, just one.’ With a little prayer hands emoji. “He’s ASKING you out!”

“He’s being a freak on the internet” hands found her hips, the classic mom pose. Immovable, stubborn.

“He’s always a freak! But he’s really cool! He does like, Make A Wish stuff, and—and visits children’s hospitals dressed up like fantasy characters, and he runs DnD things on the account every few months an he’s just REALLY cool, I mean they’re all really cool but Eddie is really cool maybe—maybe you could—”

“Upend my life, Rosie’s life, for a guy I don’t know, who has a job that takes him all over the world, who probably has his pick of whoever the hell he wants so what exactly could I bring to the table to keep him around? I’m done with all that shit, Dusty… I had my time, I have Rosie, I have everything I need. What makes you think I’d even like him?”

“You liked Billy.”

“Get out.”

“No, wait, not like that, I mean, they’re the same! Well, okay, not the same, Eddie didn’t start out a giant prick an he’s never been racist, but they’re sorta similar, similar music tastes, shit fathers, he’s rough round the edges, lil scary looking sometimes but he’s just a big softie when you get past the whole, scary dog thing. Eddie’s like… if Billy never had a shit dad. I just think that maybe… if you looked him up, maybe you’d… I dunno, you’d like him… maybe he’d be your kind of guy… maybe you could finally find someone who appreciates you… you’re not supposed to be on your own, Stevie.”

“Yeah well, I’m not. I have Rosie, and Robin, an you guys… an y’know. Bob.”

“Bob?” One of her patented looks told him all he needed to know, he jerked back in revulsion “ew! God! Fine, could you just! I dunno, look him up or something? Just think about it, I swear he’s really cool an I’d—”

“You’d love free tickets to their next concert.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Alright then, nice to see you Dustin. Always a pleasure to have you round, please get the hell out of my house.”

“UggGGGGGHHHHH, STEVIIIIEEE!!!”

“Uggghh, DUSTIIIIN! You interrupted my work out for internet pervert nonsense.” She began shooing him toward the door “Shoo, shoo. I have a family sized bar of chocolate to work off my hips before it gets stuck there.”

“He’d love your hips! With the addition of chocolate bars or not!”

“Weird! Out!” Out the door he went, it closed behind him.

That of course didn’t stop him from yelling through the door, “Just look him up!! I promise you won’t regret it!” But she mostly ignored him, until he went away.

Mostly because… Dustin never spoke up in favour of men before. He’d even gone through a period of hinting at maybe just switching sides and dating Robin when he found out Robin was a lesbian, but both women had promptly shut that down every single time he tried bringing it up.

He wasn’t a huge fan of men.

He’d been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d had a strong female role model in Stevie who’d pushed through every trauma life had thrown at her, he had Robin, he had Max, Jane, Erica, he had Nancy his friend Mike’s older sister, one of his friends had also been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d been surrounded by strong women his entire life with only one real solid male figure.

And that was his middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. Which was kind of sad when you thought about it.

For him to really vouch for a man, it meant something! It wasn’t something to ignore, even if every instinct Stevie had told her to just. Leave it. What kind of man could a rockstar lifestyle have created. What kind of red flags could Eddie Munson be hiding that Dustin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see.

Did he really even mean it?

Was it actually Eddie, and not someone else from the band? Would she be seen as foolish for even entertaining the thought? It wasn’t like she’d ever paid attention to the bands Dustin liked, so surely nobody would see her as a weird fan for thinking about it, right? She didn’t even approach him!

He approached her!

Shit like that didn’t just happen though. Or did it? Could it? Was she stupid to even entertain the thought?

Before she knew it, it was time to pick Rosie up, and she hadn’t even finished her work out. it was fine, her hips could handle a chocolate bar. For now. Its days were numbered.

#Piratewrites #justonechancefictlet #Part 1 of 4 #Rosies dad could have been ANYONE but i thought this would be fitting #Steddie #Fem!Steve Harrington #Stephanie Harrington #tw: past character death mention

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ddarker-dreams · 6 months ago

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BRILLIANT fucking idea: SR reader insinuating/offhandedly admitting… she has never been intimate. everyone hearing it like 🧍🏾‍♀️ how do you mean. idk j the flustered bashfulness of suddenly being like “wajt wait if im her bf ,,, im her first love”

SCREAMINGGGGG

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

Giorno is a bit strange because he almost wishes he had a predecessor to analyze (and completely outshine). He isn’t disappointed per se, he’s not that weird, but having more study material never hurts. Positive relationships are foreign to him, since he’s been distant from others most of his life. He got along with people well enough — he just preferred his own company. Now that he’s had a taste of your company, he’s keen on making it a lifelong occurrence. Overhearing this admission has him wondering if traditional courting methods don’t do much for you. Or, more realistically, that they go over your pretty head. He's witnessed you interpreting the gang's flirtations as platonic. Consequently, he gives considerable thought to ensuring this isn't a fate that befalls him. Corny as it sounds, his new dream is to stand beside you as your husband. He's chasing this goal without abandon.

Bruno

Bruno feels immensely guilty for eavesdropping on a conversation involving something so personal, but he couldn't help himself. An immense weight feels like it's been lifted from his shoulders upon learning you haven't gotten romantically involved with anyone before. This relief is followed up with sharp self-condemnation — as your leader, he shouldn't get involved with your personal affairs. Maintaining any professional distance is difficult though, especially when you're so likable. People are naturally drawn to you and he's no different. That's why this revelation comes as a surprise, albeit a good one. He tells himself he'd be happy for you if you loved someone else... however, deep down, he knows the regret would eat him alive. He struggles to concentrate the rest of the day. His mind keeps wandering back to thoughts of you, specifically, finding solace in one another’s warmth. The most innocent thoughts make his heart flutter, the man is smitten.

Fugo

Fugo almost renounces his atheism — perhaps there is a God after all. Then he's reminded that you're completely out of his league, submersing him back into the Nietzsche headspace. His self-esteem isn't the best, so the way he looks at it is if no one else was good enough to catch your attention, what chance did he have? It's a miracle you even put him with him. He's blunt, stubborn, and easy to agitate, yet you're one of the few people alive who don't treat him like a ticking time bomb. When his initial pessimism dies down, he fantasizes about you getting flustered by things like a first kiss. It's a cute mental image. Would you fidget? Accidentally bump heads and apologize? Get sweaty palms? Before he knows it, he's invented an entire storyline in his head. It's mushy enough that he struggles to look you in the eye the next time he sees you.

Mista

Mista pretends he knew it all along, as if the Pistols hadn't kept him awake multiple nights, speculating over your relationship status. The little fellas held full-blown debates. Since he's a chill, go-with-the-flow type of guy, he wouldn't have turned green with envy had he learned you former lovers. If they brought you happiness, who is he to hold it against them? Regardless, he can't deny his budding excitement. Should you reciprocate his feelings, you'll experience all your firsts with him. Those initial milestones are the moments that stick with people throughout their life. It's your first kiss in particular that he'd like to have for himself. He intends to sweep you off your feet — literally. It's got to be like those old Hollywood flicks he grew up watching, or what's the point?

Narancia

Narancia has to stop himself from audibly cheering. The multiple abandonments he underwent in the past has him latching onto the few people remaining in his life. This includes you, naturally. You've brought him so much joy, the risk of losing that, losing you, it's a fear that eats away at him. He worries that if you had exes, you might compare him to them and determine he's subpar. Then he'd be cast aside like trash as he had been multiple times before. These insecurities nourish his possessive tendencies. Learning that he has no exes to fend off is a great relief because he would've defended you viciously. It isn't until later that he daydreams over the more innocent implications, like being your first (and only!) boyfriend. He gets so preoccupied by the thought that he walks into a few walls.

Abbacchio

He's actually surprised to learn about this. He considers using Moody Blues so he can hear the entire conversation, but decides against it, believing it to be an intrusion of your privacy. Abbacchio's of the opinion that to maximize your happiness, you should find love outside of Passione. He wants that for you, and yet... his heart physically aches whenever the possibility crosses his mind. What's the alternative, then? Would he make for a suitable partner? He finds the mere possibility laughable. Your brightness would be engulfed by the gaping maw that is his existence. He considers this an empirical truth, not some 'woe is me' sentiment. Ultimately, anytime your love life (or lack of one) is brought up, he distracts himself, so as not to fixate on his shortcomings.

#giorno x reader #bruno x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #part 5 x reader #vento aureo x reader #scarlet ribbons #my stuff

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neonovember · 1 month ago

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I have a sort of angsty hurt to comfort idea for Carmy 😈 Okay but Claire coming back into his life and obviously you’re both dating, but maybe sort of feeling a little bit left out and feeling guilty for feeling a little insecure because you know Carmen’s loyal and Claire seems like a lovely person. Not saying anything because you obviously want him to be happy and you know there’s a part of you that’s being irrational. But THEN, maybe for whatever you also personally know Luca! Perhaps from something work related or had mutual friends and then maybe getting back into contact with him through Marcus and really hitting it off with him and having a respectable normal healthy friendship with him, but Carmy’s on the side going “What the cinnamon toast FUCK is this”. And it culminates in an argument which ultimately leads the both of you to opening up and discussing boundaries and airing out insecurities, and just being super vulnerable and communicating with one another

Love and War (I)

warnings; claire, arguing, threats of violence, anxiety, my writing

i had like 4 different versions of how this story was supposed to go, hope you enjoy the one i finally let see the sun

a/n: yeah...so shit hit the fan and kind of derailed my life for 6 months. I hope you will forgive me, i feel like an absentee father. (part two will be posting right after i swear!)

divider by @firefly-graphics

You aren't jealous.

You have never experienced the slimy green devil in any of your past relationships, so you shouldn't feel it now.

Your mind isn't fond of what it should feel however, and instead, you feel a burning ache begin to burst through your chest as you watch Carmen nod excitedly at Claire in the Beef’s front dining space. It disgusts you, how this feeling wraps around your heart like sludge. You've been trying to focus on prepping for the new menu, gathering different ensembles of compotes and sauces, but your eyes always finds it’s way back to them.

And her.

Claire had burst into Carmen’s life seemingly out of nowhere, and it took one exchange between you both to know it was different. Claire had something you didn't with Carmen, a past, and the discomforting feeling of being on the outside looking in was all that blared in your mind the past few weeks since her appearance.

It wasn’t like Claire was rude, no that would have made this feeling easier to bear. She was nice, for god sake. The only person in Chicago who it seemed had not yet gotten all their goodness sucked out, and she had to have been Carmen's old friend. And a friend was all she was, so why did you- why are you jealous?

She knows him better than you do.

You shake the thought out of your mind so furiously the container in your hand spills onto the cutting board. You weren't going to go there, not when Carmen hadn't done anything wrong.

You wanted him to have friends, to broaden his circle from beyond just the Beef and Sugar, who you made sure to point out didn't exactly count. So you should be happy, ecstatic even, that he was able to reconnect with someone that had known him for so long.

But she had known him for so long.

And you know you're being irrational and hypocritical and you know you can’t own someone else, but maybe there was a part of you that liked that you had him all to yourself.

Carmen was different. To your other relationships, your other friendships, everything. You and Carmen danced around your feelings for so long that when it exploded into heated kisses and confessions of love one night after a dazzling dinner service, it had already felt like you had been with him for years.

And Carmen was devoted to you, he sang it into your skin every chance he got. It was just that those chances had begun to dwindle day after day the more Claire came around, until you had begun to detest the sound of her name leaving his mouth.

Steeping your fingers in cold water, you wipe them hastily no your aprosn before making your way over to them both. Fixing your face from quivering lips into a tight smile.

You wipe your messy hands in your apron, steeping your fingers before making your way over to them both. Fixing your face, you pull your quivering lips into a tight smile.

“Hey, Claire. How are you doing?”

“Oh hey! Good good, Carmen was just telling me about this cool hole in the wall down 85th.”

“Ruth’s Bar?”

“Yes! That’s the one. They really do saffron popcorn there?” Claire replies, eyes bulging.

“Yep, mix it in with a little alcohol and then pour it into the butter. Entertainment is almost too good that you forgot about how amazing it smells though”

“We should go out some time!”

“Definitely. Carmen, were you alright with Thai tonight?”

“Oh” Carmen replies, scratching the back of his head

He forgot.

“Yeah, sorry hun I promised to take Claire to-”

“This new fusion place! I saw it online and Carmen offered to take me.

You voice pitter and curls as you gulp down the innate urge to reply with a deadpan ‘What?”.

“Oh. Ah- okay. What’s the place?” You reply, your voice on the verge of shaky as you blink through Claire, watching to see if there was any semblance of guilt in Carmen.

There wasn't, he was taking her out on a night reserved for you to. As if they hadn't spent nearly everyday together, as if Claire hadn’t imprinted her ass on the bar chair’s sharing pieces of things you never could with him.

“It’s called Route Creale?” Claire replies, excitedly, obviously to the sour expression on your face as she butchers the name of the restaurant.

“La Route Créole” You correct, almost unconsciously.

Practiced from the amount of times you had excitedly to Carmen about the Trinidan-French fusion place, looking through the menu together, huddled over your cracked phone screen in the early morning in your bed. Listing of dishes and dishes that made you squeal in delight.

You had told Carmen how bad you wanted to go, how bad you wanted both of you to try it together, and instead, instead he takes her.

He takes her.

“Easy, not everyone has spent months as the head Poissonnier in Port Of Spain” Carmen jokes, head tilting as you stammer, eyes focused on the floor.

“What the hell is a Poissonnier” Claire replies giggling

And as Carmen clarified to her, gripping her arm as he rambles on the importance of the distribution of fucking cooking stations your mind kind of skips.

It falls over itself like a misshapen piece of the sidewalk. Your eyebrows are screwed and you're looking at Carmen looking at Claire. For a second you are confused, wholeheartedly and entirely confused to the very marrow of your being. Who was this person in front of you? It couldn’t have been your Carmen.

Your Carmen who wrote you letters left on food packages and stuffed in your locker. Your Carmen who would follow you around like a lost puppy, enthralled by your every move. Your Carmen who sung you to sleep in horrible drunken renditions of “Livin on a prayer”.

Jesus he knew every part of you, every inch of yourself like a road map, forks and branched roots across your skin. You hug your mid section tightly, fingers digging through the cotton of your button chef shirt.

No, no. Someone must have come in and taken his face, his clothes, his mouth.

But he smells like him, the same deep scent of cocoa and burnt cigarettes. You could press your lips to his, but you don’t know if he’d like that anymore.

You know when someone is slipping away, you’re not one to guard your food like a stray dog. And no matter how hard you want to sink your teeth into him and not let go, you don’t have a choice.

The squealed sound of Claire rips you from your reverie, and your eyes shoot up to catch her grip Carmen's shoulder, her head tilted back and eyes squirmed shut in laughter. The ripple of jealous rage that bursts through every limb in your body causes you to subtly turn on your heel, rushing out of the suffocating stench of betrayal.

Fingers digging to unlace your apron that feels as if like a vice around your chest, unheard to the inquisitive shouts of Richie and Syd, until you hear the slam of the backdoor behind you.

Your leg jitters as you walk around in circles, grinding your jaw as visions of Claire and Carmen flash in your mind. Fisting the washcloth in your hand till your knuckles turn white, you stuff your face into it, masking the scream of festered anger that rips from your throat.

You’re pathetic, you don't get to feel jealous. Carmen would never even think of it, of betraying you. But he also wouldn't have taken the very restaurant you had been gawking at for the past month and taken someone else to it. Right in your face.

You don’t know if he even noticed your abrupt disappearance, your eyes shift to the door, waiting, hoping. Ears perked up at any sound of rushing footsteps to come find you.

Angry tears gather at the waterline when all you hear is the rumbling traffic behind you and the flutter of shrikes above.

You’re not jealous, you’re fuming

You hate it, no, you hate him. You seethe as you're forced to sit in it pushing the adoration and love you have for him to make room for it in your mind. It takes over, overcrowding your brain till you can't hear anything else, where even the buzzing of your phone is unregistered till your thigh begins to itch.

Oh god you told him about those times before, you told him. And he had wiped your tears and kissed your eyelids, damning your past boyfriend who had left you forsaken.

Wiping a hand across your face, you reach down to grasp the metallic slick edges. And the image of Luca flashing across the screen stumps you frozen till it rings out. You hadn't seen him since Denmark, in fact it had been years.

The ping of a text shakes you from the memories of spending months on boats and pastry kitchens in Copenhagen, the gray bubbles appearing on your screen.

“Gonna be in Chicago for a bit, wanna test out if your Mille-Feuille is still up to standard?”

You want to say that you answered Lucas' text in that brief moment out of genuine curiosity. That you would have wanted to see him whether Clair had uprooted your life with Carmen either way.

But you’d be lying to yourself.

The slight drizzle drips down your screen phone, muddying and blurring the Lucas texts till you have to wipe your shirt across it. You hesitate though, you think the blurred messages between you both absolves you of guilt. That it was as if you were lookin through pane fogged glass. But you slide your hand across the screen and it brightens to your eyes, defying every word between you both. You want to see Luca, Carmen had no hesitation when it came to Claire, oh no, he wouldn't think twice before spending the day with her.

Days like today, where you would usually be posted up in Carmens old beaten leather couch, the cushions weaning under your weight as you ate rice steeped in coconut milk and kung pao on plates.

It’s tradition, or it once was. So much of what you held close to your heart had been left to ruins, maimed and disfigured. Pulled from under you when you had thought it sacred, you should have expected this, it was too good. You’ve stewed in your deprecation look enough till it turned bitter, outpouring harsh streaks of anger from your heart instead.

You helped Sydney finish up the last of the next evening's desserts, waving her off with a smile when she had asked about your sudden departure earlier. She ignored the way your hands shook, and you reached for your things and rushed home before she could prod further.

You felt dirty.

Like Carmen was replacing you slowly, out from under you. Did he think you were too stupid to realise? You don’t want to imagine the things shared between them, and yet you do. Scrubbing your skin raw in the shower does little to scratch the memory of them out of your mind.

You’re resting on the edge of your bed, clutching your towel as you look towards your closet. Phone in hand at Lucas' text inviting you to dinner at his place, you turn Carmen’s picture on the dresser face down before reaching into your closet, and pulling out a dress you had forgotten existed.

When you slide the silk fabric onto your body, it feels anew. Like you were a different skin. It flutters at the edges of your calf, long and rich in colour in elegance.

Your hair is left in its natural state, running some products through with your fingers till the sticky crème is gone from between your knuckles. Carmen always loved your hair this way.

So did Luca.

Your time spent in Copenhagen didn't necessarily involve Luca, not at the start anyways. You were reviewing foods around Denmark, a long awaited food tour you had begun saving for before culinary school, and had made a pit stop at a weathered bakery.

It wasn't on your repertoire for your trip, in fact you had thought nothing of it, a transitional spot to grab an espresso and maybe a danish. It had seen better days. The wooden doors stained and creaking as you passed through, inside though, inside was as if you had entered the warmth of someone's heart and soul. Delicate paintings and familial photographs hang on the walls, low lamp lighting, a built-in fireplace that defrosts your fingers wedged in your coat pocket.

The most strange and endearing thing, however, was the bar attached on the same counter as the paned glass display of baked goods. In all your time in food, you had never seen a bakery that doubled as a..brewery? Distilled barrels hitched atop the caramel coloured walls, jugs and glasses perched atop the counter. You weren't necessarily a drinker per se, but the thought of filling your stomach with liquid heat pushed you to shut the door behind you and set your things on the bar counter.

“Now what makes someone as sunny as you walk into the most haggard bakery in all of Copenhagen?” A Brooklyn lilt voice calls from the small entryway into the back kitchen, a tall blonde man wipes his hand on a dishcloth, the tired features of cooking for hours you know to well etched on his face.

You stand right in surprise, you half heartedly expect the embodiment of Hagrid to walk out, and instead New York came bustling through.

“You sure you aren't lost sweetheart? Lookin’ for Noma?”

“I’m told I can get a pint of something hard and dry with my croissant” You murmur, cockling your head to the side “Or does this fine establishment not know how to laminate dough?”

From that moment on, you had spent almost every day in Denmark being guided to the “actually” good food spot in the city. You wanted to deny it, holding your list of restaurants and bakeries you had died to try since your trip to your chest like a rare jewel.

But God did those alleyway Frikadeller’s taste like religion. You wanted to fall to your knees and pledge your devotion.

Still, after you had draine the last of your savings on cider and meatballs your craft was calling to you from the States. Luca had told you things you had not even read in the mountain of textbooks and ‘Pastry 2’ tutorials you were assigned as a student, marveling at the intricacy of pastry and the world of dough.

He had mentioned a Chef he admired, one he wanted you to meet yourself. You wondered all those months who could have bested Luca.

And then you met Carmen.

Time and distance had feathered the brief but all consuming intimacy you and Luca shared. It wasn't like you had shared a bed together, no, it was far more deeper than that. You both shared the unraveling layers of your joint obsession;

Food.

It tethered you to each other so finely that even now, after years of no contact, you knew you would fall back into the same rhythmic dance you once had those years before.

It shakes the nerves from your body when you finally rack your knuckles against Luca’s restaurant door.

“Comin, comin, don’t break down the door” Luca’s silky voice laments from deep within the restaurant, before the iron door opens and you’re met with golden streaked hair and a wine stained apron.

“Why is it that every time I see you, you've got something stained on your face” You smile

“It’s the Lucas charm, what can I say” or “Oh please, you eat whatever caused those stains.”

“You say this now, but you’ll be praying to these stains when you taste you’re menu tonight” Lucas smirks

You chuckle shaking your head, before Lucas pulls you into a hug

“4 years and you still smell the same”

“You know I'm a women of routine, like the same bottle of perfume and my eggs-”

“Over easy, yeah yeah.”

“You know me so well!”

“No I just can’t get the smell of sunflowers from out my nose even years later”

“I paid a pretty penny for it, it should be fucking ever lasting”

Lucas shakes his head in a smile, and flashes of stomach pained laughter in pebbled alleyways and chef’s kitchens lights up your mind.

“What are you doing over here Luca?”

“A friend who works in restaurant business asked me to help get one of his locations up and runnin’ in Chicago” Luca replies

You follow him through drywall and scaffolding poles, catching the beginnings of the seating area as you observe the paint swatches on walls . The menu does always comes first.

“And this is you up and running? Conducting mini-master classes for old friends” You joke

“Mhm, don’t think we can classify ourselves as old friends just yet. It was just yesterday the last I saw you.” Luca replies in ponder

“Right, that must be all the gas fumes from looming over sauce pans for eons going to your brain. You do know nobody forced you to make that 36 hour long creme brulee right?” You tease

Lucas fights a giggle as he remembers the dish he had slaved over two nights, “And that sauce earned me a damn near Michelin Star.”

“Yeah, you probably should've been awarded a Nobel Prize for that” You admit, leaning against the stainless steel table counter of the central kitchen.

“Heard you started working with Carmen, he's good isn't he?”

The brick that had begun to dislodge from your throat slips back in, gulping down an uneasy breath as you give him a tight smile.

“It’s wonderful, he's really something” You murmur, thanking the gods that Lucas was too busy rummaging around the fridge to notice your features melting into malice.

“I wanted to keep this a secret, but who am I kidding. Come, I wanna show you something”

Lucas comes over, rolling your eyes as he makes you take off your coat. Hes eyes skim down your figure fast enough for you not to notice, but you feel him linger gently grasping the cotton of you fleece before hooking it onto a door handle.

To your surprise he pulls out a crisp chef apron, nodding with wide eyes as you stare at him baffled.

“Do you think my text was a joke? C’mon I know you, you would've been sitting there working yourself up not being able to get your hands dirty”

You chuckle sheepishly as you agree, cooking was your life. Even if you had gotten out of a 24 hour day you’d still sore your bones over a good meal. Especially with Luca.

You walk over to him, noting the papers scattered on the table counter and a laptop opened, the light streaming in. It’s opened to a leasing site, a run down appliance store who’s store wide sale had begun peeling off the windows.

“What's this?” You murmur, confusion in your voice as your eyes jump over the listing description quickly

“This is a home furniture store”

"Yes I gathered that from the block letters Luca, what does it mean?” You look over Luca whos grinning widely at you

“You know this used to be an old mill factory? The ones they'd make 7 year old work 20 hour shifts on?” Luca continues

“Have you turned into an anthropologist? Is this what this is? You takin’ a career change this late in the game old man?” You tease.

Luca doesn't laugh, he doesn't even roll his eyes, he just continues grinning ear to ear. You’re suddenly afraid he’s body has been tossed in a dumpster in Frederiksberg and this is his body double.

“It was practically a bakery, sweets. Who better than me to bring it back to its roots?” Luca replies finally as you were considering the best option to escape through the fire exit

You’re stumped before it dawns on you, Luca is gonna open his own bakery? Restaurant? You weren't clear as to what it was going to be exactly but you knew by the look of excitement on his face that it was his.

“You and goddamn rundown buildings” You shake your head, as Luca looks at you with a stupid smile, you can't help but let out a laugh.

“Tis only right I tell the person who saw me sweating in that furnace heated bakery in Denmark daring. It’s fate, and you know it” Luca replies

You chuckle, before bursting in excited laughter, oh you were so happy. You were, it had been his dream, to bring back some of heart that had been left in that flour room when he had come back to the States

You grab his hands, holding them tightly, reaching for his face and jaw and bringing him to your chest with adoration.

“Oh Luca, really? You did it?” You grin and he gazes down at you in sheepish resignation.

“Already put down the payment. Drained half my bank account so I’m going to have to DIY the architecture, and just engineer structure of the place but I dont care.” He chuckles

“Who cares about structural support when they taste that 36 hour creme bulee huh?” You chime, teasing.

You let go of his face but he grabs your wrist tightly,

“I want you to join me.”

You heart stills for a second, and you don't know if its the rush of nostalgia or the anger over Carmen that fights over your tongue to say

“Yes”

“I know you've got a good thing going with Carmen, and it won't interfere with that-”

Luca stammers before stopping abruptly, raising his eyebrows in confusion at your reply. He cocks his head to the side

“It’s fine, I can leave the Beef and help open it up with you”

“Woah woah wait a second, I didn't say leave Carmen-”

“That DIY job isn't going to be a one man job, besides I’m not that valuable there really, just help around here and there. Carmen could do without me to be honest, one less person to pay ya know? It's fine really” It your turn to ramble incessantly, slipping the resentment against Carmen and Calire through your jumbled reply

“Yeah? Is that why you're balling your fists?”

You look to Luca, whose eyes zero in on your shaking hands. You put them behind you quickly, self conscious as you bite your lip.

“You and I both know when you’re runnin’ from something. You really think you can hide things from me of all people?

“You don't want me working for you Luca? I just said I’d leave what I'm doing to do this with you”

“And I want you too, but I also know it's been a dream to work with someone as talented as Carmen”

“Yeah real fucking talented”

Luca looks at you, squinting his eyes

“I’ve talked to him you know” He murmurs softly, eyes still strained on you

“What?” You scoff, shaking your head

“And the way he gushes about you tells me enough. He damn near sounded like he was going to jump through the phone and ring my neck after I had told him I knew you before. The way he says your name? Tell me you're not just an employee, and the menu I’m hearing all around the city? Lavender and hazelnut? Lime and pistachios? That's all you. Even if you don't know it, you've imprinted yourself into that place and every dish Chicago is raving about” Luca replies, and his voice is low and his eyes are wide as he looks at you can’t not ignore him.

“I know you don't give up easily, and I’m not trying to play mediator, but just- think on it okay? You're going to be a part of this, that is certain. But you're a part of a lot okay? Being the head sous chef is nothing to what they’d make us do back in New York and you know it.”

You're about to bite back a reply before Luca raises his eyebrows, as if he's already as an onslaught of resorts to everything you have to say. You resign yourself to the fact; Luca knows you damn near better than yourself.

“Okay, I’ll think on it. Having you suffer a little without me is a nice image anyways” You reply, rolling your eyes as you tighten your apron.

Luca chuckles as he shakes his head, motioning you to help start making your dinner.

The sounds of sizzling pans and braised meat left your stomach full and your heart heavy hours later. The heated argument you had with Luca seemed hours ago when you both had let the food bring you back into synchronization.

You both sat criss cross on the unfurnished dining room floor, a plastic tarp underneath you both as you gorged yourself on duck, potatoes and cheap wine. You regret ever hesitating meeting with Luca, and you suppose you should thank Carmen for that.

Luca knows it's weighing heavy on your mind as he eyes you across the kitchen, wrapping up some leftovers for you. You shake your head as you gaze at him, giving him a reassuring smile that you know he doesn't believe.

“If it all goes wrong you know you can come to me, anytime anywhere” Luca whispers into your ear as you fall into a tight embrace.

“Getting pretty tired of running my whole life Luca, god I just want to rest.”

“Then let yourself”

The uber comes and you kiss Luca goodbye as he bundles you into the backseat, the shower earlier has now filtered into a slight drizzle and you watch the slow rain drops glide down the window languidly.

You didn’t want Carmen to be home when you arrived, but the thought of him being out with her this late had you gritting your teeth. You didn't know what you wanted.

taglist

@hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @parmforcarm @nolita-fairytale

#neonovember #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #angst #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy #neowrites #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 3 #requests

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jarofstyles · 5 months ago

Text

Leather & Lace 2

Hello my loves! Leather and Lace 2 is now yours. The next and last official part is available on our Patreon early, but I’m willing to write some more for them if you guys want 👀 they’ll be classified as ‘extras’ but oh well hehe

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Leather & Lace masterlist

Warnings- possessive H, kind of a dickhead

WC- 3.7k

Things had shifted between Harry and Y/N.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect after she’d blown him, but she didn’t make it awkward at all. If anything? They were more comfortable around each other. Harry was less nervous to touch her, pulling her into his side as they sat on her new couch the next day or adjusting the hair from her face when the wind got it stuck in her lip gloss when they’d met for lunch. The way she reacted to his touch was much more noticeable to him now which made him feel particularly chuffed. Y/N was important to him before, but it seemed like the intimacy had elevated them to a different level.

It had only been a week since the night at her place where she’d given him the best blowie he’d ever received, but they hadn’t done much else. They had cuddled in bed that night, kissed a little bit, but he hadn’t had a chance to get her truly alone and it was driving him nuts.

Y/N was popular and she had a lot of activities she liked to do. Paint n’ sip classes she helped run, volunteering at the library, at the animal shelter, helping her new neighbor with her cat, on top of her own workload. The closest he’d gotten to alone time with her was when she arrived at his place on wednesday to climb into his bed and pass out, which she’d done with a smeared kiss to his lips. She’d been asleep once her head hit the pillow.

He’d gotten to see her out quite a bit as he was often wrangled into helping her. He used to pretend to be grumpy about it and huff and puff when she’d pat his head but he hadn’t even tried to do that this week. Instead he let his touches linger and watched her smiles grow, happy to get a few seconds to hug her before she had to move on to something else. It had been driving him out of his mind, and if they didn’t have the promise to go back to her place tonight he may have lost it.

House parties weren’t something he particularly liked, but when Y/N called him on video chat and gave him her puppy eyes while asking him to help her set it up for Sarah, he couldn’t say no. He did like the other girl well enough and he knew how crazy Y/N was about birthdays, so he’d given up his friday night to the whole surprise party.

Though he wasn’t feeling very generous with Y/N’s time anymore. For the first hour of the party he’d followed her around and lingered in the corners to make sure she was okay as she chatted to people, but this observing really did him in. She was so fucking perfect.

It hit him again how much he actually liked her. The whole experience was odd considering he hadn’t considered being in a relationship in this point of his life, content with hooking up and never seeing the other person again, but that was pre Y/N. Now that he had her in his world, it was hard to imagine himself with anyone but her. Sure, she was his opposite in a way, but they attracted. That’s what all the books and movies said, anyways. He want content just observing her, ignoring mostly anyone else who would come up to him or give them one worded answers with his eyes on his girl, the pretty little butterfly fluttering around the room.

The feeling had been so unfamiliar that the first time he’d felt it, he’d thought it was heartburn or something.

Harry had already admired her before but it was a whole other level seeing how much she tried to make other people feel seen. She gave them attention, smiling and listening intently before gracefully getting her exit out only to be stopped by someone else. How a woman like that had been into him enough that she’d wanted to blow him and keep him around, he had no clue. But there was no taking it back, and he was feeling greedy.

Cornering her in the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at her as she looked at him with a giddy smile. “M’tired of sharing your attention.” he said it simply, placing his hands on her hips and backing her into the quieter corner. She squeaked as her back hit the wall, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as he loomed over her. “Barely got a lick of your attention all week, and m’not happy about it, pet.” His lip pouted slightly, the ring on it glinting at the motion.

She frowned, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I know it’s been really busy, H, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to help people out.” She sighed, watching him look over her face. The girl looked a little tired, which he didn’t like.

“I know you do, sweets, but you’ve got t’learn how to tell people no. You’re spreading yourself too thin and you barely have a moment to breathe. Yeah, m’greedy for your attention but I don’t like the idea of you being tired and running ragged because people ask you t’do shit. They know you’ll say yes.” It actually did piss him off. He didn’t think everyone had malicious intent, no, and he knew Y/N was a big girl who could handle herself. But sometimes he had to wonder why they were so comfortable asking such big things of her.

“I do like to help, though.” She tried to protest but really couldn’t, because he was right. She was bone tired and despite her bubbly nature, she had been deflating slightly as the night went on. Their weekend together was the reprise they got to have where she knew she’d have time to breathe. Selfishly she liked that Harry was able to be blunt and a little mean. He wasn’t to her, but his protectiveness of her really showed.

“Yeah, but it means I get less time with you. And m’a selfish man, Y/N.” Tipping her chin up, he lowered his face towards her. “Not to mention you’ve been too busy to let me properly fuckin’ kiss you. Like your little pecks darlin, they’re cute, but where’s the kiss you gave me with my load on your tongue? Hm?”

Y/N sputtered, whining at his dirty mouth but he could tell she liked it. Her eyes had widened but she had no real heat to her scolding, instead leaning into him a bit more. “I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you like that.” The admission followed a beat of silence.

“Always want you to kiss me, are you fuckin’ kidding?” He grumbled. “Can’t jus’ give me the best blowie of my life and fuck off. Didn’t let me return the favor which m’dying to do, but even more you’ve been keeping this mouth from me. Don’t like it one bit.” His thumb brushed over the plump bottom lip, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head. “S’a fucking shame. Can’t get how good we tasted together out of my head. Not trying to pressure you if you don’t want to do that stuff, you can tell me to fuck off but.. I don’t think y’want me to.”

“No, I…” She stumbled over her words. “I do want those things. I just didn’t expect you to talk so dirty.” The tilt of her lips gave the clue that she liked it. “I didn’t want to assume it meant more than just that even though I wanted it to and - oh”

His mouth cut her off. Catching her off guard her lips opened a little bit, letting him be selfish and slip his tongue into her sweet mouth. Humming at the taste, his arm leaned against the wall as he held himself over her while the other kept her jaw angled the way he wanted it. The kiss was just like him. Intense and hot and a little sweet at the end when he pulled back and pressed three more pecks to her lips, rubbing his nose against the side of hers. “None of that shit. Meant a hell of a lot to me, silly little thing. Want to do it all the damn time. So you’re gonna have t’take it easy with giving all your time away, hm? Think I need some more of your help soon… and maybe…” He released her jaw to slide his hand to the back of her neck, massaging it just a little. “Maybe you’ll let me help you, hm? Someone’s got t’take care of such a sweet little thing. It isn’t fair.”

“H-Harry.” She felt her cheeks getting hot. Harry’s attention had always been intense and maybe that’s part of the reason she’s been so busy this week. Anxiety over being truly alone with him again in case he regretted it, if he didn’t like what they did and didn’t know how to let her down easy- but this was the ideal, she thinks. Regardless of how much he flustered her, or how he was the biggest energy in the room, she found herself preening at the attention he gave her. “It meant a lot to me too.”

Her hushed voice made him smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss between her brows. “Good. Can we get going, then? Or would y’let me lick your cute little cunt in one of these bedrooms?” Did he say it just to watch her squirm? A little, but only because it was really fucking cute.

“We can go. I’ve just got to say goodbye to some people.” She sent him a shaky smile as he nodded, pushing off the wall to wrap his arm around her shoulders. It was a new feeling for her to feel so… claimed. They had been around each other pretty consistently for a while but she could feel people looking, considering Harry was usually the victim of her clinging to his arm instead. Open affection wasn’t something anyone had seen from him, let alone with a girl that was so clearly different than him, but something about that made her giddy.

Harry was impatient in general, but he tampered it down as Y/N said goodbye to the people she knew here. It was just in her nature to be a polite little flower, floating around the room to wish everyone a good evening. Her manners, oddly enough, aroused him. He liked seeing her be so sugary sweet and knowing that it was 100% genuine. It was even more nice to see considering he’d had a glimpse of what a bold and filthy girl she could be. The blowie the night she’d moved in had completely taken him off guard and let him know then and there that her innocence wasn’t all encompassing. She had some shadows to her, and he planned to see how full they could extend.

His arm was around her as she said goodbye, merely nodding when people acknowledged him and not bothered when they didn’t. All that mattered to him was they were polite to her- though one of the guys had been a bit too bold, especially considering he was right fucking there.

“Her eyes are on her face, not her tits.” He said lowly. “And if you’d like t’keep yours, I suggest you remember that.” There was no full aggression, only a promise that he intended to keep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d go at someone for her.

Thankfully the prick flushed, muttering apologies before dashing away so he could use this as an excuse to get them the fuck out of there.

Harry didn’t love parties. He didn’t like lots of people. He went for 3 reasons only, and they depended on the night. To get a drink, to get a fuck, or for Y/N. Though now he supposed he’d have an excuse for not going to many others. The plan was to keep Y/N to himself and not have to deal with the people he’d fucked around with not getting the hint even after he stated what he wanted. For once in his life he wanted one person and one person alone, and she was under his arm.

To his surprise, she didn’t say anything about his snarky reply to the guy they’d last said goodbyes to, instead leaning into his side as they approached his car. It was a bit nippy outside and he knew she ran cold, so he’d remedy that quickly. “C’mere.” He sighed, picking her up and placing her on the hood of his car. Stripping his flannel off, he motioned for her to splay her arms out, helping her put it on. “Wasn’t too bad when you left but it’s a little too cold out for you now, hm?” His voice was softened as he stood between her knees, face level with her as he slipped his hands under the new layer.

“I never remember to grab a sweater.” She admitted, smiling shyly as she felt palms running over her back. This was different. The whole thing was, seeing as Harry’s treatment of her had considerably softened up. He’d always been nice to her, don’t get her wrong! He let her sit on him and mess up his hair and hold his arm but… feeling him be the touchy one for once really made her feel… validated? Appreciated? She wasn’t sure of what the right term would be, but she felt like he liked her more than she had originally thought. “Who’s place do you want to go to?”

“Hm… maybe mine. I just did a grocery shop. I know you’ve been busy this week, so I don’t want to go and mess up your place.” Y/N would be a bit unsettled if it got messy and he was planning on seeing what exactly he could get her to do with him.

It had been circling around his mind the whole week, how he wanted to make it up to her. How he wanted to take her properly and feel her cum around his cock and his tongue and his fingers- anywhere he could get it. He was a man starved, pathetically so, but he didn’t have any shame in it.

“Okay. I like your place.” It was the truth. He had a nice place in her opinion. It was bigger than her own, but not cold. Darker in aesthetic, brick and dark colors and richer patterns. She’d helped him make it nicer after she had seen the state of it the first time, a real bachelor pad that made her worry for his comfort. Thanks to the sweet girl, he had a much more comfortable sectional couch, a coffee table- with coffee table books, no less- and some art. She’d helped pick out his bar stools for his island in the kitchen, too. Little bits of her were all over his place, but that’s how he wanted it to be.

“I’d hope so. You helped make it.” He snorted, tugging her closer to him so their centers were flush. The silence happened again, this time a little heavier. “I missed you this week.” The sentiment was repeated as he dragged a hand from under the warmth of his flannel and brushed the hair out of her face. The breeze hadn’t been much of a help. “I sleep better when you’re around. Know I like to give you shit and call you a needy pup, but I love it when you’re like that.” Tipping her chin up, he sighed as he observed her soft features. The slope of her nose, the mascara on her lashes that had flaked just a little bit, the slightly faded lip stain. He couldn’t imagine not being obsessed with her.

“I’m glad. I used to think I was a little annoying to you.” She admitted, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I was so busy. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Historically he’d get grumbly about it but he understood- and she’d usually pop over or invite him to her old flat.

“Course I mind. Not that you have stuff to do but you overwork yourself and…” licking his lip, he debated on whether or not to say it. “Was just hoping that you weren’t avoiding me, is all. That I didn’t make you uncomfortable last weekend.”

Her heart clenched in her chest as she saw his eyes dip to the side, for once in his life showing a bit of vulnerability. Harry never seemed anxious about much, his general setting being a blank stare or a smug smirk, so it wasn’t something she saw often. Sometimes when he was drunk he’d get a little mushy about things but he hadn’t had much, if anything tonight. “No. Of course not. I initiated it, remember?” Her hand lifted to his face, the skin slightly cool from the night air. “I wanted to do it. I promise. If I was uncomfortable I’d tell you. Listen…” adjusting slightly, she caught his eye. “I feel the most safe when I’m with you. Sure, sometimes it feels like I’ve got a guard dog, but I feel really secure. I know you’d never hurt me, you always are so careful with me even if everyone else thinks you’re all rough and tumble… I know you and I know you’d only even touch me in ways I like. I really was busy, but I was just nervous you’d regret it too.”

Harry’s brows furrowed at her admission. While he was over the moon that she always felt the safest with him, he had no idea why she would think he’s regret it. “Never. I just kept thinking about it. I wanted to do it more. I don’t regret anything, and I feel like I’ve got t’make sure you know that I don’t think of you as one of those quick fucks.” Even if she hadn’t said it, he was sure that was a thought that had lingered around in her head. That was his reputation and he’d be stupid if he didn’t know better.

“I.. I never thought of it as that, no, but I wasn’t expecting commitment.” She admitted back, eyes wide as he looked into his own. It squeezed his chest, the idea of just being with her sexually. That wasn’t what he wanted.

“No. I want commitment.” He said lowly. “You aren’t just a fuck to me, Butterfly. Not in the slightest. I fuckin’ adore you, y’know that?” He sighed, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip and tugging it slightly before letting it snap back into place. “You’re my girl. You’ve been my girl for a while. I’ve jus’ been a bit of a pussy in trying to initiate anything because the last thing I wanted was for you t’think that you were just someone else I went to bed with. M’tired of that.” All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with her at night and feel her kissing him in the morning or watch her sleepy little face as she dreamt. All the fluffy, mushy shit he used to feel sick from were the exact things he craved. “Couldn’t get it up for anyone else after a while. I was only able to thinking about you and… after a bit, I had no desire to be around anyone else. They didn’t smell like you, didn’t sound like you. My cock was set on you and I think my heart wants to follow.”

Y/N had to laugh at his last words but also in shock. She’d heard herself at the beginning of their friendship how he’d scoff at the idea of a relationship, made fun of the romance movies she liked, heard about him disappearing at a party for a bit before coming back with messy hair and swollen lips, sometimes a fly undone. But slowly that had stopped, if she recalled. The hookups, the snarky comments about love. It dwindled. Snark still existed for other things but he seemed to be more lighthearted around her. “You… you want like, a relationship with me?” Her eyes rounded at the thought.

“I’d say don’t act so surprised, but I get it.” He had to admit that, a smile on his face. It surely was a lot for her to process, considering it still had him in a tizzy and he’d had months to work over these feelings. “Yeah. Want you to be mine. M’not good at sharing, though, so you’re gonna have to tell some of these people that you have a boyfriend that wants to love on you a bit when they demand your attention.” There was another pause as his ears turned a bit red. “If, if that’s what you’d want, though. I don’t want to rush you into a label or anything, m’fine with jus’ figuring shit out but I’ve thought of you as mine for a while and-“

Her hand pulled him to her, shutting him up with her lips.

The man, for all his dark demeanor and rough glances, melted under her touch. Hummed into the kiss in surprise, cupping her jaw and reciprocated immediately as her hands went to the back of his neck to hold on to him. That giddy feeling in his stomach was buzzing as she giggled against his mouth as he chased it when she pulled back to get a proper breath.

“C’mere.” He mumbled, nudging their noses. “Lips are cold. Don’t be cruel, little Butterfly.”

Y/N couldn’t have that, could she? “Sorry, boyfriend.” She smiled against his lips, pressing them right back where they belonged.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #opposites attract #harry styles au #harry styles fluff

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wanderingsoul6261 · 6 months ago

Text

I'm Sorry

credit for gif goes to userbeaufort

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: Y/N doesn't come from a rich family, but is close friends with Lydia, but absolutely despises James. She eventually comes to terms with her thoughts and makes amends with James. Was it worth it in the end though?

warning: just a few swear words.

should there be a part 2 to this?

Y/N wasn’t quite sure how she had come to hate James. She just knew that she did, regardless if he was Lydia’s twin brother or not. Maybe it was his arrogance, although it didn’t make much sense to her after some thinking, as most of the students at Maxton were of the arrogant type. She had previously thought about hating him for who his father is, but she also knew how their father treated them and knew that it probably was not a reason to judge or even hate James for. In the end, she had just thought him to be an asshole, and figured that that was enough reason not to like him, because he was an asshole.

With this in mind, Y/N never treated him fairly, but to be fair, he never did the same for her either, as he hated her just as much as she had hated him. The two were never particularly nasty to each other, but they definitely weren’t nice to each other.

If they ran into each other in the hallways of Maxton Hall, they scowled at each other, sometimes even flipping each other the finger. They would have small arguments here and there, mostly about what they thought of each other, or what they had assumed that they thought of each other. The two of them believed what they wanted to when it came to the other person, only because they wanted to fuel their hatred for the other.

Lydia had kind of almost found it funny and amusing. She knew that the two of them technically had no reason to hate each other, but still did. Maybe they didn’t like sharing her. Lydia had always snorted when that thought appeared in her mind, but she thought that that wasn’t quite it. In the end, Lydia herself couldn’t come up with a logical reason that they couldn’t as to why they hated each other.

They hated each other with no rhyme or reason and that was that.

However, it was only a matter of time before Y/N started to rescind her hatred for James. After spending so much time with Lydia, Y/N had gotten the chance to know about James and why he was the way that he was. Lydia told her stories about what they would do as kids, and how over the years, the two had managed to stick up for each other. It didn’t matter the situation. Whether it was familial ties or Lydia’s situation with Sutton. The Beaufort twins had each other's back.

Y/N had paid some mind to the stories, but it wasn;t until she started to experience the softer side of James that she finally agreed with Lydia that maybe James wasn’t all that bad.

Y/N had visited the Beaufort manor enough to see Lydia to begin to see what she was talking about. Unless Mortimer was around, James had pretty much become his own self. At Maxton he worked to uphold his image and keep it. At home, he could relax. Y/N watched the interactions between the two twins and enjoyed seeing them in their best moments. Although they didn’t laugh much, short chuckles were heard and smiles were given.

Just once, She could have sworn that as James smiled at some boring joke his sister made over dinner, his eyes glanced over at her. Maybe she had just imagined it, but what she didn’t imagine was the flutter in her stomach at the thought of it.

From there on, her feelings and thoughts towards James had slowly begun to change, which had brought her to where she is now.

She was now striding across the lacrosse field towards James, where he currently did sit ups. Y/N picked at her fingernails, slightly nervous, her eyes glancing at him. He had yet to notice that she was advancing on him. His eyes were trained on either the sky or the ground, depending on what position he was in during his set of sit ups.

Then he stopped, sat up, and turned to look at her. He rested his forearms on his knees.

“And for what misfortune can I thank for this visit?” he asked, blinking a few times. James gave her a not so pleasant look. Y/N was silent for a few seconds. Her eyes fluttered as she stared down at the ground.

“I’ve come to apologize.” Y/N stared back up at him. James stood up and turned to fully face her. He showed a slight surprised look on his face. “You know…” She trailed off. He raised an eyebrow, but he had patiently waited for her to speak. “I’ve never really had a specific reason to hate you. And I want to apologize for treating you in the way that I have been, because it’s technically not warranted.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I don’t hate you.” Y/N finally admitted. The two seemed to freeze at that moment. It was almost as if she surprised herself by saying it and that he was surprised that she had said it at all. Then he pouted.

“So no more flipping each other the bird?” He pretended to be sad, and Y/N had smiled.

“I mean, if you are used to the routine of it, I’ll do it still. But it won’t hold any meaning to it other than to make you happy.”

“You, making the attempt to keep me happy? I’m flattered.” James flashed her a smile as she started to back away.

“Flattery. Boosting your ego. Call it whatever you like.” Y/N took a few steps back, knowing she should probably be heading home, a small smile still adorned her face. The two were silent for several seconds. “Are we good?” She asked. The corner of James’ mouth quirked up.

“Yea.” He said, quietly. “We’re good.” Y/N’s smile grew a tad bigger, before turning around and starting to walk away. “Oh, and Y/N?” She paused momentarily, turning to look back at him.

“It’s only my ego you can boost.” He winked, and Y/N flipped him the bird, resulting a smile from the both of them and she put more distance between the two of them.

—-

Over the next few weeks, the two seemed to grow closer and closer, however, being Lydia’s friend and not exactly coming from a rich family, Y/N tried to keep it hidden. It was hard too, considering everyone went to school together, but they had made it work for the most part. However, Y/N still felt that it was unfair to Lydia, considering that she was her friend.

Of course, her and James never confirmed anything, but if there was a possibility, she would hate for it to happen under Lydia’s nose. If anything happened between her and James, it could be detrimental to their friendship.

But now here were Y/N and James. He had bailed on attending the event for the Young Beaufort line and had instead switched places with his sister. He met up with Y/N at the donor gala, where they had danced, before ending up underneath the hall in which the gala was taking place.

They had turned on the power, but even after it was back on, the two remained downstairs. They stared silently at each other, tension, albeit the good kind, filled the room. It was only seconds before the two pushed themselves against the other, locking themselves into a sensual kiss. James took a few steps forward as he kissed her, physically feeling Y/N melt against him as his hands rested on her waist while hers sat in his hair.

When he had pushed her up against the wall, one of his hands rested on the wall next to her and the other tangled itself in her hair.

Then Y/N felt the guilt. Lydia wasn’t even here. She wouldn’t find out, but she didn’t even know about the two of them and what they were doing. Y/N couldn’t do this. Not too Lydia. This wasn’t fair for her.

Y/N pushed James off of her, guilt written across her face. He stared at her, confused. Did he go too far? Was she okay? He went to open his mouth, but she had stopped him.

“I- I’m.” She paused for a few seconds, swallowing thickly as she looked everywhere but his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

And then she was gone, racing up the stairs and out of Maxton Hall, leaving James to wonder what the fuck had exactly just happened.

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#james beaufort x reader #james beaufort #maxton hall #maxton hall: the world between us

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dinogoofymutated · 7 months ago

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Uhhh, so can I request something about Wolverine where both he and reader have a crush on each other but he won't show it and she is too afraid of rejection to confess, however, when Xavier sends reader to talk to Wolverine about their mission, she walks into his room and finds him top topless which only frustrates her more and leads to Logan noticing that and taking his chances to check her feelings 😓 Ahem you can make it NSFW according to the last thing I implied to 👀 hopefully this is not too out of character but I really crave any content about this man 😓😓😓

Also excuse my language if there are any mistakes, English us not my first language 🫡

SFW! Wolverine/GN!Reader

This is such a good prompt!! I hope this does justice for your vision!! Also- don't worry, your English is very good!! Hope it's okay that I implied NSFW instead of wrote it out explicitly. I didn't quite have the energy to get that far 😭

TWs: not many. Miscommunication. Reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned.

Anyone around the mansion could tell that something weird was going on between you and Logan.

You were always really jumpy and nervous around him. You'd squirm and fiddle with your hands when sat next to him, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else. You could be quick to lose your temper at him sometimes and you clearly dreaded training sessions with him. Most people just thought you hated the man, but the one time Jean had seen a peak into your mind she certainly knew the truth. The professor probably knew too, to be honest.

You were hopelessly pining for the man- But you'd never, ever confess to him. He was in love with Jean. He had been in love with Jean for years. There was no chance he ever had feelings for you. So- instead of facing these feelings, you had a bad tendency to run from them. Being around him made you jittery and nervous, sitting next to him made your heart beat crazily and you had a short temper with him because he was always running headfirst into danger. It didn't matter that he had a healing factor, you didn't like that he was endangering himself like that.

Logan, on the other hand, was always stoic. He treated you like any other X-man or friend. It didn't matter how his heart fluttered around you or the heat that rose to his cheeks every time you did something particularly attractive, he wasn't exactly an expert in love. He certainly had a hard time showing it. What he did notice though, was the change in your demeanor lately. You had been acting so strange, and it's gotten to the point where you'd straight up leave the room when he would enter, and he was frustrated. Logan was starting to get fed up with your newfound attitude, and despite Jean's gentle nudging, he certainly wasn't going to tell you what he felt for you. What he thought about you. If anything, It would give you more of a reason to hate him.

You had been successfully avoiding Logan for a while, having been in a particularly good mood today. That was until the professor pulled you aside and asked- well, told you to brief Logan about the upcoming mission. Your heart immediately dropped into your stomach. You, alone with him? In the same room? The professor was tasking you to dive into your own personal hell- and there was no way he didn't know that! All he did when you began to complain and make excuses was smile knowingly at you.

You swore that you had dissociated the entire time you had been walking to his room. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to be here, you didn't want to talk to him. Nope! You were absolutely dreading it.

You Knock three times. After a second of silence, you already find yourself overthinking your knock. Was it too loud? Too quiet? Maybe he could already smell it was you, and is just ignoring the knock so he doesn't have to look at your stupid flushed face-

"Come in." Okay, So, not that. You open his door slowly, not wanting to seem too eager to enter. You're looking down at the paperwork the entire time, mouth already running with the time of day everyone would be leaving, Which suits to wear, where you were going. You don't even look up until after the door has already been shut.

"There's a few more factors that need to be taken account of when we manage to get a better survey of the location but-" You yelp when you look up, greeted by a shirtless Logan, clothed only by a low-hanging pair of gray sweatpants. You're quick to cover your eyes, face burning from a mixture of embarrassment and... well, something else.

"For the love of god, Logan!" You gasp. You can hear Logan chuckle at your reaction, and the action lights a spark of anger inside of you.

"The least you can do is be decent when you invite me in!" You snap at him. He huffs a little at the change of tone, meanwhile you're trying your absolute best to forget how you practically saw everything in those sweatpants. You hear him take a few steps forwards until he's standing so close you can feel the heat from his body.

"So what? You've patched me up before. It's not like you've never seen me naked." Logan sounds annoyed, and you feel guilty for your reaction for a moment. You sigh, shaking your head.

"That's different." You say. Logan hums.

"Is it really?" His tone is teasing, and you almost feel humiliated. He's making fun of you. Of course he was. You were absolutely hopeless.

"Look, Just forget it. Take the damn papers and read the brief yourself." Your eyes are still closed as you slam the papers into what you think is his chest and try to turn to leave, but Logan grabs your arm. He doesn't even try to pick them up as he grabs the top of your arms, keeping you from running away as he walks you backwards.

"Look, I get that I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, but ya' never had a problem with me before. What's happened?" Logan's words start out rough, but if you didn't know any better you'd think that there was a little vulnerability leaking into his tone. You gasp as the surface of the cold door hits your back. You keep your eyes firmly shut, still not willing to open them and look at him. You didn't want to see his face, worried that you'd blush even more or he'd manage to figure it out- if he hadn't already. He'd just make fun of you. He wouldn't take you seriously. Would he?

"Nothing. Nothing has happened, happy?" You say, nerves creeping into your unsteady voice. It's hardly a lie, nothing really happened, but Logan had a habit of stiffing out dishonesty. He growls, and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"Don't lie to me. You can hardly look me in the eye." Logan growls. You scoff at him.

"That's not true!" A blatant lie, and you were sure it was obvious. Still, part of you was hoping he'd simply let it go. You should have known better, because everyone under the sun knew that Logan was one of the most stubborn men on the planet

"Prove it. Look at me." His words make you hesitate. You frown, not wanting to give in. Unstoppable force meets unmovable object- but with every push you feel your nerves start to go shot. You were anxious, flustered, worried- you just wanted it to all be over. If you just opened your eyes, it would all be over.

"Open your eyes, doll." You can feel Logan's breath fan across your face, and in the mix of shock, you finally open your eyes. Logan is so close to your face you can feel his breathing. You hardly know where to look, face flushing red as you blush as the close-contact. You get nervous when you make eye contact, gaze flittering about from his nose, to his ears, his sideburns, and to his lips. You must have let your eyes linger there for a little too long, because Logan starts to chuckle at you. You feel the sting of embarrassment. Logan sees something in your face shift, and knowing you'd just pull away again, he takes a shot in the dark.

Logan kisses you, and you have no clue how to respond to that at first. You go wide-eyed for a moment, but his hands let go of your arms and wrap around you and you cant help but melt into the kiss. He's a good kisser. I mean, with years of experience, you knew he would be. But getting to experience that yourself gave you a whole new perspective to it. He cups the back of your neck as he draws you in for another kiss, again and again. You're breathing hard when the two of you finally separate, Logan being mostly unbothered besides a small smile and a red tint to his cheeks.

"All that drama, and it's because you had feelings f'me. Heh." -is the first thing he says. You gasp, offended.

"Oh-shut up. S'not like you're any better than I am." You frown, sliding a hand around the back of his neck to yank him closer. "Seriously, you weren't exactly dropping hints." Logan chuckles again, Before hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. You yelp as he does so, getting flustered when you realize that you could now feel everything that you had been trying to forget seeing earlier.

"I'm kissing you now, aren't I?"

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #wolverine headcannons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett headcannons #logan howlett

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marvel-snape-writes · 13 days ago

Note

I humbly submit a request for: heavy breeding kink Severus.

Cursed into Temptation is so well written, and the way you captured him as desperate and repressed with a need for dramatic release would just fit so well.

I hope this inspires you, but if you aren't comfortable writing it then that's all good too. ^-^

I hope you are having a nice day/evening :)

Claiming What’s Yours

Severus Snape x original female character

7.1k words+

18+ smutty Snape of the breed-kink kind 🤭

Thank you to whoever requested this! I hope I’ve done it some justice and I’m especially nervous since this is the first breed-kink fic I have ever written in my life 🫣🤣🫶

For the longest time, Severus Snape didn't believe he should allow himself to feel the amount of pleasure he had experienced over the last few weeks. Falling for the new professor only a few months back was something he never expected, but the way they had gotten to know each other over most recent weeks was something he expected even less. He would be the first person to admit how nervous he felt at the beginning, how hesitant he was to give himself over to the way she made him feel, but in this short amount of time he also couldn't deny she had brought the side out in him that he had repressed for all these years. He had gone from feeling nothing for anyone to absolute infatuated obsession for her, and she was more than happy to oblige; emotionally, physically, sexually.

Desire was not a feeling Severus was particularly familiar with prior to meeting her, though he would be lying if he said it wasn't 99% of what he felt now. The constant urge and need to be near her, touch her, claim her as his own literally any chance he could get. She helped him discover more about himself than he knew before he met her. There was a time when he couldn't even entertain the idea of being alone with a woman in that regard, but now he was having a hard time thinking of anything but. He wanted her, needed her, so much so that he now found himself constantly consumed by the idea of forever being inside her. She audibly loved the way he throbbed each time his entire length slid all the way inside her with absolute ease, and he loved the feeling of her squeezing around him when she just couldn't take the pounding of his hips anymore.

It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed the intimacy at the beginning, but the last few weeks had been unlike anything he could have imagined. It all started when they had got so lost in one another one night that they hadn't even thought about using any protection. They had attended a Hogwarts ball and been kept apart for the majority of the night, occupied by different people wanting their separate attention, but they couldn't help devouring each other with their eyes each time their gaze met across the room. The door to his chamber was barely even shut after them stumbling through it before they were desperately tearing clothes off one another’s backs. Grunts and heavy breathing radiated off the walls, hands flying all over each other, and they didn't even make it to the bedroom. The kitchen table, the counter top, and the wall were just a handful of surfaces they found themselves pressed against or bent over, held to each one by the pinning of desperate hips. Fingers frantically skimmed over skin whilst teeth clattered together from the urgency of their kisses; the desire in their bellies aflame like never before. In all the excitement and whirlwind of their craved release, it had completely slipped their minds to use any form of contraception. Before they even had time to think, Severus was plummeting his hips directly into hers completely, without any barrier of protection, without even a safety-netting spell put in place, without a care in the world for the consequence. The fire that ripped through him as he reached his climax was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was clear that she reciprocated the feeling, but it was only after the panting between them both had calmed down that they had realised why; there hadn't been a single barrier between them, not a single thing put in place to prevent a pregnancy.

It was the constant chase of that pure release that started it first; the knowing that they could only feel like that if they were to risk conceiving again. Then it was that; the risk. They both knew and had admitted previously that they did not wish to have a child, but the danger of this drove their passions even more wild. However, it wasn't long after that, that Severus’ appetite for lust changed; the knowing that she was allowing, even begging at times, for him to release his sticky climax inside her in full knowing of the consequences both good and bad — good being that they could feel every pulse and clench of pleasure they caused one another, and even the once bad being that they may end up with child was now growing less and less of a burden — was driving him insane. To know she trusted him enough to have her this way made him feral. To have at one another like two animals in heat made him feel god-like, and to be this close to her with no barriers between them was becoming even more of a want, even more than a need, it was becoming an obsession. Every time he saw her, his mind was immediately riddled with how they could sneak away to their closest option; a classroom, a potions closet, anywhere to just have their way with one another, and as the days went by, they acted upon these urges like they were ticking off some sort of sex location check list — each place more obscene than the last. Their eyes would meet across a corridor, a hall, or a classroom, and they would both know exactly what the other was thinking; when and where could they do it again?

Today was no different; his need for her was so strong that last night’s rough tumble in the sheets were almost a distant memory. They had crossed paths in the corridor earlier, Severus reached out his arm and purposefully brushed their fingers together, earning a faint smirk as she looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes fell upon a closed potions cupboard door and allowed his mind to drift to what they once got up to in there before and how he would do anything to have that right now. Even brief moments shared like these, especially when not knowing he would be seeing her again, sometimes left him wondering whether he should just lock himself away in his chamber, a potions closet, or even a staff toilet cubicle and get himself off so he could go about his day without the constant craving for release on his mind. However, nine times out of ten he would be won over by the knowing that to save it all for her would satisfy his desires much more; he went with the theory that he more he pumped into her, the more likely she would be to have his child, and to create something now as a result of their burning passion and want for one another would fulfil him more than he could ever begin to explain.

Severus spotted his chance for a brief few moments in between classes and immediately took the opportunity of approaching one of the older students, “Go and tell Professor Lillywhite that Professor Snape wishes to see her.”

The student obliged, as many would, afraid of the snide remarks they would get if they did otherwise, unless they were one of his beloved Slytherin students, of course. Severus walked back into his Potions Classroom and closed the door behind him, exhaling quietly as he began to put away the items that had been left out from the lesson before and muttering to himself about how lazy some of the students were at tidying up after themselves.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” A spine-tinglingly familiar voice broke the silence as his door opened.

“Will you ever stop addressing me like so?” Severus turned around with a brow arched.

“I thought you said that whilst we were at work, we should address each other as—” She felt herself blushing as Severus came closer, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Ah, but there is a momentary pause between classes at present,” He dipped his head to whisper into her ear and kissed it lightly, “Is there not?”

“Fifteen minutes?” She half giggled, placing her hands now over his large ones that were settled upon her stomach.

“Do you doubt me, Miss Eleanor?” He spoke against her neck this time and tauntingly dragged his lips down the side of it, and she could feel the unshaven scruff that was beginning to grow upon his face; they both were far too fond of fooling around in the bathroom in most recent days that he was scarcely remembering to even shave.

“N…Not at all, Severus…” She spoke in a slightly uneasy tone as a result of his lips now latched upon her neck.

“Do not doubt yourself to put me in a state where I am always ready to have my way with you, regardless of the place or timing,” He gently suckled on the crook of her neck for a few moments, one of Eleanor’s hands reaching up to tangle in his hair with a soft gasp before he spoke again, “And, most importantly, do not doubt my ability of planting my child, ourchild inside you even within those mere fifteen minutes.” His hands absentmindedly rubbed back and forth over her stomach.

“Mmm… fifteen minutes, you say?” She smirked, tilting her head up to catch his eye as she played with his hair, “I would say that its more now like… twelve.”

The fire within Severus’ eyes lit immediately from her words, already feeling the arousing challenge in the pit of his stomach. Eleanor watched as the desire flickered in his eyes, instinctively turning herself around and wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned down to urgently press their lips together. Severus’ hands moved immediately to her dress and began to rise it above her hips as he backed her into the utility cupboard of his classroom, their kisses becoming rougher with each step they took. Eleanor’s hands slipped from his neck to his chest and then the front of his pants, smirking as her fingertips found the bump in the material. Severus instinctively pushed his hips forward and whimpered against her lips, reaching down for one of her thighs and raising it so she could hook her leg around his waist.

“Mmm… already?” She grinned when her hand cupped his clothed erection, gently squeezing him.

“Will you ever lose the tone of surprise?” He responded, pinning her against the wall by his hips and trapping her hand between them in the process and letting out a soft groan from the added pressure of her hand against his crotch.

Eleanor smirked against his lips and made quick work of unfastening his pants, pulling the crotch open and continuing to kiss him as their breathing became more and more heavy. Every move was made with pure desperation and urgency; him hitching her dress up, her popping open every button on his trousers, him lifting her leg a little further up, her fumbling with his underwear whilst he attempted to reach for hers.

“No underwear?” He asked as his fingertips slid past the hem of her dress, “Good girl.”

“I know how you like it…” Her arms snaked around his neck, “—Sir.”

Severus inhaled shakily from the tone of her voice and he reached between them, guiding himself with one hand and claiming her lips desperately as he thrust himself inside her. Eleanor squealed but knew she must be quieter than if they were in his chamber. Her leg squeezed around him and one arm raised above her head and against the shelf above as Severus wasted no time in pounding's hips upward, grunting heavily with each movement but continuing to kiss her feverishly.

“I should stand at the door as each person enters the castle and cast the muffliato charm upon them so we can have our way with one another at full volume.” He smirked against her lips, moaning in between breaths.

Eleanor could barely respond with words, so just let out a flirtatious giggle instead. She grasped onto one of the shelves overhead to try and keep herself upright whilst taking the urgency of Severus’ hips. The kiss broke briefly as she tilted her head back against the wall, but it didn't take long for Severus’ lips to find her collarbone, then her neck, kissing all the way up to her jaw before hungrily kissing her lips again with a merciless thrust that lifted her even further up the wall.

“You kiss me as if you didn't just have me for your breakfast,” Eleanor whispered against his lips with a grin, her arms now back around his neck again.

“You know that was just a taste…” He whispered back, gently tugging at her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Of…?” Eleanor taunted him, tangling her fingers in his hair.

“What’s to come,” Severus inhaled sharply, readjusting himself so he could move his hips with more ease whilst breathing against her lips and emphasising each word with a powerful thrust, “And, fuck, do I need- to- cum!”

Eleanor moaned softly and squeezed her leg around him, lightly pulling at his hair as his hips relentlessly pounded upwards. Severus’ hand trembled against her thigh as he continued to hold it lifted at his hip, his lips now moving to her neck and harshly sucking at the skin to try and muffle the sounds attempting to escape his mouth. Their bodies shook against one another with desperate want for him to explode inside her and one of Eleanor’s hands even slipped to his bottom to urge him not to stop. Her other hand reached back up to grasp onto one of the shelves above them, knocking a few glasses into each other as her fingertips turned white from how hard her grip was.

“Professor Snape?” A voice called after a few knocks at the classroom door, “Professor Snape, Sir?!” The voice grew louder.

“H—Huh?” Severus forced his eyes open, his hips still moving.

“I have those papers you asked for!” The voice said through the door, “The ones you requested to be placed on your desk before your next class!?”

“Severus!?” Eleanor’s eyes widened, hanging onto him with her arms around his neck again.

“Oh, for fu—” Severus grunted; he had hoped for the person to have given up, however, panic struck both of them when he heard his classroom door open, “Shit- fuck- ugh!” He grumbled in frustration, unsure of if his heart or his cock was throbbing harder.

He placed her foot back on the floor and exhaled deeply, trying to tuck himself away and disguise his pulsing problem the best he could as he fastened his trousers back up. His breathing remained heavy as he watched Eleanor try and push her skirt back down so it covered her properly.

“Stay. Here.” He spoke quietly but firmly, looking her up and down before turning to walk out of his potions closet.

“Ah, Professor Sna—” The young, training Professor tried to speak before Severus cut him off completely;

“My classroom, I speak first,” He snapped, trying to cover up his flustered expression, “I, for one, cannot believe that you think you have the right to burst into my classroom without awaiting my invitation.” He pointed his index finger at him.

“But, Professor, you told me- asked me, even, to come to your classroom with the papers-!” The young Professor tried to explain himself, but Snape had passed the point of any explanation.

“Perhaps I did ask for you to return those papers to me before the start of my lesson, but what I do not recall is inviting you into my classroom without my permission!” Severus’ voice raised.

“But, Professor, I knock—”

“’But Professor’ nothing!” Severus was practically shouting at this point, his cock aching as it was forced to soften in his trousers, “You barge into my room, you disrupt me, and now you throw excuses at me?”

“I—I am sorry,” The young Professor spoke in a shy tone.

“Get out.” Severus turned away from him, exhaling deeply.

“Professor?” The young man blinked hard.

“Out!” Severus spun around on his heels, pointing at the door.

Without another word, the young Professor turned and walked out of his classroom, shutting the door behind him. Severus exhaled deeply and gritted his teeth in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb and brushing his palm over the front of his pants as he glanced down to ensure the obvious bump was gone.

“You can come out now.” He cleared his throat, standing with his hands on his hips as he glanced around the room.

“That was a bit ruthless, Severus…” Eleanor spoke almost shyly as she walked out of the potions cupboard, still adjusting her dress.

“You know I don't like being interrupted.” Severus spoke flatly, turning to face her.

“I know,” She glanced at the door before leaning up to peck his lips, “It was hot.”

“Don’t…” He whispered against her lips, feeling her kiss go straight to his cock.

“Not enough time now?” She teased, looking up at him as she pulled back.

“As much as I think you are more than capable of making me cum within seconds, I think—” He began until Eleanor placed her index finger over his lips.

“Usual place after hours?” She spoke in a seductively suggestive tone, raising her eyebrows.

“Fuck, yes, please.” Severus spoke against her finger, nodding quickly, “If I can last that long.”

“Oh, you better,” She gave him more of a stern look, though a smirk crept upon her face as she walked to the door and she turned around to flash it to him, “I will know, Severus.”

Severus took a shaky breath and walked back behind his desk, gripping onto it tightly as he leaned against it, wanting nothing more than to have Eleanor upon it; legs parted and him between them, pounding away to his hearts content as she begged him to fill her up with his warm, sticky release.

‘No,’ He told himself, shaking his head as he knew the students would be arriving any second, ‘No time for thoughts like that. Just a few more hours and there will finally be no interruption. You can do this.’

The following hours felt like days and Severus was having to try his hardest to not make any mistakes throughout the lessons that filled them. How close he was to exploding inside her just moments before they were interrupted was painful, and it only made him long to be that close to her even more than usual. He wasted no time in heading in the agreed direction once the usual time was upon him, praying for the emptiness of the usual place.

He could feel his skin prickling with heat from the want of her, the need to fill her, as he walked briskly down the torch-lit corridors and then hurried up the steps in the way one would if they were being chased by a boggart. The Astronomy Tower after hours was one of their favoured locations, providing complete undercover silence until the area was filled with echoes of their own pleasure as Eleanor pleaded with him not to stop and Severus panted with desperation of reaching his climax inside her. The view of the stars from the top of the tower were a beauty to behold in their own right, but the stars they saw when their eyes squeezed shut and came apart as a result of their pounding hips were even more impressive. The sheer height of the tower made them feel like they ruled over the whole grounds when stood in their own heat after their desires had been met, like no one else mattered and no one could touch them; like no one in this world or any other had ever shared the closeness that they have when intimate with one another like this; no barriers, no preventions, just the two of them and the possibility of what could be created because of it.

He made his way to the top of The Astronomy Tower, and then he saw her. The whole beauty of the night sky encapsulated within her silhouette. As he approached closer, his eyes feasted upon the dress she was wearing — certainly not the same as earlier in the day. It emphasised everything he loved about her body.

“You must stop forcing me to make such horrible decisions, my pet…” He whispered huskily into her ear from behind.

“I’m sorry?” Eleanor grinned, enjoying the feeling of his arms now snaking around her from behind as her hands remained held onto the railings in front of her.

“Wearing things like this…” He pressed a singular kiss behind her ear, making her shiver, “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you with it on or just completely tear it off.”

“Mmm…” She bit her lip, tilting her head to the side to allow his pathway of kisses down her neck, “My apologies, sir.”

“Keep addressing me like that and this could all be over in a flash.” Severus half joked against the crook of her neck, kissing the skin delicately.

Eleanor giggled and turned her head, pressing her lips to his immediately. Severus’ arms tightened around her as he kissed her back and their eyes fell shut, each of them sighing softly against one another’s lips. Eleanor reached one arm behind her and into his hair, deepening the kiss as she tangled it between her fingers.

“I’ve been craving this…” Severus spoke against her lips, pinning her to the railings with his hips, “Goddamn the power you hold over me, Eleanor,” He inhaled sharply, “To fill you with my baby.”

“Our baby.” Eleanor squeezed her free hand over his against her stomach.

“I must have you,” He breathed heavily in between kisses, stressing his need by brushing his hardened, clothed cock against her bottom, “Now.”

Eleanor’s hand trembled over his slightly, kissing him hungrily, “Take what is yours, Severus.”

“Are you ready for me?” His voice was low, one of his hands now making its way up her inner thigh.

“I—I’m never not ready for you, sir…” She breathed against his lips, feeling her thighs tingle slightly as his hand reached the very top.

The kiss broke with a soft gasp from Eleanor once Severus’ hand made it between her legs. Quickly finding that she was still wearing no underwear, his fingers wasted no time in starting to explore. Eleanor’s mouth fell open with a breathy moan and she hung her head forward, one hand against the railing and another in his hair, each grip growing tighter every time he taunted a finger inside her.

“Mm… so good for me.” Severus growled lowly, using his free hand to reach between them and unfasten his trousers desperately, “Bend over the railing for me, sweetheart.”

Eleanor did exactly as she was told without even a moment of hesitation, both hands now holding onto the railings in aroused anticipation. Severus removed his hand from between her legs and used it to hoist her dress up a little more so he could line himself up with her properly. Within seconds he had thrust himself inside her just like the many times before with such ease. Both of their mouths fell open to let out a breathy moan simultaneously, the closeness of how they had almost lost themselves in Severus’ potion’s closet still in the forefront of their minds.

“Mm, don't hold back, baby…” Eleanor exhaled, pushing back against him.

Severus sucked on each of his coated fingers but remained silent as he leaned over her a little more, pressing his lips to her ear and murmuring into it, “I wasn't planning on it.”

Before Eleanor had a chance to even think about a response, moans were leaving her lips instead from the heavy thuds of Severus’ hips slamming up into hers, his breath still hot against the back of her neck from his grunts. He moved his hands to place them over hers on the railings and squeezed them gently, his teeth now grazing against the skin on the side of her neck. Eleanor whimpered softly as her eyes rolled back in pleasure, feeling her body trembling beneath him already.

“I must apologise,” He panted against her neck, kissing her with each harsh thrust.

“A—Apologise?” Eleanor’s voice shook, feeling the familiar warmth from before in the pit of her stomach as he angled his movements just right.

“This may all be over faster than—” He inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, “N-Normal…” His cock gave an almighty throb, “And for that, I am sorry.”

It was true, the teasing beforehand, the situation they found themselves in, in the potions closet, the way they had to stop just before they got to the most crucial part, all this pent up release was making Severus’ trained self-control a distant memory.

“That…” Eleanor turned around, kissing him hard on the lips, “Is absolutely fine.” She grinned, moaning into the kiss as his relentless hips continued.

“You must feel it with me,” He spoke shakily against her lips, removing one of his hands from hers and instead placing it back between her legs, massaging his fingers against her exactly how he knew she liked it, “Cum for me, my sweet,” He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut as his body began to tense up in pleasure, “Cum with me.”

“Mmhh-mm, Severus!” She gasped against his lips as he moved his fingers with more pressure and bucked his hips against her, his hair growing sweaty as he also tried to maintain the kiss.

“Fuck, I need to cum,” He panted desperately against her lips.

“Put your baby inside me Severus,” She moaned, kissing him again, “Please.”

“A-Agh, El—” Were the only words he managed to strangle out of his tight throat, now burying his face in the crook of her neck as his release began to shoot inside her in desperate, sticky strings of bliss.

“Y—Yes, Sev!” Eleanor whimpered in delight, the mixture of his hips, fingers, and warmth filling her also brought her to her simultaneous climax.

Severus continued to drive his hips forward like some desperate animal and made sure his fingers continued to move in rhythm for Eleanor’s pleasure, too. Both of them drew heavy breaths in between moans and Eleanor’s hands trembled against the railing, biting her lip when she felt Severus’ lips tickle up the side of her neck.

After a few long moments, Severus took a brief step back and fastened his pants back up, meeting Eleanor’s eyes with a slightly red face once he looked back up.

“That was nothing to be sorry for.” She giggled, pushing her dress back down over her hips.

“Blame how you look in that dress.” Severus’ lips curled up into a half smile, half smirk.

“How so?” She tilted her head playfully.

“I didn't even want to get it off you before you made me..” He cleared his throat to try and insinuate what he meant.

“What I would like to know, Severus,” She stepped forward and leaned up onto her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Is how you can try to fuck me in your potions closet, actually fuck me over the railings on the Astronomy Tower, but can't bring yourself to say, what, ‘hard’? ‘Cum’?” She giggled, pecking his lips, “Before I made you… what?”

“Enough,” Severus spoke against her lips, trying not to rise to her playful taunting, “Come to bed.”

Eleanor didn't take any convincing at all, but continued to tease him on the journey to his chamber. The backs of their hands brushed against one another and their fingers briefly intertwined absentmindedly, their beating hearts still not at complete rest from their previous activity. The door closed behind them and Severus turned to kiss her lips as he locked it, sighing softly.

“Hi…” Eleanor kissed him back, placing her hands against his chest, “Have you thought about that word yet?”

“You should know better than to tease me.” Severus squinted his eyes playfully, stepping further into the room.

“Or…” She walked two fingers up his chest, “What?”

Severus raised one of his hands and took hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away from him and playfully rolling his eyes, “You don't want to know.”

“What if I do?” Eleanor narrowed her eyes playfully, shaking her arm away from his gentle grip and watching as he walked into the kitchen to make himself a drink.

“Mother of my child, must you taunt me so?” He mumbled and shook his head with his back turned to her, “Would you like a drink?” He looked over his shoulder.

“What did you just say?” Eleanor’s lips parted slightly.

“I asked if you would like a drink.” Severus shrugged, warming his hands around his own cup as he turned around to face her.

“No, you know that's not what I meant,” Eleanor tilted her head.

Severus arched a brow, trying to play dumb.

“Before that.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Mother of my child?” Severus said nonchalantly, sipping at his cup, “Do you not like me addressing you like so?”

“Oh, no, I do,” Eleanor felt a little flutter in her chest, “But I'm yet to see a baby.”

“No…?” Severus looked at her inquisitively.

Eleanor pressed her lips together and brushed her hands back and forth over the flatness of her stomach.

“I hope you aren't suggesting I am not capable…” Severus’ tone lowered, a scowl threatening on his face.

“All I am saying is that nothing has happened… yet.” She shrugged.

“I do not think it would be wise to continue this conversation.” Severus placed the cup down on the kitchen counter and walked closer to her.

“Why, are you suggesting that you are capable, Professor?” Eleanor bit her lip, her eyes tracing up his body until they met his.

“That and more, Miss Eleanor,” He dipped his head so their lips were only millimetres apart and she could feel his warm breath against them as he repeated, “That and more.”

“Prove it.” She spoke equally close to his lips, “Why do you think I wear this tight dress you like so much? Imagine it all stretched out because of what you did to me…”

Severus parted his lips to speak but all that came out was a soft whimper, growing increasingly turned on by her words. He didn't care if he was about to be the first one who caved, he leaned in and urgently pressed his lips to hers, nudging his whole body against her from the force of it.

“This dress, hm?” She kissed him back forcefully.

“It’s not the dress,” Severus panted against her lips, “Its the person wearing it.”

Eleanor let out a breathy giggle when she felt his arousal prodding against her stomach, snaking her arms around his neck, “Mm, already?”

“This baby isn't going to make itself.” Severus snarled against her lips and tugged at her dress, their lips smacking back together even harder this time.

“Take me to bed.” She whispered lowly against his lips, gently pushing him in the direction of his bedroom.

“With,” He swiftly lifted her up into his arms bridal style, “Pleasure.”

Thankfully he didn't trip on his way since neither of them let up on the kisses, her eyes closed completely and his only briefly open. The smell alone from his bedroom always brought back hundreds of memories for her; their first time, their last time, all the times in between, whether it was soft and gentle for hours on end or desperate and rough, this was the place above all others that they preferred.

His large four post bed was covered in silky black sheets and two pillows for each of them — she loved how he always personalised her comfort. Even to the way he delicately laid her down upon the sheets as if she were made of glass. Eleanor’s arms remained around his neck and she pulled him down with her, her hands now tangling in his hair. Severus placed both his hands at either sides of his head and lowered himself over her, their tongues now touching with each urgent kiss.

“Off,” He grunted, now pulling at her dress again, “I’ve had you in this dress, now I must have you out of this dress.”

“Be my guest.” Eleanor grinned and pushed him off her gently so she could stand again and guided his hands to the zip on her dress.

She could feel his hands trembling in anticipation as he found the zip but gasped when she felt how urgently he pulled it down, peeling it off her skin. Eleanor made quick work of the buttons of his own clothing and each of them discarded their clothing on the floor until they were stood completely in the nude. She could already feel the warmth of his arousal radiating against her, curious fingers exploring each other’s bare bodies as they made their way under his bed sheets despite caressing each other god-knows how many times before.

“On your back, darling,” He whispered against her lips, kissing them lightly now as they laid on their sides to face each other, “I want to look at you while I am breeding you.”

“Yes, Professor.” Eleanor obeyed, rolling onto her back and gazing up at him.

“What are you… to me?” He asked, looking down at her as he leaned over her.

“Your lover?” She asked after a kiss.

He then kissed her again and then spoke, “And?”

“Your mistress?”

“And?”

“The mother of your child?”

His kiss was harder this time, his body now completely on top of hers, “And?”

“Yours?” She rested her hands against his lower back, “All yours.”

“Yes,” He inhaled sharply as he pushed himself inside her, kissing her again, “Good girl.”

Eleanor lifted her legs to hook around him and allow him to slot himself between her with even more ease, moaning against his lips at the feeling of him filling her up again. Severus’ eyes immediately closed and he wasted no time in starting to move his hips, though kissing her with more meaning than desperation this time. Eleanor helped guide his hips as her hands remained at the bottom of his back, tilting her head to the side to allow his lips to latch onto her neck.

Barely even minutes in, and she could already feel his cock pulsing each time he thrust in and out of her, making her whimper out his name as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. His lips latched onto her neck and he sucked on her skin as if a vampire to his prey. Eleanor dug her nails into his skin and arched her back as his thrusts picked up a merciless pace, breathing heavily against her neck as she moaned out his name several times. The chanting of his name only made him strive to be even more rough with her, the headboard now sounding around the room as it slammed against the wall.

“Fuck, Severus…” She gasped in pleasure, spreading one of her legs out completely to help ease the ever-growing pounding of his hips, “D-Don’t you dare stop…”

“To stop would not be to breed you, my pet…” Severus spoke huskily into the crook of her neck and flicked his tongue against her sensitive skin before raising his head to look down at her beneath him.

Eleanor lost her breath as she gazed up at his animal-like form through her heavy eyes. She loved for him to claim her like this; make her his in his bed. Sure, sneaking around in potions closets and empty classrooms had a certain thrill to it, but nothing compared to how he had his way with her behind definite closed doors. His caresses would be so possessive, yet so gentle. Their kisses would grow more passionate than ever, barely even coming up for breath until they were blue in the face. He would always want to be above her — to assert his dominance and intimate protection whilst looking in her eyes.

“H—Harder…” Her words were barely audible, the air in her lungs being pumped out by his hips.

“Sweetheart, I plan on making you forget your own fucking name,” He leaned down to press a harsh kiss to her lips, almost as if in punishment for even questioning his performance, “When you can no longer walk,” He paused from speaking briefly as his hips bucked up against hers, “And only then,” She swore she felt his cock break through into her stomach, “Will I be satisfied that I have fucked you hard enough.”

“Fu…” Her attempt of words trailed off into silence as she felt Severus’ hands move down to her thighs and part them as far as they would go.

“Would that be okay, princess?” He spoke lowly, gazing down at her with her thighs spread wide in his grip.

“I— I beg you not to stop, Severus!” She whimpered, “Please!”

“What do you want me to do instead?” He narrowed his eyes, his expression screaming how aware he was of the power he held over her — power she willingly allowed him to have.

“Claim me, make me yours,” She rambled, throbbing with want from his now still hips, “Fill me,” She inhaled sharply and quickly, watching as the fire in his eyes grew even more, “Use me as a place to release it all, Severus…” Her hands trembled, leaning up on her elbows, “The one way you know you can me me truly yours.”

“And how might that be, hm?” He tilted his head, unsure how much longer he could hold himself back now.

Eleanor reached up and brought him down into a rough kiss, growling against his lips, “Breed. Me.”

Severus felt as if he could lose himself from that command alone, and, quite frankly, struggled not to. Instead, he kissed her back, but only once, before raising himself up a little further again with her thighs still in his grip and starting to plunge his hips up into hers as hard as he possibly could without breaking through the wall to next door. Eleanor threw her head back in pleasure, her mouth wide open in order to allow countless moans flow out. Severus hung his head forward, his now sweaty hair falling over his face and swishing back and forth in time with his thrusts. He grunted each time his length shoved all the way inside her, his hands growing clammy against her thighs as they remained in his grip. The pleasure surging through him made him feel god-like, knowing how Eleanor gave herself over to him like this with no barriers between them, the utmost wordless way of giving herself to him by begging him to put a child inside her and ultimately binding them together forevermore.

“Oh, fuck, Eleanor,” He pressed his lips together firmly, feeling his hands beginning to slip, “You are going to be the fucking death of me.”

“Not before you become the father of my child.” Eleanor replied breathily with her head still hung back in pleasure.

“You want that?” Severus panted, never tiring from hearing him tell her.

“What gave it away?” Eleanor spoke as she raised her head again, catching his eye line.

Severus felt the heat in his stomach begin to rise and he suddenly dipped his head again, their teeth clattering as their lips crashed back together. His hands fell back to her sides again and her legs naturally wrapped themselves back around his body, keeping him as close as possible but still allowing the full thrust of his hips.

“Severus, I have one question…” Eleanor spoke against his lips, pulling his bottom lip out slightly.

“W—What, now!?” Severus narrowed his eyebrows, unable to stop the slamming of his hips as if they were now moving of their own accord.

“Why is it that you insist on black bedding when you know you’re going to cum so much that it's going to spill out of me and onto them?” She spoke seductively, smirking against his lips as one hand slid into his hair and the other slid down the back with her nails.

“Mmmh… Jesus fucking Christ…” Severus whimpered, feeling the pleasure starting to overcome him as a result of her words, “I’ll just have to make sure I fuck you deep enough so that it all remains inside you.”

With that, he pushed himself even harder than he thought he could go, and within seconds he knew he was about to explode. He continued to drive his hips forward in rhythm with Eleanor’s moans, his own growing more and more high pitched and breathless as his orgasm continued to climb up his body like wildfire.

“Sev—!”

“E—Eleanor!”

The feeling of Severus’ climax shooting inside her with each deep thrust was more than enough to tip Eleanor over the edge. Their kisses were completely clumsy, their tongues touching sloppily as their hips continued to move agains each other to desperately ride out their joint pleasure. Severus felt like fireworks were exploding throughout his body as strings of release continued to pour inside her, Eleanor now squeezing her legs around him even tighter to keep him as close to her as possible.

“Severus, baby, mm!” Eleanor whimpered, her hand shaking in his clammy hair as she did her best to keep their faces in line with one another.

“O—Oh, fuck, that feels so good…” Severus panted hard against her lips, still feeling the need to keep his hips moving despite practically emptying what felt like his entire bodyweight inside her, “So good…”

“That’s it,” She grinned, kissing him again as both of her arms wrapped themselves around him.

Severus’ hips very gradually came to a stop and he let out a shaky breath against her lips, smiling softly as the kiss broke. Their eyes met and the once lit animal-like desire in his were now replaced with genuine admiration and love.

“That was unlike anything I have ever experienced,” Severus exhaled slowly, the both of them still struggling to catch their breath, “You are everything.”

“You do such a good job of claiming what’s yours, Severus.” Eleanor spoke as he leaned down to kiss her.

“Mine,” He spoke against her lips, “Mine,” He spoke against her neck, “Mine,” He spoke against her collarbone, “Mine, mine” He spoke against each of her breasts, lowering himself, “Mine,” He kissed each of her thighs as his head disappeared under the sheets, and Eleanor lifted them up slightly so she could watch him this time as his lips brushed against her stomach, gazing up into her eyes, “Mine.”

---

Tags!:

@theatreslave @severinaprince @dracolilhoe @thesecretsofseverussnape @dontrunannabelle @sevprince-91 @dark-st @missgurlthang @mortuary-reads @gylving @niftysnazzy @randomcreator-09 @eyesinmymindinmay @thatlittlefangirl @frequent-apple @dailyalanrickman @bayleebubble @liv2post @sorryimdyingrn @fluffyneondinosaur @lupinmoonlights @bibliosophie @taybabylovesyou @its-just-me-chey @peppiloll @odetolithium @dreamshopesfantasies @megladon045 @sweeneytoddsmainbitch @benedict-cbe @overgrownbat @bratty-tingz @speedycupcakepaper @severinaprince @hamiltonstann @honeyshampoo @snifellus @nidamae-approvedhpfanfics @hauntinq-6 @wh0reforthemarauders @mrs-snape5984 @vulnus-sanare @missgurlthang @darlingvica @indigosparkle444 @sevprince-91 @ficswjackson @secretpandaconnoisseur @dark-t1des @nyx-greenwood99 (continued in comments)

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winterrrnight · 7 months ago

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babe I just had the best idea for a rafe concept it pains me

Okay so imagine like reader is at work (somewhere idk where) and she just gets so overwhelmed but her and rafes relationship is still new so she doesn't call him because she doesn't wanna bother him....😭

I'm probably not the first person to think of this but it ON MY MINDDDD

literally dropped everything to write this!!!! this reader is way too me coded and I cannot :’) thank you so so much for the req vee 🥹💗 you asked for a concept… I wrote a fic…. :D I hope you like this vee <3

down for you

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: rafe wants you to be able to rely on him for anything and everything.

WARNINGS: the reader is a preschool teacher and quite self dependent; lots of fluff; cute nicknames; lovesick rafe (my fav fr); minimal swearing

EDITH SPEAKS: this request speaks volumes to me 🥹 this is way too me coded, and I just had to write it, I hope you all like this! the ending is maybe a bit abrupt tho :( please like and reblog if you liked reading <3 feedback is always appreciated 🍹

navigation || join my taglist || requests

I should leave, I haven't yet, but when you smile, I just forget

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You can swear this day can't get any worse. You’ve been on your feet basically the entire day, always rushing from your students here to there. You love the little kiddos with your entire heart, but today, for some reason, they are being an extra pain in the ass. They aren’t as cooperative as you’d prefer; you don’t know what’s gotten into them, they are like little energy packets constantly running around.

Due to some teacher duties you aren’t even able to sit down for your lunch break, taking away the only 15 minutes you have to yourself. And it just gets progressively worse when you finally leave the school to go back to your place and your car has a slashed tire, and today had to be the day when you don’t have a spare tire in your trunk.

It’s been over 6 hours since you left your house this morning, and it’s just Tuesday, but it’s feeling like the longest, most excruciating week ever. You’re now leaning against your car door, letting out a deep exhale as you lean your head back, feeling a headache creep into your brain and pulse harshly. You’re tired, hungry, absolutely exhausted… and all you want are the warm hugs of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Rafe is quite a new addition in your life, both of you being together for a mere month. He’s been so loving to you, always protective and just genuinely taking great care of you.

You pull out your phone and find his contact, but before you can dial him, your thumb hovers over his name in sudden realization – he’s always at work at this time.

You begin to contemplate your initial decision of asking him to come here to help you out, and then ultimately decide against it, realizing he’s probably very busy at work, and would only be heavily distracted if you call him.

So, just like how you always do it, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It’s nearing 6 pm when you finally get to reach your place. You had to make calls to get yourself a mechanic to get your car fixed, who took his sweet sweet time to come to you. You’re now completely exhausted, wanting nothing more than just to plop on your bed and sleep till your heart desires. You can hear your stomach grumble since you never had the chance to eat the lunch you missed out on, but you make it a problem for later, deciding to just take a nap first.

As you drive into your driveway, you recognise Rafe’s black Range Rover already parked, with him standing next to it, leaning back against the hood of his car as he’s looking intently at his phone. As he catches the sound of your car driving, he instantly looks up, watching your car enter the driveway.

Before you can properly park and get out, Rafe rushes to you, opening the door for you.

“Oh my god where have you been?” He asks you, his voice laced with concern. “I tried calling you and texting you, you always come back home by late afternoon,”

You step out of the car and Rafe shuts the door, a hand quickly landing at the small of your back as you both walk to the porch of your house. He can see you’re really tired; droopy eyes, heavy steps, deep sighs; he knows something happened.

“Yeah my phone died,” you mutter as you unlock the main door of your house, both of you stepping inside. “I just… today was kind of a heavy day, nothing much honestly,” you shrug as you toss your keys in the dish and remove your coat and shoes.

“What happened?” Rafe asks, still really concerned for you as he watches you take off your cost and hang it on the coat rack. As you’re done, you face him with a small smile on your face.

“Nothing much, really,” you say softly, gently cupping his cheek with a hand and tenderly caressing his skin. “Don’t worry, yeah?” You mumble, taking your hand off his cheek as you make your way to the kitchen.

Rafe stays on your heels, following you and monitoring every single move of yours – your padding till the fridge, opening it, getting a bottle of water, unscrewing it and drinking from it.

“You look so exhausted, I can see it in your eyes,” he comments. “Your hair is all messy, your clothes are dirty; it’s clearly not nothing. Come on, tell me, what happened,”

His voice is stern, but not in an angry way; but in an apprehensive way. He moves his hand to your face, gently brushing your hair as he fixes some of the unruly strands.

As you finish drinking your water; drinking almost all of it in one go, you keep your bottle aside and let out a sigh, turning to look at him. “It was just one of those… heavy days, but it’s over now yeah? I’m now home,” you say softly.

“But just tell me what happened,” Rafe’s voice now drops to a whisper as he moves closer to you, continuing to weave his fingers through your hair.

You close your eyes for a moment, delving into the relaxing feeling of Rafe’s fingers softly combing through your hair, but also realizing he’s going to keep pressing for you to tell him what happened.

“The kids were a bit uncooperative today,” you say with a soft chuckle. “And then we have this event coming up at school, so I was busy for my entire lunch break preparing for it. And then my car had a flat tire and I didn’t have a spare so I had to get a mechanic, which took most of the time. But besides that, nothing much happened,” you say with a small shrug.

“Besides all that?” Rafe mutters incredulously. “That’s already a lot, baby, why didn’t you call me when you found out about your flat tire? I would’ve come; or sent someone to get you, we would’ve had lunch in my office, and I would have had someone take care of the tire and bring your car back too.” There’s a small frown on his face and he now holds your face in both his hands, gently skimming your cheeks with his thumbs.

You look up in his soft, baby blue eyes. “I did think of calling you but-”

“But?”

“But I thought…” you take a deep breath, your eye contact with him faltering. “you’ll be busy, and I didn’t want to be a burden to you, really, I was able to get it all fixed just fine,”

You can hear Rafe tsk; his tongue clicking against his teeth as he softly shakes his head. “I’m never busy for you okay? My work does not ever get more importance than you, okay? It never does, and it never will, especially when you’re in trouble and need help,”

He gently grips your chin and tips your head back just a bit, making you look at him. His eyes are softened, the blue even more warmer than usual.

“I know you prefer to do things on your own,” he whispers, “but you have to realise that you really don’t need to do each thing on your own, especially now that I’m around. I won’t mind, really, and besides, I would love to show everyone off at work that I am the boyfriend of the most beautiful person on this damn planet yeah?”

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his words as you keep looking in his eyes.

“So, promise me, next time you need any sorts of help, want me to do something for you, or just want me to be there, you don’t think twice about calling me up okay?” He says softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He can see the reluctancy in your eyes, but you eventually give in and nod.

“Okay, promise,” you murmur, smiling as you wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He gladly hugs you back, snuggling his face in your neck as he gently rubs your back.

“So…” you speak up, and he hums back in response, both of you still hugging.

“I’ll take up on that offer right now. I’ll go and shower, and you make something for me to eat yeah?”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @shores-kayla @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt

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zenlesszonezero · 6 days ago

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Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

#zzzero #zenless zone zero #yanagi #gaming #anime game

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

Text

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do.

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him.

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him anything before leaving New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just up and vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Derek would've only followed her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. Those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't even mark graves, and grieve properly.

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so many.

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack.

Now, he remembers that last time.

“I'm going out.”

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him.

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back.

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed.

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away.

“Where do you go to, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're rarely in your own bed most mornings.”

She hadn't meant it as a dig. Derek knew that. She was his sister, and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, and hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperate to find scumbags to taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back.

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since.

Now here he is—standing in his stupid big loft that he bought for his betas, yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping as far around his shoulders as they'll reach.

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it.

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck.

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude?

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less.

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

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manias-wordcount · 1 year ago

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I'm surprised i haven't seen this more often, but I just love the idea of Loid Forger being in love with someone else while still married to Yor. I mean the whole idea that he didn't have a choice in the matter, and then falling for someone else after he and Yor "get together" has so much room for angsty sexual tension and i've always wanted to see how it could be handled.

Tell No One (Loid Forger x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝘂𝗵𝗵𝗵𝗵 𝗶 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

Yor likes your cakes. Anya likes your cookies. He likes your smile. It gives him the perfect excuse to visit your bakery twice a week.

“Hi, Mr. Forger! Welcome back! The usual?”

It gives him the perfect excuse to visit you.

“Hi there!” He greets with a nod and a practiced smile. He’s gotten good at playing Loid Forger. But for him, it’s just another disguise in a long list of faces and names he has taken on for himself. And you? You’re just another person he uses to secure his role on the stage. Something that keeps him from breaking the so-carefully crafted illusion. So he tries not to dwell on how your own customer service smile turns shy, and your eyes turn away from his at the sight of his a little too genuine smile. He tries not to dwell on it all. Instead, he tries to think about work. About Anya. About Yor. “How’s the shop? Anything happens since the last time I was here?”

He tries to think about anyone but you.

But it’s hard- it’s hard because there you go letting out a soft giggle as a memory comes bubbling up from the back of your mind. A pretty little sound he could listen to for hours. But when you start back to talking- talking about the crazy run order that you just barely finished this morning for a couple whose baker got sick the night before the wedding- he finds that he could listen to this voice of yours every single day of his life if he had the chance. And it’s not a new discovery. It’s not a new thought. The same way the little spark he swears he feels when your fingers brush against his as you take his money- always exact change- from his hands is not a new occurrence. He’ll tell no one, but he knows. He knows it’s not new. It’s never new.

So why does every time he comes to see you feel like the first time he fell for you?

He tried not to think of you. He tries not to think of you. But the day he stumbled on your bakery tucked in a random hole in the wall and down a couple of stairs on a pathway that was just barely out of his way home from the hospital, he was hooked. The second he opened the doors to a homely little shop and smelt that delicious smell of freshly baked goods, he was interested. But from the moment he saw you, he was gone.

Twilight had developed a weakness. For the first since before he could remember. And that weakness just so happened to solidify Loid Forger. And that weakness just so happened to be you.

So his excuse was peanut butter cookies for Anya. They were the perfect tool to help her study after all, and she gobbled them up like a madwoman whenever she had the chance. And when he found out that you did seasonal cheesecakes, his excuse included picking up a slice of something sweet for Yor too. Because a husband that come back with all kinds of sweets and treats for his daughter and his wife was a good husband. And that’s what Loid tries to be. A good husband.

But on visit eleven, you had shyly told him that you wear your grandmother’s wedding ring around your finger because when you’re twenty-six and unmarried, the government tends to not like you. He tries to assure you that you have nothing to worry about. That nobody would ever accuse someone as sweet as you of anything that would get you on the government’s radar. And immediately, he watched you grow flustered at his compliments. You even let him taste a traditional dessert from Hugaria you just learned how to bake the week prior as a thank you.

But all he could think about as your hands held up the pastry for him to take in his own, his mind could only think about that wedding ring sitting on your finger. And how a real husband would give you more protection than just a dainty old ring. How he would give you more protection. More love. More of anything you ever wanted. More of anything you ever asked for.

Loid would take care of you. But Twilight? Twilight would marry you. Twilight would love you. And the fact that it’s so evident to him that he can no longer deny means that the most dangerous person in all of Ostania always manages to have a smile on your face flour lost somewhere in his hair. You make him as weak as you do strong. And that’s dangerous. That puts the whole mission in jeopardy. That puts you in jeopardy. And you don’t even realize it. You don’t.

So he tries not to think about you. He swears on his life, he tries, he tries, he tries. He tries not to when he’s working at the hospital or out on the field saving lives. He tries not to when he’s passing by your shop in a rush to make it home. He tries to when he’s at home with his pretend family playing the perfect father and husband and man all wrapped up into one. He tries so hard not to.

But yet, he finds himself coming back more often than he should. And he’ll tell everyone that it’s because you sell those peanut butter cookies that Anya loves. He’ll tell everyone that it’s because he loves the way Yor’s face lights up when he presents her with one of your delicious cheesecakes. And he’ll tell no one that he visits to catch a glimpse of the delicate curves of your body as you bend down to pluck an item from the display case. He’ll tell no one that he visits to memorize every feature of your face and picture it as a memory of what he’s fighting for.

And he’ll tell no one that he visits to hear your voice and imagine all the sounds you would make when he finally had the chance to take care of you like a real man should. He’ll tell no one. Absolutely no one.

Just like you’ll tell no one of all the times he’s pulled you to the back of the bakery and kissed you.

#loid forger #loid forger x reader #spy x family #spy x family x reader #spy x family fanfic #spy x family fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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writingsfrombeyondthegrave · 2 months ago

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Helloooo there!

Just wanted to say that I absolutely loved the Astrid x ghost!reader fic and was wondering if you were considering doing a part two?? maybe Astrid finds a way to save them and they end up dating or something?

I hope you Have a lovely day! Xx

An Accidental Haunting Part 2

Astrid Deetz x Ghost!Reader

*Platonic to Romantic*

Requested by anon

Summary- Now that Astrid could see you clearly, an unlikely friendship formed. She wanted nothing more than to be with you now that you two had gotten the chance to spend more time together. She would find a way for you two to be a couple. A proper living couple.

Warnings- Reader was m*rdered, Details about death and the afterlife, angst, depression, mention of cancer, trading one life for another, kissing

The afterlife is a complex thing than many humans never truly understand. Ghosts, often thought of as a figment of the imagination or a misguided illusion of the light, were more real than Astrid had ever anticipated.

Admitting her mother wasn't crazy was a big step in her life. Not to mention the fact that she was gaining feelings for a ghost, this time while knowing about the fact you were deceased. Your morbid humor, self-deprecating jokes and obscene amount of knowledge on the paranormal had a death grip on her heart.

Death was much more interesting with Astrid in your life. You didn't feel the dread or crushing depression as much as before. Sometimes you dare say, you felt more alive than you had when you were actually living.

Lydia had decided to move back into the old "Ghost House" after Astrid had begged her, claiming that she would even consider going to Miss Shannon's School for Girls until graduation. It was only one year away, but she had been adamant about it.

In the end, it happened to be a convenient idea. Lydia's Tv show career had ended and she opted to be an in-area Psychic for those in need. Somehow, however with your meticulous hiding, she never once saw you in the house. You have been very deliberate about keeping your identity there a secret between only you and Astrid.

"I hate to say it, but that uniform is lame" You spoke as you laid back on her bed with a teasing smirk, head tilted in her direction as she tried on the uniform, smoothing down the skirt.

She turned to you and raised an eyebrow, challenging you. "At least I don't have an old rock shirt than looks like you scraped it off of an 80s arcade floor."

"Ha. Ha." you laughed emotionlessly, tossing a stuffed bear at her to defend your honor. "Arcades are fun, but nice try at trying to offend me beautiful"

The smirk that remained on your lips made her heart skip a beat, but she would rather die than tell you how much power you held over her. Your nonchalant flirting always hurt, knowing it never held much meaning behind your words, but she continued to ignore it in favor of her sanity.

"Tell me again" Astrid said as she sat beside you on the bed, making the mattress bounce lightly. "What's it like to die?"

The quietness between you both stretched for a moment before you answered. "It's different for everyone. For some its peaceful, for some its painful."

"I meant for you personally, what was it like?"

Your amused laugh echoed through her room. "What was it like to be stabbed brutally to death? Just a normal Tuesday, of course"

No matter how many times you talked to her about the afterlife, you were always careful to leave out the specifics of your own death. The last thing you ever wanted from anyone was sympathy, especially from her. Sadness should never be an emotion she felt when you were around. So, you opted to made jokes and avoided those awkward looming moments of despair and helplessness.

Instead of laughing, she seemed to be deep in thought. "What if there was a way to bring you back?" She spoke so soft that you almost missed it, but of course you didn't. Instantly you sat up on her bed and faced her properly, startling her a bit at your sudden movement.

"Are you crazy? You of all people should know that's a terrible idea, Astrid. It's a life for a life, a crazy scheme that only the self-centered scumbags would pull"

"I know... I know. But you didn't deserve to die"

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You don't know that. you don't know me! I'm a freak, Astrid! Thats why I'm dead, no one wanted to talk to me. Everyone feared me because the only people who understood me were already dead!" The screams you sent her way felt like daggers piercing her skin. There hadn't been a single moment up until now that you had acted any other way besides happy.

Without warning you vanished from sight, completely dematerializing Infront of her eyes. She stared in shock at the wall Infront of her, not knowing how to react.

All of a sudden it hit her, you needed her help to come back alive and she would do anything in her power to help you, even if that meant seeking out her mother for guidance.

The instant regret you felt after yelling at Astrid was eating at you from the inside out. Your knees were pulled up to your chest while you sat in a rickety old rocking chair. You looked over at the town model in the attic to distract yourself from falling even further into the darkness.

What you never mentioned to any of the spirits you helped, was that the longer the dead lingered on the living plain, the quicker your soul decays. The deceased were to move on after dying, in favor of protecting what mortality they died with. Your soul fades and your own morals that you once valued in life start to get corrupted.

"The Darkness" as you referred to it was the depressive black hole that swallows the last remaining happiness and hope that you hold onto. If you let yourself get sucked into that darkness, you may never find your way out of it again.

That is how some spirits get sucked into a loop, replaying their death and their most horrible moments over and over again until there is nothing left of their soul.

Smiling seemed to be your coping mechanism to avoid this, always happy and never upset over trivial things. Never allowing yourself the simple happiness that the living still enjoyed and took for granted.

Lydia was cooking in the kitchen when she heard rapid footsteps descending down the staircase. Astrid stopped and stood in the doorway, looking at her mother blankly for a moment. She couldn't believe how much progress that they've accomplished, yet she feared the awkward tension would always be there lingering.

"I... I need your help."

Lydia stopped what she was doing to look at her daughter in shock. "You do?" She dried her hands with the kitchen towel and quickly turned her full attention to her. "Of course, what do you need?"

"The handbook. I know you kept the one that the Maitlands had and I need to see it"

"Why would you need that?"

"I'm interested in your work" Astrid lied, forcing a small smile that she hoped was more than convincing. The smile that Lydia provided could've lit up every dark corner in the house.

After moping in your sorrows for the better part of that night, you finally appeared in Astrid's room the next morning, an apology ready on your tongue before you saw what she was doing. She was furiously flipping through The Handbook for the Recently Deceased, writing down notes in an old notebook.

You cautiously stepped up next to her and looked over her shoulder. "What could you possibly need that book for? You're not dead, babe."

She looked up at you, realizing your looming presence near her. The bags under her eyes were the only indicator that you needed to show her lack of sleep. Her body physically relaxed from its tense stance at seeing you back in her room. "I have the perfect plan on how to bring you back to life"

You groaned and flopped down into her beanbag chair dramatically. It seemed like your usual playful behavior was back at least. "Why must the living be so stubborn?"

"We are going on a trip, come on" She closed the book and tossed it in your direction, clearly expecting you to catch it. It hit the wall behind you with a heavy thud, thankfully not indenting it. You slowly turned your head to look at the book and then back to her.

"Did you really expect a different outcome?"

Astrid hugs her bag over her shoulder with the handbook in it, waiting for you to grab ahold of her so she could start her ride to the town's nursing home. After a deep sigh you hook your leg over the seat and wrap your arms around her midsection.

Your touch felt like a winter chill, but her body had never been warmer. Her heart beat quickly and she prayed you couldn't detect it. Your chin rested on her shoulder as you looked around the town.

You never were a very affectionate person in life, but for Astrid, you made an exception. There was no fear in her eyes when she looked at you now, and that made you feel as if you were finally home again.

The ride to the nursing home was quiet and quick. Astrid greeted the staff with a quick smile, claiming to be visiting her grandmother.

An argument soon broke out between the two of you as you crossed your arms, not happy by what she was proposing.

"Ms. Silvers has been in pain for years from the cancer. Death was inevitable anyway so what's the issue? She seems fine with it" She argued, and you just tilted your head, unconvinced. It was silent for a few minutes before you finally nodded your head, not being able to find a good enough argument to disagree with her plan.

Ms. Silvers was a good sport as you all headed to the cemetery together. She was a sweet old lady with a cane who seemed to be admiring the world through aged eyes.

"My husband loved this time of year" She spoke, her voice scratchy. "I just know he's been waiting for me. Thank you for this, Lovey"

Astrid smiled, walking beside her and making sure she was alright. You looked over at them, still cautious about the whole thing. Your entire life, you had never put yourself before anyone. This felt wrong, yet the old woman beside you could've been the strongest woman alive now. She had more courage than you could've imagined and you admired that.

The quiet Winter air blew past them, and she didn't so much as shiver.

After repeating the incantation in the crypt and entering, you decided it was best to lead the way. You had been to this part before when you first died. Youve come a long way and grown as a person since then. The confident look you always wore wavered slightly, but they couldn't see it since you were far ahead.

The picture for the transfer was about to be taken when Ms. Silvers reached over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Young love is a powerful thing. Take care of each other, alright?"

You couldn't help the smile that overcame your features as you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze in return. "Tell your husband we said hi, would you?"

The transfer went smoothly, and you both walked her to the soul train together. Once inside the train, she sent you both a sweet smile and a wave before she departed.

Your body healed almost instantly; no indications left behind of what had happened to you. Your shirt however, still remained in shambles.

Crawling out of the crypt, you felt as if a rush of air filled your lungs. Your feet met the grass of the graveyard, and the world moved with you instead of without you. It acknowledged your presence and welcomed you with open arms.

You turned to Astrid with a bright smile. "I don't know how to thank you"

"Oh... it was nothing, really." Astrid laughed awkwardly, turning away to avoid your gaze. You looked at her as if she hung the very stars in the sky. The blood flowing through your veins and the shine of your lively skin looked heavenly to her, and she had to stop herself from staring in awe.

Without warning you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her softly, afraid that you might vanish from existence yet again. Her eyes widened in shock before she allowed herself to relax to your touch. Her hands instinctively held your hips, just barely. You pulled away after a moment and rested your forehead against hers.

"Even when I was dead and I couldn't feel anything, I swore I could feel the pounding of my dead heart as if it was beating for you. I'm afraid it will only ever beat for you now that I'm alive again"

She laughed, smiling freely as she looked into your eyes. "Thats the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say, you dork"

"So, if I asked to kiss you again it wouldn't be as cheesy?" You smirked, and she swore she could get used to this every day for the rest of her life.

Extra:

"Now that your alive, can you finally change that crusty t-shirt?" Astrid teased, holding your hand tightly as you walked back to her house.

You pretended to think about it before laughing "Yes, Ma'am" You winked.

A/N- Thank you lovely anon for requesting a part 2! I have another Astrid fic lined up and, in the works, currently along with the lost boys and others. Please continue to send in requests and I'll get to them as soon as possible. Thank you all for the love on my writing, it means so so much to me.

If there is a possible part 3 wanted it would probably just be filled with little incidents when Astrid now saves the readers life because they forget they’re alive now and could actually get hurt.

If anyone wants to be tagged in any sort of tag list (doesn’t just have to be for Astrid fics), please let me know!

Also, I apologize for the extensive knowledge of the paranormal that I have lol. The afterlife has always fascinated me.

Credits-

Ghost and Graveyard Dividers- @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#x reader #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice beetlejuice #beetlejuice 2 #beetlejuice movie #beetlejuice #x ghost!reader #jenna ortega #👻-ghost writing

315 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 9 months ago

Note

Hey if you're up for a prompt I just thought of this Melissa x reader idea. Reader is a teacher at Abbott and all the teachers and the camera crew think the reader is not good when on camera ie. Smart Reader drops down to all of 1 brain cell like a deer in headlights when facing the lense, but it turns out everytime they've been filmed, either interviewed, or knowing they're shooting B-roll, Melissa has been around and Melissa has started getting suspicious of the situation. Love your work, now I'm off to read more of your writing 😘

hi i know this is so late, but... better late than never? I had a LOT of fun with this one- thank you for requesting!

Camera Shy

WC: ~4.2k (exactly!)

You aren’t an idiot. You’d like to make that very, very clear. You have your degree to teach, you have one masters, and you’re in the process of getting another masters. After this degree, you plan to get your doctorate. You have a few years of teaching under your belt at one of the neighboring districts. So, no. You aren’t an idiot. You’re actually quite the opposite.

But put you in front of the camera, and all of the intelligence in that pretty little head of yours? It’s gone. You’re reduced to all of about half of a braincell. You blush profusely, you stumble over your words, you genuinely just feel so awkward.

At least when you know there’s a camera on you. As everyone has seen from the documentary, as long as they are capturing you from a distance and you don’t explicitly know they’re filming you, you’re good. They’ve actually (with your consent) placed a few cameras around your room that are hidden or disguised so they can get more of you just doing what you know how to do. You’re in the comfort of your own classroom with your kids, and no one else is there. They’ve even managed to snag a couple of clips of you talking to your coworkers when they pop their heads into your room, specifically Janine. She tends to come in quite a bit to chat with you when she has a chance.

What people don’t realize from viewing the documentary is that all of your talking heads are done after the ‘scenes’ are shot, and they just gather you all into the hall or a classroom and call you one at a time to do different talking heads about the different situations you teachers have gotten yourselves into this week.

So when you’re doing your interviews, people are watching you from behind the cameramen. That means all of your colleagues are watching you- specifically that redheaded second grade teacher that you are undeniably attracted to. Your eyes flit to her figure constantly during your interviews or during b-roll shoots where they’re just getting shots of you all talking in the lunch room or before a meeting that Ava had organized in the library or gymnasium.

And you’ve caught her watching you too- acting like a deer in the headlights when the lens is on you. She probably thinks you’re an absolute fool. A young teacher who is just trying to get her foot in the door before heading off to another, better district. The only person who really knows of your brains at this school is Ava because she hired you.

The camera crew has come to realize that you don’t handle yourself very well in front of the camera as well.

“Do you want to keep participating in our documentary?” Rich, the head cameraman, asks you one day.

“Yeah,” you smile. “I think it’s really important that people see how teaching can change lives, and that every teacher has a different approach to teaching.”

“Okay, we just want to make sure that you’re still willing to do this for us,” he tells you gently. “If you want out and would rather just be in the background shots, here’s your out.”

“Oh. I don’t mind… most of the people I mingle with here participate, so I guess it makes sense that I would too. Why?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about yourself or not,” Rich chuckles. “But you’re terrible in front of the camera. You get all nervous and jittery whenever you know the guys are filming you.”

You turn red. “Yeah. I do. But I didn’t go into this profession to be on camera,” you joke. You can’t confess to him that the only reason you’re terrible in front of the camera is because Melissa is usually lingering around somewhere in sight, and you get distracted and flustered.

“But you know there are cameras in your room with the purpose of capturing you teaching your students or capturing the conversations you have with your coworkers,” Rich reminds you.

“Yeah, but I sometimes forget that they’re… if you guys want to come into my room and film, that’s fine with me,” you tell the head of the documentary. “I’ll be fine.”

And you are fine. Because when they’re filming in your room, Melissa Schemmenti isn’t around you.

But still, when you have to shoot B-roll or do your interviews, you are reduced to stuttering out phrases, half of them don’t even make sense. You’re as red as the second grade teacher’s hair, and you can’t help yourself.

After a bit of time, the shoots from within your classroom where they are panning back and forth and the crew is clearly in the room starts to air. And shockingly to your colleagues, you’re able to conduct lessons with the camera crew in your room.

You’re even able to have conversations in your classroom with your colleagues when Rich and his crew are in your classroom.

But still, during your talking heads and any B-roll with the entire staff present and watching, you are a flustered mess who can’t get a single sentence out without stumbling over your words.

After a bit, Rich comes back up to you.

“Y/N?” he asks.

“What can I do for you?”

“Care to do an interview?”

“About?”

“You,” he laughs. “In your room during your prep. We’ve been getting feedback from viewers that they feel they don’t really know much about you other than you get flustered in front of the camera during talking heads.”

“Oh,” you laugh. “Sure, I can do that.”

“My background?” you ask the cameraman that is sitting with you at your desk as you grade papers. “Sure. I grew up in the area, went to Temple, staying true to my Philly roots. Got my bachelors there, graduated top of my class. Headed to West Chester University to get my masters in reading, and I’m currently working on my masters for applied studies in teaching. After that, who knows. Maybe I’ll get a doctorate?”

The person behind the camera raises a brow.

“I know I can come off as a ditz and a bit air headed, but I do actually have the qualifications to be here,” you chuckle. “And I do love it here at Abbott. I think this place could be my home for quite some time.”

That bit airs about a week later, and the next day, your coworkers stare at you as you enter the faculty room the next morning to put your lunch away.

“Yeah?” you ask as you open the refrigerator door.

“When were you gonna tell us you were that smart?” Melissa asks you. “Smart women are hot.”

Immediately, upon hearing her deep morning voice directed at you, and her calling you hot for your brains (something rarely anyone said), you turn beet red.

“Uh,” you stutter out.

“Sweetheart,” Barbara cuts in. “Forgive us, but most of us thought you were about as ditzy as Janine.”

The woman in question whines a, “Hey!” out, but everybody else besides Gregory nods in agreement.

“It just-“ you glance over at the redhead who is staring at you. “I-it just never came up.”

It’s later that day that you have recess duty while the rest of the teachers are eating in the staff room together. Somehow, you become the topic of choice again.

“It’s just weird,” Jacob notes.

“Maybe she’s just getting more comfortable in front of the camera,” Gregory states. “I know most of us have had some adjustments to get more comfortable with the cameras and the cameramen.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Melissa sighs. “I dunno. It seems like it’s just during B-roll or interviews though now.”

“Well, we’re all there and watching when we have to do those things,” Janine notes. “But I don’t know why that would make her uncomfortable. She talks to most of us just fine individually.”

Melissa frowns. They all talk to you individually? She’s kept her distance for the most part, and any time that she talks to you, you’re reduced to fumbling for your words. Is it her?

The redheaded second grade teacher decides to toy with this thought for the next few days. She’ll make it known that she’s around for your interviews, she’ll make it very clear that she’s going to be somewhere else during your talking heads… and she’ll move around during the b-roll shoots, even if it means that she’s away from Barbara.

“Listen up, slackers,” Ava starts a meeting before the crew pulls you individually. “We’re doing our talking heads, and they’ve been a real drag lately. Liven them up!”

“We’re doing our best, Ava,” Janine jumps in.

“Talk about more! Create more of a storyline!”

Today’s talking head interviews just so happen to be about the scene from where they were interrogating you for having quite a few credentials.

“Y/N?” Janine smiles. “Oh yeah, she’s pretty smart- I just didn’t realize she was… that smart, and I went to Penn. We’re pretty much on the same level. She’s a little quieter than the rest of us, but she fits in well.”

“Oh, Ms. Y/N?” Barbara asks. “Sweet girl. Shy. But I didn’t have the slightest clue she was as bright as she is.”

“Me?” you raise a brow as Rich calls your name to take you to the hall. You nod, stand and head along with him. Melissa follows, making it very apparent that she’s watching you. You turn the brightest shade of red that you ever have.

“So, tell us what you thought about the staff asking you about your credentials,” Rich tells you. Your eyes flit to the redhead behind him, and her eyes narrow slightly as she folds her arms across her chest.

“I- uh, didn’t-“ you swallow harshly. “I didn’t think it was that big of- of a deal? I- I know how to- how to teach.”

“How did you feel about Barbara’s comment about you being ditzy?”

“I-it didn’t bother me,” you shrug. “I’m aware I-I can c-come off like that.”

It’s clear they aren’t going to get much more out of you, so he allows you to go, and you can feel your ears burning as you have to brush past Melissa to get back to the library.

“Schemmenti?” they call her name. “Since you’re here, you wanna?”

You thank God you don’t have to walk back with her. That would just be beyond awkward for you, and you’re not sure you would be able to conduct yourself properly.

Melissa leans up against the wall to do her talking head.

“So, tell us what you think of Y/N,” Rich prompts.

“What do I think of her? She’s cute, sweet when she actually talks- insanely shy. I think she’s a good teacher,” Melissa tells the crew. “I think she’s a bit of a ditz sometimes, but if her degrees say anything, she’s bright. I just don’t quite understand why she gets so flustered during B-roll or talking heads.”

“Interesting,” one of the other crew members hums. “Say more.”

“I mean, youse heard what we were talking about during lunch while she was doing recess duty,” the redhead shrugs. “She’s fine with the staff individually, she can handle you guys in her classroom now… but then whenever we’re all together, she sounds like a mor- please don’t air this. I don’ wanna hurt the kid’s feelings.”

“We won’t,” Rich assures Melissa. “It’s more just for our background knowledge so that maybe we can get some other footage.”

The next day’s talking heads are the same. The second grade teacher makes it very known that she will be watching your interview, and you can’t get anything out. Your eyes are wide, and you look like you just saw a ghost.

The camera crew sees the way that your eyes flit to Melissa, and one of them silently signals for a smaller camera to pan over to the woman watching you. She makes eye contact with one of them before raising an eyebrow. Interesting.

“Y/N?” Mr. Johnson is called for his talking head, but they take him to his mop closet. “Sweet, smart girl. Always tidies up her room before leaving… Oh, and something’s going on between her and Melissa.”

The man behind the camera gives him a curious look. “Can you tell us more about that? We won’t air it, but maybe it can lead us to something… new.”

” Can’t tell if she’s terrified of her, thinks she’s hot, or both,” Mr. Johnson laughs. “I seen the way Y/N’s eyes get all big whenever Melissa walks into a room. Ears turn red. It’s funny.”

With Mr. Johnson’s insights, the crew decides to play with this a little. They don’t know that Melissa is already suspicious of it as well.

They have Melissa pulled away when it’s your turn for your talking head of the day, and you’re able to make it through that interview with no problems.

They seat her next to you during one of the B-roll shoots, and you look absolutely terrified the entire time. Your cheeks are flushed, you nervous play with your necklace, and you fidget the entire time.

Then, they have her pulled from it under the guise of having to do another interview. You’re perfectly fine. You relax almost instantly. You stop fidgeting, and you’re able to listen to everything that Ava is going on about- as much as you wish you weren’t listening to some of it. That woman really is something else.

Melissa notices the way that you tense up when she’s around and seemingly relax when she isn’t. She can’t quite explain how it makes her feel. But soon, those episodes start to air as well. And there is a stark difference between the talking heads that you did in front of her and the ones you did without her presence.

After a few weeks of this game that the crew is playing, along with the game that Melissa is playing, it’s clear to the redhead what is happening. She’s the only one that you rarely interact with. She’s obviously the one who makes you nervous, and she needs to know why.

“Hey, hun,” Melissa comes in with one of the crew members who follows the second grade teacher rather regularly.

“H-hey,” you turn and close your laptop to turn your full attention to the redhead. Your ears turn beet red, as does your face and chest. “H-how can I help you, Miss Schemmenti?” You eye the camera warily.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asks you point blank. “Why’re you weird around me?”

“I’m- I’m not?” you raise a brow at her. “I just- I’m not great with the cameras.”

“That ain’t true, and you know it,” the redhead retorts. “You been so good in front of the camera lately. We’ve all seen it with the new episodes airing.”

You shrug. You really don’t know what you’re supposed to say.

“You don’ like me or somethin’?” she crosses her arms.

“No, M-Melissa,” you stutter out. “It isn’t like that at all.”

“Then what is it? Because you’re only weird when I’m around,” Melissa continues to dig her heels in.

Again, you shrug.

The redhead presses her lips together in a fine line before cocking her head slightly as she makes eye contact with the camera. Then, she turns on her heel and leaves. They follow her as she leaves before cutting back to you- jaw open and confused.

They pull both of you for interviews later that day, and you don’t even know what to say.

“I- I’m not weird around her,” you say. “I rarely talk to her unless she talks to me first, and even then, I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Is there a reason for that?” one of the interviewers asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “She’s part of the crew that I usually hang with, but she’s- you’ve met her. She’s got a tough exterior, and I’m a little intimidated by her- especially with how shy I already am.”

Her talking head isn’t much different. “I don’t know why she’s so weird around me. We don’t even talk that often.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“She’s part of the crew, but I can be intimidating. I don’ wanna scare the poor thing… I actually do enjoy her presence,” the redhead says, and then her eyes unfocus, and it’s like she’s thinking of something else- you.

Later that day, they find the janitor that wanders the halls. His only comment on the situation is, “Interesting.”

The two of you dance around each other, the way that you have been. Until she starts to go out of her way to talk to you, because “Well, if we hang with the same crew, we might as well become friendly with each other.”

You still turn beet red any time she talks to you. She takes notice.

Finally, she corners you in your room during your prep one day right before school lets out for the year. She’s forgotten about the cameras that are still ‘hidden’ in your room due to the fact that they haven’t used those shots in months- you’ve gotten pretty good in front of the cameramen at this point.

“Oi, Y/N,” Melissa says as she knocks on your door gently and pulls the door so that it’s only open a crack. “We gotta talk.”

Your eyes widen, you bite your lip, and you turn beet red. “Y-yeah. What’s up?”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Get all nervous around me,” she says. “I ain’t that scary, am I?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then why do you get all red whenever I’m around? Stumble over your words? I’ve noticed it for a while now, so I thought I would try to be nicer to you to show you I really ain’t all that scary, but nothin’s working.”

You scratch the back of your neck before running a hand through your hair nervously. You really don’t think you can tell her that the reason you always get so flustered around her is because you’ve always thought she was very pretty, and you’re actually falling for her now that you’ve actually gotten to know her a little better when she talks to you at lunch or during B-roll shoots.

“C’mon, hun,” she prompts you. “It’s just us. You can talk to me.”

You glance over at one of the cameras on your bookshelf before sighing. “I- I don’t really know how to say this.”

“You got it,” she encourages you.

With a deep breath, you quietly admit, “You intimidate me.”

“I gathered that much, Y/N,” the redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she unfolds her arms and sits on one of the desks near yours. “Why?”

“Be-because,” you blink a few times. “Because I think you’re really pretty.”

“Well,” she laughs. “That’s because I am.”

“And I- I’m attracted to you,” you whisper out.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she jokes with you, but then she turns serious. “Wait, what?”

“I think- I think you’re really pretty, and you’re funny, and smart, and you’re really good with the kids, and I just think that you’re a really wonderful woman behind that tough leather jacket you like to wear. I just like you, but you scare me, and I’m scared that I like you because you aren’t like anyone else that I’ve ever fallen for before,” the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your hands fly to your mouth in shock at yourself. You can’t believe you just admitted that. “Oh… Oh, God. Uh, just forget everything I just-”

You’re cut off by her lips being gently pressed to yours to shut you up. Your eyes widen for a few seconds before your brain starts back up and you kiss her back.

“You wanna know why I avoided you for so long?” she asks you once the two of you break apart for air. She’s looking at you with those glowing green eyes. You just barely nod. “When you walked in the front door on your first day, I couldn’t deny the way I felt about you. But I didn’t wanna scare you off- you’re already so timid. So I just let you be and admired from afar.”

“So… why did you start talking to me?” you ask nervously.

“Admittedly,” she chuckles softly as she tucks a hair of yours behind your ear. “The crew had something to do with that. They were constantly questioning me about you once you got more comfortable around the cameras… they realized you were only getting flustered if I was around, and I kind of noticed it too. So I took matters into my own hands,” she laughs. “I guess it paid off?”

“I’d say so,” you whisper. “Wow,” you sigh to yourself softly. “Is this… are you serious about kissing me just now?”

“I am,” she laughs as she leans in again and pecks your lips. “So… dinner at my house after we leave?”

“I think that’d be nice,” you sigh in content.

What the two of you don’t know is that Mr. Johnson just witnessed the whole thing, and before either of you could even begin to think anyone had heard anything, he’s running down the hall to tell the crew what he had just witnessed and that they have to pull the camera from your room to see it too.

—

You and Melissa, now an item but keeping it on the down low, spend most of the summer at the beach… you only find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with her the more time you spend with her.

But as it always does, Summer goes by too quickly for either of your liking, and you find yourself back at Abbott. During the break, you kind of forgot that the cameras hidden in your room captured the sweet moment and beginning of the two of you. That is, until Rich pulls the two of you aside on your first day back. He takes the two of you into one of the meeting rooms to do a talking head- different from how they normally conduct these shoots.

“So…” he chuckles. “How was your break?” he asks the two of you during a joint-interview.

“Oh,” you turn red. “It was- it was fine.”

“Spent a lot of time at the beach,” Melissa shrugs, but she doesn’t look at you. You haven’t told the crew about your relationship.

“Uh, me too,” you say nervously, hoping it doesn’t give the two of you away.

“Did you two forget that your whole little love confession happened in front of cameras?” he asks you as he stops rolling and lowers his camera.

Your eyes widen, as do your girlfriend’s. The two of you exchange nervous looks.

“Well, we actually pulled the two of you aside to ask if it’s okay to air,” he tells the two of you. “We both know that you’re two of the more private people at Abbott, but we do think it would be great for ratings. Of course though, if you don’t want it-”

“Y-you can air it, if it’s okay with Melissa,” you say quietly. “I- I don’t mind.”

The redhead looks at you before taking your hand and squeezing it gently. “If Y/N is okay with it, I guess I am too… Can’t hide it forever, especially with loudmouth Janine around.”

—

When the first episode of the new season starts airing, the crew had decided use the first few minutes to do a recap of what had happened last school year, as well as a few things that people had missed. They show what had been aired last season, her confronting you the first time- when the cameramen were with her, where you hadn’t said anything. And then of course, it cuts to the shots from your classroom where the two of you had confessed your feelings for each other are there, and then it cuts to a talking head of Mr. Johnson.

“I knew it,” he chuckles from his mop closet. “I told y’all Y/N had the hots for Schemmenti. Hell yeah!”

The rest of the episode, both of your phones are blowing up from your coworkers in absolute disbelief. You laugh as you put both of your phones on ‘do not disturb’ before you’re curling further into Melissa’s side to watch the rest of the episode, a glass of wine in hand. Occasionally, you peck her cheek, or she dots your hairline with a gentle kiss when the show the two of you together. When the episode is over, you both retire up to her bedroom. She plugs in your phones before the two of you get ready for a good night’s sleep. Neither of you bother to respond to the plethora of texts you’ve both received. You’ll handle your ridiculous coworkers tomorrow.

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