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pedroscowgirl · 5 months ago

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I love you, I'm sorry

a professor! remus lupin x (legal) student fem!reader series

Warnings: fluff fluff /SMUT at the end so minors DNI! p in v (wrap it up), student x teacher relationship, age gap (reader is 20 something, remus is 38), size kink? (he barely fits), professor kink, reader is sucker for academic validation

summary: fucking your hot new professor 4.5k words

A/N: so once again uni has been killing me and i need academic validation from a hot professor and remus is my current bae so here you go. Also this will be a series cuz I'm way too invested in their dynamic so stay tuned. And there is an insane shortage of older remus lepin smuts btw. pls fix it guys

The September air was crisp as you stepped through the ancient wooden doors of Hogwarts, your heart thrumming with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. This wasn’t your first time entering the castle, but it felt different now—this was the year you’d finally take Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by the newly appointed Professor Lupin. You’d heard whispers about him in the hallways: brilliant, kind, but carrying an air of quiet sadness that intrigued you more than you cared to admit.

Clutching your books tightly, you made your way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, arriving early to secure a good seat. The room was lit with flickering candles, their light casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The faint scent of old parchment and wood polish lingered in the air, familiar and comforting. You chose a seat near the front, arranging your materials neatly as you waited, the quiet hum of anticipation growing in your chest.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, and when the door creaked open, you looked up. In walked Professor Lupin, his robes slightly frayed at the edges, his sandy-brown hair streaked with silver, and a battered leather satchel slung over his shoulder. His eyes, a warm hazel, swept across the room before landing on you. For a moment, he froze.

“Oh, hello,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with surprise. He adjusted the strap of his satchel, suddenly looking self-conscious. “You… you must be one of my students. I didn’t expect… I mean, I wasn’t expecting anyone this early.”

You offered a small smile, trying to put him at ease. “I wanted to make a good impression, Professor. This is my favorite subject.”

His brows lifted slightly, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, well, you certainly have. Punctuality is always appreciated.” He set his satchel down on the desk, his hands fumbling with the clasp. “I’m…” He paused, cleared his throat, and started again. “I’m Remus Lupin. Well, Professor Lupin, of course.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Professor Lupin,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your pulse quickened under his gaze.

He nodded, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he busied himself with arranging papers on his desk. “And you are…?”

You gave him your name, watching as he repeated it under his breath, as if committing it to memory.

“A lovely name,” he murmured, then seemed to catch himself. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous chuckle. “I mean, uh, it’s… a perfectly fine name. Good, strong. Not that I… Oh dear, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, charmed by his awkwardness. “Just a little, but I don’t mind.”

He exhaled, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. “Well, I’m glad one of us doesn’t. I’m usually more articulate, I promise.”

The door opened again, and other students began trickling in, breaking the quiet moment. Professor Lupin straightened, slipping into a more composed demeanor as he greeted the newcomers. But as the lesson began, you couldn’t help noticing the occasional glance he stole in your direction, as if you had caught his attention in a way he hadn’t expected.

The lesson passed in a blur of practical demonstrations and insightful lectures. Professor Lupin’s teaching style was unlike anything you’d experienced before; he made even the most complex topics seem accessible, weaving stories and humor into his explanations. He had a way of drawing you in, his voice calm and steady, yet tinged with a passion that made you want to absorb every word. By the end of the class, you felt more inspired than ever.

As students began gathering their things, you lingered, hesitant to leave just yet. You pretended to adjust the straps on your bag, stealing glances at him as he packed away his teaching materials. Finally, you took a deep breath and approached his desk.

“Professor Lupin?” you ventured, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest.

He looked up, startled but quickly masking it with a warm smile. “Yes? What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to thank you for the lesson. It was really… inspiring. I’ve never had a professor explain things so clearly before.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely touched. “That means a great deal, thank you. It’s always a pleasure to know my efforts are appreciated.”

You hesitated, then added, “If it’s not too much trouble, I was hoping I could ask you some questions about today’s material. I want to make sure I understand it completely.”

“Of course,” he said immediately, motioning for you to take a seat. “I’d be happy to help.”

For the next half-hour, the two of you discussed the finer points of defensive spells and magical theory. Despite the growing darkness outside, you felt a warmth settle over you as his passion for teaching shone through. He listened intently to your questions, his responses thoughtful and encouraging. At one point, he pulled out a piece of parchment and sketched a detailed diagram to illustrate a particularly complex concept, his movements precise and confident.

“You’ve really thought this through,” he said, glancing up at you with a look of quiet admiration. “It’s rare to see a student so eager to delve deeper. You’re going to go far, you know.”

Your cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot coming from you.”

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “Well, I’m just glad to have someone so engaged in the subject. It makes teaching all the more rewarding.”

As the conversation finally drew to a close, you gathered your things, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. As you stood to go, he spoke again.

“You have a remarkable mind,” he said quietly. “I can tell you’re going to do great things.”

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice soft. You hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m looking forward to the next lesson.”

“As am I,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “Have a good evening.”

You nodded and stepped out of the classroom into the dimly lit corridor. The warmth of his words stayed with you as you walked away, the echo of his quiet encouragement lingering in your mind. All you knew was that you were already looking forward to the next lesson—and to the moments when his gaze would meet yours, even if just for a fleeting second.

—----------------------------

The days that followed were filled with small, quiet moments that slowly deepened the connection between you and Professor Lupin. In class, he often called on you, his hazel eyes brightening whenever you answered correctly. There were times when he lingered after lessons, offering further explanations or engaging in discussions that felt more like conversations between equals than the typical student-teacher dynamic.

One afternoon, as the golden light of autumn streamed through the castle’s tall windows, you found yourself in the library, poring over a particularly dense tome on advanced defensive techniques. Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of a particularly convoluted passage. Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Struggling with something?”

You looked up to see Professor Lupin standing there, a gentle smile on his face. He held a stack of books in his arms, their spines worn and faded.

“A little,” you admitted, gesturing to the page. “This section on layered shield charms is… well, it’s a bit much.”

He set his books down and pulled up a chair beside you, his proximity sending a faint thrill through you. “Let’s see,” he said, leaning in to read over your shoulder. His voice was soft and soothing as he began to explain the concept, breaking it down into manageable pieces. As he spoke, his hand brushed yours briefly as he pointed to a diagram, the touch light but enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“That makes so much more sense,” you said when he finished, a smile breaking across your face. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re very welcome,” replied, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than expected. There was a softness in his expression, a quiet encouragement that felt like a promise—though a promise of what, you couldn’t quite say. You found yourself hoping for more of these moments, fleeting as they were, where the world around you seemed to fade and it was just the two of you.

Over the following weeks, these small interactions began to multiply. Sometimes it was the way his hand would briefly graze yours when passing back an essay, or the way his eyes would crinkle with genuine amusement when you shared a clever observation during class discussions. Other times, it was the unspoken understanding you felt during your private consultations, where the conversation would drift seamlessly from the intricacies of magic to literature, history, or even philosophy.

One evening, as autumn gave way to the chill of early winter, you found yourself wandering the castle grounds after dinner. The moon hung low in the sky, its silver light casting long shadows across the frost-kissed grass. You’d brought your notebook, intending to sketch out some ideas for an upcoming project, but instead, you found yourself simply walking, letting the quiet envelop you.

“Out for some fresh air?” came a familiar voice, startling you out of your thoughts.

You turned to see Professor Lupin leaning against the edge of a low stone wall, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His robes looked heavier than usual, lined against the cold, and his scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. He offered a small, lopsided smile, the kind that always made your heart flutter.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, moving closer. “Escaping the chaos of the castle?”

He chuckled softly, nodding. “Something like that. It’s nice to step away for a moment. Clear the head.”

You hesitated before sitting on the wall beside him, the stone cool against your hands. “Do you come out here often?”

“When I can,” he admitted. “It’s… peaceful. A rare commodity these days.”

You looked up at him, noting the faint lines of weariness around his eyes. “You must be exhausted,” you said, the concern in your voice unguarded. “Teaching all of us, managing everything…”

“It’s part of the job,” he said with a shrug, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But thank you. It’s kind of you to notice.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees. After a moment, you gathered the courage to speak again.

“You’re a really good teacher, you know. It’s not just the way you explain things—it’s the way you make us feel like… like it matters. Like we matter.”

He turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you worried you’d overstepped, but then he spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“That means more than you know,” he said. “Truly.”

The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch, and you quickly looked away, your cheeks warming. To your relief, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, asking about your project and offering advice that was both practical and insightful. The two of you talked until the cold began to seep into your bones, and he insisted you head back to the castle to warm up.

Beneath the surface, there was always the shadow of what couldn’t be said aloud. You both knew the boundaries that existed, even as the line between student and professor blurred into something more intimate. And yet, neither of you seemed willing—or able—to step away.

—-

Professor Lupin—Remus, as you’d begun to call him in the privacy of your thoughts—seemed to gravitate toward you just as you gravitated toward him. There was always a reason to linger after class, always a justification for a quiet conversation in his office, but the excuses were growing thinner with each passing day.

It was one such evening, after a particularly rigorous Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, that you found yourself in his office again. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the small, cluttered space. Books were stacked haphazardly on every surface, and a faint scent of parchment and tea hung in the air.

“You’ve outdone yourself with today’s essay,” he said, his voice warm with genuine praise. He held the parchment in his hands, his thumb brushing over the edges as he glanced at you. “Your analysis of nonverbal defense techniques was insightful, and your argument about their limitations was… well, brilliant, really.”

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment, though you tried to hide it by looking down at your hands. “Thank you. I’ve had a good teacher.”

He chuckled softly, but there was something in his gaze that lingered longer than it should have. “You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, daring to meet his eyes. “You’ve made me believe I can do more than I ever thought I could.”

For a moment, the room seemed to grow impossibly still. His smile faded into something softer, something almost hesitant. He set the parchment down on his desk, his fingers lingering on it for a moment before he folded his hands in his lap.

“I see so much potential in you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn’t heard before. “You’re capable of things you don’t even realize yet.”

“Is that why you’ve been so patient with me?” you asked, your tone light but your heart racing.

“Patient?” he repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You make it sound like a chore. It’s not. It’s never been that.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and charged. You weren’t sure who moved first—if it was him leaning forward or you—but suddenly the distance between you felt impossibly small. His hand reached out, hesitating for a brief second before his fingers brushed against yours. The touch was light, tentative, as though he were testing the boundaries of what was allowed.

“I shouldn’t—” he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

But you interrupted him, your own voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “I think we’ve both stopped asking what we should or shouldn’t do.”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw the conflict warring within him—the weight of responsibility battling with the pull of something undeniable. Then, as if the tension became too much to bear, he closed the remaining distance between you.

The kiss was gentle at first, his lips brushing against yours like a question waiting for an answer. When you responded, leaning into him, the hesitation melted away. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was a desperation to it, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long and could no longer resist.

The fire crackled softly in the background, the warmth of the room wrapping around you like a cocoon. Every nerve in your body seemed to come alive under his touch, the world outside fading into insignificance. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no titles, no expectations, just a connection that felt raw and real.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in soft, uneven bursts. His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw.

“This…” he began, his voice hoarse. “This is dangerous.”

“I know,” you whispered, your own voice barely audible. “But it doesn’t feel wrong.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “No, it doesn’t. And that’s what scares me.”

You stayed like that for a while, the silence filled with the unspoken understanding that whatever this was, it couldn’t be undone.

—---

It had been weeks since the first kiss, each stolen moment adding another layer to the unspoken understanding between you. It wasn’t just the kisses or the way his hand lingered on yours—it was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. There was something in his eyes, a mixture of wonder and hesitance, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourself once again in Remus’s office. The castle was quiet, the only sounds the occasional creak of the old walls and the faint crackle of the fire. His office had become a second home to you.

“You’re lost in thought again,” Remus said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. He was seated across from you, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His eyes, warm and inquisitive, searched your face.

You smiled softly, setting your own cup down. “I suppose I am. It’s hard not to be, lately.”

“Something troubling you?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. The concern in his voice made your chest tighten.

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Not troubling, exactly. Just… overwhelming. Everything feels so much bigger than me lately—school, the war, us…”

The last word slipped out before you could stop it, and your cheeks flushed as his expression shifted. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and you feared you’d said too much. But then he set his tea aside and reached out, his hand covering yours.

“Us,” he repeated softly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “That’s a word I never thought I’d hear in this context. And yet, it feels… right.”

Your breath caught at his admission, your heart pounding in your chest. “It does,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The room seemed to shrink, the air between you charged with something electric. His hand tightened slightly around yours, and you saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He wanted this—you could see it—but he was holding himself back.

“I’ve tried to tell myself all the time that we shouldn’t,” he said, his voice low. “That it’s too risky, too complicated. But the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You stood then, the need to close the distance between you overpowering. He followed your lead, rising to meet you as you took a tentative step closer. Your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

“Then stop trying,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “You have no idea how much I want this. How much I want you.”

“Then show me,” you whispered.

The words were all the encouragement he needed. He kissed you, his lips capturing yours with a hunger that took your breath away. It was a kiss that spoke of weeks of restraint finally breaking, of emotions too strong to be contained. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair.

The sofa was only a few steps away, but it felt like an eternity as he guided you toward it. His movements were careful, his touch reverent, as though he were afraid of breaking the spell. When your legs hit the edge of the sofa, he hesitated, his gaze searching yours.

“We can stop at any time,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you said, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I want this. I want you.”

His breath hitched, and then he was kissing you again, more fiercely this time. He lowered you onto the sofa, his weight settling over you as his hands explored, each touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His lips moved to your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate, as though he were memorizing every inch of you.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of desire and restraint.

“You’re not,” you assured him, your own hands roaming, desperate to feel more of him. “Please, don’t stop.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Your response was a soft sigh, your hands threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. There was no rush, no urgency—only a deep, mutual need to be as close to each other as possible. Time seemed to stretch, each moment etched into your memory with perfect clarity.

He had just shrugged off his sweater, revealing the slightly faded button-down shirt he wore underneath. Your hands moved instinctively, reaching for the buttons to slide them open. His breath hitched, and then, suddenly, his hands came up to stop you. The look in his eyes was a mixture of vulnerability and hesitation, making your heart twist painfully in your chest.

“Wait,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard, looking down at where your hands rested against his chest. “I… I have a lot of scars. I don’t want to scare you.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled gently, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You could never scare me, Remus,” you said with quiet sincerity. You leaned forward and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips. His tension melted slightly under your touch, and he gave a small, grateful smile in return.

Encouraged, your hands resumed their task, slipping the buttons of his shirt open one by one. He shivered slightly under your touch but didn’t stop you this time. Once the shirt joined his sweater on the floor, your hands roamed over his torso, tracing the raised, pale lines of the scars that criss crossed his skin. You didn’t flinch or look away. Instead, you admired the strength and resilience they represented, leaning down to place a tender kiss over one of them. Remus’s breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t from fear.

Your hands moved lower, brushing against the waistband of his trousers. His sharp intake of breath was audible in the quiet room, and he hesitated for a brief moment before nodding slightly. You unfastened his belt, and he stood to step out of his trousers, leaving him standing before you in nothing but his boxers. As he slid those off as well, exposing himself to you fully, your eyes widened slightly, and a nervous laugh escaped him.

“Sorry, I just…” he began, but you cut him off with a soft smile.

“No, it’s okay, dear,” you assured him. Your eyes sparkled with affection as you leaned back against the cushions. “It will fit, don’t worry.”

His lips quirked up in a shy smile at your words, and his gaze roamed over you with a mixture of awe and desire. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt, lifting it slightly to expose the delicate lace of your panties. He bit his lip as his fingers hooked under the waistband to slide them down your legs.

“Darling,” he murmured, his voice husky, “I hope I’m the only professor you’re this wet for.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his teasing remark, and you hid your face behind your hands for a moment before peeking out to respond. “Of course. No one is as wonderful as you.”

He chuckled softly and grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer to him while your skirt bunched around your hips. You reached for the buttons of your blouse, slowly unfastening them as his eyes followed your every movement. When the blouse slipped from your shoulders, revealing your bare chest, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“No bra?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. You smirked in response, shrugging playfully.

His hand moved to your tie, loosening it with the intent of tossing it aside, but you stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “Wait,” you said, your voice soft but insistent. “Use it to tie me up… please.” Your eyes were wide and pleading, and he hesitated, his own cheeks flushing.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted, his voice laced with concern.

“You won’t,” you reassured him, your voice filled with trust. “I want this, Remus.”

He nodded slowly, swallowing his nerves as he looped the tie around your wrists, securing it firmly but ensuring it wasn’t too tight. The silk of the tie felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between the two of you. His eyes flickered over your bound form, taking in the way you looked so willingly vulnerable for him. The sight sent a thrill racing through his veins, igniting a fire that made his hands tremble slightly as they traced delicately over your exposed skin. He hesitated, his touch reverent, as though he were afraid of breaking the spell between you.

He positioned himself between your thighs, the fabric of your skirt bunched around your hips, and his hand moved to guide himself. His tip brushed against your entrance, teasingly slow, and you squirmed beneath him, a soft whimper escaping your lips. When he finally pushed into you, your head fell back against the cushions, a gasp spilling from your lips as your body stretched to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming—a mix of pleasure and a hint of discomfort that quickly gave way to a delicious fullness.

“Oh my God, professor, fuck,” you gasped, your words slipping out before you could stop them.

Remus groaned deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest as his hands gripped your hips to hold you still. He stilled for a moment, his own breath ragged as he tried to steady himself. “God, dear,” he muttered, his voice thick with restraint. “I love it when you call me that. And you’re so tight… I’m not even sure you can take it all.”

The teasing lilt in his voice made your cheeks burn, and you whined in response, your tied hands flexing against the restraint. “No, I can take it,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Remus, I need you.”

His laughter was low and rich, vibrating against your skin as he leaned down to kiss you. “Such a needy little thing,” he murmured against your lips before trailing kisses down to your neck. His lips found a particularly sensitive spot, and he nibbled gently, drawing a shiver from you.

As he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his hands wandered over your body, touching and caressing every inch he could reach. Each thrust pushed him deeper, and your moans grew louder, filling the room with the symphony of your shared pleasure. His pace quickened, and the angle shifted just slightly, sending sparks coursing through you. Your tied hands flexed uselessly above your head, and the restraint only heightened your senses, every touch and movement magnified.

“You feel so perfect,” Remus groaned, his voice raw with emotion. His lips continued to worship your neck, marking your skin with faint red imprints of his teeth and tongue.

The pleasure built steadily within you, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your release washed over you in a powerful wave, your body trembling and arching into him as you cried out his name. The intensity of your climax sent him over the edge as well. With a low, guttural moan, Remus pulled out at the last moment, his release spilling across your chest in warm, white streaks.

Both of you lay there for a moment, your breathing ragged and mingling in the quiet intimacy of the room. He reached for a nearby tissue, gently cleaning you up before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His fingers brushed against the tie still securing your wrists, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours.

You pouted slightly, and he noticed immediately, his expression softening. “What’s wrong, darling?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I wanted you to finish inside me,” you admitted, your voice tinged with disappointment.

He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “I… I’m scared of what might happen. I don’t want to risk making you pregnant. And there are… things about me you don’t know yet.”

You looked up at him with curiosity and concern, but you didn’t press him further. Instead, you cupped his face with your bound hands, offering him a small, understanding smile. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen,” you said softly.

Remus’s heart swelled at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you once more, silently vowing to himself that he would find a way to share his secrets with you when the time was right. For now, he was content to hold you close, savoring the warmth and trust that flowed between you.

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sidemari · 4 months ago

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• "The way I love you"•

A short compilation of each character's ways of showing they love you.

Characters included: Aphelios, Hwei, Jayce, Jhin, Jinx, Sett, Silco, Viktor, Yone (separately and in this order) x GN!Reader

Warning: Mentions of Jhin's gun in his text section, since we're talking about a criminal psychopath, lol. Other than that, it's just a silly and cute post.

Aphelios

He must admit that his favorite place in the world is when you're sitting with him on the couch or even in bed, with your back against his torso, his legs wrapped around yours and his head resting on your shoulder as you read the pages of a book out loud.

"Some things are more precious because they don't last long"* You read the sentence, letting it sink in. "Do you agree with that, Phel?"

His eyes widened, he wasn't really paying attention to the story, even though it was a classic of literature. He was just enjoying how pleasant your voice sounded.

"I bet you weren't paying much attention"

He just nodded, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.

His hand squeezed yours in apology.

You squeezed it back, letting him know it was okay.

"Aren't you two adorable?" Alune sang in Aphelios's thoughts.

*"The Picture of Dorian Gray" reference.

Hwei

Letting you see his most secret artworks was the way he could show his love for you. Letting you participate in the creation of new pieces was also common, with him patiently guiding you through the process.

"Are you sure about this?" You asked anxiously, trembling when he put the paint-soaked brush in your hands. He just timidly smiled before nodding.

"You inspire not only my art, but my soul as well" His hand covered yours, helping you to put the final brushstrokes on the canvas. "I want you to be part of this"

Jayce

You could say this man likes to be a provider. That being said, he would do anything on his reach to make you happy.

And what usually makes you happy is a whole body massage after a full day of fiddling with trinkets and dealing with daunting equations in the lab.

You sighed in frustration as you laid down on the bed after showering, your aching muscles making you uncomfortable. His hands squeezed your shoulders gently, making you whimper softly.

"You're tense" His hands worked on the right places so you could finally relax. "Let me help you with that"

"You don't have to-" You couldn't finish your line, not when he was so efficiently taking away your pain.

"See?" He teased. "Let me spoil you a little, love"

Jhin

He allows you to play his piano, take off his mask and even hold Whisper - his gun - whenever you pleased. That was his deviant way of showing you were a slightly more important piece in his performance.

"When will you put this to good use, my muse?" He asked, playfully tracing patterns against your thigh with his gun. With the time you’d known him, you knew better than to give in to his distorted ideas.

"Preferably never" You muttered, taking Whisper off his hand and setting it aside. "I learned a new sheet while you were gone, wanna hear it?"

Jinx

She lives for cuddling with you.

It's always the peak of her day.

It feels so intimate and perfect.

Being with you, feeling the softness of your skin, the warmth of your body, the smell of your shampoo and cologne, feeling you melt against her, letting go of your worries as she hums a familiar tune, is the closest thing to heaven she could ever get.

"I could stay like this forever" You whispered, feeling her chuckle against your nape.

"Did you swap your shampoo brand?"

"Jinx…" You deadpanned.

"I'm just teasing you" She kissed your hair. "I could spend eternity with you in my arms"

Sett

This seems so obvious, but not only would he let you freely touch his ears, he would also ask you to give them the attention they need. Also, he would gladly allow you to see through his tough facade, giving you the chance to know how kind and pure he can be.

It was a funny scene, to say the least. A man of almost two meters of height, in his knees, with his head resting on your lap, confessions leaving his lips.

"This feels good…" He sighed, closing his eyes in bliss as you played with his ears. You pulled one of them playfully. "H-Hey!"

"You are really something" You mused.

Silco

Almost every night you can prepare for laying down on the couch, with your head on his lap, his fingers combing through your hair as he tells you stories about his past.

Often you fall asleep like that, with him taking you to your bedroom after he notices you wouldn't wake up so easily.

"We used to meet a lot back then, it was-" He was missing your voice responding to his comments. It was when he noticed you had fallen asleep, looking so vulnerable and precious as he played with your hair. "Guess I'll have to finish this story tomorrow"

Viktor

Brews coffee or makes tea for you every day, appearing by your side on the laboratory to help you unwind in the moments you were feeling exhausted or distressed with your work. It's his way of showing he cares about you.

"Here, have this" he squeezed your shoulders, taking your attention away from the trinkets above your desk.

"Hot chocolate today?" You asked quietly, standing up from your seat and taking the cup in your hands. "What made you change your mind?"

"It releases dopamine, you'll thank me later" He kissed the top of your head, making you sigh in delight.

Yone

Letting you in when his world was nothing but chaos was enough to show you he loved you dearly.

He had faced horrible creatures and devilish days for years straight, still, he let his guard down and allowed you to be part of his life when it was pure hell.

You caressed his hair with delicacy, soothing him after a day of battles.

"Can I hug you?" You asked quietly, your fingers now stroking his cheek.

"Please" He whispered against your lips, sighing heavily when you pulled him impossibly close, "You make me feel like I'm alive again" He muttered against your neck.

#silco x reader #viktor x reader #sett x reader #jinx x reader #jhin x reader #yone x reader #jayce x reader #hwei x reader #aphelios x reader #arcane x reader #arcane fluff

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antiiqueness · 5 days ago

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DANCE WITH ME

character: bakugou katsuki warnings: none i can think of, just kinda sad to sweet and very sentimental >.< words: 1.2k

synopsis:

”Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.”

notes: i luv him so much i wanna die. i'm in the works for a spooky little AU for him as well as one for tomura so stay tuned for those im vv excited hehe

Growing up Katsuki's parents wanted him to be the best. To do everything. His mother wanted him to find art in more aggressive sports and hobbies. His father however, pushed for actual art. Masaru had a genuine joy for the peaceful and quiet, something of which he couldn’t enjoy as much as he’d wished for with the home he lived in. Nevertheless, in the seldom moments he had of quiet, he danced, and painted, and sat in the garden of their home, enjoying the moments he had to himself and his thoughts.

As a kid, Katsuki hated how his father would get in specific “moods” where he just wanted to be to himself and his thoughts. He never truly understood it growing up, until he met you. You were so alike to his father; wanting to sit and enjoy the peace you had in random little moments and increments. It was such a foreign concept to Katsuki.

He looked at you as if you were an anomaly. When the two of you had first begun dating, he just didn’t get it, who would want to be in areas of time where no one could sit and appreciate what you do. At least with volleyball, and boxing, and debate classes you earn respect for doing it and winning.

He would sit and watch you in seemingly your own world, planting flowers, or annotating classic literature and be brought back in time to when he was 12 years old seeing his dad sit in the garden reading the same exact book with a pencil in hand. Certain foods you would make, and specific songs you would play would remind him of his father and how much Katsuki truly missed him.

It was raining out the day he saw you swinging on the porch with a cup of tea and a book in hand, when he had called his dad. He wanted to understand it; he wanted that same peace the two of you seemed to hold so dearly. He wanted to bond over it.

As a kid his father wanted him to take ballroom dance classes, was adamant it would be a healthy outlet to learn to express himself and to get lost in. Mitsuki and Katsuki were not big on the idea though, brushing it off and pursing their interests that more often than not landed them or others in hospital beds.

Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.

“I'm going to my parents for a bit, want me to grab anything on the way home?” Katsuki stood by the door of the backyard, looking out at the back of your head, you sitting silently in a chair, rocking back and forth. “No, I'm okay baby. Thank you.” quietly muttered as if it were a secret, you don’t turn around. He doesn't want you to. He just stands for a moment more before muttering a quick goodbye and closing the door.

The drive itself is weird. He doesn’t know if it’s age or if he was having an odd midlife crisis, but he doesn’t speak a word the entire drive, just quietly excelling forward.

When he arrives at the house he had grown up in, spent every memory of birthdays and holidays, where he learned to ride a bike, where he had his first tooth fall out, every memory lingering in the air around the house, he just stands at the door for a moment.

He doesn’t know what was different this time, but something was. Maybe himself. Maybe he had finally grown up. He was changed, and content with it.

His attention is only brought back to the present tense when the door opens, and he sees his father's brown eyes staring back at him. Katsuki doesn’t know what comes over him, but without saying a single word, he gently pushes his way into the house and grabs ahold of his father. He felt like a little kid all over again. He just wanted to hug and talk to his dad. He wanted to take those ballroom dance classes. He wanted to bond with him.

So that's what they did. Masaru was a man of few words most his life, keeping relatively quiet and to himself, but coming completely out of his shell with his son now. He had taught Katsuki everything he wanted to learn with a small smile and a joy Katsuki had never seen in his father.

By the end of the night Masaru had grabbed an old record and put it on the player, having classical music whirl throughout the house, before turning to Katsuki and teaching him how to dance. Mitsuki watched quietly, quieter than Katsuki had ever seen her, with a smile and tears gleaming her eyes, happy she could see her two favorite people bonding in ways she knew her husband had always wanted to with him.

Katsuki felt closer to them, he felt as though he had truly understood family finally. He drove home with a smile, a calm, content smile that had rarely graced his handsome face, cheerful all the way up the steps to the home he shared with you.

Opening the door, he knew his perspective had changed, knew that life was different, a good different, and that he was fortunate enough to share it with you. You had this lopsided smile on your face when you had seen him walk through the door, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him, covered in little raindrops.

“I assume you had a good night at your parents’ place?” Helping him out of his jacket, you move to hang it on the rack before he stops you and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Let's dance.” he says simply, looking down at you with a look in his beautifully light eyes that gleamed and shone in enamor and affection.

“What?” you laughed, taken aback and smiling even bigger, “Yeah, I wanna dance with you.” Tossing his phone onto the counter, the same song his father played for him started to drift throughout his new home, the home he shared with you, the home in which he held dearest of all, simply because you existed in it. you were his home.

Grabbing ahold of you like his dad had shown him how to, he started to sway slowly, leaning his head against yours, and tightening his grip on your hips ever so lightly. He looked so odd, there was no anger, no irritation, no malice in his features whatsoever, just pure contentment. You wanted to live in this moment for the rest of the days you two had together, falling in love with him all over again.

Katsuki Bakugou was great at many things, but as he grew and matured, he became great at understanding life, and how much peace was truly worth, especially if it meant this is how he could spend the rest of his life with you.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou smau #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smau #bnha x reader #mha #my hero #my hero academia #mha x reader

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alexrod-dbd · 3 months ago

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Did you miss me and my dbd book covers? Because I’m back with a new batch, starting with this new one!

Cover for Halcyon Days by @cordelia-noir (SO impatient to read this one) and The Katabasis Job by @laiqualaurelote ✨

Using once again the wonderful art of @hannaloony 💛

Stay tuned for more to come!

(Still NOT for selling distribution)

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shummthechumm · 2 months ago

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when ur circle small but yall crazy (red & silver au)

more info under cut

my last hollyleaf art had me thinking...so i decided to give this another go and redesign midnight and fallen leaves along with it!

when i was originally creating for this au (via rewriting the entirety of po3 to oots) i was SUPER excited to get to holly's novella. problem was that i was like 14 and writing that many books on a whim clearly did not pan out. no harm no foul, but ive never let go of all the stuff i came up with for that unfinished novella rewrite.

there was some major lore dumps via midnight and rock, and hollyleaf was the audience vessel for learning why and how any of the canon divergence po3 prophecy stuff was happening anyway. fallen leaves' involvement in this au had always flickered in and out of existence, but I decided that if I were to write this now, he'd be there. in short, holly would be the first of the protagonists to be filled in on the lore stuff because she killed someone and locked herself away in the wackiness that is the po3-oots era lake territory tunnels.

i may have said a whole lotta nothing here but im trying to get more comfortable with posting my ideas without a HUGE HYPOTHETICAL project because i like sharing them but i get nervous if i don't present them "perfectly" so...here!!! expect more!!! what is up with midnight and rock and what have they been doing in those tunnels all this time?? stay tuned!!

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 2 years ago

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MASTER LIST OF INSTRUMENTAL PLAYLISTS FOR WRITING (OR FOR STUDYING, MAKING ART, ETC.)

I find that the perfect writing playlist can GREATLY enhance the writing experience. Even if it doesn't make your writing "better" (which it can, since it helps writers with visualization, tone, and mood), it can definitely make your writing flow easier!

Personally, words distract me when I'm writing, either by breaking my train of thought or by getting me too into the music so that I'm jamming out to my favorite tunes instead of writing.

Therefore, I've amassed a vast knowledge of instrumental music across a variety of media over a course of many years. Now here I am, deciding to share all of them with you!

Maddy’s Favorite Instrumental Songs

Just like the title says. All of the best pieces of instrumental music I've ever heard, compiled together with no regard for genre. It can be a bit of a whiplash playlist, but some amazing recs in there that I just like listening to in my free time, not just for writing.

Maddy’s Ultimate Instrumental Playlist

A mega compilation of 550+ fantastic instrumental music from a variety of media and genres. Kind of a whiplash playlist if you put it on shuffle, but is a great start for anyone looking to find what kind of instrumental music they like! Playlist Groupings in Order: Independent instrumental songs, live action movies, animated movies, animated tv shows, live action tv shows, video games.

Maddy's Instrumental for Sleep

Some more chill vibe instrumental for people who either A) want to sleep or B) want a relaxed playlist that won't distract you with loud volume and sudden changes in tempo or melody.

MISC PLAYLISTS:

you're a haggard adventurer discovering worlds beyond your wildest dreams

Music to inspire wonder and wanderlust, the kind of feeling you get when you finally reach the end of a mountain hike and see the world stretching out before you.

you're a hero who's just lost everything

Basically the most sad instrumental music I could find. A playlist for grief and revenge.

more beneath the cut :)

you're a cowboy in the great American West

Cowboy instrumental for all of your ambient and writing needs. Or if you just really want to feel like a cowboy.

you're a divine witness

Epic choir music (no English). Most religious, some not, but all kind of have that eerie sacred vibe. I listen to this while writing my book about angels and demons.

you’re a scholar uncovering the secrets of the universe

Great chill study playlist! Has the kind of same exploratory/discovery type feel as the haggard adventurer playlist, but more dark academia.

you’re a villain plotting to take over the world

Villain-coded instrumental! Sinister, dark, and/or unsettling.

you're an academic weapon

HIGH BPM STUDY PLAYLIST! Keeps me focused, hyped, and helps me work faster!

you're an ancient god

Playlist that gives an ancient/eerie vibe. But some ancient gods are merciful- so there are some upbeat songs for wonder and awe!

you're falling in love

Music that encapsulates what I think falling in love feels like. Very beautiful, tender, and uplifting instrumental.

you're fighting the final battle

Intense and epic battle music for all of your fight-scene-writing needs! Good for getting shit done, but isn't necessarily restricted to high BPM like the academic weapon playlist.

you're having a tea party

Refined instrumental for a tea party, including classical, big band, and some miscellaneous goodies.

you're in a chase scene

Music for writing chase scenes. Pretty good hype music, too. Includes soundtracks from classic chase scenes in popular media!

you're in the medieval times

Medieval-sounding music for all of your ambient and/or writing needs.

you’re in your childhood room. the door is open a crack. people talk softly downstairs.

A playlist dedicated to nostalgia, to the feeling of lying in bed with your nightlight on after being too tired to stay awake at your family get-together. Could either make your day or break your heart lmao

you're the happiest you've ever been

Lighthearted instrumental meant to lift your spirits! A playlist dedicated to the joys of the little things.

#writing #writers #writeblr #booklr #creative writing #studying #writing playlist #roleplay #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing inspo #writing inspiration #inspo #music #music rec #instrumental music

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darkdragon768 · 6 months ago

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"Bill can't curse" this, "Steve can curse" that. May I bring to you: both can swear but Steve just prefers to come up with the most ridiculous alternatives just to annoy his brother.

Bonus:

#woo dragons art be upon you #gravity falls #the book of bill #bill cipher #pyramid steve #this is based on an incorrect quote i once saw. screened and actually saved for some fnaf comic instead. but that's been dead for quite some #years now.#i heard people don't like incorrect quotes anymore. is this true??#eh. i see too many flaws here anyway so I don't care if this flops. do it scared. to it bad. cringe is dead. do whatever you want forever #i love writing in codes that's why there'll be a comic that's 75% written in codes. excited for that one. stay tuned or whatever

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

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Miss Raven may ask for some spoilers please?? 😨 what is this i hear about horror and Malleus knocking on the door? What the fuck is happening over there??? 😭

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

Idia’s connection to the rescue squad (via his tablet) is cut off in 7-280; we then see Idia in 281 coding away in his dream when there’s a sudden knock at his door. He asks who is it, and Malleus responds with, “It’s me […] Malleus Draconia.”

WhICH v ERY UNDERSTANdABLY SENDS IDIA INTO A PANIC

7-282 opens with Idia trying to stay calm and act like everything is normal. He says it’s rare for Malleus to visit Ignihyde. They don’t have a dorm leader meeting today, do they? Well, Idia would just tune in via his tablet anyway~

“Shroud. I have something to ask you. Open the door.” (Note: Malleus is not able to automatically blast it down because Idia has special technomantic bullshit in place protecting from unauthorized entry into his room.)

Idia asks Malleus what did he want to ask? They can do a video call; Idia’s not so good with face-to-face convo. A video call’s more convenient for them both, right?

Unfortunately, Malleus refuses. “No, now. There is something I must make certain of right now.”

Idia wonders what that “something” is.

AND THiS IS ThE mo MENt WHEN tHD E HORROR kiCKS IN FULL foRCE…

“Shroud. You—

“Are you awake?”

THEN WE CUT BACK TO RIDDLE’S DREAM AND DON’T GET TO SEE IDIA AGAIN UNTIL 7-294… These scenes were just something straight out of a horror movie.

This isn’t properly conveyed through my summary, but there’s a lot more that’s just creepy about 7-281 and 7-282. For example, the OST track Puzzling is playing in the background; it’s very ominous-sounding. I also trimmed out a lot of Idia’s internal panicking, which heightens the sense of dread building in your gut as you read the lines. Every so often, the screen even fills with static, almost as if Malleus’s cold fury is warping the dream or the game itself. It’s like building up to a horrifying jumpscare.

Wieiwieidwheuwudg While writing this response up, I actually found someone that uploaded 7-281 and 7-282 (with English subtitles, for your convenience)! You should take a listen yourself to see what I mean :3c Drink up all those horror vibes…

dhjsvskwnzks Anyway, this is why you’ll find a lot of horror themed fan art in the wake of the recent main story update ^^

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Idia Shroud #Malleus Draconia #jp spoilers #book 7 chapter 12 part 3 spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question #Riddle Rosehearts

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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You're a Dream to Me Part 2

Woohoo! I love the response the first part got for this! Keep it up! I loved every like, comment, and reblog!

In this one we have the only chapter without a dream at the start, but we get see Eddie and Steve's lives without each other.

Part 1

To say Steve hadn’t ended up where he thought he would when he was in high school was an understatement. He had imagined working for his dad at the consulting firm he owned. But when he hit college and met Robin working at the on campus ice cream shop. The school’s mascot was the Buccaneers and so the place was called Scoop’s Ahoy.

They hadn’t started off as friends, but after being locked together in the back of the shop when a bomb threat had been called into the school, they came out of it as best buds.

He had decided after that that he didn’t want to do work for someone else, he wanted to own his own business and like the universe was looking out for him, after he had graduated from college he had come home and learned that the local bookstore was looking to sell.

And as much as Clint Harrington would have preferred his son with him, owning his own business was still in line with what he wanted for his son, so he didn’t think anything of it. That was until Steve turned it into a liberal arts bookstore with a strong leaning toward the LGBTQ+ community.

That was the final straw for the elder Harrington, cutting Steve off without a thought or so much as a backward glance. But what Clint hadn’t realized was that the trust fund had been setup by his grandparents and that the only access Clint had to it was to put money in and not take anything out, so Steve took the money from the trust fund and built the bookstore to what it was now, a thriving hub for the lost souls of Hawkins.

So when he said he loved his job, he meant it. But it wasn’t easy. He had a constantly revolving door of high schoolers who worked for him in the afternoons. But the mornings were tended to by Robin or him. Today it was him.

She would be by around ten coffee and donuts in hand. Vickie was a fifth grade social studies and band teacher. Which is why she hadn’t been grumpy with the wake up call this morning. She had already been at work for an hour by the time Steve had called.

He got to work opening up his store, happily humming some tune that was always playing in the background of his soulmate dreams.

The bell above the door rang out signaling his first customer. Steve looked up and died a little inside. It wasn’t a customer, because that implied the person might make a purchase and this one never would.

“Mrs. O’Donnell,” Steve said warningly. “I’m pretty sure that Chief Hopper told you to stay out of my shop, so don’t make me call him.”

The old English teacher had retired the year prior and made her mission to terrorize the bookshop about the books they sold. She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was manning the shop today. “Where’s the girl?”

A sudden chill slid down his spine. “If you aren’t out of my shop by the time I finish dialing the cops, you’re going to regret that statement.” He picked up the phone and started dialing from memory.

She continued to stare him down. “This is public property, I can come and go as I wish. You can’t stop me.” She gathered her purse to her chest like a shield and stepped further into the store.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “One, stores are private property and two, you started throwing books off the shelves the last time you were here, and that’s destruction of property.”

The old bat stopped in her tracks for the second time and turned to him with an evil grin. “They’d be my property if I bought them, right?”

Steve snorted and ignored her. If she was really that stupid, he wasn’t going to correct her. “Hello, yes, this is Steve Harrington from Coming of Page. Yes, I’d like to report a trespass. That’s right. Kathleen O’Donnell is back. Mhmm...of course I’ll wait.”

He waited, but Mrs. O’Donnell did not. But according to Officer Callahan, they had picked her up only a couple of blocks from the shop.

“Are you really going to press charges against an old woman?” he asked when Steve brought it up.

“It’s either this or you find another way to keep her out of my shop,” he snapped. “Because it’s a bookshop. It’s not even the only bookshop in town there are three other small bookshops and a Waldon’s Bookseller in the mall. I’m not making bank and it was lucky insurance paid out for the damage she did last time. An actual fucking crime, no less!”

Callahan grumbled but was duty bound to arrest her. So when Robin came in with her coffee and donuts he was already ready to throw in the towel.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmured after she heard about his morning. “I should have told you she was harassing me when you weren’t there, but I didn’t want to make a bid deal out of it.”

Steve gave her a hug. “I understand that, but with you not telling anyone it just gave her permission to keep doing it, okay?”

She nodded sadly. “I’ll be sure to call you the next time it happens.” She wrapped her arms around him and settled into the hug.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time because the old bat will be in jail,” he said fiercely. “People are just so bigoted these days.”

She raised her head. “That certainly true. Let’s eat these donuts and drink this coffee and you can tell all about your dream hunk.”

Steve laughed. Then they did just that. They talked about the sound of his voice and the feeling of his broad chest pressed against back.

“Well it sounds like he’s finally coming around to the idea of you as his soulmate,” she said when he had finished telling her about every detail of the dream.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Later that day, Steve was humming a little tune and bopping to the music in his head when Dustin came in. Dustin still worked at the bookstore during his breaks from school for what Dustin called D&D money.

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew Corroded Coffin,” Dustin said as he clocked himself in at the computer. “That’s one of my favorites.”

Steve stopped what he was doing and turned to him. “I hear it in my soulmate dreams. My soulmate must be a huge fan.”

“Your soulmate is a metal fan?” Dustin said brightly. “That’s so cool!”

Steve just shook his head. Now that he knew the band his future soulmate liked, he would have to look them up to see what other songs might have been playing during his dreams.

“I’ll send you a link to all my favorites,” Dustin was saying. “And some other bands too, so that when you two finally meet, you aren’t totally a fish out of water with his tastes.”

“Thanks, bud!”

All the kids knew that Steve strongly suspected that his soulmate was a man. It made things easier for Mike and Will to get together as Mike had Steve to help work out his internalized homophobia.

He pulled out his phone when it went off to see that Dustin had done what he said he was going to do. He smiled fondly. Yeah, Mrs. O’Donnell could go kick rocks for all he cared, because he had his people.

Eddie was a professional above all else, especially when it came to his music, but there were days when he didn’t feel the music. Like he had been disconnected from the mainframe or like a puppet with its strings cut.

Jeff noticed it first. But that was because being on rhythm guitar he took his cues from Eddie so when the energy didn’t match their opening song he knew something was up. Brian and Gareth didn’t notice until about halfway through the third song when Eddie actually fucking missed a chord.

Gareth called a halt with his sticks, crossing them like an X to get the techs to stop, too.

“Okay, man,” Brian huffed, “what is with you today?”

“‘Cause if this about us teasing you about Steve,” Jeff said, gripping the body of his guitar, “we’re sorry. You are usually right there with us laughing about it.”

Eddie let out a long shuddering sigh and rubbed his chin. “It not just that. Because yeah, today I wasn’t in the mood to be teased about my long standing crush, but it was sleeping through my alarm, too. Getting yelled at first thing in the morning is exactly a recipe for a good day, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gareth said, “I’d be in a pretty shit mood, too.” The other two members nodded. “So why don’t we take a break, grab a smoke and clear our heads a bit?”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair and let his eyes flutter shut. A cigarette did sound really good right now. “Yeah, and have one of the PAs run and get us some burgers. I didn’t have time to eat, so that might be affecting my mood too.”

So they took a break, had a smoke, got some food in their bellies and cleared their heads. They were all feeling a little better as they got on back on the stage to finish the sound check.

As Eddie was plugging in his guitar, Chrissy came up to him.

“Hey, you got a minute?” she asked. Eddie half shrugged, so she took that as sign a to continue. “I wanted to apologize for this morning. I heard a couple of the guys talking about how much it upset you and I shouldn’t have came in like a bull in a china shop, no matter how late you were.”

Eddie half shrugged again. “I’m an adult, Chris and you treated me like a child who was late for school. And I checked, no one had even tried calling me or texting me to see where I was. So yeah, I think I have a right to be pissed.”

Chrissy sighed. “I know. When I arrived and saw that you weren’t there I just stormed up on the war path and that wasn’t fair to you. So this me apologizing for it and I promise it won’t happen again, okay?”

Eddie nodded and then turned to Gareth and jutted his chin up to indicate that he was ready to go. Gareth counted out time on his sticks as Chrissy stepped back, chewing on her thumbnail.

She had royally fucked up this morning because she had a fight with Georgia this morning about how the two tours were going on at the same time and that it had been a deliberate choice for Chrissy to join Corroded Coffin instead of Lilith’s Little Monsters.

Which of course it had, Chrissy was their manager, but she wasn’t the one who had set the touring schedule that was the label, but no amount of explaining that did any good. So she had taken Eddie being late as a personal attack and went up there guns blazing. Which she really, really shouldn’t have done no matter what her own morning had been like.

She had known that the boys had gotten in super late and literally crashed into their beds and slept like the dead. She should have set up morning calls for all of them to make sure they were awake in time. But she hadn’t because she relied so heavily on Eddie’s need to be on time.

So she had set the tone for their morning and while their playing was vastly better than it been before the break, it wasn’t their best.

It was time to do some grovelling and not just with her band, but with her soulmate too. Since her boys were currently playing, she was going to start with her soulmate. She pulled out her phone and dialed Georgia.

“Hey, babe,” she murmured softly. “I’m sorry. You were right. I could have pushed a little harder so that the two tours wouldn’t line up, especially with Corroded Coffin having way more control with that sort of thing then most bands.”

“Oh, wow,” Georgia said, “I wasn’t expecting an apology, like ever. Thanks.”

Chrissy winced. “I know. I’m such a bitch. But I’m your bitch and I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” Georgia laughed. “And I do know that it’s your job that you have to be there, I just rolled over in bed this morning and you weren’t there, so I chose violence.”

“I would have too,” Chrissy admitted. “We’re going to be in the same city at the same time for Boston, so I thought I would come woo my pretty wife and bring her flowers and the whole nine yards. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Georgia breathed. “I’ve got to get to my sound check, but I love you.”

“Love you more,” Chrissy replied.

And then they said their goodbyes and hung up. Now to figure out how to make it up to Eddie.

She was going to have to do a lot of groveling to start. but she would figure it out.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au #rockstar eddie munson #bookstore owner steve harrington

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lovrre · 1 year ago

Text

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson x black reader #Art Donaldson x black female #art donaldson x female reader

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